by Joe Kelly
Bridget hung upside down held in place by her seatbelt, blood trickling from the gash in her forehead. The sides of her face and lips were swollen and bruised. He watched till he was sure she was breathing, and then and only then drew his knife cut her loose and pulled her out of the truck.
“Sharon, Jason over here” he yelled and waited till they reached him. “get her back to the truck.” Mark told them
“If we move her she might die” Jason protested. Mark pointed towards the courthouse were zombies were marching towards them.
“If she stays here she will damn sure die. Do it, just keep an eye on her. don’t want her dying and coming back” he said then rose and sprinted for Jared’s truck. Two zombies had come around the corner of the tire shop and were close enough to pose a threat so mark shot them down. As the second one fell, he saw Jared’s door fly open. Jared half fell out of the truck then reached back inside and pulled Jill out.
“Behind you” Mark yelled seeing the thirty more zombies come around the corner of the tire shop and advance on the wrecked truck. his weapons rose to his shoulder, his finger tightened on the trigger.
Seth watched thru the scope as one of the survivors pulled a woman from the wreck of one truck, another woman, the blond with the nice boobs and a muscle bound goon ran to help. He sighted in but the first man he wanted to shoot took off running for the second wrecked truck. I want the woman, and I wouldn’t mind shoot the goon with the pretty face, but Miser Hero pisses me off, he thought.
Seth laid his sights on the man then led him. Shooting was about the only thing his mad as a hatter father had shared with him. Till the world had turned crazy, Seth hadn’t touched a fire arm since he had moved back home five years ago. I guess dear old dad was helping prepare me for today.
Through the scope he saw a red headed man climbed out of the second wrecked truck. totally unaware of the zombies advancing on him and the woman he held. “oh well too late for you buddy “ Seth said with a smile and pulled the trigger.
Jared lifted Jill to his chest, and staggered away from the truck his ears ringing and ten thousand very small guys with really large hammers in his head were beating wildly out of sync with each other.
Marc was yelling something that he couldn’t hear thru the ringing, and shooting past Jared’s truck. Then suddenly Marks eyes widened in pain and disbelief as he stumbled to a stop blood fountaining from his chest then he slowly fell to his knees and then collapsed face down amidst the debris on the road.
Jared stood holding Jill and staring in shock his mind protesting that this couldn’t be real. As the scope of the disaster he had led his friends into sank in he wanted to scream in denial. Oh dear god, Jared thought, what have I done.
No time, focus, he told himself, hating having to push aside the grief he felt. Focus he told himself his mind racing. Mark had been firing past the truck and yelling something. That could only mean zombies. He looked back over his shoulder and saw a large group of zombies advancing on his wrecked truck. He still had plenty of time before the crowd of undead reached them, he laid Jill on the ground then returned to the truck and retrieved his Colt Commando.
Weapon in hand he turned back to look at the body of his friend, and gasped in pain as a bullet punched thru the door of the truck and grazed his arm leaving a deep bloody furrow. He dropped into a crouch behind the door, using it to block the snipers sight line. It damn sure wasn’t going to stop any bullets.
With Bridget secured in the back of the truck and the remaining propane bombs left on the street, Sharon leaped into the driver’s seat and got the truck moving, heading towards Jared’s wrecked truck.
She choked back a scream as she saw Mark sprawled in the gravel of the parking lot, a pool of blood spreading out from his still body. She would keep under control, she had too or others could die. but tears tracked down her face as something inside her died at the sight of the man she loved laying in a pool of blood.
Jared felt tears sliding down his cheeks as he saw Marks body twitch, then twitch again his corpse was about to rise. Jared lifted his rifle as Sharon pulled up. Jason leaped out to help Jill to her feet and got her moving towards truck.
Jared only half noticed all that his concentration was focused on Mark. He wanted to pull the trigger so badly, knew he should but he waited. Maybe he was hoping Mark was still alive, even though he knew better. Whatever the reasons he held his fire watching as Marks arms came up and began to push the body upright. The head started to ratchet around.
“Rest in peace buddy.” Jared said as he saw the milky eyes staring at him. He fired once. “get this stuff loaded into Marks truck” he bellowed indicating the bags in the back of his truck as he strode forward, daring the sniper to take a shot at him. They had come here for those meds and Mark had died for them, so they were not going to leave them unless there was no damn choice. And the undead can go straight to hell before I give an inch today.
“Jared where’s Steve?” Jason asked numbly.
“Don’t know” Jared replied feelings of loss and failure that threatened to take him down. Jason saw something in his eyes and stepped back. “Kyle and Deacon are gone too. Bridget’s hurt but in the back of the truck. ” He said determined to tell Jared all of it.
“nothing we can about it at the moment.” Jared said his voice flat empty of emotion. He was hoping, no praying that all three men were all right. This is my damn fault, he told himself as something snapped in him and he felt all that loss and grief flow away as a red hot anger rose sweeping it aside like so much flotsam, It surged through him, a red tide that threatened to overwhelm him. He turned cold deadly eyes on the courthouse, he would deal with that bastard before he left town. Leave you the way you left Mark he silently vowed
Seth was laughing as he watched the drama unfold. He leaned out as if to get a better look. “to late, bring out your dead” he hollered. And then screamed as a bullet whined off the stone windowsill, sending stone chips and splinters into his face and arms. He fell back into the clock tower, hitting the floor he crabbed backwards to escape. Four more shots rang out putting divots into the stone. Righteous indignation filled him how dare they shoot at him. Well he would just show them.
“You pasty faced, Prick sitting, Piss guzzling, shit stealer!” Pappy yelled, not even sure if the asshole heard him. “I was killing better men than you before you inbred queer grandpa was born” he yelled as he reloaded the old rifle. He fumbled and dropped a round. He got another out and finished loading then inched back up the ditch and watched the window that the coward had been looking out of laughing at what he had done to Pappy’s people.
“Um pappy” Chris said weakly. “Yelling is not a good idea”
“What the hell are you talking about, what, the asshole is going to complain.” Pappy said with a snort of dismissal.
“Actually, you old fart I was thinking more of the huge crowd of zombies you just alerted to our location” Chris replied. He didn’t need to point, about half of the crowed bearing down on the wrecks were now heading towards them. Chris didn’t bother to count, who needed an accurate count of one to damn many undead.
“oh… fuck” Pappy said, for once at a loss for words as his gaze dropped to the street and he saw the undead horde heading towards the ditch they lay in. “any ideas?” He asked, not really wanting to play Custer.
“Well you could help me up and we could run for it,” Chris said
“Don’t know about running. But between the two of us we might be able to stagger, slowly back to the others,” Pappy said quietly, a slight determined smiled on his weathered face.
“Well stop pissing your depends and help me up,” Chris replied. Pappy chuckled again impressed with how the Army puke was holding up. “Reminds me of the time….” Pappy said as he hauled Chris to his feet. Chris moaned but only partly from pain. He was trapped and would have to hear the whole damned story Pappy launched into a story involving, the Japanese army, two hookers, a goat and a bottle of whiskey. By th
en they were shuffling towards the wreckage of Steve’s truck.
Rob dazed by the explosion; his ears ringing wildly sat shaking his head, the dozer sitting idle. He didn’t know how long it took but he finally was able to shake his head trying to clear it of the fog that lingered in his mind, He looked out the slits cut into the plywood that enclosed the cab. “oh shit” he said seeing the overturned truck, the cafeteria was just rubble and about half of the strip center nothing but wreckage and fire. The train station was in flames and the falling cinders were setting the dry grass and brush behind it on fire as well.
He revved the motor and began to turn the dozer to move over to where what was left of the group had gathered. He stopped again as he saw Pappy, half carrying Chris slowly away from maybe hundred or more zombies. There was something almost heroic about that, the old guy had to know he was too slow. But for all his insults, and snide remarks, he was doing his best to save a man he usually acted like he despised. Got to respect that, Rob thought as he put the dozer into gear and drove straight for the zombies that were gaining on the old man..
“Look at that “ Pappy said as the dozer passed them by. Its blade going down and then it struck the leading zombies of the horde. “Woo hooo, take that you puss filled, maggot ridden, mostly dead tools” he said, doing his shuffling dance of victory.
“Tool?” Chris asked, wincing with each pathetic dance step. “Where in the hell did you learn that one?”
“I pay attention the important stuff” Pappy said seriously. Chris coughed and laughed.
“I think you need to get your old dusty ass in motion, there’s still a lot of those things that could catch us” Chris pointed out.
“And this is the thanks I get for saving you.” Pappy said as he started forward again breathing heavily.
♦ ♦ ♦
Jared went thru his second magazine of the day, and quickly reloaded. Snapping the charging handle, he took a moment to look around. Sharon looked ready to collapse, her eyes constantly darting to Marks body.
Just this morning Mark had pulled him aside and talked about having a second wedding ceremony soon since Sharon was pregnant. He had thought she would have loved it. “Don’t worry buddy, I’ll do my best to get her out of here and back to the camp.” Jared whispered the promise then lifted his weapon and continued firing at the mass of zombies that were coming down Clinton street in a flood of dead flesh, the ones in the lead already curling around his wrecked truck.
Seth pounded down the stairs to the maintenance room and retrieved the items he needed then rushed back upstairs. He had planned on using them down stairs, but now he wanted to see the action as he delivered his presents. “Oh yes, your going to get all of them Mr. red headed Commando”
Rob couldn’t hear the snapping of bones or the wet popping sounds of rupturing bodies, but he could see the red ruin that the dozer left as he made three passes on the horde catching most of them, he headed back toward the wreckage of his friends trucks. Pappy and Chris had reached the small group clustered behind Jared’s truck by then, “Do what I can,” Rob said aloud noting how many people were not visible. He set about removing every zombie that he could line up in front of his blade. The Dozer roared past Jared’s truck clearing the immediate threat.
Steve sat in up the overgrown gravel lot of the old train station, wiping the blood from his face where the gravel had ripped and gouged as he landed on face down. The sudden icy fear of the undead got him to his feet wincing with pain as bolts of pain shot up from his knee. All he remembered was spinning through the air like a Frisbee and then meeting the ground.
Undead and burning debris were between him and Jared’s truck. the train station behind him was on fire and a quick look showed him undead near the ruined strip center and more on the elevated road behind it. Circle around the station and get in trees, then I can make my way over to Jared. He decided. He started forward and almost tripped on his rifle. Yes! He thought.
Limping he stuck close the fire, sweat pouring from the heat, but the nearby undead seemed to avoid the fire and himself so he put up with it. Finally, he was in the bushes under the thick line of trees, the side closest to Jared had scattered fires that were spreading through the dry underbrush and the even drying grass and weeds in the cleared property behind it, essentially those fires and the undead was a wall keeping him away from his friends.
Just great, there was no way to get back to Jared's Truck. he started north till he reached the end of the tree line on Old Orchard Road. Which had far fewer undead. I need a place to hole up in till I get a chance to escape. The only bit of luck had been stumbling over my rifle.
Orchard ran west crossing Baker street which ran north to south passing the fuel storage yard. Orchard curved up a hill through a bunch of 1960s style duplexs and vanished from sight. Painfully he crouched in the brush and trees studying the area. Abandoned vehicles were scattered everywhere on both roads. The drive ways up on the hill were filled with cars, and undead were steadily growing in number as they headed towards the sound of gunfire.
So far none of them had seemed to notice him, but his friends were in deep crap if they didn’t get moving. Friends, Bridget is over there too, let her be okay God, he prayed silently. If he lost her, He might as well eat a bullet. Pull your head out and find a way to get back to her and them.
Maybe I look that bad that the undead think I am one of their own, he thought trying to find something anything funny in this nightmare.
He looked around, there were to many undead and with his knee the way it was there was no way he could just run around them and dodge. Not a smart idea all things considered, he thought as he slowly scanned the vehicles he could see. some of the owners were no doubt in this crowd of undead.
It was the black van that drew his attention. Some one had spent a fortune on that puppy; it had at least a foot and a half, if not two feet of center clearance, a heavy duty brush guard, a roll bar with fog lights and a fancy looking storage rack on the roof that had boxes strapped in and what looked like a multi ton winch mounted on the brush guard.. It had started life as a ford E-350. a nice van model.
He rapidly eyeballed the number of feet between his position and the van, and decided it was worth the risk and effort. If the driver’s door hadn’t been standing open, he wouldn’t have bothered. No sense running over and finding the door locked, the keys gone, and a bunch of Zombies gathering condiments as they headed his way.
Taking a deep breath, he hefted his rifle and ran, well more like limped rapidly to the van. Shooting any zombie closer then fifteen feet. He stumbled twice, the pain in his leg almost blinding him. He bit the inside of his mouth to keep from yelling from the pain.
As soon as he started shooting zombies in the area began to turn and head towards him. Guess they have finally noticed me. He thought as he flipped them the finger. “your welcome to try” He yelled at them. His leg was really hurting now, especially his damned lower leg.
He managed to get into the van, slam the door then whirl around in the seat to look in the back ready to shoot the shit out of anything that moved. Other than the smell of old blood the van was empty. Well almost, he thought as he saw an arm laying on the floor. He ignored it as he drew his multi tool and ducked under the dashboard. A moment later the engine roared to life. “YES, good van, damn good Van” He said excitedly it not starting had been the biggest immediate fear he had.
Oh yeah! By the sound of it the motor was a 6.0L diesel he thought cheering mentally. He locked the doors, grinning as he saw the four-wheel drive lever. He engaged the four wheel drive, slammed it into gear and turned around quickly, he would go around the zombies, head north cut across the doctor’s office parking lot just below the Hospital and come back up 52 to reach his friends.
Kyle sat up shaking his head as he looked around, he didn’t’ remember anything after being thrown out of the rolling truck till now. He was between a car and a dumpster, his face hurt and his left arm hurt like hell to move. “s
ome people get better looking as they get older, me, I just get more battered looking.” He muttered then suddenly remembered Deacon and looked around, In the months since they had met. He had come to really like the younger man. Deacon had never given a damn about his color or his looks and had covered his back more times than he could count on the long trip that finally led them here. Hell Deacon was the only thing that had kept him from slicing his own wrists.
“oh no” He said seeing Deacons legs sticking out from under a piece of metal and broken cinder block. “oh no, not you too.” He said as he scrambled over and started dragging the debris off his best friend. Undead, he thought, how he had forgotten he didn’t know, but he quickly looked around and saw no sign of the undead in the devastated strip mall parking lot. That’s when he saw the over turned truck and heard the gunfire.
“don’t be dead” He whispered to whoever might be listening. “don’t let him be dead.” Sometimes God or what ever a person believed in listened, but not today and maybe not ever again considering the state of the world.