The Zombie Uprising Series: Books One Through Five

by M. A. Robbins

  The clock said nine thirty-five. She pushed the ladies' room door open and walked in. After checking the stalls to make sure they were empty, she unlatched the window and waited.

  When her watch flashed nine forty, she tip toed to the door and hit the light switch, plunging the bathroom into darkness. A soft glow from the frosted window guided her there, and she slid it up a quarter inch at a time, praying it made no noise.

  She stuck her head out. No movement. Nothing but crickets and the sound of an engine starting in the distance.

  A slight breeze washed over Jen as she climbed through the window and lowered herself to the ground. Praying no one would enter the bathroom while she was gone, she crouched and snuck to the edge of the building.

  All was quiet, so she darted across the grass to the next building and slipped between it and a warehouse. Across the next road stood a darkened field. Down the road to her left, light spilled out of a short, one-story building, and the sound of metal hitting metal echoed from it. Voices spoke every minute or so, but no one came out.

  She'd have to make it across the street and across the field without being seen. Got to go. Grant may not wait if I don't show up on time.

  She dashed across the road, her footsteps sounding as loud as gunshots to her. They muffled when she hit the grass. She glanced left at the occupied building, but no one ran out pointing at her and calling for help. Or shooting.

  Jen raced to the back of a shadowy building and crouched beside it, her heart racing.

  Standing hunched over, she crept to the side of the building and paused to listen for any movement. A helicopter rose in the distance, its lights heading away from base.

  She peered around the side of the building. Pools of light from the street lamps splashed onto the asphalt.

  Taking time to place each foot solidly on the ground so as not to crunch the gravel, she made her way to the front.

  The motor pool stood across the street, one of its overhead doors open and looking like a huge, dark mouth waiting for someone to enter so it could close and swallow them.

  Jen sprinted across the road, her boots scuffing on the asphalt. The sound echoed off the buildings.

  She slipped inside the door and hugged the wall. As her eyes got used to the darkness, shadows emerged. A large one several feet in front of her had the outline of a truck. Other lumps to her left could've been anything.

  She took a deep breath. "Grant?"

  She cringed. Even though she'd spoken in a near whisper, it sounded like a shout in the stillness.

  "Grant. You there?"

  A rustle from deep in the garage put her in a defensive crouch. Without thinking, her axe appeared in her hand.

  "Jen?" Grant whispered.

  "Over here."

  A shadow detached from the back and moved toward her. "Where?" Grant asked.

  "Keep coming straight forward."

  The shadow stopped in front of her, its breathing shallow and fast. A hand touched her chest.

  "Hey," Jen said. "Watch it with that. You didn't bring me out here just to cop a feel, did you?"

  "No. No. Oh, God. I didn't mean it. I was just trying to figure out where you were."

  "Relax, soldier boy. I know it was an accident. You should, too. After all, your hand's still attached to your arm."

  Grant chuckled. "Always a hot shit."

  "Enough old home days," Jen said. "What have you got for me?"

  "Like I wrote. Everyone's watching you. They're watching me some, too, because I came in with you. It's obvious they don't totally trust me yet."

  "So what?"

  "Something's not right here," Grant said. "I heard you're staying. I wanted to warn you to go. I don't think you're safe here. Hell, I don't think I'm safe here."

  Jen scoffed. "Out in the middle of nowhere with millions of zombies probably on their way? What's not to feel safe about?"

  "Not the zombies. Butler. There's something going on at Area 51."

  "What?" Jen asked. "What's going on?"

  Headlights swung around a corner and bathed them in LED light for a moment. Grant grabbed Jen's arm and pulled her behind the truck. "Shit. It's them."

  12

  The large truck rumbled by, the throaty roar of its engine fading into the distance.

  Grant's heavy breathing was the only sound remaining.

  "I think we're OK," Jen said.

  Grant stood. "We better leave."

  "Drag me all the way out here and leave me hanging?" Jen said. "Bullshit. You're not going anywhere until I hear what you have to say."

  A streetlight's beam fell across half of Grant's face. He licked his lips. "Area 51. Those trucks, they're what's wrong."

  "What trucks?" Jen pointed to the street. "You mean that one that just passed?"

  Grant nodded. "My job is to drive trucks, and every day at three a.m. I bring one to the supply building on the flight line. It gets loaded with supplies."

  "What kind of supplies?"

  "Don't know. I'm supposed to sit in the truck and wait for it to be loaded. Once it is, a sergeant tells me I'm good to go, and I drive to Area 51."

  Jen folded her arms. "What's in there?"

  Grant shrugged. "I back into the loading bay and turn it off. There's always an empty truck parked there. I take that one back to the supply building."

  "Come on, Grant. You brought me all the way the hell out here for that?"

  He shook his head. "The trucks at night—like the one that just passed—are different."

  "Different how?"

  "They told me to drive one of them once when the regular driver was on sick call. They brought me to a warehouse on the edge of the base, told me to drive the truck to Area 51 as normal and bring back the unloaded truck.

  "I backed into the loading dock," Grant said, "and there was no one around. I shut off the engine and had just opened the door when it happened."

  "You're really stretching this out," Jen said. "What the hell happened?"

  "Something in the back of the truck banged on the side."

  Jen frowned. "Loose cargo."

  "No. The truck had been stopped for a minute, and it was the first time I'd heard anything. I walked to the other truck and heard it from the back of the first truck again. There was someone or something moving in the back of that truck."

  "Why didn't you open the back and see?"

  Grant shivered. "I had this feeling of being watched. No one in sight, but I could've sworn someone had eyes on me. I jumped into that other truck and lit out of there."

  Another set of lights came down the road. The vehicle stopped under a streetlight. "An MP truck," Grant said.

  The truck's passenger shined a spotlight into the building behind the streetlight.

  "Shit," Jen said. "We've got to get out of here."

  "Come on. There's a back door."

  Jen followed Grant into the cool night air. The spotlight shined through the motor pool's windows. They waited for the truck to move on, then Jen let out a breath. "So why are you telling me all this? What am I going to do about it?"

  "You need to leave. But you can tell Dr. Cartwright what I told you. Something is going on and it's tied to Butler. No one talks about it. They go all quiet and ignore you if you mention it."

  Jen bit her lower lip. Area 51 had tripped her radar the minute she'd seen it. Why an armed guard? The security door and scanner should be enough protection for a communications building. And why the armed soldiers lining the hallway? And the secret deliveries?

  "Jen?"

  She broke away from her thoughts. "I'll talk to Cartwright, but I can't leave yet. Not only is there more to do, but it'd look suspicious if I left just after I said I needed to stay."

  "Then watch your back." Grant took a few steps from the building and looked both ways. "We better get out of here before the MPs come back. Take care of yourself." He slipped off into the shadows.

  Someone banged on Jen's door. She sprung from bed and reached for her
axe.

  "Miss Reed. Colonel Butler wants to see you."

  Jen put her hand on her chest, afraid her heart would burst from it. "Hold on."

  Throwing a robe on, she noted the five a.m. time on the digital clock.

  She jerked the door open. An MP stood in the hallway.

  "Five in the morning?" she said. "Who the hell gets up at five in the freaking morning?"

  "Sorry, ma'am." He looked anything but sorry. "Colonel Butler wants to see you now." His eyes dipped to her cleavage and Jen pulled the robe tighter around herself.

  "Give me a minute." She closed the door and damn near jumped into her clothes. Opening the door, she pushed past the MP. "Let's go."

  Butler sat behind a desk, a cup of black coffee against his lips. He took a sip and put the cup down. "Miss Reed. Got something for you. In light of our mutual goal of getting you and your civvie friends out of here, I'm taking you out this morning for some observing."

  Jen took a seat and swung one leg over the side. Butler's jaw tightened. Good.

  "I'm game. Another roundup?"

  "Not for you," Butler said. "We'll drop you and your friends off on our way to a roundup."

  "No."

  Butler's eyebrows shot up. "No? You said no to me?"

  "Last time we did that the chopper was too far off when we ran into trouble."

  Butler shrugged. "We'll drop you off only a block or two from the roundup. You'll have all the firepower close by."

  Jen scowled. She couldn't say no and not seem unreasonable.

  "I'll even throw your friend, Specialist Grant, in. I'll bet you two have lots to talk about."

  Jen's heart skipped a beat. Did he know?

  Butler sat back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. "Been a while since you've talked, no?"

  Son of a bitch does know.

  Change the subject back. "It's a deal," she said. "But we get a radio."

  Butler smiled. "That'll work. You and your team need to be in the lobby at oh-six-thirty hours. Sergeant Howell will shuttle you to the helicopter."

  Jen gave him a curt nod and walked out.

  Two hours later, Jen jumped onto the roof of an office building. Mark, Grant, and Zeke hopped off the Blackhawk and landed next to her. The pilot waved and took off.

  Jen surveyed the roof. "Zeke, wanna check out that door?"

  Zeke popped her a salute and jogged to the door.

  "Why am I here?" Grant asked.

  Jen went to one knee and pulled Grant with her. "Butler knows we met. He offered to have you come with us. I had no other way to warn you that he knows."

  "So you two were caught last night?" Mark turned his gaze on Jen. "Why didn't you tell us when you came to get us this morning?"

  "We weren't caught last night," Jen said. "At least no one confronted us last night."

  Zeke jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Door's secure as long as we don't have a horde storm it, or run into one of those smart zombies."

  The radio on Jen's belt squawked. "Command One to all units. Commence firing."

  Gunfire broke out nearby. Jen shaded her eyes and looked toward the sound. Sure enough, the Blackhawk had landed on a building four blocks away.

  "Let's get observing." She walked to the edge of the roof overlooking West Main Avenue.

  Mark joined her. "I'd like to get this observing shit done and get out of here. I feel better that the zombies haven't taken over the rest of the country, but I still need to check on my family."

  "I'm with you," Jen said. "But if we find something that helps Cartwright and the CDC crack this thing, your family may never be in danger."

  Deserted, the street reminded Jen of one of those Hollywood end-of-the-world movies.

  Mark pointed to their right. "I'll go watch this side."

  "Good idea," Jen said. "Grant, why don't you take the side across the roof, and Zeke, take the last one."

  Grant nodded and jogged to his post.

  I remember when he wanted to be in charge back in Anchorage. I like him better now.

  Zeke stood there for a moment. "Is this all we're going to do? Just stand up here?"

  "That's the plan. Unless something goes to shit."

  He huffed and lumbered to his side of the building. Jen peered back onto the street. It hadn't changed.

  "Command One to all units. Zulus have broken through. Use all available firepower."

  Explosions echoed down the streets, and black smoke rose above the buildings, blocking the helicopter from view. What the hell?

  She looked at Mark, who turned toward her and shrugged. Zeke danced and clapped. Grant had taken a knee and watched the smoke with a frown.

  Jen pointed at each of them in turn. Every one of them scanned their side of the building and shook their head. We're not going to see shit here. All the zombies are corralled and being wiped out.

  "Command One to all units. Cease fire. I repeat, cease fire. Let the smoke clear so we can assess the situation."

  The smoke had drifted almost to Jen's position. The acrid sulfur-laden cloud probed her nostrils and caused her to sneeze. She shoved her face into the crook of her arm.

  Another helicopter swooped in overhead. Mark ran over. "That's an Apache Longbow and it's armed for bear."

  The smoke swirled beneath the Apache's spinning blades.

  "Echo One to Command One."

  "Go, Echo One."

  "The smoke's cleared on our position, east building. Zulus are escaping down side street, heading for West Main Avenue."

  "Roger, Echo One. Hotel Three, do you copy?"

  "Copy."

  The Apache swooped past Butler's position and descended until it disappeared behind the building.

  "Hotel Three to command. We have eyes on Zulus. They've hit West Main Avenue and are heading west."

  A horde dashed out from behind the building and flowed Jen's way. If they keep their course, they'll pass right by us.

  "Command One to Hotel Three. Engage. Command One to Hotel One."

  Explosions came from the other side of the building. The horde kept a straight course.

  A Blackhawk swept in from the west and fired on the horde. Dozens of zombies fell in the street.

  Movement on a building across the street caught Jen's eye. A zombie stood on the roof like a statue, staring at the oncoming horde.

  "Hotel Three to Command One. Have engaged targets. Be advised they're splitting up and finding cover in buildings."

  "Holy shit," Mark said. "They are taking cover. No leaders, they're just going."

  Jen pointed at a group disappearing into a movie theater on the other side of the street. "And they're splitting up evenly. What the hell?" The zombie on the roof.

  Jen's gaze snapped to the roof. The zombie stood there, expressionless, its yellow eyes boring into hers.

  13

  Zeke raced over. "A bunch of undead just ran into this building."

  "Shit." Jen waved Grant over. "We need to watch that damn door."

  "Command One to Hotel One and Three. Disengage."

  "Roger, Command One. Hotel One Disengaging."

  "Hotel Three disengaged."

  Grant joined them. "What's up?"

  "We may be getting company," Mark said. "Zombies have entered this building."

  "How many?"

  Zeke wrinkled his nose. "I lost count. They were coming in too fast."

  "Then make an educated guess," Mark said.

  Zeke closed his eyes and held a finger up. Mark looked at Jen and rolled his eyes.

  "Maybe fifty, but could be as much as a hundred," Zeke said.

  "Command One to Alpha One. Target grids Victor Tango Zulu eight to fourteen."

  "Oh, shit," Mark said. "We need to get out of here."

  "What?" Jen asked. "What is it?"

  Mark sprinted for the door. "When they talk about targeting, they're talking artillery. And since all the zombies are in our area…"

  "Command One to Alpha One. Commence fir
ing."

  Mark grabbed Jen's arm. "Come on, Zeke."

  Explosions on the street rattled the building. Jen lost her footing on the vibrating roof, but Mark kept her upright.

  Grant had the door open and they all ducked inside. Mark let go of Jen and whipped out his flashlight. "The zombies went into the buildings, so Butler's going to destroy the buildings to take them out."

  He shined the light on a door to the stairway. "Grant, take point."

  "Butler knows we're here," Jen said.

  Mark pointed at her. "Exactly."

  Grant had his flashlight out and entered the stairs. "Zeke, you're next."

  The building rocked, and Jen fell backward into a wall. Dust and debris fell from the ceiling.

  Butler's going to raze these damn buildings to the ground. If he can't get us to leave, he'll just kill us and claim the zombies got us. The asshole.

  Jen ran onto the stairs, with Mark behind her. She drew her pistol and followed Zeke. Grant had already made it to the first landing.

  "Don't get too far ahead," Mark called out.

  Grant waited, peering down the stairs. Just as Jen reached the landing, he looked up, his eyes wide. "They're coming. Three floors down."

  Another blast hit the building. This time Jen kept her balance, but just barely.

  She opened the door to a hallway and shooed the others in. Closing the door, she pushed past the others and opened the first door she found.

  A copier room. Several plotters and printers stood against a wall, while metal cabinets lined another. She waved the others over. "Plenty of room in here."

  Mark was the last in and closed the door. "Everyone in the corner."

  They set up shoulder to shoulder, firearms aimed at the door. Jen peeked out the window next to her. The movie theater on the other side of the intersection was gone, and in its place lay an enormous pile of rubble. Across the street, the building where she'd seen the leader had lost its top two floors. Flames licked its sides. Down the road, the smoke was so thick, she couldn't see crap, but the chunks of wood and stone in the road gave her a clue to what she'd find there.

  Another strike on their building hit below them.