After a few minutes of deep massage, his leg began to feel better. He knew it would be rough going, but at least he was good enough to move without limping.
“All right,” he grunted as he got to his feet. “Let’s see what calamity I have to deal with next.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ground Floor
Kenny planted his hands on the side of the six-foot tall concrete fence, and pulled himself up a bit so that he could see across the top of it. There was a small parking lot on the other side with a handful of cars, and a few dozen zombies shambling about. They were pretty spread out, despite their numbers.
Okay, get over the fence, get through them, and get to the street, he thought, worrying at his lower lip. If they’re that spread out, it shouldn’t take me more than ten minutes to get to the pier, even with my quad acting up.
He focused on the street, but between the cars, zombies, and palm trees, he couldn’t get a clear picture of what it looked like over there.
Of course, if it’s packed with them, I might be lunch. He swallowed hard, and sighed. He shook his head. He needed to think positively, if he had any chance of getting through this. He’d come this far. He needed to get to that boat. Think about cracking a beer with Captain Nicko.
He heaved up, pulling himself on top of the fence. He swung his legs over and then dropped down, feeling a twinge in his quad at the impact but shaking it off. He moved quickly to the first car, ducking behind it, and then got into a crouch, ready to sprint. The closest zombie was five yards away, and he chose his path, zig-zagging through them so that he could run to safety.
He took off, moving quickly enough that he was able to blow by the first corpse without it even knowing he was there. He moved swiftly, cutting across to avoid the next pair of creatures. Unfortunately with his speed and large frame, his footfalls weren’t silent, and many of the zombies in the lot turned towards him, moaning loudly.
He winced at the sound of their cries, especially considering a few from the street came around a beat-up sedan on the curb to see what all the fuss was about. Kenny vaulted onto the hood of the sedan, using the bumper as a springboard, and slid down the other side, hitting the grass.
He tried not to look over his shoulder, hearing the groans erupting from the excited zombies that were now chasing him. He tore through some trees and the front lawn of the building, running straight towards the road. There were several zombies across the way, but only a few on the road, thankfully.
He skidded to a stop on the sidewalk, and looked south towards the pier. He lungs nearly collapsed at the sight. The beaches weren’t the only place where it looked like Spring Break. There were easily hundreds of zombies stretched over the next few blocks. Probably further, but that was what he could see. And it wasn’t pretty.
Run man, run, he urged himself, and broke into a sprint, or at least as good of a sprint as his leg would allow. As he approached the beginning of the next block, he knew he needed a game plan. Zombies all around him were turning towards the noise of footsteps and moaning brethren, and he knew soon they’d be densely together as they converged on him.
As it was, there were still gaps between the masses of rotted flesh, still room to maneuver. He needed to get into the zone, just like when he’d return kicks on special teams.
Find your lane, Kenny, and hit it hard, he thought to himself. Just like when you were on the field.
He darted across the intersection, cutting through several outstretched arms. Their fingertips brushed his shoulder, bouncing off the sledgehammer jiggling around on his back. Halfway across, he cut back when a wall of creatures came into his path. He lowered his shoulder and burst through two zombies by themselves, sending them tumbling back to the ground.
The opened a bit of a clearing for him, and Kenny darted over to the next block. It was a little more spread out than the intersection on this stretch of road, and he pumped his legs hard, sidestepping creatures as they reached out as if he were tearing with the ball for a touchdown.
At the next intersection, the wall of ghouls behind it looked impenetrable. The noise from behind him had attracted a lot of attention, it seemed, and the horde was shoulder-to-shoulder coming for him. He shook his head. He knew he’d never make it through. He turned to the right and tore down a side street.
There were random smatterings of corpses in the side street, but he ducked and dodged them easily, knocking one aside with a well-placed swing of his fist. He turned down the first alley he saw, running past dumpsters and overturned trash cans. The smell wasn’t great, but he welcomed the essence of garbage over the sickly decaying scent of zombie any day.
When he got two buildings deep on the block, he spotted a flood of creatures coming around the corner towards him.
Being between two buildings didn’t give him a lot of options, so he ran back a few yards to the large dumpster outside of an Italian restaurant. He looked up and saw a fire escape ladder attached to the brick, so he pushed the large dump on squeaky wheels back a few feet to line it up. He clambered up on top of it and jumped up, barely able to graze the lowest rung on the ladder. Heart pounding as the zombies clustered around the dumpster, he crouched and leapt again, this time managing to wrap his hand around it.
Come on buddy, PULL! He strained to haul his tired body up, legs flailing, but was finally able to get his feet up and climb the ladder. The zombies below pounded on the metal dumpster, moans of disappointment at their lost meal echoing up to him.
He finally got to the roof and rolled over the edge onto the concrete top. The sun beating on it all day had made it blisteringly hot, and he hissed as he sat up, having not expected such a jolt to his skin. He looked around as he caught his breath, making sure there were no random corpses somehow stuck on the top of the building.
There was none, and it seemed as if the entire block was one long stretch of connected buildings. He ran along it, hopping over short barrier walls as he went. Before long, he reached the next intersection, and he rubbed his forehead at the sight. It was thick with zombies below. Like a living carpet of death.
He took a seat on the edge of the building, breathing heavily. “Getting closer,” he muttered. “Only thirteen blocks to go.”
He studied the area, desperate to figure out how he was going to be able to land on the ground, let alone get across. From his vantage point, he could see several blocks ahead, and it was nothing but wall to wall zombies with very little room to maneuver.
As he surveyed the landscape, his eyes focused in on the store across the side street, mere yards from his current position. It was a giant tourist trap surf shop, filled with crappy iron-on t-shirts that said South Beach and the occasional dirty double entendre.
While he would typically never give one of those stores a second look, he remembered doing a signing in one of them during his rookie year. They were huge, ran half the block, and typically shared warehouse space in the back with the other half of the block, because the same people that specialized in novelties owned it as well.
If I can get in on this side, I can kick off another block, he mused. Not perfect, but it’s better than what I’m dealing with now.
He looked at the road below and it was thick with corpses. He screwed his fists into his eyes with a sigh.
Even if that does get me to the next block, how am I gonna get to the store? He turned around, surveying the roof for anything useful. There was a small metal vent cover, one of those rounded types that made it harder for the wind to knock it over. He headed over and took off his sledgehammer, lining up a shot as if he were playing golf.
He bonked the cover, and it popped off easily. He set the hammer down, and then picked up the big metal cover.
Gotta see if I remember the hammer toss from my track days, he thought, and headed back to the corner of the building. He took a few steps back from the edge and began to spin around, the cover in one hand. He built up a lot of momentum and then let it fly.
The shiny projectile soar
ed through the air, reaching the far end of the intersection. It smashed into the ground and generated a loud metallic racket, reverberating through the space like a shockwave. The zombies immediately began shambling in that direction, riled up and excited.
Kenny ducked out of sight, and headed back to pick up his sledgehammer. He slung it over his shoulder and took a seat to catch his breath.
Give this thing a few minutes and I should be good to go.
CHAPTER NINE
13 Blocks Until the Pier - 1:20 left on the clock
Kenny strained his ears as the horde moved away from his hiding spot on the roof. He looked at his watch, and took note of the timer.
Halftime break is over, buddy, he thought. You need to get your ass in gear. He got to his feet but stayed low, inching to the side of the building. His distraction had paid dividends as the crowd just beneath him was pretty spread out, while across the intersection a huge mass of bodies congregated.
He moved to the back of the building where a rusted ladder was attached to the corner. He looked down, and there was nothing in the back alley. He began to climb down, carefully and silently, hanging from the bottom and dropping the final few feet to the ground. His quad screamed again, and he knelt to give it a quick rub to calm it down.
After a moment, he inched to the edge of the building, looking out at the cross street, eyeing the giant plate glass window to the store. There was a tall zombie standing close to it, seemingly mesmerized by its reflection in the window.
Kenny pulled out his sledgehammer again and readied it, sprinting out from behind cover and across the street. His footsteps drew the attention of several onlookers, but he was past them before they could even react. The large zombie by the window had just enough time to turn around before getting a hammer in the chest.
Kenny thrust forward as hard as he could, and the corpse went flying back, crashing through the window as its bodyweight combined with the force of the thrust smashed the glass. The noise attracted the distracted zombies across the street, who immediately began pursuit.
He jumped into the store and over the downed corpse, who was able to reach up and clip the football players back foot as he leapt. Kenny tumbled to the ground, his hammer sliding across the floor. He scrambled to get back to his feet, scrabbling for his hammer that had slid into the middle of the main showroom floor.
Fuck these things are everywhere! Moans and footsteps echoed from inside, all around him. There were ten aisles that covered the back half of the store, and a number of large round t-shirt racks just in front of them. Zombies converged from everywhere, and he grabbed his hammer and ducked inside one of the t-shirt racks. He curled up and stayed as silent as he could, watching the floor beneath the bottom hems of the shirts.
He turned towards the back of the store, looking through the legs of a nearby ghoul. Once the last few headed for the window, he’d have a clear shot to the back. He bided his time, fighting the urge to just go as the moans grew louder from outside.
Wait for your moment, buddy, he thought to himself. You go too early, you get tackled.
The clear sound of footsteps on broken glass snapped him to attention.
And if you go too late, you really gonna get tackled, he argued with himself.
Dozens of footsteps and a chorus of moans erupted at the front of the store, and he knew his time was running out. The last two zombies from the aisles moved around the rack, but he noticed that instead of moving all the way around, several of them stopped, stuck on the sides. He turned his head and saw that the horde from outside had reached the rack, creating a corpse traffic jam.
Time to go! He leapt from his hiding spot, darting straight to the back of the store, leaving t-shirts fluttering in his wake. The zombies nearest his rack reacted slowly, turning around at the sound of his footsteps, but only able to see him round the corner at the end of the aisle.
He reached the back double doors that led to the storeroom, and pushed one of the swinging doors open a crack, noting the few creatures back there. He readied his sledgehammer and leapt through, rushing straight up to the closest one. He swung at it and the zombie’s face took the full force of the blow, sending its head flying from its shoulders.
The other zombie, five yards away, reached out and began stumbling towards him, but he sidestepped it and kept moving. The storeroom was huge, at least fifteen feet wide and running the entire length of the building. As he came around the edge of a stack of crates, he took in the full room, and his heart sank.
There were a few dozen zombies easily inside, thanks to one large bay door at the far end that had been left open. More were outside, staggering back and forth in front of it, and a few of the corpses inside were wandering out into the sun. Kenny knew he had no time to waste, considering the force coming behind him from the front of the tourist shop.
Kenny started running, not able to be at full speed given the shocks in his quad, but faster than most regular humans. Instead of direct confrontation to waste time, he avoided the zombies where he could as he approached the bay door, knocking aside any that were too close.
A skinny zombie stood at the door frame and turned towards him as he approached. He feinted left, and then grabbed the ghoul by the collar and threw it to the ground. He dove outside, and looked down the alley, seeing a flood of creatures blocking his path.
To the other store! He shook his head and darted back inside, ducking underneath a few outstretched hands, and tore for the other business. There was another set of double doors ahead, the same swinging type that opened in both directions. He shoved past two zombies and burst into the doors, but they didn’t give.
He bounced off of it and fell back into the warehouse, his hammer clattering to the floor in the process. The two nearby zombies turned and grabbed for him. One managed to get a hold of his arm, and Kenny wrenched himself away so hard that he heard rotted bones cracking. He quickly grabbed the arm and spun, throwing the zombie into the other one like a wrestler throwing an opponent into the ropes. The two cracked heads and tumbled to the ground in a heap of sick flesh.
Kenny grabbed his hammer and pressed his shoulder into the doors. They cracked just enough that he could see a heavy desk pressed up against the other side. Someone had tried to block this entrance. He glanced over his shoulder to see a throng of creatures coming his way, closing the distance between them and him. The head-knocker zombies struggled to get up, and seemed to be making headway.
“Push man, PUSH!” he grunted to himself, and then let out a scream as he pushed as hard as he could. The desk on the other side squeaked as it ground across the floor, and the zombies continued to close the distance, now just five yards away.
The groans were deafening, there were so many of them. Kenny gave another great heave, grunting with the effort, and managed to open up a gap between the doors that he could squeeze through. He tossed the hammer inside and wriggled his way through headfirst, kicking as he felt zombie hands grasping at his ankles.
“Get off me!” he screamed, kicking and thrashing enough that he was able to slide through the door and onto the desk. He quickly rolled off and then pressed his back up against the desk, jamming it back up against the doors. The metal monstrosity looked like it was from the sixties, and appeared to be made entirely out of solid steel.
With the door secure, he huffed and puffed for a moment before looking around with wide eyes. He had no time to rest—he had to make sure he was alone in here.
He grabbed his hammer and started walking around the darkened store. Knick-knacks adorned the shelves, tacky even by South Florida standards. He shook his head and kept sweeping the aisles, hearing nothing but the banging coming from the warehouse. He finally cleared the aisles, seeing no movement, however he paused on the last corridor when he looked up to the front cash registers and noticed a few bodies on the ground.
He moved forward cautiously, keeping a close eye on them in case they were attracted by his footsteps. However, even as he approached, th
ey didn’t move. As he got close enough to see, he recoiled at the sight in front of him.
It was a young couple, maybe even in their late teens, laying dead with a shotgun beside them. The top half of the woman’s head had been blown clean off, while the young man had opted for a shot underneath the chin. Blood and brain matter coated the walls above them.
Kenny took a knee beside them, putting a hand over his mouth for a moment and then lowering it.
“I’m sorry ya’ll had to do this,” he said quietly. “Not fair to have kids resorting to this. In a just world, you’d be out there enjoying the sun and the sand. Instead, you’re here and I’m surrounded by ghouls that wanna eat me.” He took a deep breath, and then reached for the shotgun, disentangling it from the dead boy’s fingers. “I apologize for this.”
He stood up, and the boy’s head fell slumped onto the young girl’s shoulder, the two of them resting forever together. Kenny shook his head again, and turned away, inspecting the weapon. It was a double-barrel shotgun, and it was empty. He considered patting the kids down for shells, but the reality was that the gun wasn’t really practical for the crowd he was facing anyway. He tossed it aside.
You know buddy, you do have a gun of your own, he thought, and then put a hand to his forehead. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t drawn the damn thing all day. He supposed it was a byproduct of rarely every firing a gun, and really not at all since since he’d gone shooting with his dad in high school. He pulled the desert eagle from its holster, and gave it a once over, chuckling to himself at the gaudy nature of it.
“If I die, I’d better not die with this thing in my hands,” he muttered. “Don’t want some future archaeologist finding me and coming up with some crazy story about my lifestyle after all.” He holstered the gun and made sure his hammer was secure before creeping to the window. He stayed ducked down and out of sight.
As he peeked over the sill, he saw that his toss of the vent had done more than pull zombies just from the side street. It pulled a lot of them from the next few blocks.
Dead America The Third Week Box Set, Vol. 1 [Books 1-6 ] Page 25