Deadlocked 7

by A. R. Wise

  A mob of Greys stood ahead, aimlessly shuffling along the road. The passing caravan had certainly attracted them from the forest, but the creatures had arrived too late to be enticed into a chase and now just stood waiting for another sign of life to come their way.

  Zack guessed that the smell of the fire dulled their senses, because the zombies didn’t turn on him as he approached. They continued to shamble until he was nearly on top of them, apparently unaware that a perfectly good meal was running directly into their midst.

  There were seven of them, each of varying size and weight. These were clearly Greys, their skin rotted and leathery and their faces gaunt, taking on the appearance of a skull draped in wet linen. Their teeth were revealed by receding lips, yellow and demonically long, with purple tongues that licked at the air as if trying to get a taste of their next meal before they bit into it.

  When the creatures finally noticed Zack, he was already swinging his axe. The red handled weapon sliced through the top of the first zombie’s head, spilling fluid and brain matter from the cavity as if a mug had been tipped over, splattering the mess on the zombie next to it.

  The clean cut of his first strike was a surprise. He’d expected to get the weapon lodged in the Grey’s skull, but the soft bone sliced like paper and he spun from the force of his swing. Zack shoved his right elbow into the face of the creature to his left that had been doused with his first victim’s fluid. The woman growled as she fell back into a short man that couldn’t hold her weight. They both tumbled as Zack tried to retreat a few steps to steady himself. The cumbersome suit restricted his movement and he cursed himself for never helping Abe fight fires in the past. Perhaps then he would’ve been more accustomed to the constricting rubber.

  The other zombies lurched his way, and the nearest tried to grab at his jacket. The creature’s fingers squeaked on his back, unable to get a grip, and then tried to bite into Zack’s shoulder. The zombie bit down hard enough that his teeth loosened from the force, but he wasn’t able to break through the tough fireman’s jacket, and the creature’s teeth bent as he continued to chomp down. Zack pushed the monster off and then ducked as he swung the axe at the horde’s legs.

  One of the zombies toppled as the axe sliced through both of his legs. Then Zack’s swing was finally stopped as the head of his axe got lodged in the kneecap of another creature. He pulled it free and then chopped again, felling the monster as if it were a sapling.

  Zack tried to stand, but the mob was moving in too fast. He got to one knee and thrust the axe sideways at the group to push them back. Their hands grabbed at him, and he felt their fingers hook into the straps on his chest. They growled and snapped, but he was stronger than all of them put together. He grit his teeth and kept pushing, rising from his lowered stance and driving the horde back like a professional linebacker toying with a high school squad. Some of the monsters fell over as he plowed through them, and then he stepped back and started swinging. He swiped the axe through the faces of the horde, splattering their features into a mess of bone, teeth, eyeballs, and tongues. The hideous monstrosities gurgled and continued to advance, undeterred until he put his axe through their brains, finally ending their torment.

  The zombies that had fallen clawed at his legs, but he stomped down on them as if planning to make wine out of the juice that spurted from their heads. When he was done, nothing stirred in the mire of flesh and blood. He panted and looked down at the pile, and then started to run toward the town.

  Somewhere in the fiery hell ahead, Laura needed him, and he wasn’t going to let her down.

  He soldiered on, his legs burning as he ran. Sweat streamed down his cheeks and he tried to wipe it away, but the sleeve of his jacket just seemed to smear the wetness around instead of taking it away. The mask that Abe had given him was on his head, lifted over his face so that he could breathe easier, but the smoke was getting thick enough that he decided to put it on. The plastic shield fogged immediately as he panted. It was designed to be connected to a respirator, and not with just a loose hose dangling from the front.

  “Well, that doesn’t work.” He lifted the mask back onto his head, and in the brief moment that he’d been blinded a few more creatures had staggered into view. The fire was a few hundred yards ahead, crackling on the roofs of the town as the wind stirred it back and forth. The dry forest seemed eager to burn, and he watched as embers set new flames in the trees that hugged the once prosperous little town.

  Zack wasn’t certain, but the increased wind made him wonder if a storm was coming. It had been a hot, dry summer, and the plains were thirsty for rain, which also made them a ripe meal for wildfire. He didn’t dare hope they’d be lucky enough for a storm to come and put out the flames. They sure hadn’t been lucky in any other fashion so far.

  The zombies were staggering toward him, away from the flames, and for a moment he got the sense that he was watching the whole world burn. This town, once a quaint microcosm of Americana, was now engulfed in flames. The denizens, those huddled masses, were now creeping death, staggering away from their homes and turned ghastly by the sins of their government. Zack reflected on the scene, but only for a moment before he charged in. There was no time for existentialism. He was going to save the love of his life, and no amount of fire, destruction, or plague would stand in his way.

  Chapter Nineteen – Thought I Lost You

  Two years after the apocalypse

  Reagan has led them out of the underground facility.

  There were no soldiers in sight when Reagan, Billy, and Hero walked back up the stairs that led to the ash laden corpse of Nederland, Colorado. The truck that had transported two soldiers, a woman, and an innocent child was still parked outside of the entrance to the underground hall, its back end pointed at the stairs.

  Reagan was prepared to try and hotwire the truck, but found the keys still dangling from the steering column. He took the keys out and the reached behind the seat for the medical kit he knew would be there. This military vehicle, like most that they’d encountered since the apocalypse, was equipped with an emergency kit of supplies behind the seat. He dumped the white box out onto the floor and then grabbed the plastic hose within that was meant for tying off circulation to a wounded limb that was bleeding out. He also grabbed the gauze and put it in his pocket. He took the hose and the now empty box and went to join Billy and Hero near the stairs.

  He jangled the keys and smiled. “They’re making this easy for us.” Then he tossed the hose to Billy as he went to the aluminum drum attached to the undercarriage that held the gas. He used the key to unlock the cap and then set the box on the ground.

  “Siphon out some of the diesel,” said Reagan. “We’re going to pour it on the doors in the hall. Then we’ll light it just before we open the room with the girl in it.”

  Hero was aiming south, in the direction that Rebecca had fled. She’d left footprints in the ash, but they decided not to chase her. “Aren’t we going to get trapped down there then?”

  “Diesel burns a bit different than gasoline,” said Reagan. “We’ll have a little extra time before the fire gets out of control, and the hall is wide enough that I don’t think the flames are going to be a problem for us. Now take off your shirt.”

  “Excuse me?” asked Hero.

  “You heard me,” said Reagan as he set down his gear and started to pull off his own shirt. “Diesel smokes a lot when it burns. That hall is going to fill up quick, so we’re going to have to tie these around our face and breathe through them. We’re going to use yours for the girl.”

  “You’re going to make that poor girl smell Hero’s stink?” asked Billy. “Maybe she’d be better off if we left her behind.”

  Billy used the hose to siphon out some of the diesel, gagging as it spurted into his mouth and then splashing it on the concrete as he tried to aim for the emptied medical kit.

  “Hero, you’re driving,” said Reagan. “We all know Billy can’t drive for shit, and I’ve got a feeling we’
re going to have a hell of a time getting out of here after we open that door.” He gave the keys to Hero. “Back the truck up to the stairs and watch for us. As soon as we get in the back, start driving.”

  “Got it. Let’s do what we do best and save another kid.”

  Reagan pat Hero on the back and then glanced down at the kit Billy was filling. “That’s enough. Try not to spill it. We’re going to pour it on the handles and along the floor beside the doors on both sides of the hall. There should be enough space between for us to run through.”

  Billy grumbled and then shook his head. “And I thought I came up with some insane schemes in my day. Now I know how Hero always felt.” He took his shirt off and tied it around his neck like Reagan had done with his.

  “Do you have a better idea?” asked Reagan.

  “Nope,” said Billy. “Let’s get this over with and trap ourselves in an inferno with a bunch of pissed off soldiers that are using a little kid as bait in an elaborate trap to catch us. Seems like a good way to spend an afternoon.”

  “You’re hanging out with Hero too much,” said Reagan. “The two of you sound like bitchy little twins these days.”

  Billy started to stand, and then winced before falling back to his knee.

  “You okay?” asked Reagan.

  “I’m fine,” said Billy.

  “Is it your back?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Why don’t you switch places with Hero?” asked Reagan. “You might be a shitty driver, but if your back’s hurting…”

  “I’m fine, I swear,” said Billy as he got up. “These pants are just a size too small is all. I’m fine.”

  “You sure?” asked Reagan.

  “Yeah.”

  “No tough guy bullshit,” said Reagan. “Tell me honestly. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I told you. I’m fine.”

  Reagan studied the young man, and then nodded. “Okay, I trust you. Let’s go.”

  Billy carried the kit and it sloshed back and forth, its contents threatening to spill with each step. Reagan soaked a rag in the diesel and then wet the handles of each door they passed. He unrolled some gauze and laid it in the pools and then instructed Billy to leave a thin trail of diesel between each of the doors so they could light them all from one spot. They walked down to the blue door, and then spread the fuel liberally ahead to block the other length of the hall that stretched in the opposite direction of the truck. There was a ten foot gap between each wall, but there was no doubt it would still be a hot trip out.

  “Nothing says they can’t just open the doors and start shooting,” said Billy.

  “Yeah, and there’s also no guarantee they’re not waiting behind that blue door, ready to shoot us as soon as we go in,” said Reagan. “But I know there’s no way I could’ve convinced you and Hero to leave this little girl here. That’s just not how the two of you work.”

  “That sounded dangerously close to a compliment, old man.”

  “Don’t let it go to your head. The two of you are more of a pain in the ass than you’re worth nine times out of ten. Now shut up and cover the door. Focus on the room first, and if it’s clear then you’re going to stay in the hall and wait for any of the doors to open. If they do, don’t wait to see anyone before shooting. Just start blasting the fuckers to keep them in their rooms. The smoke is going to get thick real quick, so we’ll probably end up having to close our eyes. If we do, just keep running straight ahead. If you bump into someone, just push past them. I’m hoping the smoke is so thick they won’t know who the hell they’re running into.”

  “When are we going to light the fire?” asked Billy.

  Reagan took out his lighter, a Zippo that he’d stolen from a gas station a few weeks earlier, and held the rag over it. “Right now.”

  The fuel caught fire and the rag started to spew black smoke. Reagan used the rag to light both sides of the hall and then tossed it into the pool on the other side of the blue door. Billy put the shirt over his nose and Reagan did the same before opening the blue door.

  Reagan and Billy went in and found the girl tied to a chair that looked like it belonged in a dentist’s office instead of in the center of a grey, featureless room. She stared at them and screamed out for help. There were tubes stuck to ports on the side of her body. The tubes rose from her and were attached to bags of fluid above as if she were being fed upon by a levitating jellyfish.

  The chair had a silver table attached to it with chrome surgical tools spread out. There was also a computer screen on the other side of the small table, but it was turned off when they went in.

  The little black girl was gasping for breath and she started to shake when she saw them enter. Her eyes bled as she screamed. The crimson tears streamed across her cheeks and fell to the white chair, splashing when they hit the metal.

  “Get me out of here!”

  “What the hell?” asked Billy.

  “Go, cover the hall!” Reagan pushed the young man out and then rushed to the chair to try and save the little girl.

  “What were they doing to you?” he asked, terrified of what he’d discovered. He pulled at one of the tubes and saw that they were attached to a plastic hole in the girl’s side, as if she were a cancer patient being given chemotherapy through a devilish contraption. Her obvious pain caused him to have a physical response, as if he couldn’t stand to see her like this and was trying to take her pain away. He wiped away her bloody tear as she continued to scream.

  Then the computer turned on.

  “Hello, Reagan,” said the man on the screen.

  He was young, black, and immediately familiar.

  Reagan gasped, and then held his breath as he stared at the face on the screen. His body refused to move as he stood frozen, staring at an image he thought he’d never see again.

  Reagan knew the figure on the screen should be dead. He’d shot the man himself the day the apocalypse had started.

  “Jim?” Reagan finally uttered.

  The man on the screen was Reagan’s son.

  * * *

  August 24th, 20 years after the apocalypse

  The group under the church is hiding in the glass cell.

  “It’s like we walked into an oven,” said Harrison. “Like we’re a batch of cookies willing to bake ourselves as the kids lick their lips, looking in through the window.”

  The zombies outside slapped on the glass with their palms outstretched. They gnawed at the door like a dog, desperate to get in the house.

  “I imagine we’ll die from smoke inhalation long before we bake to death,” said Billy.

  “I don’t think so,” said Ben. “The air out there is already smoky. The oxygen being pumped into these cells is as fresh as can be. They must have tanks stored around here somewhere.”

  “Don’t tanks of oxygen tend to explode when they get hot?” asked Laura.

  “Let’s focus on one problem at a time,” said Harrison. “And right now I’m focused on three real big fucking problems as it is. We’re trapped in a box under a building that’s on fire; there’s a maniac with an army trying to kill us; and that’s not to mention these mother fuckers.” He pointed at the horde that was filling the basement room. “So don’t go adding exploding oxygen tanks to my list of concerns. Okay?”

  “Sorry everyone,” said Laura. “I guess getting in here wasn’t my best idea ever.”

  Billy nudged her. “It’s nothing. I’ve gotten out of jams ten times worse than this.”

  “I don’t think we’re going to burn up down here,” said Ben. “The ceiling is concrete. It might get hot as hell, but we should be able to survive it as long as the fresh air keeps pouring in.”

  Stubs barked at the creatures in the cell beside them.

  “But how much air do we have before the tanks run out?” asked Billy.

  Laura looked down at the white tube that connected their cell to the next. The gore that filled the bottom of the cell, a mash of black blood and bits of flesh from the Gr
eys they had killed, was flowing through the tube and into the cell beside them. “Let’s cover that hole up.” She kicked bits of flesh away from the opening. “Give me a cloth of some sort.”

  Ben took off his shirt and gave it to Laura for her to stuff into the hole. The zombies in the cell beside them continued to paw at the divider, desperate to consume the meal so close by.

  “There,” said Laura. “That should stop the air from going to them.”

  “I never knew they needed to breathe,” said Harrison.

  “Yeah, me neither,” said Billy. “I’ve seen them walk underwater before.”

  “I think they need oxygen,” said Ben. “But maybe they can last a while without it. Maybe they go into a catatonic state when they can’t breathe.”

  “That must be how they kept the fuckers underground in these cages until they needed them,” said Harrison. “It’s how they’re storing them.”

  “But we’ve seen the things walk out of lakes before,” said Billy.

  “Maybe not,” said Laura. “Maybe they just washed up on shore and then got a breath of fresh air and came back to life.”

  “I guess we’ll find out,” said Billy. “We cut off their oxygen. Let’s see if they go back to sleep.”

  “If the oxygen tanks don’t explode and kill us all first,” said Billy.

  “Damn it, kid,” said Harrison. “What did I say about bringing that up? Fucking shit, it’s getting damn hot in here. I always figured I’d end up burning in hell, but I never thought it’d be in the basement of a church.”

  Billy took off his shirt and used it to wipe his face. He smeared a mess of blood and ash onto the cloth and then threw it over his shoulder. Next he stuck his thumbs under the white brace that kept his back straight and pulled it forward to let it breathe.

  The room outside of the cell was filling with smoke, but the zombies continued to pound on the glass. Even as the temperature rose and the glass started to get hot to the touch, the creatures continued to press themselves against it. The sweltering heat caused everyone to sweat profusely, and the glass filled with steam. It was exhausting just to stand in the cell, but none of them were willing to sit in the mess below.