The Demented Z (Book 2): Desolation

by Derek J. Thomas

  Approaching the house, Tom could see his efforts likely would not be in vain. He counted at least five vehicles on the property, several trucks and a couple cars. There had to be keys for the vehicles somewhere.

  Before leaving the tall field grass, Tom checked behind him to make sure he had plenty of time. Turning back to the house, he crouched down and used his scope to glass the area. Seeing no movement outside, he went window by window looking for anything out of the ordinary. Was anything ordinary anymore? Tom thought to himself.

  After watching for long enough to decide there were no obvious threats, Tom made for the nearest vehicle. The old truck had seen better days, but it had a double cab and would hold them all. Crouching low, he ran across the open space, rifle scanning for infected. He slung the rifle to his back and tested the door. It was unlocked, but no keys inside. I have got to learn to hotwire.

  Continuing from vehicle to vehicle, Tom checked through all of them and found no keys. He looked back and saw the undead trio was about halfway between houses. They would not be a problem for quite a while.

  Keeping his rifle trained on the front door, Tom worked his way across the dying lawn, and up the cement steps. The shredded screen door hung partway open. With an awful creak of strained hinges, Tom swung the screen out of the way and put his face up to the glass on the door. The interior was dark and gloomy, but appeared to have been lived in recently.

  Tom twisted the doorknob and used his foot to ease the door open while sweeping his rifle up and at the ready. The pungent stench of death stung his nostrils. Other than a thin layer of dust on flat surfaces, the place was neat and tidy. Not wanting to find the source of the stench, Tom headed across the hall to a wall mounted hook set that had a variety of keys dangling from it.

  ******

  Right after Tom left, Hank shoved the couch up close to the broken out window and tipped it up on end, using it has a temporary block. Stepping to the side, he peered out another window and watched Tom make is way out of sight behind the barn.

  “Where’s Daddy going?’ Sam said from behind him.

  “He’s going to run and get us a car. He’ll be right back little man.” Hank said. Resting a hand on Sam’s shoulder, he added, “Why don’t you go help your mom? I’m going upstairs to keep an eye on things from the windows.”

  Sam, always the tough little guy, nodded his head and headed for the kitchen. Hank watched him go and then headed upstairs.

  From the second story Hank had a much better view of the surrounding property. He began making rounds, working from room to room. Reaching the window that faced the neighbor’s house, Hank could see Tom partway there. He was hesitating, turning back, looking at something. Hank tried to look in the direction Tom was looking, but it was just out of his view through the window. Tom began yelling. Hank moved to the next room over, so that he could see what was going on. In the driveway that led to the farmhouse was the trio of walkers that Tom mentioned earlier. All at once they turned and began plodding through the field in the direction of Tom. “Mr. Hero...had to draw them away didn’t you.”

  A loud boom came from downstairs, startling Hank. It came from the room directly below him, and he knew it had to be the couch tipping over. Hank shouldered his rifle and drew his pistol. Kelly screamed from downstairs. Pistol fire erupted. Rushing down the stairs, Hank held his pistol out in from of him. Between gunshots, he could hear pounding footsteps. It sounded like a lot of them.

  Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he spun toward the kitchen, where the sounds of gunfire emanated. A couple of bodies were sprawled in the hallway just outside the kitchen’s entrance.

  Loud footfalls suddenly sounded behind him. He began to spin around, but it was too late, someone slammed into him from behind. Falling to the floor, his pistol was knocked from his hand and went skidding across the hardwood. He tried to crawl toward it, but the weight of the infected pinned him to the floor. It screamed into his ear, spit flying out of its mouth.

  More gunfire sounded from the kitchen.

  Sensing his attacker lunging toward his neck, Hank twisted and used his elbow to throw the thing off of him. The demented slammed up against the wall and howled with rage. Free of its suffocating weight, Hank lunged across the floor and grabbed his pistol. Twisting onto his side, he saw the demented reaching for his leg. Rapidly squeezing the trigger, several shots pounded into its skull, splattering blood across the torn wallpaper.

  The gunfire from the kitchen had stopped and was replaced by shouting from Kelly. “Behind me Sam.”

  Sam yelled, “There’s more Mommy.” His voice was hysterical.

  Hank climbed to his feet and turned for the kitchen. A vague form disappeared from view, into the kitchen. Another entered the hallway, following his companion. This undead wore blood covered jeans and had a ragged, blood covered slash all the way down the side of his flannel shirt. Hank raised his pistol and fired a single shot into the side of its head, dropping it to the floor on top of the others.

  Rushing around the corner, Hank saw Kelly standing in front of the dining room table, Rachael lying behind her. One hand held Sam and another held a large kitchen knife, trembling in front of her. Between Hank and her was one of the undead, arms reaching for her as it moaned in anticipation. Not wanting to accidentally hit anyone, Hank quickly raced over and placed his pistol to the back of the thing’s skull and pulled the trigger. Hank’s ears were already ringing and he barely heard the shot.

  Worried there may still be more in the house, he said, “Stay put.” He then spun around and began moving through the house, scanning for threats. It was only after a couple full sweeps of the house that he felt comfortable there were no more.

  Moving back upstairs, Hank surveyed the field that stretched to the neighbor’s house. He could just make out movement near the house, but was unable to tell what was going on. Holstering his pistol, he unslung his rifle and raised it to his shoulder. He was disappointed to find his scope’s front lens was shattered in the fight downstairs. Cursing to himself, he continued to squint at what he could not see, worry rising in his chest.

  After several minutes there was more movement and a rising plume of smoke. As the plume spread away from the house, Hank realized it was dust trailing behind a vehicle. While he watched the vehicle turned onto the road that led their way. With this, Hank raced down the stairs. “Tom’s coming back, let’s get Rachael out front.”

  “She’s all bandaged and ready. Car?” Kelly shouted just as Hank was turning the corner into the kitchen.

  “Yeah, he’s almost here.” Hank said. Stepping over to the table, he popped the magazine out of his pistol and loaded a fresh one. Handing it to Kelly, he said, “Take this, and let’s head out the front. Keep your eyes open.” Reaching down, he scooped Rachael up in his arms. She let out a soft groan and grimaced, but did not open her eyes.

  “Come on Sam. Stay right behind me.” Kelly said as she moved out of the kitchen. Sam quickly trailed behind her.

  Before leaving, Hank looked down at the giant pools of blood that spread out on the table and the floor. Footprints spread the crimson liquid throughout the kitchen; its volume seemed like more than the human body could hold. The metallic scent stung his nostrils, nearly overpowering in the small space. Hank took one final look around, worry for Rachael rising in his throat, and then he followed in Kelly and Sam’s wake.

  Outside he saw Tom speeding down the driveway, a giant dust cloud rising behind him, like a billowing thunderstorm. The enormous truck rumbled to a stop directly in front of the house, washing them in the dust that followed. As it came to a stop, Tom flung open the door, its hinges groaning in protest. “Slide Rachael on the back bench, we can fit in the front.”

  There was a flurry of activity as they got Rachael into the back and they all climbed into the front. She remained pale and unconscious throughout the process. Her body was shutting down.

  “Where to Chief?” Hank asked.

  Tom gunned the gas, spinnin
g the tires, and flipping the truck around. “There is a small town about fifteen minutes north.”

  Kelly chimed in, “Great idea. There is a little hospital there...being rural it might be intact.”

  None of them liked heading into a populated area, but it had to be better than cities and Rachael badly needed medical supplies.

  “Mommy, I’m hungry.” Sam said from her lap.

  “I know honey, we’ll get some food soon.”

  Hank began digging around in the last of their supplies. Finding a granola bar, he cracked it open and handed it to Sam. “Just don’t get any in your mouth.”

  Sam took it and looked back at Hank quizzically. “What?” After a few seconds, he cracked a huge grin. “You’re mess’n with me.” Giggling, he twisted around and looked back at his mom. “He’s mess’n with me.”

  Chapter 3: Help

  The empty road stretched out about a half mile in front of them before being surrounded by commercial buildings, and dotted with wreckage. Newport was small, less than 3000 residents. Under normal circumstances it would be a quick trip to get to the hospital, but circumstances were far from normal.

  “Hang on everybody...I’m going to keep us moving.” Tom said.

  “Hoorah...now were having fun.” Hank said with a huge grin.

  The big truck rumbled into town. Most of the businesses had shattered windows, darkness hiding their interiors. A light breeze rustled garbage and debris that lay in the parking areas. It was like a ghost town.

  “Where are they?” Kelly said.

  Nobody answered. They all sat in silence, watching out the windows, waiting for a massive horde of demented to pour out of one of the buildings. Block after block they passed empty buildings, trashed cars, and houses with dark, empty windows.

  The complete lack of infected had everyone on edge and Hank was the first to say it. “I kinda wish we would at least see one of ‘em...never thought I would say that.”

  “I know it. I have this tingling feeling on the back of my neck...creepy.” Tom said. After taking a sharp turn off the main road, Tom added, “The hospital is just ahead.”

  The building, while small for a hospital, towered over the nearby houses. Four stories of cinderblock and cement, with a helicopter pad on the roof. Nearing the parking area, they saw that someone had created a semi-wall using trucks and cars. It looked like the aftermath of a freeway pileup, but was clearly planned and built. The question was who?

  “I’ve got movement on the roof.” Hank said.

  Tom eased up to the car wall and pulled to a stop. Peering out his window he saw a couple heads poking over the pony wall that surrounded the top of the hospital roof. One of them disappeared from view. “Non-infected. Is it going to be like the school?” Tom asked.

  “There is only one way to find out...or we go elsewhere.” Hank said.

  Kelly glanced over her shoulder at the back seat. “She won’t make it much longer.”

  Tom turned and ran a hand through Sam’s hair. “You guys stay put. I’ll go talk to them.”

  Kelly and Hank wanted to argue, but neither had a better plan, so instead just nodded their heads in agreement.

  “Just smile and be nice, right Mommy?” Sam said.

  Kelly smiled, knowing that is what she always told Sam when he was going to be around new kids. “That’s right Honey.”

  Tom threw the truck in neutral and set the emergency brake. Leaving the engine running he said, “If things go south on me you gotta roll.” They would probably never leave him, but this way they did not have to question his take on matters if it came to that.

  The hinges groaned loudly when Tom opened his door. Stepping out of the truck, he surveyed his surroundings, and then reached back in for his rifle. With a man on the roof, he was not too worried about infected sneaking up on him, so rather than look intimidating, he slung the rifle over his shoulder and headed for the car wall.

  Picking the smallest car, Tom climbed up and over the hood. Before dropping back to the pavement he glanced back up to the roof and saw one man with a rifle trained on him. The sun glared off the scope’s lens. He climbed down off the car and began his walk across the small parking area.

  The door in front of Tom swung outwards and three men poured out. Two of them pointed AR15s at him and the third held a pistol by his side. “That’s far enough.” The man with the pistol shouted. All three men continued to move toward Tom, neither of the rifles dropping an inch.

  Tom raised his hands up and said, “We mean no one any harm.”

  The pistol man said, “Tom? Thomas Pike, is that you?”

  Tom squinted at the man and then broke into a grin. “Brad! Oh man, is it ever good to see you.”

  Brad motioned for the other two men to drop their rifles and said, “This guy’s on the good team.” Taking several steps over to Tom, he bypassed Tom’s extended hand and wrapped him in a giant bear hug. “How many are you?”

  “Five. One is hurt real bad...that’s why we came here.”

  Brad let go of him and took a step back. “Well go grab ‘em and let’s get inside.”

  Tom breathed a sigh of relief and side stepped across the parking lot until he could see Kelly’s face. He gave her a come on over wave with his hand and then threw her the two finger peace symbol. Remembering they might need help with Rachael, he headed over to help them out. Partway there, he turned back around and shouted to Brad, “Stretcher or wheelchair?”

  “Hey Smoke, grab the stretcher out of ER.” Brad shouted. One of the men shouldered his rifle and ran back into the building.

  Turning back around, Tom saw Hank sliding Rachael out of the back seat. “They’re coming with a stretcher. Let’s just get her across the cars.”

  Within a couple minutes they were all in one of the trauma bays where Rachael lay on her side. A couple people were frantically working on her, talking back and forth about IVs, blood, and a bunch of medications Tom had never heard of.

  Brad stepped over to him, resting his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “They’re not doctors, but they are good. Let them do their thing...let’s go talk.”

  Kelly overheard their conversation and said, “Sam and I will stay here with her, you boys go talk.”

  Tom had noticed the hospital had power and as they walked down the hall he said, “How long will the generator run?”

  “We have two...a diesel primary and an old propane secondary. We have enough diesel on hand to run minimal equipment for another week...maybe two. The propane generator has a large cylinder outside that should run a couple weeks, but only powers the old portion of the hospital...which isn’t much.”

  “How many people you got here?”

  Leading them into the waiting room, Brad said, “Sit...I’ll tell you everything.”

  After they all found a seat he added, “What’s your guys’ story anyway?”

  Pointing to Hank, he said, “I was in Portland when it hit the fan...met Hank there. We had a leisurely trip home and then came here.”

  Laughing, Brad asked, “Is that the short or long story?” Looking over at Hank, he added, “Portland...damn, I heard the cities were chaos...death traps.”

  Tom just nodded his head, not really wanting to delve back into those memories.

  “Anyway...here probably wasn’t as bad, but it hit fast. I was at work that morning and all the sudden people just started going crazy. I locked my office door when I heard...just hid in there for quite a while. I heard screams, gunshots, and...worse throughout the day. The whole hospital went crazy, all within hours.”

  Tom sat forward in his chair, “How many were lost?”

  Shaking his head, “Everyone...almost everyone. I was terrified...slept in my office. The next morning I did an overhead page, asking anyone still able to call my extension.” Brad hesitated a bit, clearly struggling with bringing all the memories back to light. “I got one call. It was from Radichi up in surgery. He had done the same thing, locked in his office.”

  “How d
id you ever clear the hospital?” Hank asked.

  “It wasn’t just the two of us. There was death...gore...it was unbelievable. Others showed up...took several days, but we got the hospital cleaned up and the barricade built. It’s not a wall, but it slows them enough for our guys on the roof to take them out. I think it was the second or third day that some of them started...coming back. It was the first time I had used the word zombie without a chuckle.”

  “Where are all of them? We didn’t see a single infected on our way in.” Tom said.

  “I would like to say we wiped them out, but we actually have a huge problem.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “It’s up at the school, it’s surrounded by infected. They got overwhelmed initially and then over the first few days there was so much noise from the surrounding horde that it drew almost the entire town over there.”

  “You have a great place here, why get the school back?”

  “There are survivors, trapped inside. They’ve been there the whole time. I can’t imagine they have much food left.”

  “School’s not even in session.”

  “Normally you’re right, but they started a couple weeks early this year”

  “They can’t still be alive...can they?”

  “We’ve been scouting it and we’ve seen a white flag waving from out of one of the exhaust stacks. We think they are holed up in the kitchen area.”

  Tom nodded his head. “Food...makes sense. How could we help?”