Zombie Battle 4: War

by Jacqueline Druga

  “We never found out his name,” Garrick said.

  “Who?” Jack asked.

  “The man. The son. We didn’t ask their names.”

  Jack scoffed. “Is that important?”

  “Actually, yeah, Jack it is. In a world without humanity, it’s the only little thing we have left. To know the names of those we encounter. I’d like to know their names when I pray for them.”

  Quickly Jack looked at Garrick.

  “What?” Garrick asked. “I pray. Don’t look at me like that.”

  “To each his own.”

  “I never knew you as an Atheist.”

  “I’m not,” Jack said. “I’m just refraining from praying to a God that let this happen.”

  “Man has free will.”

  Jack laughed. “A rock from the sky brought this. Man and free will did nothing.”

  “Maybe God tossed the rock down here on purpose.”

  “Yeah, well, if that’s the case, it’s pretty fucked up. Don’t you think and I’d be too pissed to pray. Wouldn’t be sincere.”

  With a sigh.” Garrick nodded. “I’ll remember you said that.”

  Jack laughed again. “Why?”

  “Because dude, when this thing is over and done. And it will be. The world will be a better place because people will have learned their lesson about killing and fighting. Then, when your life feels better, you’ll be thanking God for His tossing a rock at us.”

  “I don’t think I’ll see that happen,” Jack said.

  “You already did.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You told Lil you loved her and missed her. You miss and love your wife. Well, eight months ago you wouldn’t even look at her. Had this thing not happened, where would you be?”

  Jack grumbled. “I don’t think all the loss of life is on the same level as saving my marriage. Even if it did help it.”

  “You know that guy she cheated on you with is probably dead or walking dead.”

  Jack kept driving.

  “We can find him, take him out. You can shoot the man that slept with your wife.”

  “Garrick …” Jack grumbled.

  “Perfectly, legal, and dude, I swear if you shoot him and he wasn’t the walking dead, I’ll testify we thought he was. No one will care.”

  “Garrick.” Jack scolded. “Can you concentrate on the directions? Man, so cold, and you were just complaining that we didn’t get that guy’s name.”

  Garrick shrugged. “Think about it. Just making conversation. A little tension breaker, a mental vacation for you. You never asked …. I did. I know … I know who he is and where he lives.”

  Jack quickly looked at Garrick. “Why?”

  “Because I was gonna beat him up for sleeping with my best friend’s wife.”

  “Lil was just as guilty.”

  “Yes, she was. But I couldn’t beat her up and you already emotionally beat her for a lifetime, so he was fair game.”

  “I did.” Jack swallowed. “I did beat her up emotionally and pretty badly at that. She was sorry, I felt that. But …” He sighed. “That’s behind us. All I care about is surviving and being with her.”

  “See.” Garrick reached over and gave a friendly punch to Jack’s arm. “You can thank God any time now for tossing that rock.”

  Jack groaned.

  “We'll call it a post war hunting trip. Think about it.”

  “Read the directions,” Jack shook his head with a smile. “And I’ll … uh think about it.”

  Garrick grinned.

  <><><><>

  It was about the third time that George coughed up a fur ball, that he decided it was time, maybe to get a drink. He didn’t feel thirsty but Bonkers fur got stuck in his throat. He also didn’t know why he consumed Bonkers with such a passion. Maybe his entire life was meant to eat dog.

  It was then when he walked into the empty home that he caught his reflection in the mirror. His face was full, his skin an ugly bloated look, some of it, looking as if it were splitting at the seams. George realized he was like all the other sick people. How pathetic he looked with the bloody mouth and patches of fur adhering to his face. What happened to him? He managed to turn on the sink, but couldn’t even feel the water against his skin.

  He splashed his face anyhow, and began to leave the house. That’s when he saw it. The cat. She was half eaten, but yet, like George she kept moving. Only she was ferocious about getting into a closet. She scratched and banged her body against the closet door. What was in there that she wanted?

  The nearer George drew, the better he heard it. The soft, young purring. Kittens.

  She wanted the kittens on the other side of the door. Helpless, innocent kittens. George couldn’t let that happen. He moved the cat with his one good leg and managed, using his wrist, to open the closet. Six almost hairless kittens huddled together.

  George knew if he didn’t do something they would die, so with his only free hand, he still had the phone in the other, George picked them up, one by one, by the scruff of their necks and placed them in his shirt and pants pockets. He’d get them out of there and keep them safe.

  A part of him was filled with hope. Looking at the innocent kittens, eyes so wide, made him realize that life went on. But George knew his life couldn’t go on much longer.

  He couldn’t live, nor did he want to live, looking and feeling as he did. No emotions, no physical feelings, feeling only hunger.

  George was pretty certain, he was infected to the point of no return.

  He saw the others, inane, angry, violent, and that wasn’t how George wanted to end up. He didn’t want to be a wandering empty soul eating animals out of sheer insatiable hunger. So he had to seek out help.

  With the kittens purring and wiggling in his pockets, George left the house.

  He had a plan. He had to find a way to die.

  Chapter Twenty—Six

  Washington, DC

  It was cold. Even wearing the suits, the air felt as if it were winter. They stayed in the exit tunnel until first light, then Lance led Wills, Don and the others into the city. Or what was left of it.

  Washington DC was in ruins. The skyline was a dismal dark gray. Sporadic smoldering fires were throughout the charred remains of buildings. There were very few recognizable landmarks with which to grasp directions.

  They moved as a group even as the city crawled with the undead. Most of them were burnt, skin flaking from their bodies, they moved edgy and were fragile. It didn’t take even a weapon to take them down. A simple swat crumbled what was left and many times the head would roll off to the side, still biting, still … animated .

  Lance knew it would take a lot longer than a few hours. Their small oxygen tanks didn’t hold much and it would not be long before they’d have to breathe the radiated air.

  That didn’t stop them. They trudged on. They had to get out of the city. A city once bright , once energetically alive and symbolic of hope, was now a city reflective of the country itself … dead.

  <><><><>

  Pittsburgh, PA

  George didn’t mean to eat the kittens. It just happened. He grew hungrier and couldn’t help it. The kittens went down with ease. George felt badly. He didn’t want to do it. Everyone time he said, ‘no more’ he ate another until all six were gone.

  At least he didn’t get fur balls.

  He estimated he had made it from the residential area closer to the main street of Oakland. He felt certain that somewhere on the main street he would find someone to give him the help he needed. Someone that could put him out of his misery.

  Not that Georg felt miserable, but walking around with a non-functioning leg, skin peeling and eating animals was no life.

  The Cathedral of Learning loomed on the skyline. Police had to be around there protecting the main campus from the infected ones. A few more blocks that was it.

  Then George heard it.

  A cry. A shrill loud infant cry rang out and it seemed as t
hough all the undead roaming the streets hear it too. Like a school of fish. they all turned to followed it.

  As did George.

  Not that George knew for a fact that it came from the red brick home, but he guessed because the undead moved toward and into the home, flowing in like church goers going to Sunday morning service.

  Indeed, the cry grew louder.

  When George stepped inside, he was certain the crying baby was in the dwelling. However, George was different from the other infected. They were unthinking, moving things swinging their arms aimlessly searching for the baby.

  George on the other hand followed the sound.

  It took him into the back room.

  The infected were there as well, aimlessly bumping into each other. It was hard enough for George to move, especially dragging his leg as he did. But he pinpointed the cry. It came from the huge armoire. But it wasn’t inside because the doors to the armoire were opened.

  George looked up.

  As best as he could, he climbed on the bed. Others followed like sheep and George kicked them away, swatting his dangling leg at them, He knew if they found the baby, they wouldn’t save it. He had seen what they had done to an old man in a wheel chair.

  Balancing on his one good leg, George reached up. No sooner did his fingers touch the top of the cabinet, he felt the squirming. It was small. George grasped it, and awkwardly, pulled it down. A baby.

  Like the kittens it was innocent, vulnerable.

  George only had a second to look at it before arms and hands reached for it. . One second was all it took for George to know it was not infected. It didn’t … smell infected.

  To protect it, George wrapped his arm around the baby as tightly as he could, jumped from the bed, caught his balance, and flinging his free arm at the infected with every step, hurried to the door. He had to get out. He had to get that child away before they got it.

  <><><><>

  Cleveland, OH

  Tom Lewis was all of twenty-six years old. He was the volunteer. The only volunteer. Saul said a prayer as he prepared the syringe. The young man was hooked up to monitors in order for Saul to monitor his vital statistics. Saul begged the young man -- three times-- to reconsider not going through with the experiment.

  The young man from Indiana replied. “Sir, I lost my mother, brother, wife and three year old daughter. I don’t want to reconsider my decision. Just make me a promise. If something does goes wrong, there’s a bullet in it for me.”

  Saul nodded and solemnly said. “I promise.” And then he injected the young man.

  <><><><>

  Pittsburgh, PA

  It was odd. Just on the outlying residential streets of Oakland, the undead massed together, moving in one direction. Moving, walking all toward the same goal.

  They reached for the vehicle as it drove by, some attempted to get in it, but for the most part, they were focused.

  “We have a few more blocks. They’re headed in the direction of the Cathedral,” Jack said.

  “Well, let’s just get there, get Dodds and head to the roof,” Garrick replied. “Hopefully, Saul was right and that chopper won’t be waiting long.”

  Jack had just spoken to Saul and told him they were just blocks away from their goal. Saul said he’d notify the Colonel.

  Jack looked in the rearview mirror and thought ‘ We have good distance.’

  “Look at this poor bastard, Jack,” Garrick said. “He’s dragging his leg.”

  Jack shook his head.

  “We should put him down.”

  “We don’t have time, he’s just one.”

  After a shrug, Garrick unwound his window to toss out his cigarette. Had he not done so, he would have never heard the cry.

  Jack quickly looked at Garrick. “Did that sound like a baby?”

  “Yeah, but maybe it’s a zombie baby.”

  “Sounds pretty normal to me.” After a quick glance again in the rearview mirror, Jack slammed the breaks.

  Garrick flew forward, cracking his head on the dash. “What the fuck.”

  “He has it.” Jack put the car in park. “Look back.”

  A steady stream of blood flowed down Garrick’s head. “Who has what? I need stitches. Oh my god.”

  “That thing.” Jack opened the door.

  “Jack, it’s probably dead ….”

  Jack was out of the car. The leg dragging zombie was twenty feet away and he stopped. In his arms a wiry infant moved, barely staying in his grip. Jack walked closer, slowly pulling his revolver with each step.

  “Jack.” Garrick called. “The group is closing in.”

  “I think the baby is fine.” Jack said. He lifted his eyes. The mass of undead was a good two blocks away. But the man, the reanimated dead man holding the infant looked pathetic. “Garrick, hurry.”

  Garrick caught up to Jack. “What are you doing?”

  “This thing isn’t attacking. Look at the color of the baby. It’s normal.”

  “Oh, man, this thing is like Juan.”

  “Yeah, the little boy your brother took. Ok,” Jack dropped his voice to a whisper. “He’s gonna drop this thing. Just get ready.”

  Garrick nodded.

  “On my call,” Jack took another step. “Race and do everything you can to get that child.”

  “It’s barely in his grip.”

  “I know. One … two ….” Jack took a breath. “Three.”

  The undead man cocked back when Jack and Garrick raced at him even though it was apparent he was trying to offer the baby to them. His grip relaxed and the baby started falling.

  Garrick, with outstretched arms, dove to the ground and caught the child just as it was about to hit the pavement.

  Jack extended his revolver to the zombie. “Is it okay?” he asked Garrick.

  “Oh my God, Jack, it’s normal.”

  Jack sighed out. “Take the baby to the car. Now.” He held the revolver point blank on the undead man. “This one isn’t attacking. Let’s just go.” Just as he was about to lower his aim. The man’s mouth widened.

  Jack was ready. But not for what happened.

  The voice was strained, gurgled, aching and barely audible , but it was clear enough to be understood when through his gaping, bloody mouth, the undead moaned out, “Kill … me.”

  Jack’s heart thumped in his chest as he was consumed with an immediate shock and was slightly taken aback Jack obeyed the wishes. He lifted his hand again and fired a single shot into the undead man’s head.

  Still somewhat in a state of shock Jack couldn’t move. Garrick called him.

  “He spoke. He spoke,” Jack gasped then lifted his eyes to see the mass of undead moving faster. The firing of the weapon was a starting signal. Jack bent down to the man.

  “Jack, come on!” Garrick yelled.

  “I’ll be right there.” Jack rolled over the man, checking him. He saw the phone in his hand and pulled into from the clenched grip, then went to the back pockets.

  “They’re closer. Let’s go.”

  “Take the baby!” Jack continued to check the man.

  Garrick made it safely inside the vehicle. He saw the mob closing in on Jack, then saw his friend race to the SUV and jump inside.

  Jack started it and pulled out without hesitation. He tossed the cell phone to Garrick.

  “What the hell were you doing?” Garrick asked. “Robbing him? You took his phone?”

  “What the fuck, no. How’s the baby?”

  “It’s fine. Probably hungry. But normal. What were you doing?” Garrick asked.

  “It’s your fault, you know. You gave me shit for not knowing the name of a man who gave us directions; well, that one deserves for us to know his name.” Jack lifted the small card, looked at it and tossed it to Garrick. “George McWilliams.”

  The driver’s license landed on Garrick’s leg. “Why the phone, too.”

  “Everyone has pictures of their life in their phone now. We keep this child alive and we let it know
who saved it.”

  “Yeah,” Garrick nodded humbly as he cradled the very small infant. “But can we, Jack. Can we keep this child alive?”

  “I don’t know,” Jack said. “But I sure as shit am gonna try.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  North Carolina

  The SUV was packed, and Steve thought he had more time. But, like an attacking army of animals, the undead massed together on the hillside above the compound.“This is insane, Steve,” Lil argued. “We’re safe in here. So what? Seal up, close down, hunker in. They can’t break in here.”

  “I think we should listen to Steve,” Irma said.

  Lil shook her head. “Garrick went to extreme measures to make this place secure. Hell, we have a stocked safe room where we can hide, it has an escape route. Where are we gonna go?”

  Irma stuttered and then said “Cleveland. Saul said it is infection free.”

  “Even Cleveland means we have to get off this mountain,” Lil stated. “If those animals are there, they are everywhere. We’re safer here.”

  Irma shook her head. “Look at Steve. Would he tell us to run if he didn’t know something? He’s scared.”

  “Yeah, I’m scared,” Steve said. “It isn’t the deer or wolves I worry about. Lil, I saw them. I just saw them. Hundreds, thousands. The deer can’t get in here, but they can.”

  “What?” Irma asked.

  “Ya ya, look.” Jerry, standing at her side, pointed down.

  A mere foot from the baby’s leg was a huge rat. Half its body was gone; it’s eyes wide and white. It squealed and widened its mouth. Just as it lunged at Jerry, Irma lifted the child and a sent boot crashing down on the rat’s head, smashing the skull like a bug.

  It took all that Lil had in her to slam her foot into the rodent’s skull and, out of breath, she nodded, “let’s go.”

  All four of them ran for the door. Opening it was a mistake.

  The overwhelming putrid smell hit them like a blast and then they saw them.. Rats. Rats were everywhere, on the SUV, on the front yard, all over the property. They cried out eerily. The open door was an invitation and a wave of rodents suddenly rushed their way.