Chapter 19 - Missy
Missy chewed on her thumbnail, her stomach churning until she wanted to hurl. She sat with her legs sticking out the car door, the back seat loaded with speakers. Richard lounged behind the wheel, his manner far more relaxed than hers.
They were one of two decoy vehicles ready to lead the horde to the west and east along the Interstate 70. It was a simple job in theory. Wait until Corporal Parker and his soldiers fall back to the last and final line of defense at the fort. Then split up the remainder of the infected into two directions leading away from the base.
Easy peasy.
So, why was she so nervous?
Because of Dan. Up until Dan’s death during the failed attack on King’s hideout, Missy had felt invincible. Like most young people, she thought she was bullet-proof. She thought her team was untouchable. Then Dan died.
She longer thought death was reserved for someone far away and unknown. It could come at any time, in any place, for anyone—even her.
However, that wouldn’t prevent her from doing her job, even though she was scared of dying. People depended on her and Richard.
She sighed. “How much longer?”
“Not too long,” Richard said. “They’re almost here. Listen to the sounds.”
Missy did. “You’re right. It’s getting closer.”
Twenty minutes later, the radio crackled to life.
“This is Corporal Parker. Over.”
“Richard here. Over.”
“We are falling back. I repeat we are falling back. Ready the decoys. Over,” Corporal Parker said.
“You heard the man. Get in and get ready to blast the music,” Richard said.
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Missy said, climbing into the car.
Minutes later, Corporal Parker’s convoy raced through the middle to the safety of the fort. Richard started the car, and Missy prepared herself for what was to come.
As the first of the horde appeared through the dust and smoke, she pushed play on the radio. Once the music blared from the speakers, she upped the volume until the entire car vibrated with the thunderous beat.
On the far side of the block, the other decoy waited, also blasting music from its open windows. Earplugs protected them from the worst of the noise, and Missy shouted, “Go!”
The infected sped up when they heard the sounds emanating from the vehicles. Two big groups peeled off in either direction, east, and west along the Interstate 70. With eager hunger, they chased their prey down the road.
Missy lost sight of the other decoy and focused on the zombies following them, instead. Richard set a comfortable pace. Not too fast and not too slow, and she soon relaxed into her seat. It wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d thought it would be. The way ahead was clear, and they were too fast to catch.
After a while, she even began to hum beneath her breath. It was a catchy song, though she failed to remember the title or band. Warm air streamed through her open window, and she tipped her head back to enjoy the feeling.
The ride took her back to the past when she and her girlfriends used to cruise around during summer vacations looking for fun. Or trouble. Or both.
They’d wear the latest fashions, blast music from the radio, and flirt with every boy within a ten-block radius. Life was fun and easy.
Until the dead started coming back to life. That changed everything, and Missy was the only survivor among her friends. She credited her survival to sheer obstinacy. It wasn’t that she was smarter or tougher than her friends. Nope. I was just too stubborn to die. Or dumb. Maybe both.
The thought brought a smile to her lips. Whatever the reason might be, she was still alive, and she had Richard to look after her. He was both her friend and her protector. The uncle she never had.
A terrific bang yanked her back to the present, and she jerked upright. The car zigzagged across the road while Richard fought with the wheel. “Missy, hold on!”
Missy grabbed onto the dashboard as the car careened toward a lamp post. She shrieked and closed her eyes seconds before impact. The force whipped her forward, and her head crashed into the windshield. White-hot pain shot down her spine, and she crumpled into a ball.
Seconds later, rough hands dragged her out of the car onto the asphalt. Her head lolled around on her neck while her eyelids fluttered. Nothing seemed to work right, and the music was gone. Not even her hearing functioned properly. Everything sounded so distant like words shouted through a hollow tube.
“Missy, wake up!” The words were frantic, but they failed to reach her.
A stinging slap across both cheeks caused her to gasp with shock, and she shot upright. “Hey!”
“On your feet. Now!” Richard commanded.
“Okay, okay.” Missy obeyed and stood swaying next to the wrecked car.
In front of her stood Richard, one hand pointing up the street. “Run as fast as you can. Get to the fort.”
Missy looked down the street, and her insides liquefied. The zombies were coming straight for them, the front-runners howling like crazed hyenas. There was no time to spare. None at all.
She was about to do as Richard said when her eyes fell on his leg. He stood with it raised in the air, and it hung at an awkward angle. Broken. How he’d managed to drag her ass out of the car was a mystery.
“Richard, no!” she sobbed.
“There’s no time. I’ll hold them off for as long as I can,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.
“But—”
“I said go, damn it,” he roared, shoving her up the road with brutal force.
Missy broke into a stumbling run, tears streaming down her face. She sobbed as she went, her limbs floppy and weak. No, Richard. Not you too.
“Faster! My grandma can do better than that,” Richard shouted, prodding her on.
The first shots sounded as he picked off the closest infected, followed by more. Within seconds, he clicked on empty. “Don’t look back, Missy. Don’t look!”
She looked.
He was using his rifle as a club, fighting off the hands and teeth that surrounded him. With a roar, he smashed a woman’s face into a pulp before thrusting the barrel into the gaping maw of another.
He fell sideways onto the car, using it as a prop. Dropping the rifle he pulled out his pistol, snapping off as many bullets as possible. Bodies piled up around him even as more pushed forward. Surrounded, he did the only thing a sane man could. He thrust the barrel against his temple.
Across the distance, their eyes locked. His pleaded with hers to live, even as hers witnessed his death.
He pulled the trigger, and she jerked her head away. Forced to run, Missy pushed her body to the limits—anything to get away from the awful sounds that rose behind her. Smacking noises and wet rips filled her ears as the infected pounced on Richard’s form and fed on his rich, giving flesh.
She didn’t look back again.
Chapter 20 - Nick
Nick paced up and down in front of the gate, ticking tasks off his to-do list. All around him, the base was a hive of activity as the final pieces fell into place. Like a giant puzzle, every person formed a part of a whole.
Davis and his team had finished fortifying the defenses. Mandy’s team had stocked vital supply points with water, protein bars, and first-aid kits. Mac’s team had made sure every fighter had adequate weapons and ammunition, and the towers were equipped with machine gun turrets. Each building boasted extra defenses and guards, and the vulnerable were safe inside the community center.
“Grissom,” he shouted, spotting the man in question.
“Yes, Sergeant,” Grissom replied.
“Are all the civilians safe inside the community center?” Nick asked.
“All those who aren’t fighting, in the lab, or inside the infirmary,” Grissom confirmed.
“Including Mandy, Davis, Andrew, Tara, Amy, and Jenny?” Nick asked.
Grissom frowned as he ran through the list in his head before nodding. “Yup, all of them. Even
that monster of a dog.”
Nick had it in him to laugh. “That thing is a nuisance.”
“That thing tried to eat my gun,” Grissom grumbled.
“Anyway, please look out for the bridge teams,” Nick added. “They’re not back yet, and neither is Mike Hansen’s group.”
“I heard they didn’t make it over the river,” Grissom said.
“No, but one can hope,” Nick said.
Grissom scurried off, and Nick resumed his pacing. Finally, Jackson’s truck roared up to the gate, and Nick ran over. “Dylan?”
Dylan didn’t reply, her body slumped on the back seat.
“She’s okay, Nick. It’s just a bang on the head, nothing serious,” Jackson said.
“She doesn’t look okay to me,” Nick said.
“All the more reason to get her to the hospital,” Jackson said.
“Fine, but hurry,” Nick said. “And you’d better report back to me on her condition.”
“Will do, Sergeant.’
The rest of the morning passed in a blur as he oversaw the final preparations. It wasn’t long before the reports came flooding in from the observation posts. The horde was inside Frederick, wreaking havoc, and triggering kill zones. Soon, half of the city was on fire, and Nick prayed it didn’t spread any further. Imagine killing thousands of zombies only for the fort to burn to the ground.
Corporal Parker and his forces were giving it their best, and the horde’s numbers were dwindling rapidly. It wasn’t enough, however, and before long, Parker’s troops were falling back. With each fall-back, Nick’s heart sank lower in his chest.
When Corporal Parker called the final retreat, he prepared himself for the worst. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to give in to the dread that gnawed at his guts. As the remainder of their forces poured in, he was appalled to note that more than half were missing.
“Corporal Parker,” he cried, jogging forward as the man climbed out of his vehicle. “Is this all that’s left?”
“We dropped as many as we could, Sergeant, and the kill zones got a lot more, but the cost was high,” Corporal Parker said with a grim look.
“I am sorry.”
“Now it’s up to the decoys to divert the rest of the horde,” Corporal Parker continued.
“Do you think they can?”
“I hope so,” Corporal Parker said. “Because if they fail, the fight’s coming right to our doorstep.”
“All right. Take care of your wounded and deploy those able to fight wherever you deem best,” Nick said.
“Yes, Sergeant,” Corporal Parker said, turning back to the weary men and woman that awaited his commands.
Nick stared out into the distance, wondering how many of the things were still out there. Hungry. Relentless. He hoped the decoys would do the job and slam the final nail into the proverbial zombie coffin. But, he doubted it. So far, they’d been shit out of luck.
When the first news report came in, his fears were confirmed. The observation points reported that only two sections of the horde had followed the decoys along the interstate. The rest of the infected were still headed their way. Even worse, one of the decoy vehicles had crashed—Richard’s.
With dwindling hope, he waited until the first decoy vehicle roared through the gates. In the back sat Missy. They’d found her running for her life toward the fort, alone and injured. Nick helped her out of the car and uttered a single word. “Richard?”
Missy shook her head, tears shimmering on her lips. “He didn’t make it.”
“I’m sorry,” Nick said, shaking his head as she was led toward the infirmary. Already, their losses were almost more than he could bear.
This was not the time to give in to despair, though. He needed to set an example to the fighting men and women under his command. They were his responsibility, and he could not fail them. Not today.
The horde was on its way, and the fight had come to their home. Whatever happened, he needed to keep them out of the inner sanctum.
With a look of supreme confidence on his face, he faced the gate. “Come on, you undead fuckers. Today, we’re going to kill every last one of you.”
Chapter 21 - Alex
Alex pressed the rifle to his shoulder, his torso leaning against the concrete wall. He squeezed the trigger, firing short bursts of rounds into the oncoming horde. The two soldiers with him followed suit, and they laid down a withering wall of hot lead.
The advancing wall of bodies jerked as the shots punctured their flesh and punched through their skulls. When his magazine ran out, he reloaded until his fingers grew raw, and his barrel was hot to the touch.
Hundreds of zombies fell before them, the corpses piling up until they resembled drifts of snow. It didn’t matter. The mob kept advancing with relentless force, pushing aside anything in their path like so much chaff. They reached the chain-link fence on the outer perimeter and piled against it like dead leaves. Those at the back climbed over those in the front until the fence groaned beneath their combined weight. With a screech, it gave.
The horde was inside the base. The only thing that stood between them and the innocent civilians inside was the final layer of defense. That and the trench dug by Davis’ team. It ran all around the inner sanctum, designed to give the soldiers a fighting chance to retreat and regroup.
Alex kept shooting, desperate to whittle down the numbers of the undead. When the wall of death was almost upon them, an alarm sounded, and he knew it was time to retreat. He jumped up and waved his arm. “Move back. Move, move, move!”
Without waiting, he sprinted across the open ground, dodging sharpened stakes until he reached the inner fence line Nick had set up with such meticulous care. This was it—their last stand.
Above his head loomed the machine gun turrets, an ace up the sleeve reserved for this most desperate of times. He and the other soldiers streamed through one of the two gates that surrounded the civilian area. He briefly glimpsed Nick, the man’s face smeared with blood and muck. Saul was nowhere to be seen.
Alex quickly took up his new position on top of a gutted mini-van. In the face of the horror that faced them, it was a flimsy barrier, but it had to do. Across the open ground, the horde advanced until the front ranks fell into the trench. More followed until the inevitable happened, and the channel was filled to the brim. When that happened, the alarm sounded once more.
The match was lit, and thousands of gallons of fuel lit up the sky in a whoosh of flames. The zombies inside the trench burned, as did anything nearby. This granted the fort a brief reprieve. Those unable to continue the fight were replaced by fresh bodies, and the rest got the chance to rest and refuel.
Alex gulped down a bottle of water, followed by a protein bar. He flexed his aching muscles and closed his eyes for a couple of brief, beautiful seconds.
Then another alarm sounded, followed by a breathless hush. The flames had died to a smoldering carpet of coals, and horde pushed through the devastation of the trench. Their marching feet brought them closer and closer until they were within range.
That was the moment the machine gun turrets let loose. The fifty-calibers cut through the air, and the ranks of the undead disintegrated. They fell by the hundreds, and finally, by the thousands.
Alex whooped at the sight. He couldn’t help it. It was the advantage they’d needed—the one bright moment in a long dark day.
The barrage carried on for several minutes before the first gun stuttered to a stop. One by one, the others followed until an awful quiet descended.
Alex blinked into the haze of dust and smoke, sure that every last zombie had to be dead. Then the first shambling figure staggered into view. Its body was almost cut to ribbons, yet still, it came. His heart dropped. No.
Behind it, more advanced. These were fresher and faster. They howled with hunger and rage, their sole objective the humans that lurked just out of reach.
“Here they come!” someone cried out, and Alex readied himself for the fight of his lif
e.
The minutes stretched into hours as he kept his position, bolstered by the other soldiers who fought with him. They shot into the masses until they ran out of bullets, reloaded, and fired again.
Grenades exploded every couple of seconds, each blast sending up a spray of dirt, blood, and body parts. Whole ranks of zombies disappeared into deep pits while others were funneled into minefields.
Whenever a breach occurred, Corporal Parker sent in fresh soldiers to push back the wave. An excavator would soon follow, stopping up the gap in the fence. Hope began to grow within his chest. Maybe, they could make it after all. Perhaps this was not the end.
With fresh determination, he raised his rifle in the air and shouted. “Come on, guys. We can do this. Let’s give them hell!”
Those around him took up the cheer until it rang from countless throats and traveled throughout the ranks in a single united roar.
“Give them hell!”
“Give them hell!”
Chapter 22 - Dylan
Dylan paced from side to side on the infirmary’s top step. She acted like a caged tiger. The guards around the perimeter refused to allow her to leave, and she ranted nonstop. When Amanda plucked at her shirt sleeves, she shrugged her off. “Leave me be, Amanda. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. Look at you,” Amanda said, wringing her hands.
“It’s nothing serious. Go away,” Dylan cried, her face drawn into a deep scowl. “I want to see Nick.”
“You can’t see him. Look at that. You can’t go down there,” Amanda said, waving her hand at the fort’s inner defenses.
It was a war zone.
A wave of zombies hundreds deep surrounded the base. They pressed forward with rasping growls, tearing at the obstacles in their way. Razor wire shredded their flesh, mines blew them to pieces, fire licked at their flesh, and holes filled with sharpened sticks impaled them. Reinforced Humvees raced along the fences, delivering a deadly barrage of bullets and grenades.
Rise of the Undead (Book 6): Apocalypse Z Page 13