Brutal Planet: A Zombie Novel

by Sean P. Murphy

  “Oh shit,” one of the marines yelled, which caused the creature to turn in our direction. His eyes were impossibly wide and he leaned towards us as he let out an annoying, yet terrifying sort of roar, and immediately sprinted in our direction. The marines struggled to close the door, but as it got to maybe twenty-five feet from us, it skidded to a stop, looked to its right, and ran in that direction. More sounds of gunfire. Just as the door was secured, the klaxons sounded. Kathy was trying to say something to me, but we were too close to a horn. She pulled me over to a corner and yelled in my ear.

  “We have to get out of here and find some weapons.”

  Now, why didn’t I think of that? Leave the area of the ship infested with the undead and arm ourselves, brilliant. All of our taxpayer sponsored fine tuned training was really paying off. You go, girl. I had almost thought of a decent riposte when it dawned on me that we were all alone, and still unarmed. How come I am armed to the teeth when I am not around the military, and have jack to defend myself with when I am? So off we went, running. I wanted to go topside, but I followed Kathy. She kept running back and to what seemed to me, deeper into the ship. We passed people going in all different directions. She eventually stopped at a door. It was her room.

  “Hey, Kathy, I am starting to warm to you too, but we got other things to do.” I thought she wouldn’t hear me over the klaxons.

  “Asshole, you just don’t stop, do you?”

  “What? Oh, I was just trying to add some levity to this fucked up situation! What is going on?”

  She entered and grabbed a holstered pistol and belt which was hanging on the wall and started to put it on.

  “Excuse me. I don’t really want to play swinging dicks right now, but exactly how many zombies have you killed? I mean in the wild so to speak,” and extended my hand.

  She took a second, muttered something to herself and handed me the belt.

  “Nice! A nine millimeter M9 Beretta.” Two extra clips. This was like one of Hammer’s sidearms and he had shown me how to use it. Well, I should say he reviewed the basics in Hammer time, which was about forty-five seconds. I struggled to extend the belt and put it on. “This should not be a big deal. We keep, what, four or five on ship at one time? No problem, the marines should have this cleaned up by now.” I pulled the pistol out and started to look it over, loaded, check, safety off, check…

  “There’s more than that.” The voice didn’t sound at all like confident Kathy.

  I stopped and looked over at her. She was now sitting on her bed with her head down.

  “What did you say?”

  “Listen, I really didn’t know what they were doing. It was all very secret. You ever noticed that we did not even eat with them, watch a movie with them? The researchers from the restricted area? I have only been in a couple of meetings and nothing specific was discussed. It wasn’t until maybe a week ago that I started putting some of it together.” She wasn’t looking at me, just intently staring at the floor. “They weren’t necessarily looking for a cure. It was some kind of reverse engineering project, trying to figure out how this all started.”

  “Oh no. No, no, no! Do not tell me we were going down that road.” Now I sat down.

  “There’s at least one other ship involved, the Appomattox. The more technical work was being done there. I only know this because someone died there last week, a friend of mine I went to grad school with, her, she…”

  “Kathy back up. Just how many are on Cassandra? How many zombies do we have?” I tried to sound calm, almost brotherly. Just then, the klaxons stopped and I could hear more gunfire. Somewhere below us, I heard a high-pitched scream.

  “I don’t know the exact number, maybe thirty.”

  “Thirty!” Screw the brotherly approach. “Jesus H Christ On-A-Pogo-Stick. What the hell are we doing with thirty of those fuckers on board?” I jumped up and shut the door to her room. More gunfire.

  “The project was entering a new phase. Our work was to be terminated at the end of next week. We were done. The entire ship was going to be turned over to them. We were going to a new facility at Barnstable on the Cape.”

  “Them? There it is again. It’s the goddamn suits, right? I see one of Them, and I am shooting, just assuming it’s a zombie.” I was now pacing back and forth. “Okay, we have to get topside. I do not want to be playing Cowboys and Indians in these tight metal corridors.” The klaxons started again but the closed door muted the sound.

  “What’s the fastest way to the deck?”

  Kathy finally looked up. “To the left is a set of stairs, they will bring us up near the cafeteria. We have lots of choices from there.” Her voice sounded weak and confused.

  “How many floors up?” I had the pistol out, holding it in two hands in the down position the way Robert would. Oh, Robert, man, do I wish you were covering my ass right now.

  “Two.”

  “Okay.” Now I was back to the calm brotherly voice, albeit an absolutely terrified, calm brotherly voice. “You are going to open the door when I tell you. Stay behind the door. If we got one right outside, I want them coming for me. When we leave, you keep behind me and close. You’re my eyes in the back of my head. If you see one, let me know, and get out of my way, I really don’t want to shoot you. It’s going to be okay, Kathy. Get ready with the door.”

  Kathy got up and moved into position. She looked terrified and she was starting to lose color. Just don’t go into shock, please God, don’t go into shock. I, on the other hand, felt great. Maybe it was the combination of adrenaline and being really pissed off, but I finally had something to do, at least something I knew how to do. I took a second to compose myself, slightly bouncing on the balls of my feet. Once again, it was time to fight zombies. Once again, it was Rodeo Time.

  “Kathy, on three.” She nodded.

  In a surprisingly calm voice, I said, “One... two… three.” She opened the door.

  “Stay where you are,” I whispered. Actually, I doubt she heard me over the annoying alarm, but she stayed behind the door. I now had the gun up, still in two hands, made my way over, and glanced into the hall. I looked to the right quickly, the way we had come originally and the direction the zombies should be in, I hoped. The corridors aren’t brightly lit and I saw a bright flash. Because of the klaxons, I couldn’t tell if it was someone firing a gun or taking a picture, so I erred on the side of caution and assumed it was the former. The left was also clear. I stepped back in, looked at Kathy, and nodded.

  “Stay real close,” I yelled in her ear.

  Once back into the corridor, we went left and after about twenty feet, we found the stairs. They were the grated kind and you could see above and below you. A good thing too, since right below us stood a zombie. He was naked and bald and looked in great shape. He wasn’t looking at us, but down the corridor that ran parallel to ours, one floor below. He just stood there kind of shaking and shuffling back and forth, as if he was waiting for someone who was late. Due to the obnoxious alarms, he didn’t hear us or look up. Oh, great. The grating was too small to shoot him and I really didn’t want to try to sneak away and leave someone else to deal with him. We backed up. Someone was running down the passageway toward us. It was a young sailor with blood streaming down the side of his head. I tried to stop him, but he pushed me aside and ran into the stairway heading up. He got to the landing in between alarm bursts and was making enough noise that I knew my moral dilemma was now solved. So up went the kid, up went the zombie, up went John. The zombie flashed past us and met the kid a second before I met both of them. In the ensuing struggle, I noticed that the kid’s right ear was completely gone, like someone took a razor and just sliced it off, leaving a bloody hole. The zombie caught him from behind, jumping on his back, wrapping his arms and legs around the sailor, and sank his teeth into the back of the neck. With an almost super human jerk, the zombie ripped a huge chunk of the kid’s trapezius muscle. How the fuck, do they do that? Do they sharpen their teeth or something? I just
walked up, placed the gun against the zombie’s temple, determined the shot would not hit the kid, and pulled the trigger. Blood sprayed over the side of the stairway and the creature rolled down the stairs.

  The kid didn’t look back, and on all fours continued going up. Upon making the next landing, he sat in a corner and curled himself up into a ball. When I got to him, he was breathing heavily, rocking back and forth and whispering to himself, absolutely drenched in blood.

  “What are we going to do?” It was Kathy.

  “We have to get topside. Let’s go.” I started up again.

  “We’re going to leave him?”

  “Yes, let’s go, now!” In the frantic attempt to process all the shit that was going down, my brain finally registered that the alarms had stopped, again.

  “Kathy, now.” I moved up to the next landing, which I assumed was the one we wanted and opened the door. You know when you don’t hear the shot and a bullet flies by you, it makes a funny sound, kind of a soft whoosh, and all I could think of was, ‘God, that’s moving really fast.’ Nobody was shooting at me, yet, but directing the fire down the passageway the door opened up onto. In an ordinary situation like this, I would more than likely close the door, but I really wanted to see what someone was shooting at, as if I couldn’t guess.

  “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” I yelled and cautiously looked through the doorway.

  People don’t randomly fire weapons in small tight metal tubes unless there is a really good reason to. The guy with the handgun just to my right had an excellent reason, zombies. I meant to get to one knee to give me a stable platform in which to shoot, but slipped and ended up on my butt. All I could tell was: A, it was more than one zombie, B. there was three in total, C. all young fit bald males and D. the second in line was carrying/dragging somebody small in a white lab coat. Oh, and they were naked, the zombies that is. My first shot hit the lead creature at the same time as the marines. Our bullets made two small holes, cheek and forehead. As he fell, he turned around and the whole back of his head was gone, like someone with a grotesque giant ice cream scoop had carved everything out like a Jack-O-Lantern. The second one was sprayed in the face by the gore, but this didn’t slow him down. Eyes focused on the marine, he quickly stepped over his fallen brethren and abruptly stopped. Whoever, he was dragging had grabbed on to the dead zombie with its legs and free arm. He/she was covered in blood and had such a high-pitched scream that I couldn’t initially tell the sex. It was a she. The creature temporarily forgot about us and just kept violently tugging at his captive. The marine only needed that second. There was a third, but he was further down the corridor and moving slowly. His left leg had been shattered above the knee and he hopped along using the wall for support.

  “I got him!” I yelled. My first shot missed and just like in the movies, I could hear the bullet ricochet down the passageway. My second was right on target. I was so concentrated on my shot that I forgot about the second one’s victim. He had fallen back on her and she struggled to get out, still screaming. I stood up and he came over. Kathy was behind me. I looked into his eyes. He was a young black man, maybe twenty and absolutely terrified. The woman, more like a girl, had now freed herself and just stood there, shaking and crying. Her lab coat and scrubs were drenched in blood. The sleeve from the arm she was being pulled with had hiked up to her shoulder, and yet again, like something out of a cartoon, someone had taken a great ragged semicircular bite out of her forearm. I could clearly see the white bone of her ulna. I looked at the marine who had Dawson on his name tag.

  “Cafeteria?” He just pointed to the door behind him and continued to stare at the dead zombies.

  “Kathy, take him, I’ll meet you there.” She didn’t even glance at me, just slid by, grabbed Dawson by the arm, and went down the hall.

  When I heard the door close, I walked back to the stairway and down a flight. The kid was still curled up in the corner, softly talking to himself. I didn’t say a word and he never looked up. Back in the corridor, she was still standing in the middle of the carnage. She had stopped crying, but was violently shivering. Thank God, her eyes were closed.

  The door opened into the large room that was the main part of the cafeteria. I have to admit I was not paying attention. The sense of well being and control was absolutely gone. I kind of felt very small and lost. I now know I have killed at least four real human beings, and with one major life changing exception, I don’t have a whole lot of regret. The last few days had tricked me into believing that this great adventure was over and I was back to a routine, back to a normal life. As I stepped inside, I noticed the half dozen or so guns pointed directly at me, which greatly assisted in bringing me back to reality.

  “Secure that fucking door!” someone yelled.

  There were several dozen people in the room, most in uniform, but a few in lab coats or scrubs, and no one in a suit. People had concentrated in the center, and more than half were armed. Several of the exits were blocked by the kind of table that folds up, seats and all, to make moving them around and washing the floor easier. I walked over to the main group. Since I was the only one on board with a beard, I stood a bit out and people just stared at me. I had had been getting this kind of attention ever since that damn video was shown. Now the look was not just out of curiosity, it was out of desperation. Kathy was sitting down next to Dawson. When I sat, they didn’t look up or say a word. There was no way they hadn’t heard the shots.

  There was more shooting from somewhere below us. Once again, something was bugging me. Something Kathy had said. It was right at the tip of my tongue. If I could just have a minute to breathe, I would get it.

  I looked up even before I heard the sharp sounds of pots and pans crashing and someone yelling, ‘Noooo!’ There was only one light on deep in the kitchen area, and because of the steam, tables, and the plastic sneeze guards, I couldn’t get a clear view. I really didn’t need one. What the duce? I just got here! How the hell are these things getting around so fast?

  The first one that came running into the room was the now standard young somewhat grey-skinned naked bald male. He made a beeline to a couple of medics bent over treating someone that I couldn’t see. The zombie was not particular and just made a superman dive right into the guys. The whole game was changed with the second zombie. He, maybe she, was a marine, in that crazy digital green and black camouflage clothing and still carrying a sidearm. Its head was hanging to one side, due to the fact that most of the flesh on the same side of his neck was gone. This must have affected its vision or something, because he was not nearly as fast as the first and kept bumping into tables, but at a very rapid rate. Needless to say, in a room full of terrified armed people, most of whom had been jolted awake in the middle of the night and had no real clue as to what was going on, a classic cluster fuck was ready to commence. I grabbed Kathy and pushed her to the floor. The zombies were now secondary. As if a light just turned green, everyone fired at once. This was bad and rapidly segued into really bad, as some asshole opened up with a machine gun. When I looked up, this guy who was dressed like a cook, you know, white pants, white t-shirt, white apron, white guy, was standing in front of me. He had dropped his pistol and just stared straight ahead. It took me a second before I noticed he had this little hole dead center of his chest that was starting to seep blood. The red patch got bigger and bigger and began to look like one of those Rorschach inkblots, but he still just stood there, not saying a word. Lots of people were now hugging the ground and the gunfire was dying down. I was trying to get Kathy’s attention when I heard the thump of the cook finally falling down.

  “Kathy. Have you been hit? Are you okay?”

  “I think so, no, you?”

  “Maybe. Let’s get out of the middle and find a corner or something, but stay down.” So I started crawling to the back of the cafeteria where I knew the doors were barricaded. Almost everyone else was on the floor and staying in place. We did pass a guy who had been shot in the hand, but the wo
und didn’t look all that serious. From the sounds, it appeared that there was some kind of activity near the kitchen, lots of yelling and an occasional gunshot, but beyond that, everyone was really kind of quiet. We made it over to some folded tables blocking a door. It felt good to have a wall behind me.

  “Where does this door lead?”

  “Not sure. Give me a second.” She was breathing hard and still looked pale. I cautiously stood up, both to get oriented and to scan for threats. Gun smoke made the room hazy and gave it a sort of dream-like quality. The area where the two medics were working was now a gore fest. Blood covering the wall and the bodies tangled in a heap, this was obviously, where some nimrod had cut loose with the automatic weapon. After a minute or so, people started to stand and look around. Some guys, real people, were in the kitchen area moving tables and stuff around. I felt Kathy standing next to me, when she tugged on my arm.

  “Hey, are you hurt?” The sound of her voice was strange, comforting, as if she really cared.

  “No, I’m alright.” I lowered my voice, “Is there some kind of abandon ship plan? You know, like if the ship was sinking or we became infested with zombies?” Some people from the center group carried over an older guy who was bleeding from somewhere on his face.

  “I don’t know. We have an evacuation policy that the Captain would…” Kathy continued to talk but I stopped listening. The guy with the messed up face was laid down about five feet from me and someone was cleaning his wound with a wet towel. As soon as most of the blood was wiped away, I knew all I needed to know. A chunk of flesh about the size of a hockey puck had been ripped off just below his left eye. This was no gunshot wound. I still had both hands on the pistol, just staring at this guy who was complaining of being cold. I tried to rethink what I saw come out of the kitchen; there was Superman who attacked the medics and the floppy head marine. I didn’t see how he could have done this, so was there a third?