Learning To Live (Zombie Overload Series)

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Learning To Live (Zombie Overload Series) Page 17

by Wright, C. M.


  "You're freaking crazy!" Jake shouts at me, as if I didn't already know that!

  "No. No, she's not," Will says slowly. "She's freaking brilliant!" Yep. I really am!

  Will ejects his head from the hatch and Jake follows, still wearing a confused and exasperated expression. I hear Will on top screaming with renewed vigor. Jake joins in but I can still hear the hesitation in his voice. I can't believe he hasn't figured it out yet. I gave enough details a child could have understood.

  Slowly making my way up the left road that travels around the graves in a circle, I watch as the zombies follow us inside. When we reach the back exit, Will jumps out and closes the gate. A chain with a padlock is looped around the post which he pulls off and locks the gate. We all get out, weapons ready in case any undead are out here with us in the dark. There are plenty of places for them to hide with all the tall uncut weeds and trees in this back area. The road is only a dirt path made by the cemetery grounds keeper's truck and probably other locals who know about it and need some alone time, too.

  Will helps me to the back of the truck and I sit on the tailgate as we watch the zombies still coming in the entrance. I watch the ones trying desperately to get to us. The gate is a big one-thick, and hard to get open even without being locked, but I'm sure it's not going to take the entire horde to get it down once a good many of them are pushing on it.

  I look at the undead. Really look at them, and I'm startled to see people I once knew. People who would come into the shop and sit around, drinking coffee, and trading gossip. People I had sat around and bullshitted with. I see kids I knew and had waited on, ringing up their candy and soda. They are transformed from the shy and quiet kids to snarling, insane-looking beasts. My eyes burn from the need to cry for them, for what they used to be, and what they have become. The pain in my chest spreads and the ache is sharp. Such a freakin' waste!

  I turn away from them and focus on the zombies as a whole-refusing to see the individuals I once knew. There's nothing I can do about it. This is nothing like seeing a homeless person or a starving child. Those I would help if I could. These? I just can't.

  When the majority of them are inside, we decide it's time to go. Now even if they happen to leave by way of the entrance, it's still going to give us plenty of a head start.

  Will helps me get to the driver's side since that's the only thing I can really do with one foot. If someone should need help outside the truck, it won't do them any good for me to hop to their rescue. After the guys are in, I drive us out of the mess at the back of the cemetery and head back toward Dad's.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  The zombies that had stayed behind are still too many. I stop a few blocks away from the shop and watch them, the frustration growing.

  "Shit! Now what?" I ask the guys.

  They remain silent as their minds are racing, as is mine, to come up with a solution. There is no way we can lead them away like we did the others. As long as it takes them to move, the others would already be back.

  "Alright, let's lead them a few blocks away from the station, and then blow them up," Will suggests.

  Hell, why not? It's not as if we have a whole lot of options. We discuss the details of which way, how far, and who is doing what. Then I put the truck in gear and start forward. At the intersection, Will and Jake call out to them again and I turn left on the road that leads to the back of the shop. Slowly, so slowly it's painful, the undead follow. I'm sure they're not all following us, but enough of a them are to reduce the numbers at the shop.

  Two blocks past the shop, Jake tells me to go one more and then stop. When I do, Will comes inside and grabs the grenades, machine guns, and sniper-rifle. I wasn't told to go up on the roof and help, but damned if I'm going to just sit and watch. So I wiggle, flop, and drop my way into the backseat and then climb to the roof, all one-footed.

  When I make it up, I grab the sniper-rifle and take aim on my first victim. The guys initially protest me being up here, but I ignore them and they give up. They throw the grenades and I shoot the ones further back in the group.

  Everything is going great. We're shooting and exploding and they keep coming and falling, just as planned-until I notice movement on the roof of a house across an empty lot to the side of us and a block over . In shock, I freeze for a minute, staring at the figure waving its arms.

  Recovering, I swing the rifle and look through the scope. It's a man who looks to be in his thirties. Behind him I see a woman holding a baby and two smaller children, a boy and a girl, standing on each side of her. The kids both have their hands pressed over their ears, most likely from the noise of the grenades.

  The girl has long, straight blond hair and is wearing a pair of jeans and a pink t-shirt. She looks to be anywhere from twelve to fourteen years of age. Hard to tell nowadays.

  The boy has short-cut blond hair, also wearing jeans and a t-shirt, but his shirt is bright yellow and just going by the color I'm positive the picture has a certain popular cartoon sponge on the back of it. He looks to be about eight years old, give or take a year.

  The woman is wearing a flower-print dress that reaches to her ankles with a long-sleeved light blue turtle-neck top underneath. She has blond hair which is pulled back in a ponytail, the trademark of a woman with long hair and a baby that likes to pull that hair.

  The baby is wrapped in at least one blanket. A thick twin-size blanket, definitely not the thin crib blankets. The only way I can tell it's a baby is the bottle the mother is holding in the feeding position at one end of the bundle. So unless it's a baby animal, I think it's safe to assume it really is a baby.

  The man is wearing jeans and a black t-shirt, has dark brown curly hair to his shoulders, and is wearing glasses. He's still desperately waving, so I wave back, letting him know I see him, but until we get this mess cleared, we can't do anything to help them. I notice more movement at the base of the house. Swinging the rifle down, I see a small group of about twenty zombies. Some have turned and are staring in our direction, a few have started over, but the rest are intent on trying to get inside.

  I get Will's attention and he slides across the roof to my side. I explain and he looks through the scope. He nods to me and goes back to let Jake know. I see Jake's head swing to the house and then he and Will exchange a few words and go back to killing zombies. I lift the rifle and start doing the same.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Several reloads and explosions later, the zombies are greatly reduced, and I swing the rifle in the direction of the undead at the house. I shoot about half of them, and then my supply of ammo for the rifle is gone. Completely gone.

  Going back inside the truck, I get behind the wheel and wait for the men to let me know when I can go. Finally, Will jumps inside and tells me there are only a dozen or so left and we should be ok now. Jake drops inside and I drive around the block, opposite of the location where the house is-I'm positive those poor people think we've abandoned them-and come up to the street my dad's shop is on.

  There are still a few outside, but Will and Jake get out of the truck and are able to get close enough to them to ensure no stray bullets hit the gas tanks, and then they disappear inside the building. When they clear the outside of the doorway, I pull the truck up next to the door. I wish I could get closer but this isn't a van and doesn't have sliding doors, so I have to leave room for the guys to be able to get inside. I hear more shots being fired from within and I pray it's not packed with the undead or, if so, that the guys can handle them.

  I watch the neighborhood and see undead coming this way in ones and twos, sometimes a few more. I can't let them group up again and prevent the guys from getting out safe, so I lower the window and sit on the ledge, shooting as soon as they come into range.

  Don't think I've forgotten what happened last time when one of the rotters surprised me. And don't think that I think I'll ever be that lucky again and get a zombie with no teeth gnawing on me. I'm watching my back. When I have to reload, I get back in
side and roll my window up.

  Some get too damn close because I can't shoot them until they get past the tanks when they come from that direction. When that starts happening, I stay inside and shoot through the half open window as they press against it, blood and gore covering my window.

  Finally, four men come out the door and get inside. I'm relieved to see my dad and that he's ok. We hug and he bitches at me for half a dozen things that my ass of a husband and that idiot Jake have told him I've done. Half of those I think they've made up-like telling my dad about me getting mad at Jake and taking on a bunch of zombies all on my own. As if! I can't believe Jake would tell him that crap!

  A memory of an incident at one of the armories resurfaces and my mouth slams shut, cutting off my words of denial. Oops. Ok, so maybe a few are true, but the rest? Ok, maybe true, too, but most of those things I had no choice. Oh, just shut up and agree with me, damn it!

  I turn back to the front of the truck and do what I do best, ignore them. Starting and putting the truck in gear, I take us outside the home of the family that are stuck on the roof.

  Except for Dad, the three guys shoot the zombies and then go up to retrieve the family. Dad and I stay in the truck, keeping watch. Well, I'm keeping watch. Dad, who is a complete electronics and gadgets addict, is checking out all the cool stuff inside the truck. I laugh at hearing his excitement at each newly discovered accessory and technological "toy."

  My laughter ends when I see Dustin come out alone. Concerned, I roll my window down as he nears and give him a questioning look.

  "We're going to need another vehicle. There is no way we can all fit in here," he tells me.

  He's right. I should have realized that before.

  He continues when I nod, "It's not just the people on the roof. This house has been turned into apartments. The ones on the roof came out when they heard the grenades to try to get help. There's an elderly couple, the mom and her three kids that were on the roof, the man on the roof,"―so I got that wrong when I assumed that they were a family―"and then there's an elderly man with a dog and a couple cats."

  "Yeah, no way they will all be able to ride with us. We're definitely going to have to get another vehicle. Or two," I say.

  Dustin and I start looking around but my dad's voice turns our attention to the backseat.

  "I have a friend―had a friend―who has a bus. It's not a big one, it's a shuttle bus for transporting between here and St. Thomas, but it should be big enough for them. My friend who owned it was the first one of these things I had to kill." Dad looks away and out the opposite window. I see his face redden and I know how hard that must have been for him.

  "I'm sorry, Dad," I tell him.

  He coughs, looks back at us, and nods.

  "So, anyway. He lives on the other side of town. Let's go over and see if we can't find the keys."

  The "other side of town" is about three blocks away. I love small towns! Dustin has come with us since I'm basically useless except to drive and shoot a little, so when we pull into the driveway behind the bus, he and Dad get out. Dad has a handgun and Dustin has his quad ball mace. I know this sounds frikken horrible of me, but I'm hoping just one zombie goes after him so I can see that baby in action!

  They enter the house with no interference and are soon back outside. Dustin walks Dad over to the bus and waits until Dad has it started. They exchange a few words and then Dustin walks back to the truck and gets in. Damn. No demo.

  "Your dad said the bus needs gas, and I'm sure we do, too. So we need to go by his shop."

  "Alrighty then." I back out of the drive and onto the street, and keep backing up until Dad has plenty of room to back out. At the station, he pulls up to one side of the pumps and I pull up to the other.

  He and Dustin fill up the tanks and I keep watch. I see a couple coming from in front of me and call out to the guys. Dad walks away from the pump and shoots them both, then goes back to the bus. I call out to Dustin, specifically, and tell him to get the one coming up behind us.

  As he moves toward the undead, I scramble to turn around in the seat to watch the mace in action. Dustin walks right up to the zombie, and raises the mace high. He swings it a few times then connects with the zombies head. The spiked balls embed and jerk the zombies head hard in several directions, almost at once. And then the now really dead man falls to the ground. Awesome! I know I can't quite explain how awesome it was, but just trust me that it...was...awesome! I see a few more coming Dustin's way and he moves forward to intercept them.

  As I'm watching Dustin, I've forgotten about watching for other zombies, so when I hear my Dad yell-my heart stops and I scream. Grabbing my gun, I do my best to rush out the passenger door. I hold onto the door and hop far enough away so that I can shut it and get around to the front of the truck. I see my dad on the ground with a huge undead woman right on top of him.

  Movement to my left and I see a big biker dude not far away, ready to join her in the feast-or to selfishly steal my dad all for himself. I know I have to save Dad from the woman, but the biker-dude will be a much bigger problem if he gets hold of Dad.

  I hop a little past the tanks and the biker's attention immediately switches to me, and he changes direction as he gives me a snarl. His pace picks up and I'm reminded of the faster zombies outside the store. This guy is the first I've seen since then to be able to move this fast. I barely have enough time to lift the gun before he's on me.

  He slaps the gun out of my hand and, in horror, I see it fly across the parking lot. His big hands are on me as I lose my balance and fall to the cold hard pavement. He follows me down, his face right above my own. I can still hear Dad fighting the woman on the other side of the pumps and I pray that at least he makes it through this.

  The man above me growls and I shove my fist in his throat, doing my best to keep his snapping teeth from coming any closer. That hardly stops him. He's just too damn strong. I close my eyes and pray for some miracle, any miracle.

  That miracle came with its own form of growls and snapping teeth.

  The man is knocked half off of me but is still pinning me to the ground. I watch wide-eyed as a big, gorgeous, pure white, German Shepherd grabs the back of the man's leather vest with his teeth and drags him off me. The man turns and grabs the dog around the throat and squeezes.

  I hear the dog yelp and I scramble to the gun. Raising it, I pull the trigger, praying I hit the zombie and not the beautiful dog.

  The man's body drops and his mammoth hands release the dog. I crawl to where my dad was and find he has managed to crawl underneath the bus and is kicking at the woman, not allowing her to crawl under with him. She's just in front of the gas pumps so there's no way I'm going to try to shoot her. I crawl back to the poor dog who saved my life and is now wheezing and gagging from his damaged throat.

  Sitting next to him, I call out to the dumb bitch who still hasn't noticed me. Her head turns to me slowly, reluctant to take her eyes from my dad―I wonder if she was an ex of his?―and when she finally focuses on me, I'm shocked when she actually takes one last longing look under the truck before she crawls toward me. Nothing like the feeling of not being good enough, especially for a frikken zombie!

  I have to wait because I'm not going to shoot until she gets past the pumps. The dog tries to growl but is stopped by his throat causing him pain just after he starts. I run my hand down the dog's back and tell him that it's ok. He whines at me but I assure him I got this one, all the while keeping my eyes on the area around me and the mass of blubber coming after me. If this twit could crawl any slower...damn!

  Finally, she gets far enough away from the pumps that I can take the shot, and her body collapses. I then crawl-but much faster-toward the bus and my dad with the dog right next to me.

  "Dad? Dad, are you ok?" I call out when I'm a few feet from the bus.

  He doesn't respond and fear swirls up inside me where it's so often swirled in the past few days. I move closer and can see his shoes underneath, t
hen his legs. Fully beside the bus now, I look under and see him lying on the ground, not moving, eyes closed, and a hand clutching his chest.

  Chapter Fifty

  All the air inside me rushes out as I scramble under the bus and move up next to him. I see his chest rising and falling, and I know he's still alive, for now anyway.

  "Dad! Dad, can you hear me?" I know I sound desperate and scared-and it's probably because I am.

  "Hey, Sis. I think I need my nitro pills," he gasps out.

  "Ok. Where, Dad? Where are they?"

  "In my bag. In the Hummer."

  "Be right back."

  I scoot backwards as fast as I can and feel the pavement shredding skin from the palms of my hands. I scrape my right cheek on the rough road and it burns like hell, but I'm too terrified to care. I finally clear the bus and use it and the pumps to get to my...foot. Finally balanced enough to be able to move without falling and wasting more time, I turn and my face slams into the large broad chest of a man.

  I scream, and would have fallen if he hadn't grabbed my arms and kept me upright. I look up into Dustin's face and my body sags with relief until I remember my dad and the pills. Panic comes rushing back and I frantically tell Dustin what's going on. He helps me get inside the truck then takes the nitro pills from me, telling me to stay in the truck and he will take care of my dad.

  I slide over behind the wheel and the dog jumps up beside me. I watch for the undead as I stroke the beautiful dog's fur. He lays his head on my leg and I say a prayer that my dad and this creature, who saved my life and ultimately maybe even my dad's life, will be ok.

  I finally see Dustin helping my dad over to the truck and am relieved to see Dad is able to walk mostly on his own. His face is pale, but hopefully the pill will soon help. Dad gets in the front seat and his eyes widen when he sees the dog. His eyes flick up to mine and I tell him the dog saved my life.

 

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