by Dalton Wolf
“Don’t take them up on Six-thirty-five with you, and be careful,” Calvin stressed.
“Right, Chief,” Scaggs replied.
“Hey Calvin?” Tripper asked. “Aren’t we just taking thousands of dead out and dropping them off in the middle of the Northland?”
“Basically,” Calvin answered honestly.
“What did North Kansas City ever do to you?”
“Nothing.”
“So how do we justify dropping a few thousand walking corpses on their doorstep?”
“Perspective.”
“How’s that?”
“We have to get the doctor. He’s the most important plan anyone has right now. We have to hope everyone knows by now what is happening, so there shouldn’t be anyone out for a walk or anything.”
“Good point.”
“Ok. Athena, you can come with me for a while. We’re taking I-Twenty-nine to Six-thirty-five. The rest of you guys take your half of this mob up North on One-sixty-nine. Get off on Englewood, but do not come back on North Oak,” he ordered.
“Why not?” Tripper asked.
“That’s where Gus and Scaggs were taking their friends,” Sarah reminded him.
“Oh, right.”
“See you back at the split at Burlington. If you make it back first, concentrate on cleaning up around the fountain as quietly as you can. We’ll start making noise if we have to, but let’s try to sneak everything out.”
“Right, Chief,” Tripper said. “See you when we see you.”
Calvin and Athena drove another ten to fifteen miles until Tripper’s voice informed them that they were pulling off and heading back to the fountain.
“Good luck,” Tripper said. “You’ve got twice as far as the rest of us, so we’ll probably have it all cleaned up by the time you get there. Unless that thing is really fast.”
“Don’t worry, it is.” Calvin replied confidently. “C’mon, Athena. I’ve got the passenger seat all warmed up for you.
“What? I don’t get to keep mine?” Athena sounded disappointed.
“Sorry. But you can ride with me while we break the downtown speed record.”
“Whatever,” she mumbled. “This was more of a mommy car anyway.”
The two cars pulled a few hundred feet ahead of the stumbling multitude and she climbed into the passenger seat of his Tesla after removing the keys and putting them in her combination sheath/backpack.
“Ooh, I love the color,” she cooed, rubbing the soft seats. “And it’s comfy.”
“I’d prefer charcoal grey, but yeah, it’s cozy,” he agreed with an energetic smile.
“You ready, Roy?” he asked in his best Burt voice.
“I was born ready,” she mimicked Sally from the same movie.
“Give me a second,” he mumbled, plugging in his Ipod and fiddling with the virtual stereo buttons. The entire time he listened to an engine revving in his head as he went through the layout of the roads he planned on taking.
Follow Twenty-nine to Six-thirty-five, then hit I-Seventy.
“Beautiful day,” Athena commented, sounding bored.
Both windows were still down and the sounds of nature forced themselves into the confines of the silent vehicle. A cool breeze wandered across the landscape, snaking its way between the loosely scattered buildings and rattling the colorfully changing leaves of Fall that lined the roadway and danced in the breeze like the participants a gay pride parade. Birds chirped in the trees with a qualified cheeriness and air of apathy that said not only were they completely ignorant of the apocalypse happening around them, but that even if they did know, they still would not care. Several tall puffy clouds dotted the horizon to the west, warning of yet another storm system moving in. Athena sat silently, waiting, clicking her fingernails on the door while he synchronized his phone to the radio and hit a virtual button, looking over to her and giving her a shit-eating grin.
Carpenters’ Superstar blared over the stereo. “What? No!” he shouted in shock, one hand slapping at virtual buttons to stop the music.
“That’s not what I hit. It’s not!”
Athena laughed hysterically as the beautiful song continued to blare forth. Calvin threw the misbehaving device at the dash and it bounced onto Athena’s floorboard. The song switched to a heavy guitar riff backed by thunderous drums and deep base. Letting fly with a maniacal laugh, as the first Shuffler of the last zombie horde on highway 9 reached his ‘new’ car, the pedal hit the metal and the engine roared to life, figuratively at least. Power shot through the vehicle the likes of which neither Calvin nor Athena had ever felt. Instantaneous energy to four wheels without the rumble, roar or scream of exploding fuel is something that must be experienced to be appreciated. Zero-to-sixty miles per hour in two-point-seven seconds is another.
Damn that was fast, he thought, not slowing down at all.
“That’s fast!” Athena echoed his thought, suddenly distracted by the pain of her own hair whipping across her face.
Calvin pulled the car to the center of the road so he could roll his own window up to stop the suddenly thunderous roar of a hurricane storming through and both bodies were pushed back into the seat with adrenaline pumping force.
Seventy.
Eighty.
Ninety.
“Car!” Athena pointed.
With a subtle shift of the wheel, he swerved left to avoid a hulk in the right lane. The magnificently tight suspension and steering combined with form-fitting bucket seats made the rapid lane shift hardly noticeable to the couple. Athena’s long, jet-black hair once again began to whip back and forth, only now the steady rhythmic pulses came in time with the music. She hated hard rock almost as much as she despised white guys with dreads, but somehow it was impossible to not head bang even a little to this song.
One-hundred mph.
Shortly they would be merging onto 635 highway and Calvin had to slow to eighty to take the clover leaf, the vehicle tilting slightly on its chassis as it reached the apex of the curve, but whatever tires were part of this specially designed masterpiece held tight through the turn and he immediately jumped it back to a hundred in just a little over one second, swerving to avoid the only other wreck he’d seen on the video earlier. Now he truly floored the vehicle. He had earlier checked all the city traffic cams and tried to memorize anything he might have to avoid. Leading the team missions on game night had given him invaluable training for recalling such details because he had to know the layout of any terrain like the blemishes on his own face in order to follow his team in his head and get everyone where he needed them when they needed to be there.
“How fast are you going to go?” she asked nervously, shouting over the music.
Pure Rock and Roll replied and her supple fingers clenched in her lap.
One-twenty. One-thirty.
“Calvin.” She breathed apprehensively.
One-forty. One-forty-five.
“Calvin.” She said louder. “Calvin! The I-seventy interchange is there!” she pointed ahead at the green sign closing at a phenomenal rate.
But he was already on it. He had moved the red roadster into the lane farthest from the exit. As the turn approached, he pressed the brake firmly and pulled the car across the highway, partially losing control as he entered the opening of the cloverleaf and sending the car drifting across the exit in a semi-controlled skid across the flat grassy area, sliding sideways and standing on the gas again, spraying mud and grass a hundred yards in every direction. Their momentum, his steering and a steady pressure on the accelerator quickly pulled the vehicle across the grass in a continual deluge of shredded earth until they were facing the other direction, heading back onto the exit of the clover-leaf onto I-70 for downtown. The car hydroplaned for a minute when the transmission shifted and the remaining mud was thrown off, but he recovered without issue.
“Are you alright, Calvin?” Sarah asked in concern. “You’re breathing really hard for someone in a vehicle that drives itself. Or is
there something else going on there?”
“Gawd, you guys,” Scaggs yelled. “Turn off your mics if you’re going to do that.”
“We’re not doing anything,” Athena told them.
“Though now that I think about it, why not?” Calvin asked.
“Ew!” Scaggs retched.
“We’re about three minutes out,” Athena changed the subject.
“Holy shit!” Trip replied.
“I know. Fast isn’t it?” Calvin said.
“No. Not that. I’m back already. Hey, Buddy, you’ve got to get here. Those soldiers are still alive. They’re coming out to meet us. I can see six of them trying to fight their way to the vehicles.”
“Who else is there now?” Calvin asked.
“Everyone but you and your girlfriend.”
“Fiancé,” Athena corrected.
“Whatever,” Tripper dismissed her casually.
“How many Infected are left?”
“A few hundred. Shit,” Tripper spat. “I’m going in!”
The screeching of tires screamed over the headpieces followed by the distinctive heavy thuds of bodies slamming into quarter panels before the radio went dead.
* * * * *
Trip couldn’t believe his eyes. Without ammunition, the group of soldiers marched out in a tight pack, steadily trudging into the street from a low brick building in the distance. Several ragged Leapers and Joggers instantly charged the buffet of soldiers even though they made no discernable noise. The two lead soldiers raised their rifles and bashed the first two Joggers, but rifle butts didn’t work as well as sledgehammers, spears and pointed objects and only one of the Infected went down, while the other reached its target and took a healthy chunk from his shoulder. The man screamed and went down immediately under the grasping arms and hungry jaws of two other Infected that had begun to feast. One of the soldiers in the back put a bayonet through the man’s skull and the Infected increased their feasting, howling with glee.
Four of the remaining five actually had bayonets fastened on their rifles, but with two dozen dead now hopping towards them, attracted by the screaming dying man, the captain ordered a retreat back towards the single-story brick structure they’d charged from. The group of soldiers was pleasantly surprised when Tripper slammed his Beemer into the fray at a high rate of speed, and just as equally annoyed by the unhealthy shower of blood and guts from a dozen brittle dead bodies being blown apart and sent splattering over the poor defenders by the horrific impact. Covered in putrid, rotting flesh, bits of unrecognizable bones and the black, grimy mud that flowed in the Infected veins instead of blood, the soldiers continued their tactical retreat.
“Sorry!” Trip shouted, reversing into another group, the BMW bouncing over stacks of writhing bodies, one fender already hanging by its lone surviving bolt. “My beautiful car!” he lamented.
“You should have come with us,” Athena boasted, sounding short of breath. “We just hit one-forty-five coming into downtown!”
“Hey, Sarah!” Calvin called, also breathing hard.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t let the military guys get the case. You get in there now and get Doc, and then get to the muscle car. If he’s healthy enough, get him in that other set of armor and both of you look for the case while the Hedgehog covers you.”
“Ok, Calvin.” Sarah agreed.
“I can help too,” Morena volunteered.
“Thanks, Mo,” Calvin said. “But don’t take any chances. I don’t like you being out there without protection.”
“They gave me some metal armor stuff,” she replied. “And I’ve got a gun now.” She flicked off the safety on the gun and stepped out of the Paddy Wagon. Her gun had a two liter bottle and some cloth and other things she’d found in the floor board stuffed around it. “And I know how to use it,” she added, taking aim.
“No!” Sarah shouted, trying to stop the woman.
But she was too late. Mo fired twice, exploding the skulls of two SKC fans.
“Oh,” Sarah corrected herself. “I…thought that would be louder.”
“It’s a little silencer my daddy taught me how to make. He was Special Forces.”
“Right. I should have guessed,” Sarah muttered, already wanting to hate the pretty-even-though-she-looked-like-a-clown newb. “Bet you like doing the dishes too.”
“I love doing the dishes,” Mo admitted. “But I can’t cook for shit.”
“I’m a great cook,” Sarah informed her with only a slight hint of superiority.
“Really? You’re so lucky. I’m soo jealous. You have to teach me. I mean, if we live,” she added, exploding the skulls of two more zombies that were approaching their steadily increasing perimeter, the rifle only making a dull ‘dropped-mic’ sound.
“We’ll see,” Sarah acquiesced, promising to give the woman a fair chance now. “If, as you say, we all live.” She slammed the Paddy Wagon into park and jumped out, bringing up her Lucerne Hammer and checking all sides for clearance before dashing over to the military Humvee to look for the doctor.
“Piece of shit!” Scaggs shouted, stepping out dazed and bloody from the wall that held her smoking Jeep wreck. Her helm was dented and the chainmail sat on her body slightly askew. She tripped over some bricks and fell down, but quickly rolled over and pushed herself up again. One foot jabbed out at the Jeep and missed, sending her to the pavement again. This time she stayed down, laughing and trying to catch her breath.
“What, a few dozen zombies and one wall and you fall apart on me?” she screamed at the silent Jeep, shooting any zombies looking her way from the ground with her air gun.
“Is she alright?” Gus asked from the other side of the ‘battlefield’. He was currently using his Denali as a plow, pushing twenty wriggling dead guys away from the soldiers and through the wall of a building. Ceiling falling around him and bashing the vehicle roof a few inches lower to the top of his skull, he slammed the big SUV into reverse and hammered the gas. The Yukon forced its way out of the storefront sending brick, mortar and other building materials flying in all directions as well as a cloud of choking dust into the morning air and ripping off whatever parts of the grille were still intact on the way out. This time he didn’t hit the brakes as he plowed into a second pack of dead. The vehicle still came to a rest from the shear mass of bodies and he once again shifted into drive, heading for another group of twenty shufflers closing on the soldiers’ position. “Can anyone see if she’s ok?” he called to his friends, knowing it was likely his vehicle wouldn’t be running much longer.
“She’s probably got a bump on her head,” Boomer told him. “But she’s holding her own.”
Scaggs was now up and giggling with glee dancing around the area filling eyes with nails from her portable air gun. She had practiced for a few hours back at the Dungeon and was now near to mastering the weapon. The compressor sat low on her back and was very light weight. The silver gun was also lightweight and had a sighted barrel that was very simple to use. The weapon components themselves did not quite weigh twenty pounds. The heaviest item was the ammo bag sitting on top of the tank. Hef had been forced to make this unit much smaller for Scaggs, but she was paying him back for it now. With careful aim and a practiced touch, each pull of the trigger sent only one or two shots into her targets compared to the multiple nails needed from the heavy turrets because she was in close and didn’t have the bouncing of the vehicle to contend with. She would be using a lot less ammunition over time and was able to go places the vehicles could not. Making a mental note to tell both Hephaestus and Calvin just how effective the gun was, she also decided to call it a Needler, directly ripping off the name from the Halo games because it fit. And since gaming was probably a thing of the past now, it wasn’t likely they could sue her.
“Doc is with me,” Sarah called out over the radio. “We’re going up to the fountain now to look for the case.”
“I see you. We’re almost there.” Calvin and Athena surveyed the damag
e from a half a mile away.
Athena motioned for him to slow down as she looked through a pair of binoculars. Faint, wispy patches of fog still rolled over the area. Tripper’s Beemer lay burning on one side of the street, but he stood assaulting the remaining zombies gathered around the soldiers with his Louisville Slugger, sending crimson, black and grey lumps of zombie brains flying with every other swing.
Boomer’s GMC was a smoking ruin wedged halfway into the last white-painted brick building before the road split. The wheels were still spinning, but it was high-centered on the wall and he had left it there running. The solid African-American man was currently fighting his way to the soldiers with both hammers slamming into dead skulls and chests with equal power, shattering bone into fragments and smashing muscle and sinew into paste.
“I’m like Black Thor!” he crowed.
“I was going to say John Henry,” Calvin suggested.
“What?” Boomer breathed, swinging both arms as he dodged others.
“Wasn’t that the guy who dug the hole in the mountain competing against the machine for the railroads?” Calvin asked. “Hammer in both hands?”
“Yeah, but he died,” Boomer said.
“Good point. Be Thor, Boomer. Be the best damn Black Thor you can be.”
“Screw you, Calvin,” he spat back as he mashed another two skulls and turned just in time to see one of the soldiers get bitten by a knee-biter, in the knee as it happened. He screamed and went down instantly, clutching at the wound and begging for help.
“Do it! Do it!” he screamed.
GI Jane stuck her bayonet into his skull and twisted. The downed soldier went still and Jane jumped back to avoid another knee-biter, onto which Boomer sent a downward swing—really just letting gravity do what gravity did— arcing the hammer into the skull of the knee-biter with a meaty crunch and now-familiar pop of a coconut cracking.
“We’re gonna have to stop meeting like this,” he popped up his visor and smiled at the girl they were calling GI Jane. He liked them tough and she had just enough of something special to get his blood up. And he did have a thing for Latinas. With a scowl, she promptly jabbed her bayonet into the eye of a zombie that was creeping up on him and he slammed the visor quickly down again.