“What happened to you mom? Did Robertson do this to you?” She limped ever closer to him.
Ryan could now see the full devastation his mother’s body had suffered. There were chunks of flesh missing from her arms and legs as well as deep lacerations on her neck and abdomen. Her left ankle dragged on the floor twisted horribly with her foot pointed behind her. Ryan continued to back up. He passed the cordless phone and grabbed it quickly dialing his fathers cell number. Just as he placed the phone to his ear his mother grabbed him trying to bite him. The phone fell to the floor with a thud. The call never connected. Ryan held his mother at bay and shoved her into the wall. She fell to the floor, lifted herself up on her hands and knees and began crawling after him. She hissed a horrible sound and swiped at her son’s legs. Ryan jumped back, turned, and ran for the front door.
The front door flew open to reveal a world of the walking dead. In the haze of the soft streetlights, Ryan could see four bodies moving slowly. The body closest to him heard the commotion and began a slow jog towards him. Mr. Reynolds from next door was covered in blood and had the same grey eyes. Ryan slammed the door shut and locked it. Mr. Reynolds hit the door hard almost bringing it down. He clawed at it and growled a low visceral growl. Ryan stood with his back to the door. His mother was closing the gap.
Fuck this, I’m gone. Ryan ran for the basement door passing just beyond his mothers reach.
Down the stairs Ryan went skipping three steps at a time. His long legs carried him swiftly just as they had when he played JV basketball. His sudden sobriety kept his head clear as he pulled on his motorcycle boots and jacket. He raced around the basement grabbing the rest of his riding gear including his gloves and helmet. He bound up the stairs and stopped at the closed door. He listened for a moment. He could still hear Mr. Reynolds banging on the front door but couldn’t tell where his mother was. He peaked out the door and spotted her about ten feet away crawling down the hall towards him. He needed to go past her to get to the garage where his Honda CBR1000 RR sat. He burst through the door and kicked her hard in the head flipping her onto her back. She thrashed back and forth violently trying to grab him as he jumped over her.
The front door crashed in as Ryan rounded the corner. Mr. Reynolds and another zombie stood in the doorway. They were stuck shoulder to shoulder. The will to live outweighed the urge to stop and admire the humor of the situation. Ryan continued around the corner and sprinted the short distance to the garage just past the laundry room. He opened the door and spied his bike against the back wall. He closed the door and pushed the lawn mower in front of it. The Honda started immediately. Ryan smiled to himself knowing the bike hadn’t been started in some time due to his latest grounding. He hopped off the bike, ran to the wall and hit the garage door switch. The door began to rise. The electricity flickered, off, on then off. The door was two feet off the ground.
“FUCK!” Ryan yelled out loud as he pulled his helmet off. He reached up and grabbed the manual release cord freeing the door from the motorized track. He reached down and grabbed the door pulling it up. The door behind him crashed in. Mr. Reynolds and the other zombie had freed themselves from the comical scene at the front door. Mr. Reynolds was much quicker than Ryan had anticipated forcing him to cave the old zombie’s head in with his helmet. The body fell to the floor and twitched. The other zombie wasn’t quite as fast allowing Ryan the necessary time to mount his bike and kick it into gear. In a flash he was speeding out of the garage and down the driveway. The sun was just appearing in the horizon.
***
The police cruiser accelerated up the street. James was no longer concerned with the goings on around him. He just wanted to get home to his family. His breathing continued to be shallow and rapid. Rolling down the window helped a little, allowing the cool morning air to rush in. James could smell the many fires now burning out of control. As he was approaching his neighborhood a woman ran out in front of his cruiser from a street corner. James slammed on the brakes avoiding her by inches. The woman continued to run not noticing him.
Something hit the side of his cruiser hard. James turned and saw several zombies clawing at the door and window. Slowly he reached down and un-holstered his Sig. Calmly, he pressed the down button for the passenger side window and lowered it several inches allowing him a clear shot. Three quick shots sent brain matter and skull fragments flying. Three zombies fell away from the car. Two more made their way around the back of the cruiser. James punched the accelerator not noticing the speeding car traveling down the side street.
The impact pushed the cruiser down the street flipping it onto its side. James was tossed about like a rag doll. The three occupants of the speeding car were all thrown from the vehicle and killed. James struggled to pull himself out of the cab of his destroyed police cruiser. Blood seeped into his left eye from a deep gash in his forehead. He pulled himself up through the passenger side door. Sitting atop the cruiser, he could see the bodies strewn across the roadway. He wiped the blood from his left eye and lowered himself to the street slowly. Both of his legs were hurting but he could still walk slowly. With a stroke of luck, the trunk had come open in the accident. His duffle bag still rested inside the trunk and the riot gun was still strapped underneath of the trunk lid.
The growl was close. James turned and raised the riot gun. It bucked against his shoulder sending a new wave of pain through his body. The zombie’s head disintegrated from the neck up. More hissing and growling came from nearby. James checked his firearms and moved away from the wreckage. Two quick shots with the Sig dropped two more zombies. The activity in the street was drawing more zombies out of the shadows. James continued his surge towards his neighborhood and his home. A zombie ran from a nearby alley. James stopped, took aim, and fired. The back of the zombie’s head exploded with a flower of brain matter sending its former athletic body to the ground. James began a slow painful jog.
Back at the wreckage two corpses moved slowly trying to regain the motor skills their bodies once possessed. The third corpse had suffered severe head trauma preventing it from reanimating. The new zombies paid the corpse no attention and began walking slowly towards the sound of James’ weapons firing.
Another zombie was dispatched allowing James a free passage to his neighborhood. One more block and he would be in the new development. He could hear the tell tale sound of his son’s motorcycle revving it’s motor. James stopped and listened for a moment. The sound was drawing nearer. The first thing James thought of was Ryan’s recent grounding. Then his thoughts changed. Things must have gone bad in the neighborhood. James broke out into a full sprint ignoring the pain traveling throughout his body.
***
Ryan gunned his motorcycle down the street, swerving to miss a jogging corpse. He sped out of his cul-de-sac and stopped. The coast was clear. He kicked the gearshift down and accelerated. The ride was exhilarating and he felt in complete control. The bike was a powerful machine making his escape easy. The few zombies he encountered weren’t fast and he was sure they wouldn’t be driving cars.
The development had only one access point. Brilliant planning Ryan repeated the words his father had said on multiple occasions. Ryan slowed for a moment to check if there was traffic approaching from either direction. Nothing. Looking ahead he could see a solitary figure running towards him. He hesitated for a moment thinking the figure looked like his father. The figure stopped and raised a gun firing at some unseen aggressor. Ryan scanned his surroundings, briefly looking for more zombies. Behind him there were several moving down the street in his direction. Most were slow moving but a couple had the ability to run. He turned and revved the powerful engine popping it into gear and raced towards his father.
James raised his Sig and dropped another zombie thrashing its way through some shrubbery. He removed a spare clip and reloaded his sidearm quickly. The motorcycle caught his attention. He began waving.
Ryan throttled the bike back as he closed the gap to his father. One block and
he would be there. He could see his father waving at him. The intersection appeared clear as he entered it cautiously. He gunned the bike again and began the final approach to his father. A rush of relief came over him. Ryan never heard the rifle shot. The last thing he saw was his father waving to him.
James stopped dead in his tracks. The gunshot was loud and sharp, possibly a hunting rifle. He watched in disbelief as his son flew off the side of the bike and landed in a crumpled mess on the street. The bike slid to a stop a short distance from its rider. James ducked in against the wall of a garage and waited. He was sure a zombie hadn’t shot his son. Whoever took the shot would surely be approaching the body to check it. Sure enough, three men approached the body.
The men were armed with deer rifles and pistols. They were dressed in military style clothes and appeared somewhat organized. James removed the riot gun and stepped away from the wall. The three men stood over the body of Ryan Dillion, proud of their kill. They didn’t notice the police officer moving up on their position. The first blast riddled one of the men with buckshot destroying his internal organs. The remaining two men turned and began to return fire. The second blast from the riot gun contained a slug shot that tore the right arm off of one of the bewildered vigilantes. A bullet barely missed James as it whistled by his head. He racked the third shot into the riot gun. The man missing the arm tried to run but was gunned down in the back with buckshot. He was dead before he hit the ground. The third man was in a full sprint. James removed the Sig and took aim. One shot and the man was down, missing part of his head.
James turned and walked to the first man he had shot. The man’s face was turned towards the sky as if asking for forgiveness. The eyes were turning grey. James put a bullet in the man’s head and walked on. His son lay face down on the street. Blood seeped out onto the ground. James reached down and turned the body over. His son’s neck was torn apart from the bullet. James hung his head and began to cry. Through the tears he could see the dark streaks forming on his hands. His breathing was more rapid and he could feel life beginning to pull away from his body. His son twitched violently, sending James backwards. He landed on his buttocks. His son continued to twitch. For a brief moment James thought he might still be alive. He stood up and walked over to his son. The dark shield on Ryan’s helmet remained down. James reached down and flipped the shield up. Grey eyes stared up at him. James gasped in horror and fell back in the street. His world was rapidly ending.
The body of Ryan Dillion lay in the street. Reanimated and hungry he sat up. There had just been something in his field of vision but now it was gone. His sight was limited from the helmet he wore. Turning his head one way, then the other, he didn’t see anything. Slowly he regained his footing and tested his walking skills.
James remained on his back, staring up into the morning sky. He was tired. He wanted to fall asleep and forget everything he had witnessed over the past eight hours when a flock of ducks flew overhead. They made a beautiful V shape. James smiled and wondered if the animals would be next. He forced the thought out of his head. His mind began to drift to a happier time when life was fun, when Janet was the love of his life, when Ryan was the apple of his eye. A time when the weight of the world had not bore down on his family. He hiccupped and spit blood from his mouth. He lifted his sidearm to his head but lost all motor functions dropping the gun to the ground when he saw his dead son standing before him. His last remaining breath escaped his body.
Sixteen
Katie began to think she had broken her tailbone. It throbbed continuously. The trip across the city was torture but it was preferable compared to the alternative. She now sat in an empty parking lot at the edge of the Sacramento River. It rushed by unaffected by the night’s events. Several neighborhoods were ablaze when she passed by them in the night. The dead walked the streets and sometimes gave chase as she passed. Some were fast, some were slow, but none could outrun the car. She kept to the wider roads staying away from the small neighborhoods.
Katie stared out over the river as she leaned against the steering wheel. She hoped the new day would bring answers and help. The only thing the new day brought so far was a sore ass and blurry eyes caused by the smoke filled air. She listened for updates on the radio as she drove across the city but the same messages repeated urging residents to remain indoors with their windows and doors locked.
She waited patiently for new instruction but her unease was building. She cried and pounded the dashboard of the car then finally switched the car radio to the CD player. Of all things, Taylor Swift poured out of the speakers. Katie cried even harder.
Her tears subsided and Katie finally decided to step out of the car. Her tailbone continued to throb but she needed to stretch. The day ahead had all the makings of being warm and sunny. She looked around in all directions. There was no movement. She rolled down the window and listened for a moment. A siren was audible in a distant neighborhood. No other sounds could be heard. Feeling confident she was alone, Katie stepped out of the car. She stretched her legs and bent over trying to stretch out her lower back. Her rib cage ached. The rivers edge sat some fifty feet from her. She cautiously walked over and the sound of the water rushing over stones began to renew her hope that things would be all right. She peered down and vomited upon the sight of a half eaten man lying partially in the water.
The man’s face was missing, along with a substantial part of his head. He wore a tattered police uniform. His feet, heavy from the boots he wore, were bent to the side having been forced the same direction as the rushing water. Katie remained on her knees bent over and in pain. When she noticed he didn’t have hands she began to tremble. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly and rolled over onto her side as tears began anew. If the police officer couldn’t survive, what the hell made her think she could? She sobbed. She never heard them approach.
Seventeen
Jess’s apartment was a mess. Ty looking around, with Sugar sitting obediently by his side, now knew why Jess wasn’t married. Dishes sat piled in the sink and the living room had a significant layer of dust. An empty pizza box from the so-called New York pizza joint down the street sat open next to the recliner. A piece of pizza remained in the box looking like a science project. Jess walked out from the master bedroom holding two pistols and a double barreled 12-gauge shotgun.
“I have ammo for all three.” Jess said with a sly smile on his face.
“Awesome. Do you have a good duffle bag or backpack? We need to be mobile and on foot if need be.” Ty said as he looked around in amazement that anybody could live like this.
“I have a good backpack and a small duffle bag. You know, this might be fun. Hell, we can pick those things off from here.” Jess was beginning to enjoy this a little too much.
“Dude, we can’t shoot from here. I think those things are attracted by sound. When I went out on my patio, the ones just below would look up and stand there if I made noise. When I was quiet they paid me no attention. I really think we should get to my building.” Ty said sounding somewhat annoyed.
“Your building? You don’t own it.”
“You know what I mean. It’s a good secure building and I have all the keys and codes. Anyways, I know how to fire up the backup generator if the city looses all power. It’s our best option.” Ty felt as though he had to sell his idea, again.
“I know. I was just busting your balls. Calm down. Besides, we’ll have plenty of time to shoot those fucks out there. I have hollow points for the 40 cal.”
“Do you have canned food?” Ty asked trying to change the conversation.
“I have a bunch of chili, I love chili.” Jess walked to the cupboard and retrieved several cans.
“Use the duffle bag for food and bottled water if you have any. Keep the ammo close by.”
Gunshots rang out near by. Ty and Jess raced to the patio with Sugar close behind and watched a small skirmish unfold in the neighboring alley. Two teenagers with pistols shot rapidly at several zombies mo
ving in on them. Bullets ripped at the dead flesh but did little to slow the zombies. The teens continued to back up and Ty could see they would soon be cornered if they didn’t start using their heads. Ty thought back to all the horror movies he had seen.
“Shoot them in the head!” Ty yelled out.
The two teenagers looked up, and then back to their aggressors. One teen took aim and dropped the closest zombie, a former firefighter still wearing his gear from the night before when he put his life on the line to save others. The second teen took aim and missed wide. The zombies continued to close the distance. The two teenagers turned and ran to the street that ran directly in front of the apartment building. Ty leaned over the railing. Several zombies were near the front of the apartment and began moving towards the two teenagers.
“Shit, we have to help them.” Ty said as he turned to run out of the apartment.
“Are you nuts? Look how many are down there.”
Ty stopped at the front door and turned. He looked directly at Jess and held up his.357. His hand trembled.
“You wanted a chance to shoot these fucks, well here it is!” Ty turned and ran to the stairwell.
“Goddamn it.” Jess ran for the door snapping open the 12-gauge.
Down the stairwell Ty went. Sugar followed close behind. He reached the locked gate separating the small unimpressive courtyard from the sidewalk currently crowded with the undead. Ty stopped just inside the gate and shot a passing zombie in the head. What the fuck am I doing? He took a deep breath and pushed the gate open while holding Sugar back as he peered both ways down the street. He opened fire on two zombies from behind. They both dropped lifelessly into piles of bloody meat. The two teenagers were running for his location apparently out of ammo. From the alley in which the teens first emerged a zombie sprinted with its arms held out. The sight caught Ty off guard momentarily. They shouldn’t be able to run, that’s not how it’s done in the movies. A hissing sound interrupted his thought. He turned quickly just as a zombie grabbed his leg. It pulled itself along the ground having lost the ability to walk.
Welcome to Necropolis Page 6