Slow Burn: A Zombie Novel

by Mike Fosen

  “Why were you trying to get here rather getting to your place, bro?” I asked.

  “Mattie is inside guarding a prisoner that was here for treatment,” he replied. “Isn’t that why you came?”

  I tried not to look surprised and was only moderately successful. “Um... yeah... uh of course that’s why I came here,” I finally answered.

  I put the squad into park and it sputtered and died on me before I could even turn it off.

  “Looks like we walk from here on out anyways.”

  “Maybe not,” Stephen replied, eyeing the stalled ambulance.

  He ran over to it and climbed into the driver’s seat, taking a few moments to look over the controls. Seconds later, the engine roared to life. He backed it away from the entrance, turned it around and left it idling.

  “We might need to leave in a hurry,” he said when he saw my questioning look.

  “Where’s your rifle?” I asked. “You love that thing.”

  “Long story…”

  “Whatever. Here, take mine,” I said, tossing him my carbine. I popped the squad’s trunk and retrieved the last of my boxes of ammunition and shoved them into his arms. “Here, this is the last of my ammo until we make a supply run," I said, knowing what was about to happen. "Try to make it last. ”

  I had just enough to top off three magazines each for the rifle and his pistol.

  “Load em up," I told Stephen. "I need to get out of these useless clothes.”

  As Stephen loaded and provided cover, I pulled out my duffel bag and proceeded to strip down, changing clothes and putting on my S.W.A.T callout gear. I also put on an old police ball cap that I normally used for padding when I wore my ballistic helmet. Of course I put it on with the bill facing backward.

  Fuck department policy.

  I started to throw the duffel bag back into the trunk, and something that might help the cause caught my attention. I reached into the trunk and pulled out an aluminum baseball bat that I had acquired from some gangbangers a while back. I gave it a few practice swings. Reaching into the trunk again, I grabbed my police issue ballistic shield.

  "Hell yeah!"

  I turned to face Stephen, bat in one hand, shield in the other, like a gladiator preparing to enter the arena, and gave him a shit eating grin. “Let’s rock asshole.”

  Stephen shook his head. “You’re an idiot. C’mon, let’s do this.”

  Stephen led the way, rifle at the ready, briskly covering ground up to the ER entrance. Upon approach, we could hear the automated electric inner doors whisking open and closed.

  Open and closed. Open and closed.

  We stepped around a collapsed ambulance stretcher that had blocked open one of the outer doors. Stephen peeled the corner and stopped in shock. Dozens of infected were roaming the hospital halls, continuously setting off the sensor to open the automatic doors. One of the creatures stopped, its blood red eyes focused on us, its mouth distended open and it howled.

  Stephen fired the rifle, blasting the zombie to shreds, and in the process sprayed brain matter on the others behind it. Like a dam giving way, the other countless infected flowed into the narrow hallway after us. The roar of the rifle was deafening inside the tight confines between the inner and outer doors. At the start, as soon as they entered they were dropped by Stephen’s wild head shots. The rifle’s bolt locked back on an empty magazine in no time flat. The pile of corpses caused a bit of a bottleneck, and Stephen used the few seconds it gave him to reload.

  “Reloading!” Stephen yelled.

  Before I could step past him, Stephen crammed another magazine into the rifle.

  I wasn’t sure if Stephen was panicking, if his adrenaline was cranked up or both, because he had clicked the rifle to full auto and cut loose into the tightly packed group of zombies.

  Chunks of flesh, brain matter and bone sprayed the walls. Anyone who has never seen the results of full automatic gun fire cannot truly appreciate the sight.

  I really wanted to yell at him for wasting a full 30-round magazine, but he did make a dent in the bastards.

  Apparently, Stephen enjoyed the four seconds of full auto mayhem. Before I could object, he slammed home his last full magazine and five additional seconds later notified me in a satisfied voice that he was out of ammo.

  Through the cloud of smoke, thick with the smell of cordite, I stared at him with a “What the fuck” look.

  “Dude, you just burned through ninety rounds of rifle ammo in less than thirty seconds!”

  He shook his head and with an innocent look replied, "You’re the one who gave me a full auto rifle. What did you think I was going to do?”

  I looked up at the ceiling and let out a heavy sigh, shaking my head.

  Stephen slung the rifle across his back and drew his pistol.

  “Hold on, hero,” I said stepping forward to grab his shoulder before he could take off again. “Let’s try to save some ammo.”

  I stepped forward as a bloody female made it over the pile of broken corpses Stephen had just created. She stepped into range, and my bat whistled down onto the top her skull.

  The bloody woman dropped, and I shrugged my shoulders a few more times to loosen up as a fat man in a hospital gown extracted himself from the tangle of bodies and was hastily beat back down for his troubles.

  "Get some!" I yelled, more as motivation for myself than for Stephen's benefit.

  Readying the shield, I carefully stepped over the pile of bodies in through the inner doors into the hallway beyond.

  * * * * * * * *

  Mattie nearly screamed in shock at the sudden and distinct sound of rapid gunfire. Ecstatic that she wasn’t the only one apparently not trying to eat another human being, she rushed up to the blinds on the room door. Bending them apart, she carefully peered into the hallway. The halls were filled with about two dozen people making their way towards the location of the gun shots. Mattie was still amazed and slightly disgusted at the sight of so many people bearing devastating injuries that would incapacitate a normal human.

  Could it be a bad batch of drugs the hospital had administered to patients? Maybe a painkiller perhaps? She just couldn’t figure it.

  She had seen meth heads and junkies in the past that looked and acted similar to this. But nothing compared to what she was seeing now.

  Mattie watched as her former friend Officer Sherman jumped onto the counter at the nurses’ station and crouched down, staring in the direction of the gunfire. She had no idea what the hell was wrong with him. He used to be such a nice guy. But she had personally witnessed him kill several people with his bare hands and eat various parts of them. Sherman also seemed to be, to a certain degree, stronger than before.

  Is he bat shit crazy or possessed? she wondered, watching Sherman crouch on top of the counter like some demonic gargoyle, wearing a blood-drenched hospital gown.

  His head was cocked to the side like a dog deciding whether or not to bite someone, and it sent a shiver down Mattie’s spine. She began to struggle with the hospital bed, with the corpse still restrained in it, which was blocking the door. Whoever was out there with the guns would need her help. And she would definitely need theirs to get the hell out of this unholy prison.

  Looking through the windows, she saw the few infected in the lead of the pack get cut down by three rapid handgun rounds to the torso and head. Mattie froze when she heard a male voice shout. A voice she’d never thought she would hear again shouted in anger laced with pain.

  "Damn it, Stephen! I said save your ammo!”

  * * * * * * * *

  I rounded the doorway into the hallway beyond, peeling to the right when Stephen picked up rear guard. I stepped forward to begin my attack and about shit my pants when Stephen poked his pistol over my left shoulder and cranked off three quick rounds into the lead zombie’s head. Not only did it totally temporarily ruin the hearing in my left ear, two out of the three shell casings fell down the rear of my shirt. Jumping to the right and reaching for my ea
r, I used the hand holding my ballistic shield, which rapped me right in the head.

  Staring bloody murder at Stephen I yelled, pointing the bat at him, “Damn it, Stephen! I said save your ammo!”

  Muttering curses under my breath, I wiped the sweat from my brow. My adrenaline was amped up, and I was pouring buckets of sweat. I couldn’t tell offhand how many zombies packed the hall, but there was a fuck load of them. In my peripheral vision, I noticed a figure crouched on top of the nurses’ station counter off to the left. I couldn’t worry about him right now, as several others descended upon me.

  I swung the bat from right to left, crunch, one went down.

  My backswing took another in the temple, thwack, down he went.

  My right foot lashed forward into a front kick to the chest of another, knocking her back into several others behind her. I moved sharply to the left and shield bashed another into the wall, trapping it there. Its hate-filled eyes stared hungrily at me with teeth biting at the small ballistic window set into the shield. I glanced over my right shoulder. Seeing another closing in, I whipped the bat back to the right and caved in its skull, sending it reeling into an empty ER room. Stepping back, I dropped the shield slightly as my return stroke caught the temporarily trapped zombie in the teeth. It did not drop immediately, however it did when I crushed its head between the wall and the edge of the ballistic shield.

  "Well, that does the trick!" I called back to Stephen, who was still providing cover.

  “You made it look easy,” he replied.

  I cranked my head to the left and right, hearing several pops as several more drew close. My efforts were at least slowing them down some as they were having trouble walking over their felled comrades. The undead howls and moans for my blood from the horde almost drowned out my grunts and curses as I battled for my life. I immediately fell into a rhythm of crushing bat strikes, shield bashes, kicks, rinse and repeat. Even with how good we were doing, if these creatures acted together or tried to protect themselves in the slightest, they would overwhelm us. Instead, they just took the path of least resistance, which left them vulnerable to the working end of my bat. I lost track of time, and exhaustion began to creep in. I couldn’t have Stephen step in, for I still heard him blasting away behind me. Using the thought of these mindless cannibalistic fuckers eating my friends and loved ones drove me on to greater exertions. Somewhere I had lost my shield, and I had no idea how it happened. A particularly bloody medical technician clawed her way over the mound of corpses in front of me. I two-handed my bat into the side of her head so fast I think it bounced off her opposite shoulder. I could hear her vertebrae snap. A figure scampered towards me out of the left side of my vision, along the countertop. Turning to meet this new threat, I saw it grab a straggler in the rear of the pack and shove it towards me.

  What the fuck? I thought in an instant. It looked like Sherman. Obviously he was one of the infected bastards now too.

  He had thrown the smaller zombie with considerable strength, and it caught me off guard. I dropped the bat and latched onto its neck with both hands, which kept its fucking teeth off me for the moment. Its momentum, along with the blood and assorted gore covering the floor, caused me to do a remarkable impression of the cartoon guy stepping on a banana peel. While I went crashing to the floor, I instinctively did not let go of its throat and dragged him down with me. It was all I could do now to keep his set of teeth off me as they snapped inches from my face.

  “Fuck me!”

  I was caught off guard when the zombie suddenly sprouted a hole in the top of its head. Looking back, I saw Stephen standing over me, dropping a now empty magazine and reaching for another.

  "I got ya," he said.

  I spotted my bat next to me and grabbed it. Standing up to address any new threats, I saw only a few of the fuckers left.

  Crack!

  Sherman turned and looked at something behind him.

  “Sorry pal, you’re one of them now,” I said, stepping up and preparing to cave in the back of his skull.

  * * * * * * * *

  Mattie finally got the makeshift door barricade removed and stepped out into the hall.

  My God, she thought, those two have decimated damn near every one of the flesh eaters.” She could try and help out with the remaining ones at least.

  Taking aim, she shot the rearmost subject, but it didn't bring the reaction that she hoped. Instead of falling, Sherman whipped around and stared at her with a malicious glare.

  "I’m so sorry, Sherman, for what I’m about to do," she told her former coworker.

  Re-adjusting her aim, she put two bullets into Sherman’s chest, causing him to stand up straight, right as Mike appeared, swinging a bat at his head. Since Sherman had stood up, his bat, which was aimed to strike Sherman’s head, instead crushed in the right side of his ribcage. The impact sent Sherman flying off of the countertop onto the floor. Sherman shot to his feet and screamed his rage at Mattie, causing her blood to run cold. Twice more she sent 9mm hollow points blasting into Sherman’s chest. Sherman just stood there as if daring her to waste more ammo.

  Mattie’s heart soared when she saw Mike and Stephen come into view. She was not entirely sure Mike noticed her as he vaulted over the counter after Sherman. A massive swing of his bat crushed Sherman in the side of his head, knocking him to the floor. She could not see exactly what happened next, but Mike stopped and looked down for a moment, and then the blood-covered baseball bat he was carrying was raised high and came down hard on Sherman with a meaty whack. The ER went silent.

  Mike, clearly exhausted, leaned onto the countertop, tossing his bloody bat onto it next to him.

  “Holy fuck, we did it!”

  * * * * * * * *

  Stephen walked up to me and put his hand on my shoulder. He took a deep breath and took a long look at all the carnage and gore all around us.

  “Outstanding job, Mike," he said. "I had my doubts that it would… Mattie!!!”

  Stephen did a remarkable impersonation of the Heisman Trophy as he shoved me out of his way, knocking me to the floor next to the corpse of Sherman.

  “What the fuck?” I complained, pulling myself to my feet.

  “I cannot believe you guys came for me!” Mattie cried, giving Stephen a grateful hug.

  “Are you hurt?” Stephen asked her.

  “No, but I was sure I was going to die here along with everyone else. What is going on here? Why are these people eating one another?”

  “We’re not entirely sure,” Stephen answered. “We think it’s some sort of virus or something, which is spread through bite wounds. Once you’re bit, you become aggressive and apparently contagious. Almost like a fast acting form of rabies. It appears that the only way to really stop them is by major head trauma.”

  “Um, Stephen, you can put me down now,” Mattie replied.

  “What?” Stephen said sheepishly as he set her feet onto the floor. “Sorry, I just got carried away. We were worried we were gonna be too late.”

  “Don’t everyone thank me at once,” I said as I struggled to my feet.

  With a huge smile, Mattie walked past Stephen. “Oh come here, you.”

  She laced her arms around my head and pulled it down into a hungry kiss.

  Hot damn, I thought. I woulda been happy with a knuckle bump!

  A short time later she ended the kiss, found both of my sweaty hands gripping her ass and laid her head on my shoulder with a sigh.

  I looked up at Stephen, who had a jealous look on his face, and I gave him the finger.

  "To the winner go the spoils!"

  "We need to get outta here now," Stephen replied. "Let’s go.”

  He headed off limping towards the doors we entered from.

  I felt Mattie’s arms tighten around me and she murmured, “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

  Not sure what exactly she was referring to, I found out what she meant when she sank her teeth into my shoulder muscles.

  “What the he
ll? Was I just bit?”

  As I prepared to launch her across the fucking ER, thinking she was infected, she let go, laughing and licking her lips.

  “Mmm-mmmm," she joked, "but all things considered, maybe it wasn’t the best time for that.”

  My dumb ass, still sputtering and unable to say anything coherent, could only watch as she sauntered out of the ER after Stephen. I released a deep breath that I did not realize I was holding.

  Women! I grabbed my gear and headed for the door. Scratch that. Hot women. They might be the death of me yet.

  11

  August 26

  Day 1

  Dan Wayne woke up on the couch in his basement with a familiar dull ache at the base of his neck. And this was not the first time.

  “God damn couch,” he cursed at the inanimate object.

  After working his twelve hour midnights shift at the Minooka Police Department and getting off at 0700 hours that morning, he had managed to stay awake just long enough to throw his uniform into a crumpled heap on the floor in his closet and head downstairs to the basement. Dan was now set to be off for a couple of days and had a lot of chores to get done if he wanted to be able to participate in a competitive shooting event scheduled for that coming weekend. He headed for his equipment room which contained his gear, reloading equipment, ammo cans and gun safe. He opened a door to what looked like a walk-in closet and stepped into the darkness. Only after entering the closet and closing the first door could a person see the second door that led into the small room. In this hidden equipment room Dan found a mess.

  Dan always lived by the motto “Buy it cheap and stack it deep” which led to a bit of a hoarding problem. Ammo shortages in 08’ and 12’ added to his paranoia. Boxes were strewn about the room since Dan was never able to pass up a sale on bulk ammunition or reloading supplies. Piles of gear sat on a large bench, and somewhere in the pile was Dan’s competition rig. It would take a week to clean out the room but the only thing Dan was worried about was the large order of .45 that he was sure he had made but didn’t remember signing for. Only after locating it under a pile of wool army blankets did he allow himself to exit the room and lay down on the sleeper sofa he kept in his finished basement. The sofa was placed there for just this very reason. Cool, quiet and dark, it was the perfect place for a night shift guy to sleep the day away. Only, as was usually the case, Dan had been too lazy to actually pull out the sleeper and just crashed on the couch, the stiff armrest resulting in a very sore neck. The customary two sleeper shots of Jack Daniels never helped either. Nor the beer chaser after that.