Zombie Apocalypse: The Chad Halverson Series

by Bryan Cassiday

  Halverson nodded toward the creature. “Look over there.”

  Reno looked. “Shit. Where’d that come from?”

  “If those things aren’t killed before they fall off the bridge, they land on the ocean floor and keep walking toward shore.”

  Halverson blasted the creature’s head apart with a three-round burst. The creature crumpled into the water and disappeared.

  “What next?” said Reno, as he beheld three more creatures emerging from the water’s depths and wading toward him, their clothes and bodies pocked with bullet holes.

  He opened fire on the waders.

  “They don’t even have to finish the bridge to reach us now,” said Halverson.

  As if on cue, four ghouls’ heads bobbed out of the water as the creatures trudged along the sandy ocean floor in their bid to reach the island.

  Halverson plastered two of the heads with a sustained burst from his MP7. Their craniums shattered, the heads dropped below the water’s surface.

  Halverson picked up on a lull in the gunfire. “Do you hear that?”

  Reno held his fire. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “That’s my point.”

  Halverson craned his neck around to check out the security guards. What few remained were clambering up the slope. Most of them had already bugged out, Halverson could see.

  Reno turned around, too. “Where’s Jones?”

  “They must have retreated to the prison already.”

  “That bastard! Why didn’t he tell us?”

  Halverson faced the fogbound bay again. Scores of heads were popping out of the inky water, making toward shore.

  “We can’t stay here,” he said.

  He laid down fire on the fording creatures as he scuttled across the shingle and climbed up the slope after the guards.

  Reno scrabbled up the slope after him, cursing Jones.

  “Jones must’ve been running low on ammunition,” said Halverson.

  “That doesn’t give him the right to hang us out to dry.”

  “Not at all. He’s a lousy commander, no question of that. A good leader never leaves anyone behind.”

  “I’m telling you, we need to get off this island of death in short order.”

  “I’m not going anywhere without Victoria. Right now we have to regroup at the prison.”

  “Once we hole up in there, we’ll never get out. The ghouls will surround us.”

  “They may surround us, but they won’t be able to get to us.”

  “We’re as good as dead trapped in there,” Reno grumbled as he climbed. “Let’s scram to the boats. It’s our only chance.”

  “I’m not leaving without Victoria. You can go if you want.”

  “Then let’s grab her and go.”

  “We need to find her first.”

  “She’s at Bascomb’s house, I thought.”

  “I doubt Bascomb’s gonna stay in his house with the ghouls invading the island. He’s probably in the prison now with everyone else. It’s built like a fort.”

  “I don’t trust that guy farther than I can throw him. I wouldn’t put it past him if he’s made tracks off the island by now.”

  They crested the slope and pegged up the cement path toward the prison.

  “I don’t trust him either,” said Halverson, “but he’s not gonna leave here till it’s the last resort. This is his island. He’ll do everything he can to keep it.”

  Reno shrugged. “Maybe. I’ll tell you this though. If he bugged out already, he probably took Victoria with him.”

  Halverson and Reno sprinted to the main entrance of the prison.

  Catching his breath Halverson rapped on the steel door with the butt end of his MP7. He could see the CCTV camera mounted over the transom focusing on his head. He looked up into the lens so the guards could see his face.

  Exhausted, gasping for breath, Reno bent over, bracing his hands on his knees.

  “I haven’t run like that in thirty years,” he managed to say between gasps.

  “We may do some more running before this is over with.”

  “My lungs are on fire. I don’t want to die from a heart attack.”

  “What’s taking them so long?” said Halverson, gazing into the video camera.

  At that moment the door creaked open. Somebody appeared in the doorway.

  It was Jones. He was bringing his AK-47 to bear on Halverson.

  Chapter 73

  “Why aren’t you two still down there guarding the shore?” demanded Jones.

  “Why’d you take off without us?” retorted Halverson.

  “You two were in charge of guarding the shore. Without you guys down there, what’s to stop the infected? You signed our death warrant.”

  Reno straightened up out of his crouch and gaped at Jones. “You expected the two of us to hold off thousands of ghouls from landing on the island? You’re out of your fucking mind!”

  Jones frowned. “You were our last line of defense.”

  “You left us there to be slaughtered.”

  Reno advanced menacingly toward Jones.

  Setting his jaw Jones raised his AK higher and pointed the muzzle at Reno’s chest.

  Reno came to a halt, fuming.

  “You two need to go back there and defend the shore,” said Jones. “We can’t let the infected land on the island.”

  “Yeah, two against a hundred thousand,” said Reno, fit to be tied. “We got a chance.” Reno laughed caustically.

  “You’re the only chance we’ve got.”

  “I can’t believe you’re for real,” said Halverson, lionlike hazel eyes fixed on Jones.

  “Are you two gonna do your jobs or am I gonna have to shoot you for disobeying an order?”

  Halverson shut his eyes. He could not believe his ears. “It’s too late.”

  “What do you mean, it’s too late?”

  Halverson opened his eyes and gazed directly into Jones’s. “They’re already on the island.”

  “How can they be? That bridge was nowhere near finished when I left.”

  “They don’t need to finish it.”

  “Stop talking crazy.”

  “They’re falling off the bridge and walking along the ocean floor to the beach.”

  “That’s impossible. They’ll drown.”

  “They can’t drown. They’re already dead. Can’t you get your head around that?”

  “When are you gonna open your eyes and see what’s going on here?” Reno told Jones. “Being in denial won’t solve the problem.”

  “Oh, shit,” muttered Jones and started firing his AK.

  “Christ,” said Halverson, heart in his mouth.

  He had no time to return fire. He braced himself for the impact of Jones’s rounds on his body. Feeling nothing he realized Jones was firing past him, not at him.

  Halverson wheeled around.

  Two ghouls were plodding up the path toward the main entrance. Jones’s bullets took them both out. They collapsed on the cement path.

  Jones opened the door wider to let Halverson and Reno inside. “There’s no way they should be here yet.”

  Jones closed the door behind Halverson and Reno.

  “They could be almost anywhere on the island now, because they don’t have to land where the bridge meets the island,” said Reno. “They could wander around underwater and land anywhere.”

  “But when they do finish the bridge, they’ll be coming at us in hordes,” said Halverson.

  Bascomb strutted toward them from the sally port. “We need you men to help make Molotov cocktails.”

  “Where’s Victoria?” asked Halverson, checking out his surroundings but not seeing her.

  “Why is that your business?”

  “She’s my friend.”

  “She’s safe. Don’t worry about her. You need to worry about making Molotov cocktails. We need to torch the infected.”

  “Victoria could help us with the Molotov cocktails,” said Halverson.

  B
ascomb headed back through the sally port. “You worry too much.”

  Halverson and Reno followed him to the main gate then into B Block. When they reached Broadway, they could see fellow residents busy pouring gasoline out of jerricans into empty wine bottles. Other residents were tearing rags and stuffing them into wine bottles full of gasoline.

  “In the end we’re gonna have to torch all of the infected bodies to prevent the plague from spreading,” said Bascomb.

  “That’s the first smart thing I’ve heard him say,” Reno said in an aside to Halverson.

  “Do you have a problem with that?” Bascomb asked Reno.

  “Not at all. We should incinerate every last one of ’em,” answered Reno.

  “If you don’t agree with something I say, just let me know to my face.”

  “Yeah, right,” Reno muttered, face impassive.

  Bascomb addressed the residents who were building the Molotov cocktails. “The next part of our plan is to determine our mode of bombing the infected.”

  “What if we get on the roof and throw the bombs down?” suggested Halverson.

  “Sounds good to me,” said Reno.

  Bascomb ignored both of them. “We’re gonna have someone open the front door. One person at a time will step out and hurl bombs at the enemy.”

  “That’s insane,” objected Halverson. “As soon as you open the door, the creatures will crash in here.”

  “We’ll lay down covering fire.”

  “Why don’t you just put out a welcome mat for them?” said Reno.

  “Nobody asked you.”

  “You’re gonna get us all killed.”

  “You’re the one who got us into this mess in the first place.”

  “Me?” Reno could not believe his ears.

  “If you had stopped the infected at the shore like you were supposed to, there wouldn’t be any of them on the island.”

  “I like my chances. Halverson and I against a couple hundred thousand ghouls.”

  “That was your mission. You failed it. You should atone for your failure by being the first one out the door with a bomb in your hand.”

  Reno laughed.

  “What are you laughing at?” demanded Bascomb.

  “Your trying to lay a guilt trip on me.”

  “Pull yourself together. We’ve got work to do.”

  Erskine the foreman stepped up to Bascomb. “I’ll go out the door first. I’m not afraid of a bunch of infected.”

  Bascomb patted Erskine on the back. “Good man. If we had more men like you, we’d be invincible.”

  Erskine snagged a Molotov cocktail with each hand from the floor and angled toward the door at the main entrance.

  Jones dispatched a group of armed guards after Erskine to cover him when he opened the door.

  “You don’t seem to understand how many of those things are out there,” Halverson told Bascomb.

  “Are you mutinying?” said Bascomb. “There’s nothing worse than a mutineer. I’ll have you thrown in the brig again, if you refuse to help us.”

  “I want to help out as much as the next man, but you need to come up with a better plan. This one’s not gonna work.”

  “Have you had your say?” said Bascomb, knitting his brow.

  “Yeah.”

  “Then go to the front door and help lay down covering fire for Erskine.”

  MP7 in hand, Halverson headed for the door.

  “You too,” Bascomb told Reno.

  Reno gave Bascomb a look then, grudgingly, turned to follow Halverson.

  “Don’t forget to take some Molotov cocktails,” said Bascomb.

  His gun slung over his shoulder, Reno stooped over and snatched a couple of Molotov cocktails off the floor. “How come you’re not taking any?”

  “I’ve got your back,” said Bascomb and displayed his AK.

  “That’s comforting to know,” said Reno dryly and trailed after Halverson.

  Reno was getting fed up with taking orders from Bascomb. It was time for Reno to split from this place, Halverson or no Halverson. Halverson could mope around here waiting for Victoria all he wanted, as far as Reno was concerned. Reno couldn’t put up with this much longer. Bascomb was leading them to certain death.

  Chapter 74

  Halverson reached the steel door to the main entrance shortly after Erskine. Reno, Bascomb, and Jones weren’t far behind.

  Halverson didn’t like the looks of this. Bascomb’s defensive strategy hadn’t been very well thought out. Every time one of them opened the door to hurl out Molotov cocktails it would expose the bomber to an onslaught of the zombies.

  Obviously Bascomb had no military background. Bascomb may have excelled at holding show trials, but that was about as far as it went with regards to his leadership abilities, Halverson decided.

  As soon as Halverson found out where Victoria was, he and Reno would cut and run. There was no point in staying on the island once the creatures invaded it.

  “As soon as the door opens, you go out and fling your bombs,” Bascomb told Erskine.

  “This isn’t a good plan of attack,” said Halverson.

  Bascomb gazed at him suspiciously. “How would you know? Are you in the military?”

  “No,” was all Halverson said.

  He wasn’t about to tell Bascomb he had worked with the SEALs and now worked for the CIA. Bascomb might shoot him on the spot if he knew Halverson was a government agent.

  “Then what makes you an expert?” asked Bascomb.

  “It’s not a good plan,” answered Halverson.

  “It is a good plan and you need to keep your mouth shut.” Bascomb turned to Erskine. “OK, Erskine.” Bacomb patted Erskine on the back.

  Erskine ignited the cloth wicks that stuck out of his two Molotov cocktails.

  “You cover him,” Bascomb told Halverson.

  Halverson racked the first cartridge in his MP7.

  “Now,” Bascomb told the guard that was manning the door.

  The guard yanked open the steel door.

  As soon as the gap in the doorway was wide enough, Erskine bulled out of the prison, a Molotov cocktail in each hand.

  The walking dead roamed everywhere, stumbling around, their putrescent faces grimacing.

  Stunned by the shoals of ghouls maundering around in front of the door, Erskine paused a few moments before he flung his bombs at the highest concentration of creatures.

  Halverson stood in the doorway and fired a burst at the nearest ghouls.

  The Molotov cocktails exploded, taking out close to a dozen ghouls, igniting their clothes and catapulting the ghouls through the air. Black smoke, interspersed with body parts, mushroomed into the sky.

  Halverson started as the bombs went off.

  He felt somebody grabbing his shoulders and hauling him away from the door.

  “You next,” Bascomb told Reno and shoved him out the doorway.

  Caught off guard by Bascomb’s manhandling from behind, Reno stumbled out of the prison onto the cement landing that led to the short flight of steps away from the prison entrance. He crashed into Erskine, who was screaming as two ghouls ripped his arms out of their sockets.

  “Christ!” said Reno, fumbling with his Molotov cocktails.

  “You’re not lucky!” called out Bascomb after Reno.

  Hands full, Reno spat on the landing in response.

  Bascomb hadn’t given him any time to light his fuses. Besieged by ghouls, Reno set down one of his Molotov cocktails on the landing and dredged a lighter out of his pocket. Lucky for him he had a lighter. He didn’t smoke coffin nails, but he did smoke weed on occasion. He thumbed the lighter’s flint, and a flame shot out.

  A scrawny male ghoul with a ponytail was stumbling toward him.

  Halverson leapt into the doorway and fired a burst into the ghoul, blowing its head apart. The ghoul collapsed in a motionless heap. Halverson wanted to fire at the ghouls tearing Erskine apart, but he was afraid of hitting Erskine. The ghouls were all over
him. One was gorging on Erskine’s throat, while another was feasting on Erskine’s stomach. Erskine passed out and fell in their arms.

  Reno at last got his Molotov cocktails lit and pitched them into the closest mob of ghouls. The resultant two explosions rocked the prison entrance.

  One of the ghouls that were eating Erskine broke away from him and attacked Reno from behind. The ghoul closed its teeth around the nape of Reno’s neck.

  Reno howled in pain.

  Halverson tried to fire at the ghoul, but Reno’s body was in the way.

  Meanwhile, scores of ghouls were staggering through the smoke and fog toward the front door of the prison.

  Three ghouls were crawling up the steps in singed and torn clothing toward the landing, their bodies embedded with glass shards from the Molotov cocktails that had exploded beside them.

  Another ghoul latched onto Reno, bit Reno’s throat, and tore out the jugular that jetted blood all over the porch.

  Furious with the ghouls, Halverson emptied his clip into the ones that were squirming up the steps. He couldn’t shoot at the two creatures clinging to Reno without hitting Reno.

  To his consternation, Halverson saw out of the corner of his eye that several of the creatures that had been wounded in the explosions were now crawling behind him near the open doorway to the prison. They were cutting off his line of retreat. He slewed around to see if anyone was backing him up at the door.

  Flabbergasted, he realized nobody was there. He was on his own hook—creatures in front of him and behind him now.

  Where was Bascomb? Halverson wondered. Why wasn’t Bascomb covering him?

  The bastard had shoved Reno into the zombies and then bugged out, Halverson realized. Not only that, Bascomb, Jones, and his cronies had left the door open for some reason. It made no sense to Halverson. Leaving the door wide open was an invitation to the creatures to enter the prison.

  Had Bascomb panicked and fled without realizing that he was leaving the door open? Or maybe he couldn’t get it closed for some reason.

  All Halverson knew was that he hated Bascomb for getting Reno killed. And the son of a bitch had almost gotten Halverson killed in the bargain by abandoning him outside without backup.

  Halverson conducted a quick recce of the vicinity. He saw that both Erskine and Reno lay dead. A fortysomething male creature and a fiftysomething female pounced on Erskine’s body and fell to scooping the entrails out of his stomach and scarfing them down.