Steve looked back, with difficulty, stuck and armored in the confined space. He saw forty or so rambling and running after them. “You sure this is a good idea?”
“We get down there and quickly start a fire someplace safe so we don't burn the whole damn place down. Get them to come over quick, race back up to Lena and Lisa. Then we all get back to the school. Great plan!”
“Simple, so simple...” Steve cajoled.
"And Randall does the motorcycle thing."
"Got it," Steve humphed.
The path was amazingly open all the way down, through two major intersections and a few blocks between those. The Horde had pushed open the jammed cars. But the zombies were filling the side streets and clambering over the walls of cars and trucks. They seemed like ants, giant ants crawling over everything to get to the open path.
Dad hit a few. The Corolla was not made for bashing zombies. It bounced and skidded upon each impact.
“Yikes,” Steve grunted. “This is getting fucking dense man!”
Dad gritted his teeth as he bashed a zombie reaching in his driver's side window. Another zombie flew over the hood and cracked the already cracked window. It's guts smeared the glass, making visibility that much more difficult.
“Oh shit!” Steve huffed, awkwardly stabbing zombies at his window. “Let's get there man! Damn, they pop outta nowhere!”
21. Firetruck
Dad gunned the gas and raced through the zombies running in from all sides. It was a bit clearer in front of them than behind, so he got clear enough to speed up. But the whir of the engine and rattle of metal attracted more.
They reached the intersection at the corner of the high school. It was the first intersection back when he rescued Lena where he saw the mayhem. It was where the cops and firemen were trying to deal with wounded who then turned into zombies and created chaos. He remembered seeing the confusion and instant insanity as people turned.
The Horde had cleared it out when he rode through the other day, when he spotted the guys on the roof. The ambulance and firetruck were still there, crushed up against the building and school parking lot. There was an opening into the school fencing. Dad drove up the curb onto it.
The fencing was still intact across the perimeter except where it was bent and crushed under the bus-size firetruck. It was somehow pushed up and onto the fencing, breaking down several poles and leaving an opening. Dad drove the Corolla over the chain link and bashed into parked cars. The lot was full of cars. He backed it up, wanting to be clear to get away.
They both saw as zombie high school kids started pouring out of the school. They ran toward them from the campus.
“Couldn't these have cleared out by now?!” Dad growled angrily. He motioned to a cloth bag for Steve to get. “Get the fire going!”
He jumped out of the car and pulled his sword out, slashing at zombies as they crowded around him. Steve pulled out a dried hand and a lighter from the bag. He nervously attempted to light it. He clicked and clicked the damn lighter until it finally started. Zombies were grabbing at his armored arm, causing him to fumble with the crackling hand and lighter.
Dad twirled about, cutting up zombies as best he could. There were a lot more frantic and frenzied ones. It was high school kids after all. This plan didn't look like it was going to work. He was already thinking of leaping back into the car and getting out. But he saw the boys on the roof, quite a ways off, three of them, in their football gear desperately putting on their helmets. They looked ready to be rescued.
He could hear Randall gunning his motorcycle and leading some zombies away, but it didn't look like it mattered to this horde. They must have been stuck in the schoolyard on lockdown even as The Horde had passed by a couple of days back when Dad drove by and first saw the survivors on the gym roof. The fire truck bashing against and collapsing the fence probably wasn't recognized as an opening to them. They must have followed along the fence down the block where he had raced to. Whatever, Dad realized, he was thinking too much, so he let go of his thoughts as he swung, swung, swung.
The gym was down past the courtyard, past the frenzied swell of high school zombies. Dad had to swing a bit faster, a bit harder, to keep from getting buried under the raging zombies. He tried to get to the other side of the car to see what Steve was up to and help if needed. Each step required two or three fast swings. Dad knew he couldn't last long fighting at this level.
He then spotted the horde of zombies crashing and crowding all along the fencing. Some were pouring in behind him at the opening. It was all happening way too fast.
“Come on Steve!” Dad yelled as Steve stepped out of the car trying to wave the dead zombie hand around. But the zombies were too frenzied. They ran right into Steve bashing and clawing at him as he dropped the smoldering hand. It rolled under the car. Steve panicked and pushed zombies away, grunting then screaming.
“Get up!” Dad leapt to the firetruck and climbed up, slashing at any grabbing zombies.
Steve followed, yanking and bashing as the zombies began to crowd around them. He screeched in near panic.
“Damn it!” Dad yelled. “We gotta get the fire going! Where's the bag?'
“I lost it!” Steve screamed. “They grabbed it! I couldn't stop them!”
Dad grunted frustration as zombies climbed up to attack them. They had a good position and could easily slice off heads as zombies clambered up the fire truck.
It was difficult standing, but there were plenty of flat surfaces and the back half had the ladder. Steve took that section, stepping down into a walkway where the ladder was nestled. He was able to use the ladder as a balancing brace as he swung to and fro at climbing zombies. Dad was in front on the top, swirling around the red roof. He did not bother bringing a shield, knowing he was going to be in car. He swung and bashed, using both limbs in equal fury.
“My God...” Dad said under his breath as zombies began crowding the school parking lot and street. They were coming in from all sides. It was a crescendo of buzzing bees all around them. They were not going to last against this many, an inordinate amount were young and able. He saw the mix of black, Hispanic, Asian youths that were all zombied. He saw their crazed demonic faces as they gnashed their teeth. Their hands were in those fixed clawing grips. A fear suddenly rose in him, but he let it go, even as it felt like he was suddenly in hell, on the first floor, the ground floor, as demons reached up, wanting to pull him down. He shook it off, knowing the Lord was with him, the Holy Spirit was in him. Some might think such a thought was silly, or psychological foolishness. But for Dad, it was all that... and way more, because it was spiritual.
Steve looked to Dad, in his near madness, and saw Dad's calm demeanor, his ability to swing and bash, over and over, just taking care of business. Steve took a quick deep breath and did the same, just swinging one after the other, blurring out the vast evil eyes staring up at him.
They kept them at bay, slashing as evil twisted bodies climbed up. But more and more were crowding around. The falling bodies piled up and were raising a mound. The truck began to shake with the clawing grip of hundreds of zombies.
Then a sudden fwoomp of hot air and fire burst out from under the Corolla. It suddenly lurched into a fiery of flames and heat. But it seemed to die down, as Steve and Dad continued fighting off the zombies.
“When it hits the gas tank... it'll blow!” Dad yelled above the drowning growls.
Steve stepped over the ladder precariously, to the other side, having to fight several zombies that made it up.
The flames seemed to go as quick as they came, but then smoke came forth. Dad grabbed a zombie, pulling it up. He cut its head off then tried pushing its body toward the dwindling flames. He cut off an arm and tossed it, ripped a coat off another and tossed it, hoping all these pieces would alight on fire. Something took and the flames and smoke built up. It lit more zombies on fire. Their dried clothes and parched skin finally caught on fire.
The car crackled a minor explosion. So
mething popped and threw sparks from underneath. It was growing and catching the frenzied zombies, who didn't seem to react, to avoid it. So each one that was near the burning Corolla got caught up in its flames. They grabbed onto the fire engine, clambering up, as they burned and smoked.
Dad thought he could hear the crisping of their skin as the zombies awkwardly reached up for them. He wasn't sure he heard it or imagined it, being drowned out by the mass of growling zombies. He killed one and let the burning body rest atop the cabin with him. He cut its parts and tossed them around the truck. The smoking parts finally seemed to have an effect. He slowed his movements as less zombies climbed and their frenzy was lulled. Steve noticed and ducked a bit, trying to be less conspicuous, to help calm the zombies. Dad tossed smoking parts next to Steve.
He grabbed another zombie that was burning and clinging to the truck. The smoke was getting strong now, causing Dad to cough a bit, his eyes to water. He knew he had to move along. Steve lifted up a scarf, covering much of his hockey helm's face mask.
Dad's helm with smaller holes, didn't need one, at least not so readily. He can handle a bit of a cough and irritant. After all, it meant less zombies. The burning Corolla and zombies were filling the area with smoke. Some of the flames from the burning Corolla were man size and Dad felt the heat through his armor.
He climbed down as close to the fire as possible and used zombie parts to spread the fire and repel the active ones.
Steve followed. “Did it blow yet?”
“I don't know!” Dad held out a zombie arm at the end of his sword. It was smoldering a good amount, with a few crackling flames running along it. It wouldn't last long but long enough he figured to get to the kids on the roof.
He saw them on the edge, waiting for him. They saw the fire, flames, and smoke. He saw they were anxious and climbing down. The zombies had left the gym area and were crowded around Dad and Steve. The smoke got them to back off, but not completely. Dad had to bash a few that ran in. It was a precarious situation. Dad knew this wasn't right. He had to wait it out longer. He had to wait till they meandered away. He couldn't walk out with a smoldering arm. It needed to be a lot more smoke than just some flimsy torch.
Dad dropped the burning limb and sliced a nearby zombie's head off. It dropped. He then kicked the arm near it. It caught the clothes on fire. The flames and smoke were spreading, not just from this drop, but from the Corolla. Steve stood next to him, coughing and hacking. The zombies were confused. They were frantic and unfocused. The smoke and flames seemed to blind them. The smell of smoke blocked their senses.
Dad decided what the hell. He began a casual slicing and dicing, cutting zombie after zombie, lopping heads off with controlled swings. It was all in the motion. He kept close to the smoke and flames. It was as if he was invisible. When a zombie dropped another would step in, knowing something was there. But Dad's armor and the smoke, it seemed to confuse them. He kept it up, swinging and dropping them, one after another. Yet all around him was a dense crowd of crazed cannibals trying to find what was driving their hunger. The back rows piled and pushed on the front ones that were trying to avoid the smoke. Many fell into squirming piles blocking each other. Some looked like walls of frantic limbs and gnashing teeth, swayed by the wafts of pungent smoke.
Steve tried. His swings weren't as accurate. A few leaped in sensing him. He had to struggle with them. Dad helped quickly, lopping skull caps and dropping them. Steve settled behind Dad, a sword swing distance within the smoke. Dad refocused and continued forward as the flames spread. Dad wasn't sure if the whole place was going to go up or not. There was a lot of asphalt. He hoped it wouldn't spread. The flames were licking at anything around the Corolla and were clawing at the fire truck.
Beyond, the smoke and fire were dispersing the zombies. They began moving away. Dad found a peaceful place in prayer. He chanted quietly, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of death, I shall fear no evil. You shall comfort and protect me, with your rod and staff... yea, though I walk through the valley of death, I shall fear no evil. You shall comfort me...” As he spoke, he severed zombies, over and over, stepping forward in front of the flames, getting half air and half smoke, but breathing nonetheless. And moving with the smoke, he drew in a few at a time. With his quick movement, he dropped more zombies.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of death, I shall fear no evil. You comfort me... protect me... thy rod, thy staff protect me...”
“What you saying?” Steve managed, staying near Dad. He kicked bits of burning flesh out for their advance, coughing and hacking but alive.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of death, I shall fear no evil, for you are with me. You comfort me, you protect me with your rod and staff... I'm reciting. It's God protecting me... comforting me... it's the Lord is my Shepherd thing,” Dad said calmly, as he dropped more, stepping over the twitching bodies to the next layer of zombies. He had one eye on the boys on the roof. They were near a ladder, ready to go down, but still looked scared, hesitant.
Dad continued, hacking and cutting away. He stepped out, a bit too far from the smoke, and several sensed him, leaping at him. This triggered a crowd of them to come in. He stepped back into the haze of smoke slicing quicker, taking down several, bashing others. One fell into the flames, catching fire with dried dirty clothes and parched skin. It rolled and spread the flames and smoke.
A car on the parking lot caught on fire as a burning zombie collapsed next to its exposed tire.
“Should we let that burn?” Steve asked.
“I dunno,” Dad said, looking curiously. He tried to calculate how much fire and smoke it would make, if it would catch all the cars, and then all the buildings. He glanced beyond the confused chaos of zombies moving to and fro. He noticed the dried foliage, the build-up of dead leaves and trash and plants. It was kindle ready to explode.
“Let's drag it off,” Dad said. They stepped to the burning body and rolled it off the tire. Then Steve smacked at the flames on the tire. It was just a small grease flame.
“Not sure this is gonna work,” Steve said. His armor protected him so he could smack more than if he had just bare hands. He used his shield and gloved hands to put out the weak flames. It still smoked quite a bit but the flames were gone.
Dad dragged the body away, to burn and smoke around them, in the open area. The Corolla was still burning as were bodies around it. It finally exploded as its gas tank ruptured. Zombies rambling around it became engulfed. A nearby tree, still pretty green, caught on fire. There were a row of trees along the sidewalk. Their leaves burst into flames. The fire truck's small parts, exposed hoses and tubes began to burn.
22. Football Players
Dad and Steve stepped back. Dad turned and saw large zombies suddenly bulldozing their way to him. He readied to swing at these focused ones. They wore football helmets and had padded arms, charging in. He glanced up at the rooftop and saw that the boys were gone. He swung his sword but stopped, pulling it back. He realized it was them. They literally ran through the zombies, leaped into the smoke next to him, then scurried on all fours between him and Steve.
They crawled between two cars, breathing heavily, shaking and freaking out amidst the rush. Dad stared down at them. Steve, coughing, tried to get near them. It was all a massive chaos of fire, smoke, burning all around them, and zombies running to and fro, trying to find something to devour. Dad instinctively swung at zombies that sensed the boys charging through the smoke and flames. He hacked several, severing limbs and making them fall and convulse in the nearby fires.
Steve realized he had to help the boys on the other side. He stepped over them, between parked cars and dealt with a few that sensed their arrival. The three boys looked exhausted. All three were black, buddies or something, football players. One was large and able. The other two were small, skinny, and fast looking. All three looked somewhat feeble, under fed and probably stiff from being up on the roof.
“Get us out of here!” one
yelled.
“You got a car? Ours is burning!” Dad said.
“That's my car!” another yelled, pulling out keys. He pointed down the aisle. “Been hoping to get to it forever!”
“Let's go!” Dad said, lumbering forward, clear of the smoke.
Zombies in the parking lot began to sense them. The horde of zombies on the street, past the smoke, were still chaotic and confused in their movements. Dad immediately hacked zombies coming at them through the cars. The boys helped each other up. Dad couldn't really tell what they looked like since he was in his armor and they were covered in their football gear and arm pads.
The one with the keys led. He ran ahead but immediately ran back as zombies came after him. “Nope, nope, nope!”
“Steve, I'll take the front!” Dad yelled. Steve had difficulty killing the zombies quickly. His cuts from his blade were half strength, a bit frantic. He still wasn't sure of his swing. His nerves were shaking the blade, the retraction, the recovery and the return swing. Steve stepped back as Dad marched forward. They were between parked cars so the zombies had to go around to get to them.
Dad kept a good pace, slicing quickly, dropping one after the other. Other zombies were coming around so Dad yelled at them, “Hurry up. Which one?”
“That one, the blue one, the van!” he said.
“The mini-van?” Dad asked. “At the end of the row?”
“Yeah yeah...”
“Figures...”
“Yeah, its my mom's!” he hurried over with the keys. A zombie leaped at him. He put up his padded arms and tackled the zombie to the ground. He got up quick and hurried over as Dad finished it.
“That's awesome man!” another said.
“Thank God! Thank God! Thank God!” the other sang.
Steve brought up the rear, hacking and pushing several zombies at a time.
Knight of the Dead (Book 3): Fortress Page 12