Brutal Planet: A Zombie Novel

by Sean P. Murphy

  I looked over at the house porch. “What about...” Nancy and Samuel were still on the swing, still holding hands, but their heads were tilted down at an odd angle. The swing wasn’t moving and the two Labs didn’t stir from all the commotion, everyone seemed to be asleep.

  Roy turned to me. “They told me yesterday. Knew we were going and they couldn’t stay undiscovered forever. They weren’t leaving their home and wanted it to be on their terms.”

  “Yeah, they strongly hinted to me that they were not going to leave, but damn we needed them.” I just stared at them and hoped that if it came to this, Elizabeth and I could go that way. It was sad, but romantic, and tears filled my eyes.

  “We needed them?” It was Hammer and he sounded a bit incredulous.

  “And how much farming have you done? Know how to grow a potato? Raised any cows? Yes, we needed them.”

  We rounded the barn and followed the road next to the tree break. When we reached the wall, I could finally see the Winnies ahead, almost at the gate. We got lucky. The Winnies were handling the road just fine, and so far, no zombies were following us.

  The Winnies went through and as we reached the gate, a monster truck greeted us; one of those ultimate redneck vehicles that puts a normal truck chassis on humongous wheels. Roy pulled up next to it. The driver was a twenty something Swamp Yankee with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth and sipping on a Bud tallboy. Led Zeppelin’s Rock and Roll blared from the cab.

  “Hey, Man, nice rig. You guys with the Winnebagos?” He yelled.

  Roy leaned out the window.

  “Thanks, yeah, they’re ours. You boys been out hunting?” It was then I noticed the gore that coved the wheels and the side of their beast.

  “Hell yes! Season is open for dead people! We wanted to check on Samuel and Nancy. What’s the story? Have you seen them?” He knew damn well we were coming from their place and I started to get nervous.

  “Yes, but they are not with us now.”

  It must have been the way Roy said it or the look on his face, but the kid understood right away. He turned to his compatriot, said something, shut off the music, bowed his head, and started talking to himself. We all knew he was praying, and stayed silent. How come we didn’t even think of praying for them or anyone else? After a minute, he looked up, took a big swig of beer.

  “Where are you heading?”

  “The harbor and we are getting the hell out of here. You?”

  “Me and Bob are gonna see if we can reach a hundred by nightfall, only thirty seven so far.”

  “Good luck with your hunt and happy trails.”

  “You too, mister, God be with you.” Then he tore off into the field.

  I had to wonder how long they would last, about five days so far and that isn’t bad. Shit, I need to realize that I am another human trying really hard to live. It doesn’t matter how many books you have read, what clothes you wear, what church you go to, if any. Can we really be different from the person next to us? Redneck? God, what an asshole I have been.

  It was all farmland out here so we had a somewhat clear view of everything. The big plus, something we discovered from the oil run, was that there were hardly any cars on this section of the road. We also had lots of fences, both stone and barbed wire, which kept everything compartmentalized. I started to feel good about our chances.

  We caught up with the Winnies quickly. Roy was on the radio when all at once I realized why I was so damn uncomfortable. I didn’t panic, but I started to sweat. I was still totally jacked with adrenaline and bravado and decided there was only one course of action. So I started to sing some Little Feat, loudly.

  “I got a rocket in my pocket, I said rocket. Ya Fingers in the Socket. Fingers in the Socket, Fingers in the Socket.”

  Roy stopped the car, put the mike down, and in unison with Hammer, turned and looked at me. He had this kind of blank, but I know what is going on look.

  “John. Is this your unique way of telling me you are sitting on the LAW?” It was Hammer.

  “Yup.”

  “Well, try not to move too much and don’t scratch your ass.” They turned their attention back to the radio and we moved on.

  Robert turned to me.

  “You’re sitting on a fucking rocket?”

  “Yes, Robert.” I had to milk this for all it’s worth. I mean how often do you sit on a live rocket launcher? “Robert, I don’t know how to break this but…I believe it is pointing towards you.”

  The look on his face said it all. Robert was not happy, not that I was all that thrilled. Do we really need a rocket? I don’t know why, but my brain said, yes. Everything was falling down and falling down fast and hard. Hammer’s comment earlier brought it home. I had always thought the zombies were THE singular problem with some minor irritants thrown in, like sanitation, food, clean water, health care, etc. I never considered other living people as an issue. I just didn’t learn the lesson that’s in every single Romero zombie film.

  Naive John assumed we would all band together for the common cause. Yeah, just like we did on our first travel day, back on the crowded highway. How many did we, I, leave to die? It was a pain fueled Escher loop that you just had to live with. I thought we were good and honorable when we were actually desperate and scared. What limits could we endure? Yeah, my response has been somewhat cocky. I was a middle age nerd, now I’m a go-to gun slinger. I’m a scientist, not some Bruce Willis superhero, but I still kept my area of fire clear, shotgun fully loaded and ready to dance. What a life. At least I could shut part of it off and think of Elizabeth. At least I have that.

  The Winnie moved aside and we were in front. It was nice actually to see the road, which was still remarkably clear. There were a few zombies tangled in the barbed wire that seemed to line every field, a few abandoned cars. Now philosophical John was wondering what went through their brains, spending eternity tangled up in barbed wire or stuck inside a Civic. Roy had the map. We all had studied this thing multiple times in the barn. We were real close. God, it should be easy till we reach the small town and the harbor. What the hell was it called?

  Out first major turn was about a mile up, after that, the sea, the islands, a new life.

  Everyone relaxed a bit and started small talk. Liz and I locked eyes and she gave me a wink, Norm looked like he was asleep, and Paul was belting out some tune from the eighties.

  We were passing a small convenience store/gas station when Roy asked Hammer to stop, so we stopped.

  “Have to get some supplies. Everyone stay frosty! This should take about ten. John, I want you out and cover forward. When we’re done, get back to your position in Winnie Two.”

  “Roger that.” At least I would not be sitting on a rocket. Stay frosty? What are we, Space Marines? I jumped out and scanned right. Thank you, God! Another field and yet more walls. Up road was clear of obstructions and a small dirt road ran left, beside the store, and into the rolling distance. Why the fuck were we stopping here? I heard glass breaking, which I really hoped was Roy clearing a door. Gas was okay! We could walk to the boats if we had to. We had ample oil, so what the hell did we need? I moved to the rear and glanced at Robert as he was leaving the Hummer. We locked eyes, nodded to each another and went off in different directions.

  This was not good, but at least the coast was clear. Shit, if something comes around that corner, I am not going to be happy. I crept up to store window and looked inside. It was dark and took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. There was Roy stuffing what looked like a pillowcase with cigarettes. With my shotgun at the ready, I stepped through the broken glass. In a somewhat restrained but desperate voice, I said, “Damn it, Roy, we have got to keep moving! Keep focused on the mission.” I glanced to my immediate left. “Oh, hey, gummies!” Sorry, I love gummies and they were right in front of me. These were not the fancy Haribo kind but the cheap ones shaped like lobsters, at least they came in a bigger bag. I totally forgot Roy. Think about it, how many cigarettes are out there right n
ow in hermetically sealed packages compared to gummies? It’s got to be four or five to one, so I get some slack. I grabbed a fistful of bags and I was just leaving when I heard the first gunshot. I ran for Winnie Two. Liz had the door open and Paul was taking shots at something.

  “Paul said it was only two. We will be okay.”

  “Oh.” Maybe I can go back for more gummies.

  Robert entered behind me and Terrance fired her up. I could hear Mary on the radio with Winnie One. Once I sat down, I noticed people looking at me, well, actually at my hands and slowly realized that I had several bags of gummies tightly clenched. I tossed a bag to Norm, Leslie, and opened mine.

  “Okay, first of all, I want to explain the machete thing…” and I told them the story. “Guys, the last thing I want to do is fight the undead hand to hand.”

  “What about Nancy and Samuel?” Leslie had been quiet the whole trip so it caught me off guard. Robert looked at her and cleared his throat. “No.” He then looked over to me.

  “Good job at the gate, not funny about the rocket!” With the expected confused look from the group.

  “Robert, I was the one sitting on it. Where do these guys get this stuff?”

  Terrance spoke up.

  “With a little luck and at this shitty speed, we’ll make the boats in less than two hours.” Finally! It had been just one delay after another with the odds against us, and going up on an hourly basis.

  Robert went on to explain Roy and Hammer’s military background. Both were Green Berets with lots of friends around the world and a mania for blowing things up. They had known each other their whole lives and they even grew up in the same small town, Belfast Maine. I am Irish, my family is from the south, and I believe in unification, so, of course, my saviors have to be from Belfast. Then he casually dropped that both had purple hearts, Roy had a Bronze Star, and Hammer a Silver. If Hammer had not been Hammer, he might have won the Medal of Honor.

  Things kind of quieted down and we all just looked outside hoping to glimpse the Harbor at each turn in the road or break in the trees. It was slow going and the Hummer had to clear some cars now and then. Fortunately, all abandoned, all but one. It was a forest green Subaru Forester. A dog barrier divided the back third of the vehicle, you know, so they can’t jump on your lap while you’re cruising at seventy. In the back was a girl. She looked, I don’t know… twelve? Alive, really alive! We stopped and someone not in Winnie Two quickly checked it out. Thank you, I was getting a break, and maybe we can change and start to save the world instead of kicking the shit out of it. After about five minutes of chatter over the radio, the Subie was suddenly lit up. Combined, Tim, Paul, and whatever the Hummer was throwing, evaporated the back of vehicle.

  “What the hell did we just do?” All my view gave me was a desperate girl stuck in cage, a cage for dogs, and a cage that we had just ripped to shreds.

  “What. John, you didn’t see her hand? Part of her palm was gone. Give it up, she was toast.”

  So, we did see zombies here and there, but not in the amount we encountered on my last road trip. Liz and I sat together in the back and I dozed for a bit. I dreamt of going swimming, and realized when I woke up that in a day, I actually could.

  We finally hit a clear section of the road and we were making good time when suddenly there was a loud bang. The whole Winnebago shuddered and veered left. “Hold on! We've lost a tire!” Terrance yelled. Crap, yet again, fell everywhere and I was concerned we might tip over. With a huge lurch, I knew we had bought the side of the road. Finally, he brought the behemoth to a screeching halt.

  Mary, in the front passenger seat immediately called the others, “This is Winnie Two. We got a flat and will need assistance.” She was calm. “Which one, Terrance? What side?”

  “Ah, left...left side. I, I think it's the left front.” He sounded dazed and shaken up.

  Mary relayed the information to the others and I looked around. The place was a mess with equipment and supplies scattered everywhere. Robert was sitting up behind the passenger seat looking dazed. Elizabeth was helping Leslie, blood pouring down her face. Everyone else was groaning and getting up. I got one of our medical kits and threw it back to Liz.

  “Is it bad, Liz?”

  “She has a nice cut on her scalp but should be okay.” To Leslie's credit, she was not crying or making a scene, just stoically letting Liz do what she needed to do, and of course, trying to film it all.

  “Hey, John, I think I dislocated my shoulder, maybe Doc can help.” I’m not sure who it was, but Mary heard him and was quickly on the radio informing everyone of our injuries. Oh, it’s Norm. I wonder if he knows that Doc is just a nickname?

  I looked up at the turret. Instead of seeing Paul's long skinny white legs dangling from the lounge chair, I saw blue sky.

  “Shit.” I quickly set up the mini ladder and scrambled up to the roof. I hoped he had hung on and was waiting for someone to pull him up, but no such luck. I did see Winnie One turning around and heading in our direction. I looked back down the road. Paul sat off to one side holding his right arm, head down, about 50 yards behind us. His AK-47 lay on the road maybe twenty feet behind him, and his right leg was in an anatomically impossible position. He was wearing shorts and the bone was visible.

  “Paul!” I screamed. “Get up, man, get up now!” He looked over to where his rifle lay and started moving in that direction. It was obvious he was badly hurt.

  “NO! Move to me! Paul, to me! Screw the weapon! To me! Move to me!” He didn't acknowledge me or turn in my direction, he just slid along the asphalt at an agonizingly slow pace, using his broken legs and left arm. I turned and shouted down to the rest that Paul was behind us on the road and injured.

  “Terrance, you have to back up. Somebody get me the hunting rifle.” I knew that my Ruger would be useless at this range with my non-existing handgun skills. I heard commotion below and a door open. I looked back to Paul who was still trying to crawl to his rifle. Mary was yelling for him to stop and turn around. The side of the road we were on was mercifully next to a large open field, clear of the undead. The other side was a classic northern mixed hardwood forest, and I just knew.

  With a metal on metal growl, the Winnie shook as Terrance tried to get her in reverse. Between the revving sound of the engine and Mary's pleading, I didn’t hear them, but out of the corner of my eye, I caught motion. Turning, I pulled the Ruger and aimed. Three of them had just emerged from the edge of the trees, all adults, hard to tell sex. They stopped for a second, fixated on our little parade.

  Yes, that’s it! Keep focused on us, the nice big shiny slipstream of death.

  “Mary, get your ass inside, now!” I yelled and fired a few rounds. I knew there was almost zero chance of a lethal hit. I just wanted to keep their attention. It might have worked had not another stumbled out further down the road much closer to Paul. She saw us first, maybe seventy-five yards away and then Paul, fifteen yards at best. Her scream at our fallen comrade brought the first group immediately to a standstill, in unison they turned. I kept firing and was almost immediately supported by the rest of the Winnie. Two went down and one got up instantly. The zombie furthest away just hurled herself towards Paul. I could now hear the sound of a machine gun behind me. I swear the passing rounds made my shirt flutter. This had to be Tim and his SAW from Winnie One. He had mounted the SAW on the turret in some kind of three-hundred and sixty degree rotating thing. Whereas in Two, we have to hump and shift seats to change directions, he just spins. Works for me, and he is throwing some serious shit downfield.

  Paul didn't even look up, just kept crawling to his weapon with a single minded purpose and determination. A thin, shiny, dark streak of blood trailed behind him. The first reached him, jumped on his legs, and without delay, tore a chunk out of his calf. Paul let out a high-pitched scream as the second one dove on his back and buried her face in his neck. Winnie One passed us, just as the third one reached Paul. Tim opened up with all he had. He was not aiming for
the zombies anymore. He knew what he had to do and it was all over in a matter of seconds. We had lost another one. I really liked Paul. He was smart and friendly, a nice guy. I felt guilty because all I could focus on was that I know jack about cars and we just lost our best mechanic.

  Even with all the crap going on, Terrance did manage to get us up onto the road and killed the engine. I got ready to jump into the belly of Winnie Two and I paused. It was quiet for about a couple of hundredths seconds and it hit me. You know it’s more than déjà vu, I know this moment, and I am going to be really fucked, really soon.

  “John, they want you. I'll take the penthouse.” It was Jane. She was carrying the hunting rifle and a small knapsack that I knew contained extra ammo, binoculars, and a radio. I took one last look at Paul but all I could see was a pile of dead smoking bodies, goodbye Paul. I went below.

  “Okay, let's keep our shit together. We have to change that tire and Robert has a plan. Just give us a minute.” I don't think I ever heard Mary swear before. It also didn't help that there was considerable fear in her voice. There was another minute of chatter on the radio. I just took up my position in the back. So far, no more visitors, but with the racket we just made, I’ll give us five to ten. Robert turned and spoke up, but he didn’t look at me.

  “Listen up! We are going to stay put. Winnie One will pull up next to us giving just enough room to change the tire. Roy will block in front. That gives us a U shape perimeter and we have to cover the open back side and protect the people changing the tire.” He just glanced my way. This was okay with me. I was pissed off and ready for revenge.

  “I am going to need two volunteers to do the tire change, preferably people who have done this before.”

  Elizabeth’s hand went immediately up. “My dad had one for years, no sweat.” No, I did not like this at all. I had my shotgun, probably in the lead with zombie kills, and had more than a little attitude. I did not want Liz out there, and there was shit I could do about it. I just glared. She knew I was unhappy and did her best not to lock eyes.