Zombie Rules | Book 8 | Who The Hell Is That?

by Achord, David

  “Maybe something scared the zeds away before they could chow down,” True surmised.

  Melvin watched with the binoculars a moment longer before handing them to True.

  “They’re looking each other over and one of them is holding something over his cheek. A rag or field dressing, something like that. Another one is holding onto his arm.”

  True watched a moment, and then inhaled sharply. Melvin stared in alarm. He did not need the binocs to see the four guards start to spasm in an odd, eerie, ticking. It lasted for a couple of minutes before stopping. The guards turned slowly. One of them knocked on the locked doors, which amazed the two men. If they had turned, how would they know to do something like that? After a moment, the door cracked open.

  Chapter 21 – Time to Leave

  Melvin hastened a glance toward the back door. Instead of stepping over the broken glass at the front of the erstwhile business, they snuck in through the back door and then secured it with an old hex bolt that was stuck through the hasp where there was once a padlock.

  The front of the business slightly faced the hotel. That’s why they snuck in the back so they wouldn’t be spotted. There was nothing stopping anyone or anything from gaining entry through the open windows, but with the back door secured they at least did not have to continuously worry about someone ambushing them from behind.

  He turned back toward the hotel. They could hear noises, and they thought they heard some screaming before there was the sporadic sounds of gunfire. The two men exchanged glances.

  “We might be stuck here,” Melvin whispered.

  “We have enough food to last three more days, if we stretch it out,” True whispered back. “But we ain’t got but a gallon of water left.”

  The two men discussed their situation. They kept looking at the hotel while they spoke, each expecting at any moment for the soldiers to come charging out. Although the back door was secured, the front could be easily accessed through the shattered plate glass windows. In addition, they could not see out behind the building. Was the area empty, or were there a thousand zeds waiting on the other side of the door?

  After a minute, they reached a decision. To stay any longer was going to increase the risk of them being discovered. So, they were going to attempt to slip out the back door and run back to their truck, which was about a mile down the road.

  Most of their gear was already packed in their respective rucksacks. True used a small flashlight with a red lens to aid them in packing up the blankets. They then shouldered the rucks, intentionally keeping the straps fairly loose in the event they had to drop them, if they had to do it in a hurry. They then checked their weapons and gave each other a nod.

  True turned off the light and stuck it in his pocket. Melvin had access to one of Mount Weather’s coveted night vision goggles. He put them on and adjusted them before soft stepping to the door. True put one hand on Melvin’s shoulder and the two men moved in unison.

  “Alright, here we go,” Melvin whispered.

  He swung the door open as quietly as he could. When they had set up in the empty business, they had doused the hinges and hasp with used motor oil. Despite that, one hinge emitted a tiny squeak as he opened it. In normal times it would not have been noticed, but tonight it screeched in the men’s ears like an air raid siren.

  Melvin stopped when the door was a couple of inches open and peered out. The goggles colored the area in a pea soup green. One of the lenses had a distinctive scratch on it which interfered with the quality of image, but Melvin ignored it. He scanned for a full minute. Seeing no activity, he reached back to his shoulder and patted True’s hand twice. The signal to move.

  Melvin pulled the door open far enough for the two men to walk out. It squeaked some more but the men did not hesitate. They walked in step and soon were at the road. Their truck was several blocks away, parked on a side street amongst several derelict automobiles.

  “Alright, one mile to go,” Melvin whispered.

  They made it two blocks before encountering zeds.

  Chapter 22 – The Cincinnati Zeds

  “Two o’clock, eight zeds,” Melvin whispered. The zeds had emerged from behind a building, silent as ghosts. They were approximately fifty yards away and walking toward them on a diagonal course. Melvin was not sure if they had been spotted or if the zeds were simply wandering in the night. Not a common behavior, but not unheard of.

  True squeezed his shoulder in acknowledgement as Melvin steered them left, maneuvering to put some derelict cars in between themselves and the zeds. Whatever thoughts Melvin had of the zeds merely being out on a stroll were dispelled when they altered course to intercept the men, and although they were not running, they were ambling toward them at a faster speed than your average decomposing zed. Melvin picked up his pace. True duplicated his pace, occasionally turning to watch their six. As he turned back, Melvin suddenly began firing.

  True turned to see another group of zeds. They were on the opposite side of them and were less than twenty feet from them. True began firing while wondering how they had gotten so close without the men seeing them.

  “They maneuvered us into an ambush!” Melvin shouted. There was no need for noise discipline now.

  True did not have time to voice his agreement. Although the moon was out, there was still limited visibility, and he was trying to make every shot count. They eventually created a gap between the zeds and the route to their truck, and at Melvin’s prodding, they took off in a sprint. Melvin dropped his magazine, a valued item these days, and inserted a fresh one into his weapon while he ran.

  “Green!” he shouted, letting True know he had reloaded.

  True performed the same task just as another group of five zeds emerged from behind an overturned semi. Fred McCoy would have given a nod of approval if he saw how Melvin expertly double-tapped head shots to each zed.

  Their respite was short lived. Five more zeds emerged from the open doorway of a fast-food restaurant and charged toward them. Both men fired, killing the zeds in under two seconds.

  “To the truck!” Melvin shouted.

  Both men increased their pace and were soon sprinting. They still had a little over a mile to go, but more zeds were joining in on the fun and they were preventing the men from running directly to their truck. At one point, one of the zeds jumped out from behind a wrecked Honda and actually had its hands on Melvin before he was able to push it away. Once he got a little wiggle room, he stuck the barrel of his assault rifle under the zed’s chin and blasted its face off.

  True was dealing with two zeds that were in the road and coming right at him. There were also others coming in from both sides, but they were not yet a threat, only the two coming at him. True shot one but the other kept coming toward him. True didn’t break stride until he was right on it, and then he raised his right foot and stomped down hard on the zed’s knee. Zeds may not feel pain anymore, but with his knee destroyed, immediately after putting weight on it, he stumbled and fell.

  “This might not end well for us!” Melvin shouted.

  True was too winded to give a proper answer. All he could do was keep firing.

  Chapter 23 – Who the Hell is That? (Part 1)

  True reached the truck first. He threw his rucksack in the back before jumping inside. Melvin was right behind him. He did the same with his rucksack, jumped into the driver’s seat and turned the key.

  “It might take a few minutes before it starts,” he said.

  True grunted. He knew the truck had one of Josue’s refurbished batteries. He hoped it had enough juice to start the cold diesel engine.

  There were several dozen zeds surrounding the truck by the time it started. The windows were covered with thick hardware cloth, but it didn’t deter the zeds from banging against it with their fists in hopes of breaking through.

  When he first tried it, the engine turned over with agonizing slowness. Melvin gritted his teeth and waited for a full minute before trying again. After a couple of attem
pts, the engine cranked to life.

  “I wasn’t worried,” True said.

  Melvin glanced over. True appeared calm, as if they were out for a Sunday drive. Melvin put the truck into drive and ran over a zed as he began driving away. He glanced at the mirror before turning and looking behind them.

  “We have four zeds in the back of the truck, and we need to get our fuel trailer without their interference.”

  “Get us some distance from that horde and I’ll take care of them with my knife. Unless you want to join in too,” True said.

  Melvin chuckled. The snow and ice prevented him from going too fast, but after a series of turns, he lost sight of the zeds. He spotted a good-sized church and parked behind it. The two men got out, knives in hand, and made quick work of the unwelcome passengers. Dragging them out of the way, they wiped the blood off their respective knives in the dirty snow and dried them on their pants leg before storing them back in their sheathes.

  “Do you happen to know how we get back to the trailer?” he asked.

  True chuckled. Melvin took it as a good sign. The only time he ever saw True happy was when he interacted with Prairie, the little girl he had rescued back in Tennessee.

  “We’ll get the tanker first, and then find a safe spot to transmit a message to Weather,” Melvin said.

  “Mmhmm,” True answered.

  It took a little back tracking before they were going in the right direction toward their tanker when Melvin spoke.

  “Hmm,” he remarked.

  True was staring out the passenger window, but instantly jerked around and focused on what had piqued Melvin’s interest.

  “Who the hell is that? It ain’t a zed.”

  “It sure looks like a regular human,” Melvin agreed.

  A figure was standing on top of an old U-Haul box truck and was surrounded by six zeds. They were all clawing at and trying to climb up on the truck, but at the sound of their truck and its lights, they paused in their efforts and turned. One of them immediately began ambling toward them. Melvin stopped their truck. The zed walked directly to the driver’s side and began clawing at the wire mesh covering the door windows. Soon another zed joined him.

  “He’s wearing one of them long gray coats, the same as those soldiers,” True said. “You think he’s one of them?”

  Melvin considered it. “Could be. Let’s check him out. Or her, whatever it is.”

  Melvin lurched forward, running over one of the curious zeds. He then parked and threw open the truck door, knocking the other zed down. The two men jumped out and made quick work of them. When they were finished, Melvin pointed at the man standing on top of the truck.

  “Come down from there,” he ordered.

  The man hesitated, but then slowly climbed down and stood before Melvin while True checked the passenger compartment of the box truck. He was shaking and stared at Melvin in obvious fright. Melvin was fifty percent certain it was a man, although he was small, maybe five and a half feet tall and small framed. His cheeks were sunken, gaunt, an indication of malnourishment. He was wearing the same style heavy gray overcoat that was grimy and had seen a lot of rough usage.

  “Ain’t nobody else in there,” he told Melvin and turned his attention to the small man. “He sure is a sorry looking sight. What’s your name, boy?”

  The man visibly gulped and stared at True in a mixture of fear and wide-eyed astonishment. True noticed.

  “He’s acting like he ain’t never seen a black man before.”

  “Maybe he hasn’t,” Melvin said. He snapped his fingers to get the man’s attention.

  “Do you speak English?”

  “A little English,” the man answered.

  “Good,” Melvin said and tapped his finger on his chest. “Melvin.”

  The man nodded in understanding and tapped his chest. “Dong,” he said.

  “Dong?”

  “Dong,” he repeated.

  Melvin suppressed a laugh. “Do you have a gun, Dong?

  Dong looked confused. Melvin stepped toward him and patted the heavy jacket. Dong realized what Melvin was doing and held his hands up.

  “No kill me,” he pleaded. “Pẻng you. Friend. Dong friend.”

  “Uh huh,” Melvin said. “Hold your arms out.”

  Melvin had to physically move Dong’s arms out and took a glove off so he could unbutton the little man’s jacket. As soon as he did so, his nostrils were assailed with body odor. Melvin reacted by wrinkling his nose and sneezing.

  “This boy hasn’t had a bath in a while,” Melvin complained, which elicited a grunt from True.

  The only weapon he found was a dagger type knife sheathed in Dong’s belt. When Melvin snatched it, Dong offered a sheepish grin.

  “No kill me. Dong friend.”

  “Yeah, you keep saying that,” Melvin muttered and held a hand up, palm facing Dong, indicating the man needed to be quiet. Dong nodded like he understood.

  “What do you think?” he asked True.

  “Same outfit,” True said. “I ain’t no Einstein, but I’d bet he’s one of them.”

  “Yeah, I’d say you’re right,” Melvin agreed.

  “The question is, what’s he doing out here all alone? Hey boy, are you a deserter?”

  Dong frowned before answering. “Dong friend.”

  Melvin grunted and tested the edge of the dagger. “It’s duller than Grandpa’s dick,” he said before putting his glove back on.

  “Well, he don’t look infected,” True remarked. “I suppose we could take him back to Weather for a proper debriefing.”

  Melvin considered it. “Yeah, we could. I don’t think anyone speaks Chinese, but Garret and Grace might have some kind of translation software on that big computer.” He took his glove off again to scratch his face and try to rub some of the smell out of his nose. “He stinks to high heaven, but if we put him in the back of the truck he’ll most likely freeze to death.”

  “Yeah, and he’s as good as dead if we leave him,” True said. “If you’re asking, I think we should take him back. We can always kill him later.”

  “Dong friend, no kill!” Dong shouted.

  True grabbed him by the shoulder and shushed him. “Be quiet,” he ordered in a harsh whisper and then led him to the passenger side of the truck.

  He put Dong in the front passenger seat and got in the back. Melvin took a moment to inspect the dead zeds. They had various personal items that were of no value. Melvin noted none of them had anything that would be considered identification. Satisfied, he got back in the truck.

  “They didn’t look like fifteens,” he observed. “Mostly rotten skin and bones. None of them were Chinese soldiers, from what I could tell.”

  “Do you want to radio this in?” True asked.

  “Maybe later, at the moment I just want to get the tanker and put some distance between us and all those newly created zeds. We made more noise than I’m comfortable with.”

  “Yeah,” True said in agreement. Both men knew from experience freshly turned zeds were faster, stronger, and much more aggressive than old ones.

  “You know, if Zach were still living at Weather, I’d go ahead and call it in. He’d have everything prepped and ready for our new guest.” He then chuckled. “And, he’d probably have a list of questions already written up.”

  “Yeah, but how many? Five hundred?” True asked.

  “Probably more like five thousand,” Melvin said.

  True smiled, which elicited a laugh from Melvin. Dong wasn’t exactly sure what was being discussed but laughed along with them anyway.

  “Yo, Dong, why did you leave your friends?” Melvin asked.

  Dong seemed to understand. “Bad. All bad. No food. Hungry always.”

  Melvin glanced back at True.

  “Yeah, he looks like he’s starving,” True concluded and reached into his knapsack. He then stuck his hand out and nudged Dong, who jerked and stared back at True in fright.

  “Here,” True ordered. “It
’s food. Food.”

  It was a homemade Mount Weather granola bar. True was skeptical the first time he was served one at lunch, but he found them to be rather tasty. He and Melvin had stocked up on several before leaving on their mission.

  Dong tentatively reached out with his cuffed hands and took it. He tried a small bite and True could have sworn Dong’s eyes rolled back in ecstasy. He then devoured the small bar in two bites and bobbed his head at True in thanks. True must have been in a good mood, he gave Dong another granola bar and a canteen of water.