Jurassic Dead

by Rick Chesler

  Alex was farther ahead, weaponless but nimble, avoiding fights, taking advantage of the fact that more of them were drawn to Veronica’s bloodletting than to his rapid dodging. The motorcycle was probably only fifty feet away, but it seemed like a mile.

  He continued to hear Veronica’s effort-laden gasps as she fought off the horrid abominations. He knew that as good as she was, she could only keep this up for so long. All it would take was one slip-up, one little momentary lapse of reason, and she would dissolve into nothing in the undead mob. With this many, there would be so little of her left that she wouldn’t even return as a zombie.

  In an odd sort of detachment, Alex wondered what the point of it was, the zombified existence. Was it life, was the reanimated corpse just a host for transporting the virus and replicating it, but to what end, if all it did was spread and eat… and eat? Everything in sight including, ultimately, others like itself. He didn’t know, but he sure as Hell didn’t want to find out, and the sight of the bike ahead galvanized him to action.

  He made a beeline for the next open patch of ground, where he then had to jog right, then back left, in order to forge ahead again. He had just allowed himself the first faint touch of optimism when he looked into one of the zombie’s eyes...and stopped dead in his tracks. This particular zombie carried a gun, dangling carelessly from one finger, while the sleeve of its sweater hung loose from the wrist of the other arm. That was not what made it remarkable to Alex.

  “Dad?”

  His father’s face was unmistakable, even zombified, but in spite of the fact that his brain tried to tell him, no, you’re wrong—that’s not him!—there was no way it could with the tattered turtleneck, khaki pants, and especially the alligator boots it still wore. Marcus Ramirez’ last outfit. Chosen in some department store on a day when simply going to pick them out was a chore, something to get over and done with so that he could get on with his life. Now, he had no life, at least not one that was recognizable to Alex or any normal human. He had an existence, but certainly not a life. The maggots and flies residing in his rotten cheeks had more of a life than he did, Alex reflected.

  And yet...

  “..lex!

  It had formed a word.

  The seething, writhing mass of zombies, Veronica’s tortured cries born of a single furious blade, the smoking volcano, all of it receded to the back of his subconscious as he stood in place and focused on the figure before him who used to be his father.

  “Aaaaaaal...”

  It seemed like a terrible effort for the creature to formulate words.

  “Dad!” He unconsciously reached out to his father—to what he thought of as his father but surely was no longer. He watched, unable to move as a mounting internal struggle waged itself inside the zombie’s virus-addled mind as it tried to call upon the last remaining vestiges of its former self. A blanket of ash fell upon its upturned face as it slowly raised the hand with the gun.

  “Prowwwwd...”

  The gun went off, shooting another zombie right in the forehead, dropping it like a sack of bricks.

  “fffYouuuuuu.”

  “Dad...!”

  Then Alex’s zombie father pointed the gun at itself, at its right temple, but the aim was unsteady, and it succeeded only in blowing a hole in the shoulder of its shooting arm, making its aim even worse.

  “Stop!”

  “Alllllllex!” It shot again, this time putting a round into the base of its neck. It slumped to the ground, reaching out a hand toward its still-living son.

  Another shot, to the scalp, this time.

  “Runnnn...” and a final one, entering its mouth up into its brain. Its eyes opened wider with the realization that, even for whatever Hell of a dimension it found itself in now, this was it.

  Show’s over, folks.

  As he toppled to the dirt, Alex’s father reached up in a spastic motion and dropped the firearm. Alex took it, whispered something to his father that for years he would not be able to recall that would haunt his dreams in different ways, and then used the gun to put some lead into the head of another zombie that stood in his way.

  The motorbike waited, just ahead.

  Alex blasted one more zombie out of the way and then saw Veronica waving him on to the motorcycle as she broke into a run through an open pocket. He turned and sprinted to the bike. An old Honda. Key in the ignition, the whole cycle wet and covered with sludgy ash. He mounted the seat in a daze and prayed while he turned the key. The motor turned over once and died. He looked back and saw Veronica on the losing end of an altercation with two zombies, one of them very tall and thin with a long reach.

  He steadied the pistol’s barrel on the handlebars and took aim. Held his breath, squeezed the trigger...

  Dropped Mr. Thin Man.

  Veronica looked over, smiled, side-stepped past the last remaining zombie in her way and broke into a full-out run.

  Alex tried the key again. It turned over twice this time, and then died.

  “Shit!”

  “Go, Alex, I’ll hop on!”

  “Trying!”

  Then he looked to his right, wondering why she sounded even more panicked, and he saw four zombies, tearing through the brush toward them.

  He turned the key one more time. Heard the motor rev...rev...and catch!

  He threw the machine into gear as he felt Veronica leap onto the seat and throw her arms around his waist. “Move!” He gunned it, just tearing into the terrain and onto a path and racing at a right angle away from the zombies, who all stumbled ahead, waving their arms and squealing in loss.

  “I hope you can actually drive one of these,” Veronica yelled, tightening her grip.

  “What direction?” Alex didn’t dare take his eyes off the terrain, fearing one wrong bump or tilt would send them flying to the ground—where they’d be dinosaur bait in no time.

  She pointed ahead in the distance, to a flat plain beneath a forested slope. “That way to the airstrip.”

  41.

  Alex jockeyed the old motorcycle along a dirt road through a rain of sooty ash, Veronica’s arms around his waist, no zombies or dinosaurs in sight for the first time in hours. Even so, he didn’t feel good about anything after having seen what had happened to his father. He was numb and looking forward to only one thing: getting to the airstrip and finding a way out of this hellhole.

  “Hold on.” He warned Veronica as he went airborne off a rock, the wheels landing two bike lengths away on loose packed soil. He swerved hard to the left, and then recovered, gunning it once again in the direction of the airstrip.

  Then they heard—and felt—the explosion.

  The ground shook beneath their wheels with the force of it. Alex braked, slowing them enough so that when they fell off they avoided injury. They lay sprawled out on the forest floor while a series of muffled booms sounded back at the volcano.

  The ground shook as another series of explosions went off, like a Fourth of July fireworks finale—more impressive and longer-lasting than the volley preceding it. Veronica dusted the leaves off of her and stood, surveying their surroundings while Alex righted the bike.

  “The entire bunker must be destroyed,” Veronica said, mounting the cycle once more.

  Alex looked back at the volcano, the apex of its cone now brimming with fire. “I think that might just be the beginning.”

  “Storing the munitions there…the bomb…” Veronica shuddered as a pall of ash sifted down, intensifying. “Was that the failsafe? Instigating an eruption?”

  “I don’t want to wait around to find out. Let’s—”

  They both heard it at once: the sound of a large beast trampling the ground and crashing through the brush somewhere nearby. They couldn’t see anything, but set off again on the bike. A path forked ahead and Veronica pointed left. Alex went that way and soon after they crested a steep rise, from the top of which they could see the airstrip not far below on flat ground.

  Something else, moving, and it caught Alex’s ey
e.

  A Jeep, tearing down the path, kicking up dirt clouds in its wake.

  “There’s Xander!”

  “He’s going for the plane, too. We’ve got to catch him.”

  “Why? He can’t fly.”

  “He’s probably thinking of hiding out in the hangar and waiting for DeKirk, and…even if he can’t fly, he might blow up the plane just to spite us.”

  “If he knows we survived.”

  “Well, there’s not really anywhere to hide between here and there. He’s going to know.”

  Alex shrugged. “Nothing to do about it but catch his ass.”

  “And take him out now, at last.” Veronica gritted her teeth, tightened her grip around Alex and nodded. “Go!”

  #

  The idea of being trapped on this rock where such a ghastly fate had befallen his father was beyond unthinkable to Alex. He throttled the bike up and riveted his gaze to Xander’s Jeep, which was rolling along faster than was safe, the RPGs jostling around in the back. The bike had horsepower to spare, though, and so Alex yelled for Veronica to hold on and jammed the throttle all the way back. They raced down the rugged trail, which at times felt like an expert ski slope, all moguls and sharp declines. Alex and Veronica hunched low on the two-wheeler, careening faster and faster, approaching a larger set of boulders and gaining on Xander, who Alex saw was glancing back, with sudden alarm.

  Why’s he so acting so shocked? Alex thought, a moment before it dawned on him that there might be another reason for his fear.

  Was it the volcano, or just the fact that they had survived, or was it—?

  The bike’s front wheel thumped hard on the leveling ground, they skidded but stayed on balance, but when they emerged from beyond the outcropping of boulders and fallen rocks, they were met with another fright.

  Alex knew what had Xander had seen.

  The T. rex lurched out from the side of the boulder where it had been crouching, almost blending in with the rubble and the mountainside. It straightened its neck, stretching its entire body to its full length. Stories high, it was crawling with zombies, the undead humanoids latched onto its tail, its flank, even sitting atop its back, cowboy style.

  It roared and swiped at them—but just missed the back tire with its giant jaws.

  Furious and frenzied, it gave chase.

  #

  The sky had darkened, with rolling black clouds of ash belching up from the volcano. The ground rumbled and the winds turned cold and full of swirling black flakes.

  Alex veered to the left shoulder of the road, feeling his hands vibrate as they rolled over jagged volcanic rocks. He was about to stop, forced to either crash or run into the T. rex’s tail, when the beast leaned forward and raised its tail in a swishing motion that lifted it just higher than the bike.

  “Duck!”

  Alex gunned it and they shot forward beneath the dinosaur’s massive appendage. A zombie dropped off the T. rex—whether by design or by accident, Alex didn’t know—and landed a split second behind them, the fingers of one of its hands shredding off in the spokes of the rear wheel. Alex looked back over his right shoulder and saw the dinosaur roar in frustration, then turn on a burst of steam and race after them.

  “Go!” Veronica urged, but he needed no encouragement. He fell into a trance state with the bike, seeing only the road’s obstacles immediately in front of him, feeling the rhythms of the machine as he coaxed the needed movements from it. He focused on Xander’s Jeep, trying to match its movements and keep gaining on it. Behind them the Tyrannosaur tore down the road on its powerful hind legs. Alex leaned into a curve and when he straightened out, Xander’s Jeep was not far in front of him.

  Xander glanced back, saw them following, and with shock at the proximity of the dinosaur and the cycle, so close, he swerved and accelerated all at once—and at the absolute worst time.

  His left front wheel slammed into a rocky patch and the Jeep cart-wheeled to the right, completely out of control. It wedged into a patch of mud and tipped up, nearly flipping before coming to rest again on three wheels, the fourth having snapped off at the axle. Xander was tossed from the Jeep and lay sprawled in the road. He sat up, clutching his arm—where a jagged white bone stuck out of a bloody fissure near his elbow. He looked dazed but furious, regaining his senses.

  Alex skidded the bike to a stop sideways to avoid hitting the Jeep, losing traction and coming to a stop. No other option, he tried to right the bike but Veronica’s weight tugged him off balance. Turning his head to see where the T. rex was, sure it was right there about to devour them, he felt it rush past the bike in a blur, then saw its red eyes full of mindless rage, its gargantuan head towering above them, the zombie riders fearlessly hanging on.

  There was no doubt as to its intentions. It went after the wounded prey.

  Alex felt a rush of thrill and felt for a moment what he imagined Veronica was feeling at the same time.

  Get him, he thought, silently rooting for the monster as it bore straight for Xander.

  #

  Grimacing in pain, clutching his arm, Xander realized he hadn’t many options left. A sitting duck, bleeding out at that, a perfect meal for the rampaging dinosaur and its riders. Hungry, the T. rex was whipped into a violent frenzy of white-hot fury that went beyond mere animalistic self-preservation. Awakened after eons to an unfamiliar place in a disease-ridden body, not even possessing a functioning heart and plagued by a retinue of parasitic zombies, this creature was compelled by the forces of its own evolution to do the one thing in this world that it knew how to do: attack and feed.

  Xander saw it coming for him and pushed up with his good arm to his feet. Timing it perfectly, he ran forward as the creature rushed in a burst of speed toward him. Throwing off its timing, Xander ducked and rolled under its swooping jaws, between its legs and past its flailing tail.

  Without looking back, not sure of how much time he had just bought, hearing only the roar of frustration and fury from the beast, he ran to the Jeep, knowing that fleeing any other direction would result in his death as surely as if he had remained motionless in the road. At the Jeep, in a movement that he knew would bring him great pain, he slid one of the heavy rocket launchers from the back of the vehicle and balanced it atop his right shoulder, the side of his good arm. With the monster bearing down on him, he turned around and took aim with the weapon.

  He lined up the bouncing T. rex head in the rocket’s sight and prepared to fire. Consumed now by dread so real it overshadowed the pain of his broken arm completely, Xander tried to block out his mind from telling him that his life was about to come to an end in the festering mouth of a prehistoric animal.

  Making his last stand, Xander flipped a lever on the launcher. The T. rex paused, perhaps having learned the lesson and steadying its approach, and lowered its head. One of the zombies slid down the T. rex’s snout like a kid on a slide, careening past Xander and taking a swipe at him in mid-air. Reflexively, Xander dodged the zombie and squeezed the trigger, aiming right at the dinosaur’s head in his line of sight.

  Got you, he thought with giddy exuberance—that suddenly turned to outright horror…

  Nothing happened.

  He lowered the barrel of the RPG, wincing with renewed pain from his ruined arm.

  Shit.

  His mouth opened and he stared at the bullet-ridden, drooling draconic visage in front of him, the demonic eyes and jagged teeth in a rotting mouth expelling a breath so foul he started to gag.

  It was over, and just as he heard the revving of a motorcycle, and saw a blur in the corner of his eye, as Veronica and Alex tore away to safety, he knew it: there would be no escape. No second chance, no tomorrow.

  All his genius, his plans, his brilliance, undone on this blasted island, undone by something, at last that he couldn’t foresee.

  The T. rex moved lightning-fast, thrusting its jaws forward and its gaping maw closed around Xander’s entire body, its head twisting to the side so that its prey’s feet s
tuck out one side and the arms and head out the other. Blood rained from the sides of dinosaur’s mouth as it raised its head to full height, its jaws crushing Xander’s ribs and gouging into his organs. The zombie that had slid off the beast stood in place and raised its face up, accepting the bloodbath that rained down from the dinosaur’s grinding jaws. It opened its mouth as wide as it could, catching Xander’s fresh-squeezed blood, like the pulp of a shredded orange, gargling it when it overflowed down its face.

  Still clutching the rocket launcher but now in his death throes, Xander reflexively pulled the trigger one more time, and this time the RPG fired.

  #

  Alex slowed the bike.

  He and Veronica both looked back in time to see the rocket that seemed to exit directly out of the T. rex’s mouth, sending a missile slamming into the Jeep where it exploded into a fiery ball of wreckage. The zombie standing nearby was engulfed in fire, the flames burning Xander’s blood off its rot-riddled skin before consuming its flesh and incinerating its bones.

  The Tyrannosaur reared back in surprise, feeling the heat of the explosion. It reacted by tossing its prey and catching it deeper within its jaws, then clamping down on Xander. The pressure cut—or more like pressed—the biochemist in half. His head and upper torso remained in the creature’s jaws, trapped like portions run through a meat grinder. His lower body—shredded flesh and bone—tumbled out into the burning Jeep, where moments later the remaining RPGs exploded. Shrapnel blew out in random directions, one jagged piece of the Jeep slashing through the T. rex’s leg, which didn’t seem to affect it as it wolfed its meal down its straining gullet. Another flaming piece of debris caught a zombie on top of the T. rex’s back, pulverizing its cranium like a watermelon disintegrating under a sledgehammer.

  Back on the road, Alex tightened his grip on the motorcycle’s handlebars as the airstrip beckoned. He took off, even as he felt Veronica’s grip loosen slightly, and felt her breathe a long sigh and say something like, “Rest now, Edgars…”