Zombie Apocalypse: The Chad Halverson Series

by Bryan Cassiday

  “Who knows?”

  Halverson didn’t know if the poor woman could hear him. In any case, she had her hands full eluding the zombies.

  “Break down the door,” said Reba.

  Halverson examined the door. “It’s made out of steel.”

  It was worth a try. He reared back his foot and kicked the door underneath the metal doorknob. The door juddered but didn’t give.

  “Try again,” she said.

  “It’s not budging. It’s steel in a steel frame.”

  He launched another kick with no results other than that of sending shooting pain through his right foot.

  “Ow,” he said.

  Cursing, he started limping around on his left foot, favoring his right.

  “There must be something we can do,” said Reba. “Can you shoot those things through the window?”

  He peeked through the window. He drew his pistol from his waistband. The woman had disappeared from view.

  “I can’t see her,” he said.

  “I can still hear her screaming.”

  “Help!” the woman wailed out of Halverson’s line of sight. “Please, someone help me!”

  “This is horrible just standing here doing nothing,” said Reba. “We have to help her.”

  Halverson grabbed the locked doorknob and tried to wrench the door open. Nothing doing.

  A feeling of helplessness swept over Halverson.

  Through the window, he picked up on a stream of blood jetting across the room. The woman staggered into his line of vision, blood gushing from the socket where her left arm used to be. Her hazel eyes popping out of her head, she tried to reach the door.

  A trio of ghouls converged on her, tearing at her with their trowel-like hands.

  “Shoot them!” cried Reba.

  Halverson hammered the glass in the window with the butt of his automatic. He managed to shatter the glass on his side of the wire mesh, but he couldn’t break the glass pane on the other side.

  He ceased pounding on the glass and commenced shooting through it, leveling his pistol on one of the creatures that was ripping the woman’s abdomen open.

  He fired once.

  The bullet went wide, deflected by the glass remaining in the window or by the wire mesh or by both. In any case, he could not take the chance of firing through the glass again. He might hit the woman by accident.

  One of the ghouls turned around to check out the bullet-punctured window.

  Maybe he had hit the creature, after all, decided Halverson. The thing was, he hadn’t hit the creature in the head. No head shot, no kill shot. With these things, you either killed them or you didn’t kill them. There was no middle ground. A bullet in any other place but the brain was a miss.

  “We’ve got to do something,” said Reba through gnashing teeth.

  She and Halverson stood rooted to the spot, staring through the fractured window at the creatures tearing the woman apart piece by piece.

  Halverson felt sick watching them slaughter her. He had never felt so helpless.

  “What else can we do?” he said.

  “Shoot the lock off the door.”

  Halverson shook his head. “It’s a steel door in a steel frame and it’s got a deadbolt lock.”

  “At least, try.”

  “That only works in the movies.”

  Nevertheless, he brought his pistol to bear on the door latch. He fired. The bullet slammed into the steel and ricocheted off it, whining through the air. As luck would have it, the bullet didn’t hit him or Reba.

  Through the window he saw the woman fall to the floor on her back. The creatures hunkered over her and ripped her stomach open from her sternum down to her loins.

  Reba shut her eyes in anguish. She turned away from the butchery.

  Halverson heard a clamor emanating from his left at the other end of the corridor in the vicinity of the staircase.

  The stairwell’s metal fire door was crashing open and a nest of zombies was issuing from the landing into the corridor.

  “This is getting worse by the minute,” he said. “They must’ve heard my gunshots.”

  “Now what are we gonna do?” said Reba.

  “We have to beat it.”

  The trapped woman was beyond help at this point, anyway, Halverson knew.

  “Those things are everywhere,” said Reba, her gaping eyes fixed on the mob of creatures lurching down the hall toward them.

  Halverson bolted into the drugstore, Reba on his heels.

  Halverson barreled through the drugstore out onto the sidewalk, half expecting another pack of zombies to be waiting there for them. Reba was right behind him.

  Halverson came to an abrupt halt as he remembered why they had come here in the first place. “Did you get the drugs?”

  “Yeah,” said Reba. She patted the pockets of her slacks. “I got sulfa for the infected wound and amoxicillin pills.”

  “What’s amoxicillin?”

  “It’s a kind of penicillin. I think it’s synthetic or something.”

  “How do you know? Are you a nurse?”

  “My doctor treated me for a skin infection with it once.”

  “I’m glad you came with me.”

  She gave him a look. “I thought it was the other way around.”

  The creatures had barged into the drugstore and were lurching through it toward the sidewalk, flailing away at anything that got in their way, including the shelves, knocking them over along with any merchandize that remained on them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  As Halverson debouched onto the dark sidewalk, he heard a heavy thud to his left. He started and brought up. A creature was sprawled on the sidewalk with its limbs broken and twisted into unnatural angles.

  Grimacing, the creature was rolling its head that appeared to be jammed into its chest. The creature began writhing, unable to stand up.

  Moments later, out of the corner of his eye, Halverson glimpsed something over six feet tall plummeting down from the sky overhead, past the unlit sodium vapor streetlights, and slamming into the sidewalk near him.

  Halverson ducked and recoiled.

  Reba collided into him from behind and gasped. “What’s happening?”

  The six-foot object was another creature that now lay collapsed and smashed on the cement, Halverson saw. Wearing grimy, bloodstained jeans with holes in their legs, the creature had the sneering face of a teenager with close-cropped brown hair. The creature crawled on shattered legs and knees toward the road.

  “I don’t know,” answered Halverson.

  He looked upward to see where the creatures were coming from. His head tilted up, he discerned a creature walking blithely off the roof of the high-rise.

  Halverson grabbed Reba and jerked her back toward the drugstore.

  The airborne creature hurled into the cement with a splat in front of Halverson. This creature wasn’t as lucky as the previous jumpers. It landed on its head, cracking it and pulverizing its brain. What was left of the creature lay in a motionless heap of broken bones and ragged flesh.

  “We gotta get out of here,” said Halverson, as another creature took a nosedive into the sidewalk from above.

  Halverson and Reba dashed toward the road, scrunching their shoulders in anticipation of being hit by a corpse plunging onto them.

  “What are those things doing?” asked Reba, flummoxed. “Killing themselves?”

  “They’re trying to get us. They’ll do anything to get their teeth into living flesh.”

  “Even if they kill themselves in the attempt?”

  “They have no fear.”

  Halverson and Reba sprang onto Wilshire and negotiated a way past the crashed cars.

  Halverson led the way, peering though his night-vision goggles for a clear path through the car wreckage.

  He heard more creatures thudding into the sidewalk behind him.

  “Where’s your shovel?” Halverson asked, checking out her empty hands.

  “Damn. I
left it behind in the pharmacy when I was looking for pills.”

  Halverson still had his pitchfork. He hoped he wouldn’t need it.

  In front of him he could make out the three motor carts parked on the sidewalk.

  When Halverson stepped onto the sidewalk, Felix was there to meet him, pistol in hand. Halverson glanced over his shoulder to see if any of the creatures were pursuing him. He saw none behind him.

  “You don’t need that,” said Halverson, nodding at Felix’s gun. “None of those things came across the road with us—yet, that is.”

  Halverson wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

  “Give me your gun,” said Felix, training his Glock on Halverson.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Just give me your gun.” Felix held his empty hand out.

  “Why?”

  “We’re taking you prisoner.”

  “For what?”

  “Give me your gun or I’ll shoot you.” Felix cocked his semiautomatic.

  Halverson had no idea what was going on. He knew he wasn’t going to go up against a loaded gun, though. He reached for his pistol.

  “Slowly,” said Felix.

  Halverson followed instructions, withdrew his semiautomatic, and handed it butt-first to Felix.

  Felix took the gun and wedged it inside his waistband. He continued training his Glock on Halverson.

  “What happened?” asked Reba.

  “This guy’s plotting to kill me,” said Felix, indicating Halverson.

  “Who told you that?” said Halverson.

  “Victoria and the senator.”

  “I said you would have to be killed when you got the plague.”

  “I already have it, according to you. That means my life’s on the line as long as you’re walking around free.”

  “This is crazy.”

  “We’re tying you up.” Felix turned to the others. “Anyone got something we can tie him up with?”

  Nobody answered.

  Felix spotted Becker’s tie. “How about your tie, Senator?”

  Becker shrugged. He unfastened his four-in-hand and handed the silk moiré tie to Felix.

  “That guy’s a menace to all of us,” said Becker, eying Halverson suspiciously.

  “There is something mysterious about him, like he’s not telling us something,” agreed Reba.

  “That story about being a journalist. It doesn’t wash. Why is a journalist walking around with his own pair of night-vision goggles?”

  Halverson didn’t know why they had all suddenly turned on him. He figured it was Becker who had turned Felix against him somehow while they were waiting for him to return from the drugstore.

  “How does he know so much about this plague, anyway?” asked Reba.

  “Tie his hands behind his back,” Felix told Reba, handing her the necktie.

  Reba did so. “I never trusted him.”

  Halverson realized Victoria wasn’t saying anything. Maybe he could enlist her help later, he decided. On the other hand, she was the one he had told about the need to kill Felix and she must have told Becker and Becker had told Felix. Halverson got the impression Becker wanted to be in charge. Getting Halverson out of the way may have been part and parcel of Becker’s scheme to take over.

  “Now you’ve got one less man to fight the creatures with,” said Halverson.

  “Shut up,” said Felix. “I’m not gonna let a killer run around loose among us, especially if he’s got my name on his bullet.” He stepped toward Halverson and reached for the NVGs. “I’m taking those goggles, too. You’re gonna be in the rear cart from now on.”

  Felix roughly removed the NVGs from Halverson’s head.

  “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I feel a whole lot better with him tied up,” said Becker.

  Felix donned the goggles. His wounded arm hurt, but he could still use it.

  “That’s more like it,” he said, wearing the goggles. “What a mess the city is,” he added, surveying the vicinity.

  “Do you see any of those things coming?” asked Becker.

  “There’s a passel of ’em roaming around the drugstore. They haven’t figured out we’re over here yet. Or they can’t see us.”

  “That’s as near as I want them to get to me.”

  “Did you get the antibiotics?” Felix asked Reba.

  “Yeah.” She dug the meds out of her pockets. She handed the bottle of amoxicillin to him. “Take one of these.” She opened the package of sulfa. “I’ll put this on your wound.”

  Felix struggled to open the plastic cap. “I hate these child-proof caps.”

  He pressed down on it and twisted it. He jockeyed it around. At last it gave. He poured several white tablets out of the orange plastic container into his palm and tossed the tablets into his open mouth.

  “Anybody got some water?” he asked, his mouth full.

  “I wish I had a beer,” said Mannering.

  “You’re a big help.”

  Reba retrieved a can of Coke from their cart. “Here’s a soda I got at the cemetery. The best I can do.”

  Felix curled his forefinger under the can’s pop-top. He tugged the aluminum ring. He gulped soda and washed down the pills with it.

  “You’re only supposed to take one,” said Reba.

  “This thing hurts like a bastard,” said Felix, grimacing at the pain in his wound.

  “Roll up your sleeve.”

  Felix peeled the pus-soaked sleeve off his wound.

  Reba gasped. The wound looked worse than ever. The black necrotic flesh had spread up to his elbow. Not only that, the wound was secreting more and more pus.

  “Looks like gangrene,” she said, wincing.

  “Not surprising, considering it’s a human bite,” said Mannering, looking on. “The human mouth has more bacteria in it than a dog’s mouth. I could tell you stories about some of the bums I’ve rousted that would turn your stomach.”

  Reba rolled Felix’s sleeve up higher. The entire length of his upper arm had turned black-and-blue.

  She ripped open a packet of sulfa and poured the antibiotic on the wound. The wound was so large now that she needed to tear open another packet to fully cover the wound with sulfa.

  “Will I be OK now?” asked Felix.

  “No,” said Halverson.

  Felix cocked the fist on his good arm and socked Halverson in the jaw.

  Halverson reeled back from the sucker punch.

  “I didn’t ask you,” said Felix.

  Screwing up his face, Halverson worked his aching jaw. One of his teeth felt loose.

  “Does it feel any better?” Reba asked Felix.

  “Not really.”

  There was no cure for the plague, Halverson knew. But he wasn’t going to tell Felix again and risk another punch to the face. It was just a matter of time now before Felix turned into one of the walking dead. The longer that took, the worse it would be for Halverson. As long as Felix remained human he wouldn’t release Halverson lest Halverson might kill him.

  “I know why you really want to kill me,” Felix told Halverson. “It’s not because of this plague crap you’ve been feeding everyone. You and I both know I’ll get over this infection.”

  “Then why?”

  He lowered his voice so only Halverson could hear him. “Because you want a bigger cut of the cash. The less people there are to share it, the more we each get.”

  Felix poked his head with his forefinger and tapped his temple, like he had Halverson all figured out.

  Except he didn’t, Halverson knew. The guy was a fool who, like most fools, thought he was smarter than everybody else. Soon he would be a walking dead fool.

  Felix patted Halverson down. “You got any more goodies on you?”

  Felix felt the satellite phone in Halverson’s trouser pocket. Felix stopped patting. His face assumed an inquisitive expression. He withdrew the phone from Halverson’s pocket.

  “Where’d you get this fancy-dan phone?�
�� asked Felix.

  “It’s a satellite phone for my journalism job,” lied Halverson. “I file reports from all over the world.” It was a half-truth, he knew. He did file reports from all over the world, but for the CIA and not for his professed journalism job.

  “It should work then, even if the cell towers around here are all out.”

  “The battery’s dead.”

  “Then we’ll get a new battery.” Felix pocketed the satphone. “I don’t want you calling for help.”

  “We could all use help now.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  No signs of life. No sounds. No planes flying overhead. Nothing.

  Just darkness and a fragment of moon veiled by the murky hazy sky.

  “What do we do now?” asked Victoria, shifting her legs in her cart’s passenger seat.

  “First off, you’re gonna have to drive,” answered Felix. “Halverson can’t drive you anymore.”

  She got up and climbed into the driver’s seat. “But where? Are we still heading for the beach?”

  Halverson slid into Victoria’s recently vacated seat and sat uncomfortably with his tied arms sandwiched between his back and the seat.

  “We need more weapons first,” said Felix.

  “Good idea,” said Halverson.

  “These gardening tools aren’t much use as weapons.” Felix glanced with dissatisfaction at the tools in his cart.

  “We could do with some silencers, too, so we won’t attract more creatures when we shoot.”

  “You’re not shooting off anything—except your mouth.”

  “Where are we gonna get weapons?” asked Victoria.

  “That’s the problem,” answered Felix.

  “I know where you can get weapons,” said Mannering, walking up to Felix.

  “Where?”

  “At the local police department.”

  “You sound like a cop.”

  “I am a cop. And the police department has plenty of guns.”

  “Great. But where is it?”

  “It’s over on Butler Avenue. I know where it is. That’s where I work.”

  “How far away is it?”

  “Not far. A couple miles.”

  “It’s all set then. That’s where we’re going.”

  “But first we need food.”