Z-Level 10: A Zombie Apocalypse Novel

by Cole, Michael

  “Who the fuck are they, Reimer?” Dunn pressed the Corporal. Reimer shot him a tense expression.

  “NOT NOW!” He looked back, seeing Binkowski stop suddenly. The Day Stay doors were open to the left side. Sunlight was streaming in through the windows of the back of the check in, casting two limbering shadows into the hallway. The two corpses they had spotted were now much closer to the door. Binkowski stood just outside the doors, ready to ambush them. By now, Reimer was growing increasingly frustrated and impatient. “Binkowski, just let them be.”

  He spoke too loudly, drawing the two zombies out into the hall. They scampered out, walking like giant birds with their arms tucked close to their chests. Toes snapped off their bare feet as they locked soggy eyes onto their prey. The nearest one gaped its mouth, spitting saliva and teeth. Toes broke off its bare feet as it lunged.

  Its own momentum drove it right into Binkowski’s rifle stock as she thrust it out, cracking the forehead. She continued pummeling it, while Fisher bayonetted the other through the roof of the mouth. In seconds, both corpses were motionless.

  Yet the shadows kept coming. Fisher’s eyes grew wide as he looked into the Day Stay lobby.

  Spilling into the Day Stay lobby were several dozen of the undead, previously hidden from sight as they were feasting in the nurse’s station. By the time Fisher saw them, they had swarmed at the entrance like an army of bugs. In the following moment, they spilled into the hallway. Grasping hands were reaching in every direction, while teeth clicked together in biting motions. These ones had been freshly killed; the very people the team was trying to save. Their muscles not yet rotted away, allowing them to move with greater speed and mobility.

  Fisher and Binkowski fired wildly, while Dunn and Reimer pushed the contacts past the door. In seconds, the group of corpses were wall to wall. The marines were forced apart from each other, like helpless victims caught in a raging river.

  With the horde between her and the team, Binkowski was driven backward toward the juncture. She fired wildly into the horde. They overwhelmed her, driving her into the back wall with the force of a tidal wave. Her vision was obscured by the sight of a dozen pairs of teeth, already bloodstained from their previous encounter. She screamed as skin throughout her body was ripped away in large chunks.

  Fisher swung his rifle outward, clobbering two corpses that bit at his body armor. They fell away, loosening their grasps on his Kevlar. Backpedaling swiftly, he fired his M4 at full automatic, plastering the walls with brownish red blood from numerous heads. Binkowski’s screams were deafening, unnerving Fisher as he tried to get to her.

  Through the bodies, he could see his fellow marine pinned to the wall. Her arms were subdued by multiple corpses, which gnawed on her wrists and fingers. The others were tearing the Kevlar from her uniform and reaching their hands deep into her open wounds. Blood gushed from her mouth as they pulled her ribcage apart, yanking intestines and balls of flesh.

  The screams seemed to stretch on forever. Dunn felt himself tensing as the sound of pain pierced his soul. He refused to look back. It would do no good at this point. But the mental image was almost worse. His whole body shook from both fright and anger, as well as the instinctive urge to go back and help as he listened to Binkowski being eaten alive. The sight of it would only make it worse. He continued forward with the civilians, while Reimer shot into the crowd to allow Fisher to gain distance.

  With several undead right behind him, Fisher ran after the group into the lobby. Dunn goaded the civilians up the stairwell.

  “MOVE IT!” he yelled. His voice wasn’t just firm, but it showed disdain. Disdain for them. Disdain for the mission. Disdain for the dead. Reimer and Fisher were right behind them, loading fresh mags into their Carbines. The door hadn’t even swung entirely shut before it was pushed open again by the flood of undead. Loud shrieks left their deflating lungs as they surged into the stairway.

  Reimer and Fisher fired short controlled bursts into the crowd, dropping at least two corpses. There was no time to count. The bodies had soon disappeared as the others scampered over them. Fighting was no use. Their weapons would run dry before they slowed down the crowd. The two marines turned and ran as fast as they could, following the others up the winding staircase. They reached the fourth floor, then the fifth.

  Dunn was half a floor ahead of them, already clearing the sixth.

  “Hold it!” he yelled. Looking up through the vertical space between the stairs, Reimer could see the others already moving back down. They met at the sixth-floor entrance, the civilians hyperventilating with terror. Behind them were over a dozen walking corpses, which had followed the sounds of chaos into the stairway.

  “Out this way!” Reimer ordered. He opened the sixth-floor entrance, letting his team run inside ahead of him. As he followed them inside, the two groups of undead were converging. The air was filled with their hungry moans as they began crowding the doorway.

  Dunn fired a few shots at some straying walkers in the corridor, putting them out of their misery.

  “Where do we go?!” he said to Reimer.

  “Keep going this way,” Reimer said.

  “This way?!” Dunn said. “This leads to nowhere!”

  “You see that window at the end?! We’re going through that! We’ll use our harnesses and cables and climb down the outside!”

  Dunn looked back, seeing the undead spilling in from the stairway.

  “Hell, he’s got my vote!” Fisher said. The group took off running, the non-combatants looking more and more terrified as they approached the large window.

  One of them started to babble. “I don’t know if I can…”

  “YOU CAN! ‘Less you want to stay here,” Dunn interjected, shutting down any protest.

  ********

  “Okay, shut it off!” Keegan yelled to Kane. The marine pulled the lever, shutting down the flow of fuel. Keegan tossed the hose aside before gripping his rifle. “Gordon, Kane, get on board!” They followed his orders as he lay down some cover fire.

  Heads exploded into a brown splatter surrounded by a grey mist. He fired off two more rounds before lowering his aim. His teeth grinded together as he looked past the fence. A huge horde of the undead were moving in through the trees, drawn by the Chinook’s engines and gunfire. The crowd stretched on as far as the eye could see.

  “Holy Jesus,” he muttered. He ran into the Chinook. “Pilots! Get this bird off the ground!” The rotors increased their momentum and changed their angle, lifting the thirty-eight-million-dollar aircraft into the air. It elevated high above the pavement and rotated to place the ramp onto the roof.

  ********

  They passed several junctures before reaching the end of the small hallway. It was a corner juncture, leading into another hall. Numerous undead were packed several meters down, oblivious to their presence. That changed as they heard the loud bursting of glass as the marines busted the window.

  Fisher used the bolt gun to secure the cables. Reimer pulled two harnesses from the bag and clipped them onto the civilians.

  “Dunn, you go with him. I’ll take the other,” he said. Dunn, who was laying suppressing fire into the incoming herd strapped his weapon over his back and clipped on a harness. Fisher, having already harnessed himself, took a firing stance as they prepared for descent.

  Dunn grabbed the civilian and clipped their harnesses together. The man gasped as they leaned out the window, six stories high. Clipped to a ring on the cable, he gradually lowered them down. Reimer did the same with the other civilian. After Dunn was six feet down, he went out the window. With his hands on the metal grip, he lowered himself and the package down to the pavement.

  “Get down here, Fisher!”

  Fisher fired several more shots in the hope of slowing down the horde. For every corpse he put down, it seemed two more would show up. Not only were they not slowing, they were speeding up! Dropping his Carbine, he rushed over the side of the window. With no time to clip the belay device to his h
arness, he clasped his fingers over the cable and started walking himself down.

  The undead flooded the corner juncture. Several arms reached at him through the open window. With two long steps, Fisher put himself out of reach. He held tight on the cord, his arms growing tense from holding his weight.

  The crowd pushed harder against the window. Bodies bulged through the opening as they were pushed over the ledge. Fisher yelled as one of them spilled over and fell to the pavement. Another one quickly followed, landing face-first, its body reduced to a fleshy goo upon impact. He turned his eyes back up to the window, as two more corpses fell. They landed right on top of him. With no sense of gravity or self-preservation, they dug their fingers into his fatigues.

  Reimer looked up, seeing Fisher squirming two floors above him. Blood trickled down, landing on his arm. It was fresh: Fisher’s.

  The marine was screaming, still desperately holding onto the cord. Teeth sank into his neck. The biter pulled back, ripping strands of tissue from its place. It didn’t even swallow. It simply dropped the mouthful and went in for another bite. Fisher twisted and struggled, trying to get it off of him.

  Finally, the cable loosened from his grip. His screams contained a sense of velocity as he freefell past Reimer and Dunn. He landed hard on his side, landing on the biting zombie. Its soft body broke his fall enough to prevent major head injury, but not enough to spare him two broken arms, several busted ribs, and a leg that was bent backward at the knee. Blood spilled from his body as the other corpse, which had landed on him, pulled itself to its hands and knees.

  “NO!” Dunn yelled, watching the corpse from above as it bit down on the defenseless marine’s throat. He could see Fisher’s legs shaking as he attempted to kick. Streams of red shot out in small fountains, smothering the biter’s face.

  Dunn extracted his M9 and extended it downward. It quivered briefly as one bullet pierced its shoulder. It felt no discomfort, as it felt no pain. It continued digging into Fisher’s throat. It ripped its face back, curious by further sounds of gunshots and the simultaneous jolt from bullets striking its back. It turned to look at the other marines. It watched them, holding Fisher’s trachea between its teeth as they came down to the ground level.

  Dunn unclipped the harnesses and pushed the civilian away. He charged the corpse, planting several rounds between its eyes. With its brain turned to mush from multiple penetrations, it collapsed in a pool of Fisher’s blood. Dunn stood over his fellow marine, then turned to look away.

  It had bitten into his face as well, resulting in one of Fisher’s eyes being completely exposed. His throat was nonexistent at this point. The marine was dead. Dunn turned violently as Reimer tapped him on the shoulder. The Corporal had called him at least twice, but he never heard it.

  “Come on,” Reimer said. Dunn gave his friend one last glance and then ran with the others around the corner of the building. Shooting down multiple targets in their path, they made their way to the fuel tanker.

  Except the chopper wasn’t there.

  Reimer looked up to the sound of its rotors overhead. The Chinook was waiting at their planned rally point. In the midst of the confusion, adrenaline, and extreme brain fog resulting from fatigue, Reimer had forgotten to notify the Sergeant of their plan.

  “Oh, GOD!” one of the civilians said. A wall of the undead were stumbling over the gate. Hundreds of corpses were bearing down on them in various states of decay.

  In that same moment, Staff Sergeant Keegan’s voice blared through the radio.

  “Motherbird to Bravo Team. What’s the holdup?!”

  “Motherbird, this is Corporal Reimer. We are down on the pavement. Three hundred feet north of the tanker. We have many boogies moving in on us!” He could picture Keegan’s anger, wondering why he wasn’t notified. However, he wasn’t going to waste time and breath asking questions.

  Dunn was already firing. He aimed behind them, where many other corpses approached from the north. Unable to retreat, they had no choice but to wait for the Chinook.

  The chopper lifted away from the roof and swung around. The undead had swarmed past the tanker, now less than a hundred feet from the marines. Like the ones from the hospital, many of these were freshly dead, and capable of speed near to that of a jog.

  The Chinook set down, smashing three of the leads into the cement. Sergeant Keegan waved from the ramp while Gordon and Kane laid down suppressive fire. Reimer and Dunn pushed the civilians over the ramp.

  “We’ve got corpses climbing the nose!” the pilots called out.

  “We’ve got the package!” Keegan said. “Ascend! Now!”

  As he finished speaking, several sets of hands reached from the edge of the ramp opening. Kane tried to scamper away, only to fall backward as one of the undead grabbed his pantleg. Immediately, two other sets of hands grabbed onto him.

  The chopper lifted off in that same moment. Kane felt the metal floor sliding under his back like a conveyor belt as the undead held him back. Suddenly, he was on the cement floor. His view of the sky vanished, replaced by the sight of teeth. Fingers and teeth pressed into his skin, ripping it like fabric.

  Kane’s blood curdling screams were muffled by the immense crowd as the feeding frenzy commenced. Two of them pulled on his right arm with undying strength, ripping it out by the roots. Kane gagged as several others pulled away at his uniform, exposing his chest and stomach. All at once, they set upon the meat, each digging their teeth and fingers into the flesh and pulling in different directions. His skin came apart like tissue paper, exposing a mix of blood and organs that fell apart as his legs were pulled away from his trunk.

  “GODDAMNIT!” Keegan yelled, seeing his marine disappear under the horde several feet below. The ramp closed, sealing his view behind a metal barrier. He composed himself then walked to the forward cabin. The two civilians were seated up front, both in a state of shock.

  Reimer was walking back away from them. He was sluggish, his eyes heavy as though he had seen a ghost.

  “Binkowski? Fisher?” Keegan asked. Reimer shook his head.

  “KOA.”

  Dunn was pacing back and forth, his face looking like a man possessed.

  “Are you injured, marine?” he said. He knew better than to word it as “are you okay” as he was clearly not.

  “I’m fine, Staff Sergeant,” Dunn said. Before Keegan could continue, Dunn stepped in front of him. “I need to know. Who are those men?”

  “Dunn, what difference does it make?” Reimer said.

  “It makes ALL the difference!” Dunn shouted.

  “Keep it down,” Keegan said. He took a breath. “One’s a U.S. Senator. The other is a vaccine developer. They were ordered to depart with the civilians here.”

  “Oh, lovely,” Dunn said. “I guess outbreak levels don’t matter when you’re a couple of VIPs in a…”

  “Don’t say another word, marine,” Keegan said. “Those were our orders. We followed them. We’re going back Stateside. Reimer, come with me. I’m gonna need your statement for my report.”

  “Yes, sir,” Reimer said. As they walked away, Dunn slumped in one of the seats. He glared at the two men they had rescued. Gordon was tending to them, checking for any bites as well as any other injuries.

  Dunn’s eyes were locked on the men. Two men, the last of a group of fifty. A group he knew was gone before they even went in, trapped inside an area above a Level 5 outbreak. Dunn’s eyes went across the cabin, unable to not notice the absence of three fellow marines.

  Two VIPs. Three marines.

  CHAPTER 4

  A heavy fog lingered over the air, giving the forest a wetness that matched that of a heavy rain. Soggy leaves dangled from thick branches, seeping a thin secretion into the soil below. Charcoal in color, it mixed in with the rain water before being sucked into the grass.

  Sandra Hill had huddled to her knees, compacted into a small foxhole with her two escorts. Joe, a college basketball player, was peeking through the thin, grass c
overed tarp. He looked at the never-ending fog, watching for any lumbering shapes that moved through the forest. He pulled the tarp back over his head and kneeled next to Sandra and their third companion, Kevin.

  “I think it’s safe,” he said.

  “No such thing as safe around here,” Kevin whispered. As far as he was concerned, he wouldn’t believe it until he saw it for himself. He stood up and peeked through the edge of the tarp. The moisture immediately hit his face, compelling him to run his hand over his eyes.

  “Careful. Don’t get any in your mouth,” Sandra said.

  “I remember,” Kevin said. “Can’t trust any water around here.” He continued gazing out into the surrounding forest. Despite only being ten-in-the-morning, the heavy fog and overhead canopy gave the appearance of dusk. Whatever streams of sunlight that made it through were heavily obscured in the area’s constant cloud cover. But so far, there didn’t appear to be any sign of the undead. “Okay, I think Joe’s right for once.”

  “How far is it?” Joe asked Stacy.

  “We’re almost there. Maybe about three hundred yards,” she said. “Like I mentioned before, we can’t miss it. The trees had been thinned out around it.”

  “I suggest we move,” Joe said. “Sooner we get there, the sooner we can go back.”

  “Hell, I say we bunk down once we’re there,” Kevin said. He took another peek, covering all three-hundred-sixty degrees around them. After feeling confident that nothing was around, he pulled the tarp back completely. Pressing his palms up onto the muddy rim, he pulled himself out of the four-foot foxhole, before reaching to help the others. Joe, with a height over six-feet, easily lifted himself out without help. Stacy, however, was more than gracious to accept the offer.

  Joe pulled the tarp back in place after she emerged. Brushing his muddy hands against his cargo shorts, he gazed into the forest.

  “Shit, which way again?” He kept his voice low. Any noise would certainly attract the wrong kind of attention.