LZR-1143: Infection

by Bryan James

  The large, purple teddy bear hit him square in the face, thoroughly confusing me as a diminutive squeak erupted from the large toy, but fazing him not at all as he reeled my foot toward him, along with the attached leg. An absurd beeping suddenly sounded from the cab, as the truck moved into reverse. I was suddenly and painfully jerked toward the open door as my assailant disappeared under the truck, the pressure on my foot suddenly releasing, leaving me with an arm, attached to a finger, attached to my shoe.

  I was still holding the large purple teddy bear, which I held up in front of me briefly and then discarded, laughing despite myself. I stood up quickly, kicking my foot rapidly to dislodge the grotesque gift he had left me, shuddering involuntarily as the curled finger finally released the lace of my shoe. I reached for the handle to pull the door down, but it refused to move. As I checked the frame, I realized my weight coming over the edge must have warped the housing just enough to jam the mechanism.

  Wonderful.

  “Hold on,” Kate’s disembodied voice floated back to me, as the truck slowed again. This time, a rolling stop, as Earl shifted into drive, and shot forward again. As we moved away, I could see what our obstruction had been and realized why the cop’s comment came back to me.

  The entrance ramp to the expressway was a metal avenue of car roofs and hoods, potholes of broken glass and bodies interspersed the melange of broken, discarded and motionless vehicles. The ramp curved up to the expressway itself, located twenty feet above the street level, and I could make out the bobbing and slowly moving heads of creatures shambling directionless on the highway, half hidden from view by the concrete barriers lining the medians. The roofs of several large, yellow school buses peeked over the edge, the only vehicles visible from below. Some creatures, having seen our aborted attempt to gain access, moved down the ramp even as we sped away, hopeful in a mindless way of jogging off the highway for a quick bite.

  A helicopter moved quickly across our path behind us, flying low, but clearly with no intention of stopping or landing. I moved to the doorway, grabbing the frame with one hand, and waiving with the other, expecting nothing but knowing I had to try. The chopper bore unfamiliar markings, and I couldn’t quite recognize the make.

  Strange, I thought, given how many movies had required me to ride in, pilot, or blow up such vehicles. I was familiar with lots of makes and models, the Apache, the Chinook, the Blackhawk, even the Sky Crane, having once been dropped fifty feet from one on a zip line for a scene in “Reaction Man”. Stunt double couldn’t do it because they needed a constant shot of my face as I came down, and it took me a while to gather the courage for the shot. I focused on the landscape outside the truck as the chopper disappeared from view, and the surroundings again became more rural.

  I wish I had my stunt double now.

  We were moving back the way we had come, but more Westerly, maybe back toward the water. I pounded on the side of the truck, and raised my voice.

  “You know, as exciting as it is back here, I’d love to join you all in the cab!”

  “We’re going to try to stop up ahead-hold on,” was Kate’s reply, as the truck slowed, and turned slowly to the right. Few creatures were in sight, but there were always some. Jesus this thing had spread fast. A truck blasted past us heading the opposite direction, bed loaded with boxes and an old hound dog, who barked feverishly from the tailgate at the creatures it saw as they moved on. More gunshots sounded, seemingly from somewhere ahead of us, but hard to triangulate from the three-walled cabin of the cargo area.

  The truck came to a stop and the engine shut off. I checked outside, realizing we were at a gas station but seeing only a few creatures in the distance. I quickly jumped off the back, rounding the side toward the cab. Kate was getting out of the passenger’s side.

  “We need gas. This thing is on fumes and this place looked clear. Watch those behind us, Earl’s gonna pump.” She reached back into the cab and pulled out my ax, tossing it to me. I caught it by the handle, fumbling it slightly and almost braining myself in the process. I looked up self-consciously, trying in vain to effect “cool” and look as if nothing had happened.

  She smiled and moved to the front of the truck to watch for more attackers.

  Earl cursed from the driver’s side as I reached the back of the truck again, looking for more of those things anywhere close to us. Only the few that were still more than four hundred feet away, moving slowly but steadily toward us along the two-lane road, past a grocery store and a burning yellow sports car.

  “The fucking pump is off,” Earl screamed, kicking the side of the yellow and red metal box, as if expecting gas to start erupting from the nozzle in fear of his wrath.

  “Pump controls are in the station,” I responded, trying to keep my voice calm, “Should be behind the counter, near the register. Likely they turned them off before leaving to keep people from stealing gas.” I worked in a gas station as a kid, and got beat once by the horse’s ass of a manager for leaving the pumps on one night. I wonder if he had been eaten. Dreams are free, I suppose.

  Earl’s nasal voice interrupted my daydream.

  “I’m not going in there, there could be things in there,” he whined, as he looked toward the station, where the windows revealed no movement, but afforded only limited visibility. It was a full-on convenience store, not just a normal station. Looked like it even had some sort of fast food place attached to the far side.

  Yes, my fat, chicken shit friend, there very well could be things in there.

  From the front of the truck, Kate shouted “More of those things, coming up from the other direction. Maybe about ten or twelve, and they’ve seen us. I figure about four minutes till they’re here.”

  Fred’s head stuck out from the cab, looking at me and then at Earl. He pointed definitively toward the road with his frying pan. “Pancake!”

  Did I have to do everything?

  “I’ll fucking go,” I said, secretly hoping I’d get points for it from Kate. “Earl, you watch for those things coming from behind us, unless you’re too gutless to do that” I looked in that direction, realizing as I did so that four more of them had appeared behind the initial group of three.

  “If I’m not out in three minutes, you guys get out of here,” I said as I backed away from the truck, sounding a lot braver than I felt.

  “No problem there, pal,” he responded sincerely, staring at the approaching creatures from behind the truck.

  What a prick.

  I spared a look to the front of the cab and nodded at Kate, who watched me, saying nothing, simply nodding in return. I jogged to the door, and pulled on the handles, which were locked. The ax head went through the glass quickly and loudly, an alarm sounding from within. Nothing to be done about the noise, I reached in, unlocking the deadbolt and opening the door.

  The register was against the back wall, next to a wall of coolers fronted by a display of chips and snack foods. A hot dog warming machine stood to my right, rows of candy to my left. Through doors on the far left wall, a fast food roast beef place, advertising an extra large pile of stacked meat on white bread for only 2.99.

  Feels like I should have that sign around my neck, I thought, the voice in my head chuckling but saying nothing. I moved slowly but cautiously, checking behind each aisle as I moved toward the register. The shrill whine of the alarm prevented me from hearing anything, and I relied on my vision as the light faded toward the windowless rear of the store.

  I reached the counter, and jerked as I caught my reflection in the panel of coolers, and reactively raised my ax to chest level. Feeling foolish, I turned back toward the register, moving behind the counter and checking for panels or switches that would activate the pumps. From outside, Kate shouted.

  “We’ve got company!” Her voice was shrill and loud, but relatively calm. Over the whine of the alarm, I heard Earl curse loudly.

  There it was! Beneath the lottery tickets, a line of switches marked 1-6. Not knowing which was ours, I turne
d them all on, and heard an electric response of some sort kick on. I sprinted outside, finding that we were no longer alone.

  The ones we had marked before were still at least a minute away, shambling forward as quickly as their bodies could take them, feet shuffling, arms swinging stiffly. Three others had apparently rounded from the back of the store, maybe alerted by my window breaking and the consequent alarm. Kate was backed up in the cavity of the open door, pistol drawn as two of them made toward her. Her bat was nowhere to be seen. From the cab, Fred could be seen looking anxiously out toward Kate. The last creature was almost on Earl, who held his ax up and over his right shoulder as if the creature could appreciate the threatening gesture.

  “Get in the truck!” I yelled at Kate. Instead of jumping inside, she raised her gun, leveling it at the chest of the closest zombie. From the back of the truck, I saw Earl swing his ax forward. It struck the creature in the chest, lodging somewhere near the sternum, the blow causing it to stagger backwards, hands grappling briefly at the polished wood protuberance now caught in its torso. It moved forward again, pushing Earl back.

  From the cab, a gunshot sounded. The creature closest to Kate flinched as if slapped, a burst of air and cloth from its shirt flying into the air between it and Kate, causing it to pause only momentarily.

  I reached the second creature. I heard me only as I was bringing my ax down. It struck at an angle, cleaving through most of the gray-tinged neck and the spinal column. I felt the jolt of bone vibrate through the handle as the creature simply collapsed as if deflated.

  Then I remembered the news reports.

  “The head!” I screamed at Kate, who had moved back as far as possible, but couldn’t close the door, as the creature was almost touching her. The pop of a second shot and the rear of the creature’s skull flew off, landing five feet behind it as it collapsed in a heap at her feet.

  From the back of the truck, a scream pierced the chaos. I raced to the corner to find Earl on the ground and almost laughed, despite the circumstances.

  A massively fat, naked, and refuse-covered man lay atop Earl, its hands grasping for Earl’s face. Bits of grime, bodily fluid, and spittle dripped on Earl as the obese creature struggled to eat its next meal. From the road behind us, I could now hear the moans of the approaching zombies from the street as they reached the station property, leaving the road.

  Reversing the ax, I slammed the blunt side of the ax head into the zombie’s neck, feeling rather than hearing the crack of the spinal column as the blow interrupted whatever vital connection existed between the head and the body that allowed them to stay active after the delivery of otherwise mortal wounds.

  The zombie fell to the side with the force of the blow, Earl’s ax handle pointing skyward. Grabbing Earl’s hand and pulling him to his feet, I threw one more glance over my shoulder toward the rear and followed him to the cab. He got in as I pulled the fueling nozzle out of the truck and, in a stroke of inspiration, locked the handle open, allowing fuel to pour onto the ground. The creatures behind us had reached the back of the truck. I satisfyingly sprayed them with the caustic-smelling fuel, dropped the handle and immediately jumped into the still open cab door, slamming it shut behind me.

  I turned the key in the ignition and pulled forward, tires squealing on the cement ground that had been made wet by the still pumping gasoline. The creatures in front of us had reached the property and were moving toward the front of the truck, as I shoved the transmission into reverse, backing into a parking spot in front of the store, aiming the truck toward the road, shifting to park, and gunning the engine. As they moved slowly in our direction, moaning and shambling, I reached down and popped the cigarette lighter into it’s housing.

  “What the fuck are you doing, man?” Earl shouted, looking from me to them to Kate and back to me. Fred caught the tension and bounced excitedly in his seat, pointing excitedly at the zombies.

  “I’m a little sick of always being on the receiving end of this nationwide ass-mastering,” I replied, gunning the engine again, tauntingly. They had all reached the pumps, and the first few were again only feet from the cab.

  “Pancake!” Fred shouted, as the first one reached the passenger door and Kate flinched back, looking sharply in my direction.

  “Yeah, buddy. Pancake,” I said softly, shifting into drive and flooring the accelerator. The throaty engine roared, and the truck shot past the creatures, under the awning overhanging the pumps, and onto the street. Reaching a safe distance, I stopped as the cigarette lighter popped out dutifully from its recessed chamber under the dash.

  The gently glowing lighter was a red and silver arc, tracing a slow, gentle decline into a pool of gasoline gathering at the foot of the pumps. The creatures, having turned to follow us, were now all clustered around and between the pumps, moving slowly in our direction. The graceful flight of the lighter ended abruptly in a yellow and orange roar, as the pumps, the awning, and the store erupted in flame, incinerating the creatures that had come for us, and throwing a sooty black column of oily smoke high into the air. The concussion from the blast rocked the truck.

  We watched for a moment, quiet. Finally, satisfied that nothing had escaped, I pulled away from the curb. I felt myself smile, and allowed my new inner soundtrack to surface, humming softly to myself as I steered the truck to the middle of the road and headed west, away from the happily burning station.

  Chapter 11

  “Are you humming the fucking A-team theme song?” Earl asked, incredulous. We were moving through intermittently forested and suburban areas, neighborhoods flashing by on the right, forest on the left.

  I kept my eyes on the road, not answering. I stopped humming as Kate spoke up.

  “Earl, can you reach the radio knob? I’d like to see if anyone else is transmitting.” She and Fred were crammed closely together against the passenger door, her back to the window, right hand still holding the pistol. Earl was practically on my lap, the four of us making the best of a three-person cab.

  He reached forward and pushed the power button, the backlighting for the tuner coming to life. As static streamed from the speakers, I looked down to check the frequency as Earl was extending his hand to reduce the volume. His left wrist bore the unmistakable oval of a human bite mark. I shifted my eyes back to the road quickly as he shot a look in my direction. He looked back to the radio, twisting the tuning knob.

  “Doesn’t sound good,” I said, as Earl cycled through the stations, using his right hand for the other dial and holding his left arm close to his body. Had he seen me notice the wound?

  “Where are we heading, anyway?” I asked, unfamiliar with the area.

  “I figured we’d be safer on water than over land,” Kate replied, “So we were heading to the marina. I know it’s a long shot, but those things were swarming on the highways and if you think about it, the roads are probably our worst option.” She looked out the front window.

  I looked at her, remembering the expressway entrance. She must have taken my look for questioning, so continued on.

  “When this thing hit, everyone was directed to head for certain safe houses via the Expressway or the other major highways. But as fast as this happened, and as violent as those creatures are, all it would take would be one, maybe two stopped cars to stop the traffic on the expressway. Then everyone sitting in traffic becomes a target. Nowhere to run, and surrounded by other people.” She shuddered.

  “Those cars, those buses,” clearly now referencing the evac buses from King’s Park-she probably had friends in there “would have been cages, and the expressways would have been a killing ground. Just a few of those things added to a confined space like that…” She faded off, clearly in her own head.

  I nodded, thinking. Not knowing the area, I trusted Kate’s call. But now we had a situation with Earl. He was going to turn, we just didn’t know when. A-team had gone pretty quick, but he was already dead. I had no clue how long it would take someone who was still alive.

&nbs
p; “How far to the marina from here?” I asked, slowing as a cluster of four shufflers moved into the two-lane road. We were approaching a small strip of stores on either side of the road, a post office to the left and a drug store and laundromat on the right. Traffic lights suspended above the intersection swung slowly in the wind, flashing a dull, yellow warning of caution.

  Yeah, no shit.

  The creatures saw the truck and turned toward us; I pulled the wheel to the left, smashing one to the pavement with the right front wheel and clipping another with the mirror that extended out from the cab on a pair of steel rods.

  “About one more mile to…Holy shit!” Her calm response was interrupted as her voice rose quickly in surprise. We had reached the center of town, following the road around a bend to the right, and a roadblock had come suddenly into sight. Composed of mostly cars and smashed-up furniture, it was nevertheless fully manned by at least twenty or thirty men and women, all armed with rifles and handguns. I slammed the brakes, bringing the truck to a stop in front of the pile.

  Beside me, Earl slammed against the dash, cursing under his breath. Looking over, I noticed his pallor and the sweat beading on his brow. We didn’t have much time.

  Kate was rubbing the side of her head and Fred was looking intently forward, curious. His frying pan was at the ready, left hand rubbing the rim, right hand clutching the handle.

  We stared ahead. The defenders stared back at us. A short, dirty man in a dark green jumpsuit that looked like a mechanic’s uniform rose to the roof of a Dodge pickup and yelled in our direction. In his right hand he held an automatic rifle, in his left a bottle of beer.

  “You can turn around right now, or you can join these folk,” he gestured to the ground in front of the roadblock, indicating bodies littering the base of the barricade. I had assumed them to be creatures, but realized now that some looked human.