by Joe Augustyn
“Yeah. We’re working on it.”
“I think those psychos might get here pretty soon. You might want to think about that. There’s a hell of a lot of them and they ain’t too far aways back. Must be something in the water, or maybe in the rain, that’s the only thing I can figure. I’m headed up to Port Norris to get help from the state police. And I sure wouldn’t mind some company if you want to tag along.”
The Sheriff peeked into the pickup. “You’re all alone?”
“Yes, sir. Just me. I tried to help my neighbor Tracy and her two little girls, but it was already too late. Do you know if it’s safe up in Vineland, or is this happening everywhere?”
“No,” the Sheriff replied, “As far as I know it’s—” He aimed his rifle discreetly at the truck’s door and fired two shots. The high-powered rounds punched through the steel door as if it was made of paper, knocking the startled driver halfway across the seat.
“Nothing personal,” the Sheriff said coldly, peering in at the dead man’s face. Climbing into the driver’s seat he drove the pick-up across the spike strips, puncturing its tires, and left it parked at an angle next to his SUV.
Climbing out, he checked the flattened tires, smiled in satisfaction, then tossed the truck’s keys into the nearby woods and climbed back into his SUV.
Ain’t nobody getting through now.
39
Bronski and Cat reached the local hospital but never made it out of their vehicle.
The scene was pure bloody mayhem.
Dozens of ghouls were feeding on the thrashing remains of nurses and doctors and visitors. The terrified screams of the living and the crashing of medical gear echoed through the halls and out the sliding glass doors of the emergency entrance, blocked open by fallen bodies.
Cat forced down an upsurge of bile as she watched a gray-haired woman bite into the midriff of an adolescent girl who was lying on the concrete drive, frothing at the mouth and kicking her legs in a frenzy.
Bronski sat riveted by the hellish scene. “I guess we found out what’s happening down here.” Despite his calm demeanor he was terrified, but determined not to show it. He knew courage was a fragile virtue, dependent on how well one could bluff oneself in the face of uncompromising danger.
A man banged on his window. His face and scalp were mostly chewed off. One eye had been bitten in half, and jutted from its socket like a half-eaten egg.
Within seconds the vehicle was surrounded by hungry corpses pounding and clawing at the windows.
Bronski shifted into reverse. “We’d better head back now. While we still can.”
“We can’t just run, Nick,” Cat protested. “We have to do something.”
“Like what, Cat? What can we do? For fuck’s sake, look around.”
“I don’t know. But we have to help these people… somehow.”
“Cat, get real. We wouldn’t last two minutes out there and you know it. You’d be dead as soon as you opened your door. And for what? We couldn’t put a dent in whatever the hell is happening down here. If there are any survivors left at all, the best thing we can do for them is to get help and get it fast. Real help. We need to get the National Guard down here. And we needed them here yesterday.”
Cat realized he was right. “Alright, go. Go!”
Bronski backed down the hospital driveway, bullying through the zombies who wouldn’t leave the vehicle alone. He knew they were beyond redemption. He had to think of those who were huddled in their homes. People who still had a chance to be saved.
As they backed out onto Route 9, Cat gazed out her window at the countless zombies wandering about, their gruesome visages illuminated by flashes of lightning. Turning her eyes up the street she saw the fuel fire, burning like the flames of hell despite the heavy rain. None of it made any sense. “This can’t be happening,” she said listlessly.
“The rain’s letting up,” lied Bronski, trying to distract her. He knew the storm was just getting started. “Try the radio.”
Cat tried sending a transmission. “Radio check, this is state police unit One Alpha Two Four Seven, does anybody read me? Come in if you copy.”
A long fizzle of static was finally broken by a garbled response. “Unit—four—State pol—mari— un—we–-” Heavy static drowned it out.
Cat tried again. “Marine investigation unit, this is Trooper Silverman from Troop A conducting an area recon. Do you copy?”
A reply came, but was totally indecipherable. Just one inaudible syllable made it through the static.
“Well at least we know the marine unit is still active.” Cat checked the map. “Let’s head down to their Wildwood station. It’s just a few miles from here.”
“That would only delay us from getting real help. We don’t even know if that was the Wildwood station or the one up at Bivalve. And they might have been responding from a boat out at sea. Besides, one unit isn’t going to help. We’re going to need every trooper in the state as well as the National Guard. Or the army out of Fort Dix.”
“We should check in on them anyway,” Cat argued. “They might need help getting out.”
“Are you serious? This is their turf, Cat. If they can’t get themselves out, what makes you think we could do any better? Look, I don’t like it any more than you do, but the best thing we can do for them is call in the cavalry. And every minute counts.”
Cat sat back, feeling defeated.
Bronski sighed. “And if you think I’m just scared, you’re right. But if we try to help them and get trapped, who’s left to go for help? Obviously that Sheriff is not planning to do it.”
“You’re right. Let’s go.”
Bronski looked over at her. She seemed lost in thought.
“You alright?” he asked gently.
“That’s a loaded question. Will we be alright, Nick? Will anyone ever be alright after this?”
“I don’t know, Cat. People recovered from Sandy. Jersey tough, right?” He forced a smile. She didn’t smile back.
“All we can do is get help,” he continued. “Another few miles and this hell will be behind us. In a few hours we’ll have the region completely sealed off. Then we can start cleaning up the mess and figure out what caused it in the first place.”
As they sped through an intersection Bronski slammed on the brakes—just barely avoiding a collision as Deputy Hayes’ cruiser cut them off, swinging around the corner from the cross street, turning to head in the same direction they were.
“Idiot!”
“He’s obviously in a panic,” said Cat. “Looks like he has the same idea we do. See if you can catch him. He might know something we don’t.”
Bronski turned on his siren and lights and sped after the fleeing patrol car.
***
At the wheel of Hayes’ cruiser, Ryan heard the siren and checked his rearview. The troopers’ SUV was hot on his tail. “Shit. I think it’s that damned Sheriff.”
“Don’t let him catch us please,” pleaded Emma, sinking into a fetal position in the back seat. “He’ll kill me. He’ll kill us all.”
With no choice but to accept the challenge, Ryan floored the gas pedal, his nervous tension undercut by the thrill of speed and power, a cocktail of adrenaline and testosterone. Guns, gas and girls, not to mention the threat of zombies. His teenage male hormones were pumping overtime.
The troopers were fazed by his sudden acceleration. “He isn’t slowing down,” said Bronski. “He must be in cahoots with that Sheriff. I don’t know what their game is, but it’s about time we found out.”
But suddenly Ryan hit the brakes, bringing the cruiser to a screeching halt. He gazed through the windshield at the roadblock ahead. It was a hundred yards away, but he could see the big Stetson hat of Sheriff Leeds silhouetted through the SUV window and could also see the high-powered rifle in his hands. “Shit. It’s him. The Sheriff. The bastard’s blocked the road.”
“Then who’s that chasing us?” asked Kerri.
As if to answer her
question the troopers’ SUV slid to stop alongside their cruiser. Cat jumped out, her trusty Sig pistol in hand, and knocked ardently on Ryan’s window. The action was just what she needed, snapping her back in control.
At the barricade, the Sheriff poked his rifle through the SUV window and studied the scene through his scope. He saw Cat tapping on the cruiser window, then swept his scope to the windshield to find Ryan in the driver’s seat. The cruiser’s soggy windshield obscured his face, but it certainly didn’t look like Hayes. What the hell? That’s not my deputy.
Ryan rolled his window down. Both he and Kerri held their police Glocks in hand but out of sight, ready to rock if necessary.
“Who the hell are you?” asked Cat, surprised to find a teenage civilian at the wheel. “Deputy Doogie Howser?” She quickly studied Ryan and his companions. Reading their fearful expressions and non-threatening body language she judged them no immediate threat.
“We’re just trying to get out of this hellhole,” Ryan answered nervously. “Who are you?” He tried to check out her uniform but her plastic poncho covered it.
“State police. What are you doing in that vehicle? You’re not a cop. What happened to the driver?” Her finger felt suddenly itchy on her trigger. Her combat honed instincts sensed impending danger.
“It’s a long story.”
“Give me the Cliff Notes. I don’t have all night.”
Before Ryan could answer, a rifle shot rang out, hitting Cat in the upper left arm, spinning her off her feet. Yelping in pain and surprise she hit the ground.
“Get out of here!” Ryan yelled through his open window. “He’ll kill you! He wants us all dead!” Shifting into reverse he floored the accelerator. A high-powered round cracked through the windshield, just missing his head as the cruiser swerved crookedly backwards. Emma screamed and Kerri ducked low.
Cat rolled into a firing position prone on the road and fired back at the Sheriff, ripping off three quick shots.
Leeds dove for cover as the hot slugs punched through his SUV’s door and shattered its rear window. He cursed as his rifle got snagged on the windowsill and fell out the open window. He kicked the door open and slid out after it, cursing the freezing puddles of rain as he dropped to the ground to reclaim his weapon.
Bronski quickly realized what was happening. “Jesus. Cat.” Grabbing his assault rifle he hopped out and started firing, forcing Leeds to crawl into cover behind his vehicle.
With the Sheriff pinned down for the moment, Bronski slipped around the back of the vehicle and peeked around the side at Cat sprawled on the ground. “Cat! Get in the SUV. I’ll keep you covered.” He fired a few more rounds, watching through his scope as the Sheriff ducked out of sight. “Now, Cat! Go!”
Cat scrambled to her feet and climbed into the SUV, her upper arm seared with pain. Bronski fired a few more shots to buy precious seconds, then sprinted back to the driver’s side and fired a few more rounds, keeping the Sheriff pinned down.
Cat lowered her window and fired her Sig, buying time for Bronski to get back into the vehicle. He hopped into the driver’s seat and shifted into reverse. Cat kept up a steady stream of gunfire as he swung the SUV into a wild reverse T-turn and they sped back to the nearest intersection.
Leeds watched as they disappeared onto the cross street. He cursed angrily, cold and wet and trembling from his close encounter with death. He climbed into the driver’s seat of his SUV and took a few deep breaths, rethinking his plan.
They won’t be back this way. Not until they exhaust their other options. And I can’t risk them finding one that works.
40
Bronski sped away down the side street. The taillights of Ryan’s cruiser gleamed in the night, half-a-mile ahead of them.
“What the hell was all that?” asked Bronski. “Did you find anything out from the deputy?”
“There was no deputy,” replied Cat. “They were civilians. Three of them. Scared out of their wits.”
“Civilians? How’d they get the cruiser?”
“I don’t know. That bastard started shooting before I got an answer.” She moved her hand away from her arm, checking the bloody wound. “I knew that old bastard was shady.”
Bronski’s eyes went wide as he saw her blood-soaked bicep. “Jesus Cat, you’re hit.”
“Really? I was wondering what that burning sensation from hell was.”
“Smart ass. It can’t be that bad if you’re still joking.”
“I’ll live. The bullet went through, it missed the bone. But that fat bastard will be sorry if I get another crack at him.” She looked at the tiny red taillights ahead in the distance. “Hurry up and catch that cruiser. I think they know more than we do. The kid driving shouted a warning. Something about that Sheriff trying to kill them.”
Bronski jammed the pedal to the metal and hit his siren.
***
Kerri turned to look through the back windshield as she heard the approaching siren, but all she could make out were the flashing red-and-blues, blurred by the rain-soaked glass. “Shit,” she uttered softly.
Emma whimpered in fear, an odd squeaky sob.
“Calm down, it’s okay,” said Ryan. “It has to be those state troopers. No way that Sheriff could have got on the road and caught up to us this soon.” But he glanced nervously in the rearview, not sure he wanted to risk an encounter with any law officers in the area, despite his encouraging words.
“Pull over,” Kerri said. “If he shot at them, they mustn’t be part of his crew. And maybe they can help us get out of here. Or at least help to protect us. Ryan, pull over!”
Ryan finally relented and pulled to the curb. As the troopers’ SUV parked behind them, he rolled down his window and placed his open hands atop the steering wheel. He’d learned in driver’s ed how important it was to appear non-threatening if pulled over by a cop. This seemed like a really good time to test the technique.
Bronski ran up to the car, assault rifle in hand but pointed safely at the ground. “What the hell was that about back there? Speak!”
“The Sheriff,” Ryan replied. “He’s responsible for all this shit.”
“All what shit?” asked Bronski.
“All of it,” said Kerri. “Whatever’s happening around here. It’s all his fault. That’s why he wants to kill us. We know too much. And he knows we know. He wants to shut us up. Permanently.”
Bronski thought for a moment. He glanced at Emma cowering in the back seat. Then at Kerri in the front.
“Come on,” he said. “Get in our vehicle. We’ll all be safer if we stick together.”
Ryan hesitated, wondering if it made sense to give up the extra vehicle. Bronski looked down the road, expecting to see the Sheriff’s vehicle appear at any moment.
“Come on!” he demanded. “If you want to live.”
Reluctantly they got out of the cruiser and headed to the troopers’ SUV. Bronski was relieved as he saw Kerri’s EMT uniform. He sidled up to her. “My partner’s been shot. Can you treat her?”
Kerri nodded and raised her first aid bag. “Get her in the back. I’ll see what I can do.”
They helped Cat into the rear compartment of the vehicle and Kerri climbed in beside her. Ryan helped Emma into the middle row seat, then climbed into the front next to Bronski.
“Now what the hell’s going on down here?” asked Bronski.
“I’ll tell you what we know, just get us out of here,” replied Ryan. “Before that Sheriff shows up. That dude is evil. Pure evil.”
“Which way?”
“Just drive. You’re trained for evasive maneuvers, right? Turn down one of these side streets.”
Bronski started driving. Taking the next turn he started zigging and zagging through the neighborhood, trying to stay under the Sheriff’s radar. “What’s the best way out of here? Is there a back road we can slip out?”
“That was the back road. And right now it’s the only road out of here,” replied Ryan. “I’ve tried them all. Forty-seven
is blocked, Route Nine is way too dangerous and you can’t even get on the Parkway. They’re all death traps. That’s why the Sheriff set up that roadblock. He knows it’s the only way out and he doesn’t want anyone getting out.”
“Why is he trying to kill you?”
“Because he started all this shit,” said Ryan. “Emma knows all about it. Those things… she said they came out of a cemetery. Somewhere out in the sticks. The Sheriff was somehow in charge of it. They were feeding those things.”
“What?” asked Bronski incredulously.
“He was feeding them!” cried Emma. “He tried to feed me to them.”
“That’s the craziest shit I’ve ever heard,” said Bronski.
“Is it any crazier than what you’ve seen tonight?” asked Ryan. “We’re in the middle of a goddamned zombie apocalypse.”
Bronski stopped driving. “Okay. If that’s the only way out, then we have to run that roadblock.”
“No,” Emma pleaded.
“Are you crazy?” asked Ryan.
“We have to get back to our station and notify the commander. We need to get the National Guard down here to deal with this plague.”
“Can’t you just call for help?” asked Kerri.
“We’ve been trying to call since we got here. There’s too much interference from the storm. And as far as we know all the phones are down. So unless you know where there’s an old-fashioned land line, we can ride around all night trying to find a working means of communication, or we can break out and go get help.”
“Well, we can’t risk running that roadblock, that’s just suicide,” argued Ryan. “That prick will shoot you before we get halfway up the block. You can’t outrace a bullet. All he needs to do is put one in the radiator to stop us. Then we’ll be sitting ducks.”
Bronski thought for a moment. The kid had a point. A bullet in the radiator might not stop them too quickly on such a cold night, but one in the engine block would. Not to mention a bullet in his head. “Okay. There’s a state police station in Wildwood. The Marine Investigation Unit. Maybe they can help us. They might even have a boat we can use.”