Grant crept down to the main aisle. Jen joined him, and her beam lit up a large poster at the end of the aisle they'd just left. It had a guy in overalls carrying lumber on his shoulder and looking happy about it. Like hauling wood is fun. Mark and Doc joined them, and four beams of light moved across shelves and displays.
Jen whispered, "How about the gardening section?"
Mark nodded and Doc gave a thumbs up. Grant led the way down the main aisle, with Jen pointing her light down each side aisle they passed. Damn place was as dead as a morgue.
Something hit the floor and bounced twice. They all stopped. With the echoing, Jen couldn't tell the exact direction it came from. She tilted her head, listening over the pulse pounding in her ears.
A bang came from an aisle two or three rows ahead. All the flashlights pointed that way.
"I believe that discretion is the better part of valor," Doc whispered. "I suggest we take our leave."
Grant took a couple steps forward and shined his light down the next aisle. "No growls. No screeches. Let's get what we came for." He pointed his beam at the end of the next aisle, which was labeled Garden Equipment.
Jen liked Doc's idea, but she wasn't going to leave anyone on their own. She readied her pistol and took position beside Grant at the same time Mark and Doc did. Together they crept to the Garden Equipment aisle.
Pointing their flashlights down it at the same time, they lit up a half dozen milling zombies, who turned as one and let loose with a screech that bounced off the floor and ceiling. The whole bunch raced toward Jen and the others.
"We've got to get out of here," Jen yelled. "Back the way we came."
Screeches rose from every direction. They'd walked into a hornet's nest.
13
Jen aimed at the lead zombie, a bearded guy in a ripped flannel shirt heading straight for Grant. A squeeze of the trigger and a solid kickback and the zombie went down, his momentum sliding him across the floor to stop just in front of Grant. Grant shook off his shock and aimed his pistol at the group of zombies. Other shots went off, and the zombies in the aisle were dropped before they could reach them.
"Follow me," Jen yelled. She pointed her flashlight down the main aisle they'd come down. Several zombies rushed toward her and were eliminated by the group.
Growls came from behind her. Mark yelled over them. "Five more on our asses."
Jen turned and took out two of them. More growling came from all sides. "There's a shit-load more in here. We can't stay and fight."
Doc fired over Jen's shoulder. "Damn, Doc. My ear." She didn't hear his reply.
Jen spun and lined up her sights on an old lady zombie who came at her so slowly that Jen almost felt sorry for her. She took off half the back of her skull with a shot.
The way back was clear. She grabbed Doc by the arm and pulled him along. "Go."
Jen shined her light down aisles as they passed. The first two were empty, but the next one had a mob of zombies heading up it. She didn't take the time to fire.
Grant took position in front of her. "Where the hell is the aisle that leads to the door? Anyone remember?"
Mark fired to the rear. "I think it was aisle fourteen."
"No," Grant yelled. "It was a single digit aisle."
Jen pointed her light at the end display of each aisle they came to. Must've passed it. Couldn't have been this far away.
Two aisles down, she caught the grinning face of the guy in the overalls. "Aisle ten," she yelled. "Take it."
Mark made several rapid shots. Jen glanced over her shoulder. The main aisle overflowed with undead.
"Are you sure that's the right way?" Grant asked.
With no time to answer him, Jen dashed around the corner to aisle ten, then stopped short. Another mob of zombies stood in front of the door leading to outside. Her flashlight beam hit them and they screeched, then ran, limped, and hobbled toward her. There had to be twenty of them.
Holding the flashlight pointed at them with one hand, she lined up her sights on the lead zombie and dropped it with one shot. Too many. Too fast.
She aimed and squeezed the trigger again, but it wouldn't move. "Shit." The magazine was empty. She hit the eject button, stuck the flashlight under her arm, and pulled another magazine from her front pocket. She slapped it in, released the bolt, and fired.
More of the zombies fell as Grant and Doc stood alongside her. Someone backed into her and Mark yelled, "We're about thirty seconds from being overrun in the rear. There's at least a hundred of them closing in."
Half the zombies in front of the door were down. Jen holstered her pistol and pulled the rifle from her shoulder. "We've got to push through. Follow me!"
She sprinted toward the zombies, holding her rifle with both hands, ready to strike. Another fell when its head exploded, leaving a twenty-something girl zombie in her path.
The zombie ran at her full tilt, and Jen held the rifle so the butt faced outward. As soon as the zombie leapt at her, Jen cocked the gun back and slammed it into the girl's face.
The zombie went down, but wasn't out. Didn't matter. Jen sidestepped it and aimed the butt at the ear of a middle-aged man in white painter's overalls. He grabbed her arm as she got close, but lost his grip when the rifle butt slammed home.
Grant leapt in front of her and took out another zombie with some fancy close quarters rifle work. Damn, he's good.
Doc hit one in the shoulder, knocking it off balance. Jen bull-rushed it and took it to the floor.
She scrambled to her feet and glanced over her shoulder. Mark still faced the rear and launched a constant barrage at the horde behind them at the entrance to aisle ten. They were running out of time.
Four zombies remained between them and escape. Jen launched herself at one and pushed it back into a light bulb display. It tripped and flipped over onto its stomach.
She twirled and brought the rifle butt crashing down on another zombie's nose. It crumpled. Doc struggled with one remaining zombie, and Grant shot it through the forehead.
"Way's clear," Jen yelled. She pulled the door open and prayed there weren't any outside waiting for them.
Mark sent a fusillade of bullets at the incoming zombies, grabbed Doc by the collar, and yanked him through the door. Grant followed, and Jen jumped through, pulling the door shut.
Undead fists pounded on the door. Jen stood, bent over with her hands on her knees, and panted. Mark put a hand on her shoulder. "We should go. I don't think they can get through that door, but there's been a whole lot of things happening lately that I would've thought impossible."
Jen nodded and straightened. Grant led them back through the loading dock and to the train cars. "Let's take ten," he said. "Need to figure where we're going from here."
Jen sat on the ground. "Grant."
He turned to her. "Yeah?"
"You kicked some ass in there."
He nodded at her. "And you're a nut. You ran right at those zombies." He grinned. "You'd make a good soldier."
She shook her head. "No, thanks. I just want to get somewhere normal. Get back to the internet, lattes, and hiking in the mountains without a corpse trying to eat me."
Doc patted her on the back. "If you hadn't rushed the zombies, we wouldn't have made it out. Sometimes crazy is the only thing we have."
"How about you, Doc?" Mark said. "This is a little more strenuous than what you're used to."
Doc wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "I may work in a lab, but I run a half marathon once a year. Don't worry about me."
Grant walked out from the train cars and peered up and down the track. "Better take this chance to reload. How's everyone's ammo?"
Jen checked her pistol. "Two more magazines for the pistol. Haven't touched the rifle."
"I'm low on rifle rounds," Mark said. Jen tossed him a full magazine and he caught it. "Thanks."
Grant frowned. "We can't take many more situations like that or we'll be without ammo before we get halfway to the base."
/>
"And we still need the close-combat weapons," Mark said. "The rifles are better than nothing, but not by much."
Jen put her head in her hands. There wasn't another hardware store in the direction of the base for miles, and she didn't want to veer off course if she didn't have to.
"Jen?" Doc said. "Any ideas?"
Jen took a deep breath and eased it out, puffing her cheeks. It would have to be some place other than a hardware store, but where?
She stood and glanced up the tracks. The tracks went north across 100th Avenue then on to Dimond Boulevard, where they crossed it on a bridge. Plenty of stores along the way, including a mall, but no hardware.
That's it. She turned to the others. "I know exactly where we can find the weapons we need."
14
Thirty minutes later, Jen lay on her stomach across the train tracks, scoping out the mall. Big and multilevel, it stood like a silent monument to the old world.
Packs of zombies gathered at every entrance visible, except one. But to get to that door, they'd have to cross the huge parking lot without being seen.
Next to her, Mark pointed to a double line of campers. "Looks like the dealer had a sale going on when the shit hit the fan. We can get halfway to the entrance without being seen if we use them as cover. Just go in between the rows."
Jen bit her lip. Groups of three to twenty zombies wandered through the parking lot. She watched them, trying to predict their routes, but they'd turn at random, sometimes doubling back the way they'd come. "There are a couple hundred of them that are visible. Who knows how many are on the sides of the mall we can't see."
"I don't know if it's worth the risk," Grant said.
Jen had always been good at maze puzzles, but none of them had pieces that moved. This looked more like a 1980's arcade game. "It's worth the risk, unless you want to go miles and hours out of the way, and maybe find there's a worse situation when we get there."
"You never did say what store we're going to," Grant said. "How do we know if it's worth it?"
She eyed Grant. He was no dummy. She'd be asking the same question. She squelched the urge to say "trust me" since she didn't trust him just yet, either. So far he'd shown up and fought when he was supposed to, but the stakes were too high to take any chances.
"It's worth it," she said. "Besides, I see an easier way in."
Grant frowned, looking out over the parking lot. "Where?"
She pointed to the RVs. "We follow Mark's suggestion of the campers. That gets us halfway. But there's no route the rest of the way that doesn't expose us at some point." She pointed to a row of Armed Forces Recruiter vehicles. "Twenty feet from the RVs to those. We can use them as cover, which will leave us twenty feet in the open to get to the door."
"I don't know how they don't see us then," Doc said.
Jen shrugged. "Then I guess it's a good thing you trained for those marathons."
"What if the doors are locked?" Mark asked.
"What?" Jen asked.
He got up on one elbow. "The doors. What if we run, attract all that attention and bring a horde down on us, and the mall door is locked? Then we're trapped."
Shit.
Grant snorted. "Yeah. Just what I thought. Look at her. She hadn't thought of it. Would've led us into a trap. Why don't you just let me make the tactical decisions? I'm trained for it."
Mark glared at him. "We don't need your macho bullshit right now, Mr. Communications Specialist. Her idea's still good, we just have to assess the risk."
"Assess the risk? And why the hell do you think you have room to talk? You're just a rent-a-cop."
Mark's face turned red, and Jen hoped he'd blow up at Grant, maybe even kick his ass. But he took a deep breath and the red disappeared from his face.
"Yeah, that's what I thought," Grant said.
Doc cleared his throat. "Let's look at this logically. We need close-combat weapons or we have to use the firearms and draw more swarms. If we survive that, we'll be out of ammo before you know it. If we have to go somewhere else to find the weapons, that increases the risk we'll run into just that situation, plus it's taking precious time we don't have."
"I don't remember the colonel saying we have a time limit," Grant said.
Doc cleaned his glasses with his shirttail. "They left behind one plane with its crew and some support. They can't guard the whole base, so they probably have a perimeter around the flight line. Even then, they're stretched thin. How long do you think they can hold it?"
Grant pounded a fist into the ground. "Shit."
Jen slid back until she was in a depression behind the tracks and stood. "So I guess that means we go in. Right, Mr. Tactical Decision?"
Grant mumbled something under his breath as he crawled back to the depression with the others. "Everyone check your gear and your ammo. Make sure you're ready for anything."
"Firearms are a last resort," Mark said.
Jen double-checked her pistol and stuck it in her belt, then pulled the magazine out of the rifle. Full. She slid the bolt back enough to see the chambered round. Ready.
Her heart rate picked up and she rubbed her sweaty palms on her pants. Every encounter with zombies had given them something new to deal with. What the hell will this one bring?
"Here we go." Grant slipped over the tracks and down into the parking lot. Jen followed and joined him behind a shiny new Chevy pickup. Doc slid in next to her, with Mark bringing up the rear.
Grant crept forward to the edge of the truck. Jen peeked over the truck bed. The closest zombies she saw were at least thirty yards away. What about the ones I can't see?
Grant ducked and ran past two more vehicles and stopped beside a monster RV. Damn thing was bigger than some houses. He signaled Jen to follow.
She sprinted for the RV, her eyes on Grant as he moved to the front of it. Panting, she took a knee behind the rear of the vehicle. She shouldn't have been so winded from such a short run. Must be adrenaline. Or fear.
She waited for Grant to signal an all clear, then waved Doc in, and then Mark. They gathered at Grant's position.
"So far, so good," Doc said.
Grant pointed down the line of RVs. "It's clear ahead and we have cover to the sides."
He stood and walked between the lines of RVs. Jen followed, but moved cautiously, checking underneath the vehicles and in the small gaps between them. It'd been too easy so far, just like in the hardware store, and that had gone to shit.
She reached the end of the lines of RVs and took a deep breath. Her mouth had gone dry and her gut ached. How do soldiers in combat do this time after time?
Grant turned back to the others. "There's a group of a dozen zekes about two hundred yards to the right and another twenty about twice that distance to the left."
"Zekes?" Jen scrunched her nose. "This isn't a damn video game. Next thing you know, you'll be talking about distances in clicks."
Grant ignored her. "The recruiter vehicles are almost straight ahead, just to the right."
Jen edged to the end of the RV and peered left and right.
"What the hell are you doing?" Grant asked, raising his voice.
Jen turned to him and put a finger to her lips. "Keep it down. I was just taking a look for myself, no need to come unglued."
"You don't trust my judgment?" Grant stuck his chin out.
"Enough." Mark got between them. "We don't have to like each other, but we need to cooperate to survive."
Grant pushed on Mark's chest. "I don't need you to—"
Mark grabbed Grant's hand and put it in a lock. The specialist's eyes got big. "Don't," he said.
"Doesn't hurt yet, does it?" Mark asked. "But you can feel the tension in the joint."
Grant nodded.
"We've got a problem," Doc said.
Jen looked in the direction he pointed. A zombie stood in the doorway of an RV two vehicles back.
Mark let go of Grant. The zombie shuffled out of the RV and wandered in the other direction
. Jen started to breathe again. That was close.
Mark's stiff posture loosened, and even Doc looked relieved. The experience was testing his chill factor.
The zombie reached the end of the RVs and stopped. It wandered to the vehicle across from it, then turned toward them.
Oh, shit.
It walked closer, then turned again.
If we get out of this, I'll never call myself unlucky again.
The zombie stopped cold. Its head cocked as if listening for something. Doc's eyes watered and he held his mouth closed tightly. What the hell was wrong with him?
He sniffed, then sniffed again and put his face in the crook of his elbow before letting out a quiet snort. He's trying to hold in a sneeze. Are you shitting me?
The zombie turned around and its yellow eyes locked on Doc. It faced the sky and let out a screech.
Answering calls came from across the parking lot, some distant and others much closer.
"We need to go back," Grant said. "I can take out this one."
Jen grabbed his arm. "No, we go forward. To the mall. We go back with them all chasing us and there's no place to hide."
"I say we go back," Grant yelled.
Jen and Mark exchanged a glance. "Oh, no, not again," Mark said.
Jen spun and sprinted for the mall door.
15
The screeching grew louder, almost an angry roar, as she ran from behind the cover. A group of about thirty zombies on her left were in a full run, heading for her. She glanced to her right. Another dozen ran at her from that side. She did a double take. Two of the zombies, both younger men, had broken off from the group and streaked toward the mall door. What the hell? If I didn't know better, I'd say they're trying to cut me off.
She didn't dare look behind her to see if the others were coming. If they weren't, then at the very least she'd distracted the zombies so they could get away. Either way, she had to get through that door.
The Zombie Uprising Series: Books One Through Five Page 19
