His helm crushed into his face, jolted and pivoted with great strain. He couldn't see as he was choking. He was dying from the incredible crushing pressure as The Horde grabbed and gnashed at him. A force was straining his eyes, his breathing, his snot and blood. He wanted it to end. He knew he had loved and been loved. His wife, he had loved. His dear Lena, he had loved. I love you Charlotte. I love you. Lisa too, his dear Lisa he saved and is now Lena's best friend. They would fight for each other, grow old together. He saw that sisterhood in them. He would see them again, with Jesus. He knew. He was ready. Please stop the pain. It was overwhelming and drowning him in a delirium.
The zombies leapt through him. He felt them slam against him, furiously, with weight and impact, with power and sudden ferocity. He knew they were ripping him apart. He could feel it as he choked on his own bloated flesh, his throat constricted, blood and spit spurted.
He tried to look but couldn't. He tried to look at his end. He wavered as he felt the smashing of zombies. He finally saw as they flew in mass out the front window, more and more, on and on, the wall of The Horde was blurry and constant. He could barely see them. Were they running or flying past him, leaping so fast and straight? Was he dead now? Was he one of them? Was he choking and dead -- a zombie? Was heaven not his end? But this hell?
32. The Turn
His gauntlet reached forward, grabbing the dashboard. He felt his weight suddenly press against his braced arm. That weight went up his arm, into his shoulder, to his neck, then his brain. It deciphered the weight and he realized he was upside down. He was facing down. The bus was facing down, straight down. The world jerked and the mass of zombies seemed to move over somehow and flew out the front window... down. He was choking on his own weight. The blood rushing to his head was due to him being upside down. How?
He braced his other gauntlet and did a push up of sorts and lifted himself somewhat, rolling, crawling, getting his numb legs to curl under. He had to get the weight of his legs and armor off him, turning his body as he bent the steering wheel to make room. He had to turn.
He now was somewhat crouched in a foreign setting. It was an altogether alien setting of a school bus driver's seat and dashboard, turned ninety degrees, facing down. And the zombies kept flashing, pouring around. What was once a deafening sound was now the sound of the rapid pattering waterfall of zombies falling all around the school bus. The school bus was hanging vertical... how?
Many splattered and split amongst the network of rebar all around him. There was a webbing of them, bent and bashed within the windows. Dad saw the framework of rebar, of construction, and many zombies trying to cling as thousands more poured in, around, splattering and smashing. The Horde was still chasing after him but was falling all around him, falling past him.
He finally stood up. It was tenuous and straining. He leaned his body against the school bus flooring, which was now the wall. His boots balanced on the dashboard and driver's seat below him. Above him were a smashed pile of zombies at the windows and emergency exit, mutilated and trying to squeeze in. All around were zombies pouring over and over in a constant stream. The Horde was diving into this massive hole.
He adjusted his helm and lay -- no -- leaned against the bus's floor or walkway, breathing in air, however stale and smokey and gory. The sounds of rapid fire zombies falling all around him was incredible. The only roaring waterfalls he could recall were Disney's Jungle Cruise or Sea World's wonderful cafeteria area with that water ride. He smiled thinking of it.
He was able to look down and see, in the darkness and dust of thousands of splattering blood particles, a vast construction site. Far below, like toy cars, he could see a bulldozer and crane digger. They were so small, that meant... the hole was huge, vast. He couldn't fathom it.
It was a large construction pit far below. He was amazed at how small the bulldozer and crane looked. He could just see them, kinking his head, viewing through his eye slots, through the shattered school bus's odd angle, past the flashing mass of leaping, twirling, falling zombies.
The bus rocked as more and more zombies continued to pound it, and pour past. It jolted as the rebar framework began to bend and falter. The bus seemed to swing with the rebar and suddenly, a huge swathe of zombies poured right before his eyes. He could see through the windows as they poured into the hole, falling, crushing each other on a vast mound far below.
The sun's rays filtered in amongst the bloody dust, giving it a hellish hue. Then the bus swung and Dad felt like he was in a crashing airplane. It swung as he was slammed against something. The clang and echo of rebar busting and twirling broke through the constant roar. He rolled and smashed into zombies and bus seats. He felt the bus land amidst a vast cushion and drag, sliding down. He saw through the smashed windows, though very dark, the glistening flesh of thousands of zombies scraping and bursting as the bus slid down the mound. He folded all his limbs like an armadillo and rolled with it, getting stuck between seats.
The bus skidded on its side, forever going down and down into the vast Pit of Hell. Was he going to meet the Devil now? It seemed most assured. He most certainly met His demonic horde.
The bus crunched into something and flipped, bolting Dad again through the bus. He seemed in mid-air a moment and then slammed against and crushed several school seats. They were the perfect cushion. He was terrified now of being so thrown that he'd get stuck and unable to free himself, forever locked in the darkness, in the pit, as the demons recovered and came for him.
But he rolled onto his fours and crouched there, comfortably, staring down at the row of broken bloodied bus windows, arrayed in their length, against the ground. He got up, grabbing the bus seats that were upright as a wall, and lumbered to the back emergency exist. It was just a shell of an opening, framed with the flesh and guts of a thousand zombies.
He stepped out as the vast splattering noises continued. He looked up amidst the amazing dance of lights as zombies poured upon the mound. It was like a mountain of zombies with a zombie-waterfall pouring over. It was like some behemoth was vomiting out a horde of parasites and Dad was watching, stuck below the Gates of Hell. Was he condemned? He shuddered a moment.
At the base, the zombies were utterly crushed. Whatever flailing there was seemed just nerves or the congealing of oozing flesh. He couldn't tell. There was still plenty of darkness. He stepped away from the growing mound and toward the bulldozer. The bus gave him cover. If there were any able zombies from the mound coming for him, he did not see them.
He did not have his sword. It was somewhere, long gone. He lost his favorite sword. He had a smaller blade, an extra one he pulled out of his belt. It was not there. No surprise.
He reached the bulldozer. A large beam of sunlight, though flickering from the flooding of zombies, was still bright. He could see supplies scattered about. There was a flashlight, a tough industrial one, big and metal. He liked that. He grabbed it. He then saw the tunnel, the vast metro tunnel. It led both ways. It was the new L.A. Metro line. He remembered... civilization... He remembered. They were making a new metro line, cutting from Hollywood to the Westside. He remembered as he stood and stared.
This was one of the new subway stations. They were going to build a vast inter-connecting line here, with two lines crossing, several floors of escalators going under. He was just shocked at how deep and vast the hole was.
A few broken zombies lumbered toward him. They were broken and bent. He bashed the first with his gauntlet, then remembered the industrial flashlight. He swung it like a club, easily bashing in the rest of the zombie heads. He saw more falling from the mound, hundreds of feet they rolled. The top ones weren't as badly damaged. There was more cushion and less distance to fall as the mound grew. But they got stuck rolling along the pile, unable to discern where they were or what to do. They were just floundering.
He searched amongst the scattered supplies. There was a lunchbox and water bottles. He lifted his visor and quickly drank. He found a wrench and used that as a w
eapon. It wasn't as good as the flashlight, a bit heavier and shorter than he liked but effective. He didn't want to swing the flashlight too much, so he could keep it as his light source. He swung the heavy wrench carefully, not to strain anything or tire himself. He put it in his belt. He found a workman's ax. He tossed the wrench. This was much better! He smiled.
Then he saw the gas tanks separated from everything. There was an emergency generator and gas tanks. He saw quite a spread of things. And then he saw the flares. There is a God after all.
He looked to the tunnel, then back at the mound, then back at the tunnel. There was a sign lying nearby, a map of sorts for the construction. He remembered now. It led to Hollywood, the metro line. This was the new line connecting to the one that ran through Hollywood. It led to... home. Glory be to God.
He grabbed the gas tanks. He poured them out near the mound and on the squirming pulsating zombie mass. There were several five gallon tanks. He farmer carried them over. It was a lot of gas. Only a few zombies came toward him. The rest that were still alive were still squirming and rolling amidst the mountain and still pouring in from above. It was a constant flow. All the zombies on the mound were barking and raging in fury. They were on full alert, but to what they did not know. The mound, the fall, the furious confusion, Dad knew not. The gas was now a vast pool mixing in with the oozing flesh and blood.
He looked up and saw the beams of sunlight, like angels' wings flickering above him with trumpets and swords. He loved that.
He hurried back. He stared at the flare, staring through his helmet holes, then opening the visor. He realized he never did this before. But he figured it out, popped it open and it flared. He tossed the holy fire, causing blue flames to burst upon the gas pool and then the flames danced toward the mountain of zombies.
The immolation lit up the vast construction pit, catching everything on fire. It built up and up, slowly but surely, the heat of the gas ensuring a vast fire.
Dad realized... he better go. He hurried to the tunnel. He did not know how long he had to go, how far it would be, but he went, for it led to home.
33. Hollywood
Lena hit Marcus on the back. Though they lay low for awhile, letting the massive horde follow after Dad in the bus, there were still plenty of zombies about. Many were crawling on the roof, severed, beaten but not silent. The mound still had thousands upon thousands stuck and squirming, reminded of their blood lust by other zombie alerts from atop the roof.
Marcus rushed forward, trying to keep low. He hacked away at crawling zombies. Steve, Tom, Nick, Cory, Stu, and Jake moved up to help, hacking and cutting the downed zombies, trying to silence them. Lisa used her naginata and swiped as more were crawling up the mounds and over the roof.
Lena had her sword out. She raced to a spot, to get a climbing zombie. She severed its head and saw it roll down upon a thousand other zombies squirming and squashed together upon the wriggling pile.
She saw the spread of zombies across the school grounds and neighborhood. It was still massive, yet she felt a distinctive hope. She sensed that the crowding was thinner, that even as the alert went out, she could see openings across the neighborhood. She saw what remained of the swarm coming back. She saw the wave of alerts flutter across the field of zombies, causing them to come toward the school. But now, she could see the street and cars beyond. There was a limit now, an amount... and they could win.
She stood and began swinging again and again, hacking off hands, arms, heads, causing the zombies to fall back. Dozens of hands reached up, grabbing the edge, breaking and bending the brick fencing. But it did not matter. She swung at them all, cutting their fingers and hands, dropping them within their mound of dying flesh.
Steve and the others did their part, just the very few, holding back a massive invasion, a siege of cannibal beasts. Lena looked down the line as their weapons came down, like a conveyor belt of blades, swinging and slicing, hacking and severing. Victory was in their grasp, but it was still ponderous and epic.
She saw the mound was thick enough, solid enough in parts, that several big ones began their ascent. They're weapons could not easily hack them. If they reached the solid ground of the roof, they'd pound on them. The first suddenly fell with a hole in its head as she discerned the crack of the rifle. Charlotte crouched at the corner of the roof, resting the rifle on the wall, aiming down at the brutish beasts. She dropped another, and another. The big ones seemed to sense her and her killing zone. They moved to the other side of the mound.
Intelligent, Lena thought, snarling at their awareness. Only two were left. Charlotte got up to move as everyone else had forgotten that there were still plenty more guns and bullets. Then Lena's Mom, Tom, and Nick came up and fired round after round into the big ones nearly atop them. They aimed high, hitting chest, shoulders, neck, face. It was quite effective.
There were plenty more zombies. The rest that were still around were coming in droves, and a new wave of zombies was crowding and rushing up the mounds. This group was building a new momentum.
Lena still had hope seeing the streets, though still crowded, were not as tightly packed as before. Then the roar of an engine told her, Dad was back?
It was strange, so sudden, so fast. It was a Hummer. It careened and crashed through the scattering crowds of zombies on the street below them. It wasn't a military Hummer, but a big fancy civilian one with people inside. They poked out huge guns, firing like crazy at the zombies around them. They unleashed a hail of bullets causing hundreds of zombies to fall. One fired into the mass before the school, maiming many with each round.
The Hummer was drawing all the zombies toward it and away from the building.
There was a pause, as if the zombies and the hummer took a moment off. But then the barrels came out again, after reloading. The zombies began anew to converge on it. The riders unleashed another hail of bullets and ripped through hundreds of zombies all around them.
Lena looked at them odd. Then a big black SUV raced in, hitting and smashing zombies as it went. It swerved out of the way of the Hummer, racing by at full speed.
“Slow down you idiot,” Lena said under her breath.
Too late, it lost traction on the street of slippery blood, smashing into zombies, into cars, then flipping. Lena rolled her eyes.
The Hummer suddenly lurched, driving around, running over zombies. It was trying to help the flipped SUV.
“Wow, are they rescuing us or are we rescuing them!?” Steve barked.
A man, a woman, and a big fat guy staggered out of the SUV. They fired a ton of rounds a bit too wildly, all around. The man took the woman and stumbled away, rushing to the Hummer as it drove around. In their dizzying panic they forgot about the big guy.
He was focused on shooting maniacally. When his souped up rifle ran out of ammo, he panicked seeing zombies limping all around him. He then pulled out a samurai sword and began swinging. He got the first few but he was swinging too heavy, too wild, and they came in and bit him. He howled for help. “Help! Help! No!” His bellow was louder than the zombies.
“Ah shit, how we gonna help them?” Stu yelled.
Rondo was racing around barking, desperate to get down, but everyone ignored him, except Maggy and Carl. They ran to hug and keep him from leaping off.
Lena looked down. There was no way they could make it.
Trish yelled, “The back side, there's no zombies there!”
Lena looked back, hurrying quickly. It was the side Dad took to get to the bus. It was clear. They could crawl down and get in the classroom windows on that side.
“Let's go!”
Duanne was a big guy. A little emaciated but big nonetheless. He growled as he fired round after round out of the Hummer. His shots were erratic and hitting in all the wrong places. He knew sitting there safe inside the Hummer wasn't helping. “Damnit!!!!” he punched his door open.
“What the hell you doing!?” Howie yelled back. Howie was an older skinny guy that was driving.
<
br /> “Stop the damn car!” Duanne yelled.
Howie hit the breaks.
Duanne slammed against the back of the passenger seat but didn't care, then jumped out of the car.
He was immediately attacked by ravenous zombies. But he was tough and quick. He pushed them back and opened up his very illegal Hollywood style assault rifle. He was a big movie action star. He had all the special forces training. He never had to use it for real or like this, but like any stalwart action star, he got that training. He loved it. He never lived it, but he acted it, and acting or not, he did it. He fired, tearing them up at close range.
Lita, a hot Latin actress in the passenger side, opened up with a fancy Desert Eagle. She pounded zombies coming in. Even if she didn't hit them in the face, they crumpled. “Aggghhh!!!” she screamed with each explosive blast.
“I'm driving!” Howie yelled. He drove off as Duanne was left surrounded by zombies. He ran from them. Most seemed slow. He ran and ran, rushing to the two stumbling by the upturned SUV.
"Get the Hummer! Get the Hummer!" the man yelled in fearful panic.
But Duanne looked past him to the big fat guy. He was crying as both saw the bitten flesh on his arm. The big fat guy swung again at zombies as they rushed in. He howled and sobbed, wildly swinging that fancy oriental sword.
“Goddamnit!” Duanne cried. He turned and fired, reloading fancy magazines into a fancy M-4 rifle with all the illegal flashy Hollywood parts. He unleashed as many rounds as he could into the surrounding mass of zombies.
“We gotta get into the Hummer!” the man pulled the woman past Duanne, hoping to meet the Hummer as it turned in a tight circle, its wheels screeching on a gooey street.
Howie drove the Hummer around, running over zombies as best he could. He tried to U-turn in the block but kept hitting car after car, reversing as fast he could to turn. A zombie slammed against the glass of the woman's side. She screamed, trying to load her Desert Eagle.
Knight of the Dead (Book 3): Fortress Page 19