Super Zombie Juice Mega Bomb

by MJ Ware

Chapter 14 – A Fieldtrip to the Firehouse

  Kali and I climbed up to have a look. Hundreds of undead stood scattered outside the parking lot. These looked a lot more 'seasoned' than the zombies we'd seen before.

  Many were missing chunks or limbs, rotting flesh falling off bones. They all looked really tee’d off—as if they'd just been woken up from a really nice, really long nap.

  I tried to make my voice sound calm when I said, "There's not much we can do. We'll have to make a run for it."

  "We may require some additional firepower." Kali ran back into the store to get some more Super Soakers.

  Misty knew me as well as anyone. I'm sure she didn't buy my calm act. I could tell by the way her hazel eyes darted about she was worried, too, but neither of us said anything.

  As we waited for Kali's return, we listened to the chorus of The Undead. The death screams of a thousand lost souls, echoes of their last cries—desperate, but hollow. I wondered if we'd be able to hear it from the vision center.

  Starting the engine, I realized this was the first time I thought we might not make it. Sure, it was scary running around town with a few zombies chasing us. But this was insane; one wrong move and we were done. I kept picturing the car stalling, zombies breaking through the window; Misty screaming as they dragged her out before I could get it re-started.

  With that happy thought, I signaled Misty to open the door. "Just enough to get the car through, no more." No way was anyone getting out to close it behind us.

  The door opened and a few of the undead got in. Too stupid to duck, they smashed into the garage door, fell down and stood up inside. Kali and Misty made quick work of them and we drove off. Very slowly.

  It was like plowing snow. Only zombies aren't soft like snow. They bounced off the bumper, one after another.

  Not as many zombies wandered the streets, but I still couldn't swerve to miss them all. I stopped counting when we'd hit a dozen. The front-end and hood were both smashed up. My face started turning red—my ears burning. I kept thinking this car might be the last connection I'd ever have to my dad and it was getting totaled.

  Misty and Kali both kept their mouths shut. Even when we drove over a zombie and the car hopped up like a low-rider with hydraulics, no one said a word.

  As we pulled up to the fire station, I broke the silence. "Think I'll pull right up to the door. With a little luck it'll open inward."

  The station was an old red and brown brick two-story building with a huge five-stall garage attached. Surrounded by woods as far as I could see, it looked as if it was built right into the edge of the forest.

  "Umm, Nate. I am positive that the door will not open inward. That would constitute a fire hazard. Seeing that this is a Fire Station, they think about things like that," Kali said in a small voice.

  "Mother—Okay, plan B. I'll pull up alongside the door," I said, talking rapidly and sweating just as fast. "Kali, stand in the doorway and hold it open. I'll move the car right up next to it and wedge the door open."

  I had to admit Kali was a brave little turd; standing in the doorway with every zombie in sight trained on him. I backed the car right into the side of the fire station (fortunately for the wall, it was brick—not so fortunate for the Mustang), then pulled so close to the door I knocked the side mirror off.

  At that point, I didn't care.

  While I parked, Misty made quick work of any zombie that ventured within spitting distance. By the time I'd crawled out through the passenger side window, she had a small pile of smoking zombies stacked up like a smoldering bonfire.

  "Let's get moving," I said.

  "Nate, I'll go with you to put the Mustang in the garage. Kali, can you open one of the bays when we pull up?"

  "Forget the Mustang."

  "But Nate, it's your dad's Mustang."

  "I don't care. It served its purpose. No one is risking their life for that car." I took a deep breath. "It's not like much else can happen to it, anyway."

  Misty and Kali both nodded while trying to avoid looking in the general direction of the car.

  Inside, the station looked more like a tiny waiting room than a firehouse. A front desk and two plush, over-stuffed armchairs, there was hardly room for all three of us.

  Footsteps creaked from the floor above. "Hear that?" asked Misty.

  "It's gotta be a zombie. Who knows how many are in here?" I said.

  Misty and Kali exchanged glances before heading into the back rooms. I took the extra weed sprayers and went to the garage. A moment later, the familiar cry of a zombie in its death throes echoed down the hall. They must have made a new friend; I resisted the urge to run and check on them.

  The fire station garage was in perfect order. Tools, equipment, gear, hung up, ready for inspection. All but one of the bays had a truck parked in it. I knew which truck I was looking for: not the huge one with the ladder, the smaller one—the tanker engine—it was still really big. I looked at the cherry-red truck gleaming in the light, salvation wrapped in a shiny red paintjob. I opened the door and hopped in. Don't know what I expected to find, but this wasn't it.

  Inside, it looked like the bridge of a spaceship. Tons of digital gauges, dozens of buttons and levers, even two computers. Just finding the gas gauge took a minute.

  Thankfully, it was all gassed up and even had keys in the ignition.

  I couldn't figure out which gauge was for the water tank. So I loaded the weed sprayers and stuff, then checked on the side of the truck. There was a huge pump panel, but it too was a maze of gauges. Staring all the gauges and knobs, I didn't notice the zombie behind me until it was too late.

  Something smacked me hard in the back of the head, then it grabbed me and lifted me off my feet.

  Disoriented, I tried to squirm away, but it had me by both arms. Huge hands squeezing my upper arms like vice grips. Its head smashing into my back and shoulders again and again—like being hit with a baseball bat.

  This was one big zombie, but I couldn't figure out why it hadn't taken a bite out of me. My mind raced. Maybe it was infected, but hadn't fully turned. If so, I had to act fast, before it got hungry.

  I tried screaming, but it squeezed my arms so tight against my chest, I couldn't move enough air to make more than a whimper.

  My Super Soaker dangled below my feet, out of reach.

  On the fire truck, above the pump panel, hung a fireman's axe. With my arms pinned to my sides, there was no way to grab it.

  Wham, wham—its head went smashing into my back. I wanted to turn to see it, except I wasn't about to get smacked in the nose.

  My only chance was the axe. Using my feet, I climbed up the pump panel. I'd almost reached it when the zombie made a muffled scream and shook me violently. It sounded as if it'd skipped breakfast.

  Again, I walked up the pump panel. I managed to grab and hold the axe between my feet.

  It shook me as I pulled my knees up and, bending my elbows, grabbed for the axe, but with my upper arms clamped to my sides, I couldn't reach it.

  Two more whacks slammed into my back and shoulders. Wincing in pain, I almost dropped the axe.

  I had one shot. I quickly brought my knees up and let go of the axe with my feet. Miraculously, it flew up, the spiked end hitting my chest—which was still sharp enough to slice open my shirt. Grabbing the axe with both hands, I quickly took it in my left one and, bending my elbow, swung it over my back as hard as I could.

  It was sheer luck that I hit the zombie rather than chopping open my own shoulder blade. The axe bounced off the zombie's head and flew across the garage.

  It screamed and dropped me.

  Scooping up my Super Soaker, I spun on my rear and blasted it. Instantly, it became apparent why it'd spared me. The zombie was dressed in full firefighter gear—including a respirator and mask that covered its face. This zombie was huge, even for a firefighter. Clad all in yellow, like a muscle-bound canary. Blood oozed down its forehead from the axe wound. It looked pretty ticked off.
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br />   The mask had saved me from its teeth, but now shielded its face from my spray.

  I quickly rolled away, staggered to my feet, totally out of breath.

  I turned and was about to run when I saw a hose lying on the ground. It was connected to the tanker truck. Grabbing the nozzle with one hand, I pulled the valve above it open with the other.

  Nothing came out.

  The zombie advanced on me. I frantically started turning wheels and knobs. I must have hit the right one, because I heard a pump start and suddenly water sprayed everywhere. The hose jerked out of my hand and flew through the air right at my face.

  The spray stung the side of my head as I ducked. The nozzle bounced off the side of the fire truck.

  Like a rocket, it smashed into the zombie's facemask, sending the monster staggering backward, right through the front window. Glass shattering as it fell onto the back of the Mustang. The zombie lay motionless across the trunk.

  The hose ricocheted sideways until it hit a pole, smashed into the ground, bounced up, and flew straight at the Mustang. It blasted through what was left of the car's rear windshield, where it bounced around the interior.

  I reached to pull the hose out of the car when the undead firefighter stood up; even with its milky eyes, I felt it stare. Large cracks spidered across the mask's glass where the nozzle had hit. I aimed my gun at its face and just kept spraying. It closed in. I pumped and pumped, and sprayed some more. Enough juice got through; it screamed and tried to pull the broken facemask off as it fell backward.

  The zombie hit the ground. There was a loud pop. I jumped as the air tank flew up, off its back, and smashed right into the Mustang's rear-end where it stuck, embedded in the trunk, making a hissing sound as it expelled its gas.

  I stood speechless, looking at what had once been my dad's Mustang. The hose now caught on the steering wheel, still clanking about, gushing water into the dash.

  Reaching behind me, I started mashing valves closed as Misty and Kali came rushing in.

  They looked as much like twins as possible. Mouths gaping open, the same stunned expression on their faces. Huge round eyes looking from me, to the zombie, to the Mustang, trying to figure out what the heck had happened.