Z-Risen (Book 2): Outcasts

by Long, Timothy W.

  The shuffler flopped to the ground like a rag doll. Blood hit the pavement, splattering across my boots. I staggered back from his twice dead corpse, and almost went down on my bad ankle.

  Gun shots rattled inside the department store. I didn’t bother moving toward the blasts. If there was one guy equipped to take care of a few Z’s, it was Joel “Cruze” Kelly.

  I reached for a fresh mag when I remembered I was out. I had a few shots left, but not enough to take down the half-dozen Z’s headed my way.

  I pushed boxes around in the trunk until I could get my hand under the floor mat; I felt around for a tire iron. Found it in seconds, but the thing was one of those cross-shape deals, which are really convenient when you need to change a tire, but not so much when you need to bash heads.

  I wanted to go back to the start of the morning and have a do-over, Groundhog Day style. Then I’d have brought my damn wrench. Like a genius, I’d left the brand new pump action shotgun in the break room.

  I had five rounds left in the magazine and a few in my pockets, but that wouldn’t help me. I’d have to reload while attempting to not get bitten.

  I shot a Z in the chest and blew it off its feet. The bastard, dressed in nothing but a long t-shirt, rolled over and crawled toward me.

  More shots echoed from inside, and I decided that it was probably a good idea to get in there where I had some backup. I moved to the door and slid it open.

  “It’s me, Joel! Don’t blow my head off!”

  The Z’s, somehow sensing that I was going to slip away, quickly converged on me. I turned with a fire lit under my ass.

  I ran right into Sails as she slammed another case on the ground.

  Joel came around the corner, firing.

  “So glad to see you guys!” I must have been a sad sight, but I was damn sure relieved.

  Sails didn’t reply; she just pressed something against me. I looked down at the Mossberg that Donny had entrusted to me.

  “Go kill some stuff, Creed.” She said as she let go of the shotgun.

  I made a mental note to never leave my primary weapon out of reach. If I had to strap it to my forehead, I was going to always be prepared in the future. Then I made another note to hug Sails—if we managed to survive this latest clusterfuck.

  I pushed the door open as I holstered my sidearm. Sails moved at my back. She pushed the door all the way open and dropped to a crouch. I lifted the Mossberg 500, aimed in the direction of a Z covered in gore, and blew a hole the size of Texas through its chest.

  I worked the grip as I hammered shell after shell into the breach. After I unleashed five rounds, I fell back. Sails covered me while I reloaded from the front rails.

  Joel made it to our location with a box of goodies over his shoulder. His AR was strapped across his back, and he was firing with his handgun as he moved. BAMF indeed.

  “No room. Trunk’s full,” I told him.

  “Full?”

  “Yeah, didn’t you guys check it before we left? It’s got enough food to last us a week.”

  “The fuck?”

  “Donny looked over the car after I found it, but he’s a lazy ass. He probably never even looked in the trunk.” Sails rolled her eyes.

  Joel shrugged and ran to the vehicle. He kicked the rear door all the way open and tossed two cases of water and tea into the back. I moved around him as I reloaded.

  Sails grabbed a box of bagged potato chips and candy bars and tossed it in among the mess.

  “Sails, I’ll take the shuffler. Concentrate on the others and don’t let any of them near me.”

  “Done.”

  “And don’t shoot me in the ass.”

  “If I do, I’ll kiss it and make it better.”

  “Wait. Really?”

  Sails shot me the finger, then buried a pair of rounds into a woman whose bad day must have started 72 hours ago.

  The shuffler was a greedy bastard, but he was smart. He leapt around behind the horde while I tracked him with the pump action. I dropped a Z by taking out his knees, and then ducked so I could see where the jumping asshole was hiding.

  “Let’s just go, Creed!” Joel yelled.

  “Right,” I said and backed up a few paces toward the car. “Right after I eliminate this shuffler.”

  The horde had been down to five or six, but then a fresh bunch arrived to refill the ranks. There were at least twenty other Z’s when I finally got a clear look at the shuffler.

  In life, he probably wasn’t more than five-foot-six. He was built, though, like a tiny linebacker. His arms were crisscrossed with wounds and his head was partially bashed in on one side. His one good eye swiveled to find me, so I lifted, aimed, and fired.

  The big gun bucked against my shoulder.

  My shot was off by a foot. It struck another Z around waist level and crumpled the guy.

  Joel let off a burst of rounds as he closed in on my position.

  “Let’s go, man.”

  “That fucking shuffler. I swear he’s playing with me.”

  “Ain’t no damn zombie smart enough for mind games. Get in the car, Jackson.”

  “I can take him.”

  “Dude. We need to evac.” Joel was ready to go.

  Sails hopped in the car. It roared to life as I fell back. Joel grabbed a few more items and stuffed them in the trunk before slamming the lid closed.

  I hit the side of the car with my butt, then felt around until I found the door handle. I popped it open and slid inside. As I maneuvered, I never lost sight of the shuffler’s location. He’d been hobbling along behind the mass of Z’s while I worked the shotgun.

  I was barely in the seat when Sails gunned the engine.

  That’s when the shuffler showed me just how wrong Joel had been.

  It had managed to move among the horde, up on two feet. I saw him just before he dropped to all fours. Then he was in the air and sailing toward us like a freaky jack in the box.

  I didn’t have the chance to shoot it, because Sails slammed into reverse, then spun the car around in a neat half donut. The smell of burning rubber filled the air.

  I was thrown against the door as she came to a halt. She worked the gearbox, and then I was pressed into the seat.

  “Hang on to your nut sacks!” Sails yelled and the car lurched forward.

  She only drove for a few seconds before she slammed to a halt.

  Ahead of us, a fresh horde had arrived. There were more than thirty, and even if we had a freaking tommy gun, there was no way we could shoot our way free.

  “Eagle One, we’re bottled up.” Joel spoke into his throat mic.

  At least that damn thing was working, now that we were out of the building.

  “He doesn’t have a shot. We need to get to the west side of the building so Markus can assist,” Joel said.

  “How?”

  The two hordes closed in, and there was that damn shuffler. I leaned over, stuck the barrel out, and fired at him.

  “The hell, Creed!” Anna yelled.

  Joel rubbed his ears.

  It sounded like someone had tossed a hand grenade in the vehicle. My ears rang and everything came in like I was stuck underwater—muffled and far away.

  The shuffler fell back. I hadn’t even managed to hit him.

  “Sorry! This son of a bitch is fast and smart. I don’t suppose you have a grenade stuffed in one of your pockets?”

  “Even if I did, you’d probably set the damn thing off in here.”

  “Gimme a little credit.” I had to shout to hear myself over the ringing in my ears.

  “Can you go over?” Joel turned to Sails and pointed at the median separating the parking lot from the street.

  “I think so. I’ll have to go slow or we’ll be tossed out the window when I hit the little hill.”

  The “little” hill was made of eight inches of curb that rose into a hump which was covered in shrubs. Even if we got over the initial bump, I was concerned that we’d be stuck.

  “Wa
it, we might…”

  Sails hit the gas and eased up onto the curb. When she was over the hump, she punched it, and we bounced up and over the curb. I held on to the seat while also holding my breath. There were so many Z’s behind us that this was about to become a very bad day.

  I leaned out of the car, my body perched up on the door frame, then aimed the shotgun and blew a Z backward.

  The shuffler faded into the crowd.

  Joel Kelly popped out of the passenger side window so he could shoot a few Z’s.

  We were in trouble.

  The car managed to scream up the curb and make it onto the easement. That’s where we got stuck. Sails hit the gas, but the rear wheels just spun.

  “Joel! In the back, quick!”

  “What?”

  “In the back! If we can get some weight back here, the car might move.”

  He slid back inside and then slithered over the back of the seat to join me.

  Two Z’s got wind of me and rushed. I shot one in the chest, pumped, and then clicked on an empty chamber.

  Joel tossed me his sidearm and I shot until it was dry.

  They still came at us.

  “We need to haul ass!” Sails said, opening the door.

  “I’m not leaving our stash,” I replied.

  And I wasn’t. There was no damn way I was about to just run, knowing that we’d busted ass to get this stuff. Besides, my ankle was shot, and I wasn’t going to get very far unless my Marine buddy carried me.

  “Let’s sit on the back of the car. It’ll move.”

  “That is the stupidest damn idea ever,” I said, but I was already opening the door.

  We dashed out of the car and hopped onto the trunk. Memories of barely holding onto the HUMVEE as we exited the naval station a few days ago flashed through my head. Joel fired while I reloaded the Mossberg.

  Six or seven of the shambling corpses were right on us. A guy missing part of one arm flopped his good hand onto the trunk and managed to get a grip on my pant sleeve. Joel lashed out with his boot and kicked the guy to the ground.

  Anna leaned out and shot a Z through the head, then gave the car some gas.

  Show off.

  Joel and I held on for dear life while the rear tires finally found purchase. I grabbed hold of the space between the trunk and the rear window; I managed to hold on even though it felt like my fingers were about to be ripped off.

  Joel wasn’t so lucky.

  He was bucked off the back as the car shot forward.

  We hit the other side of the easement and I was nearly thrown off.

  Sails slammed to a stop and jumped out of the car.

  I rolled over and dropped to the ground. The pain was immense as my leg crumpled under me.

  I managed to roll over, grab the shotgun, and fire at a Z that was less than three feet away.

  I also managed to miss the fucker by a mile.

  “Up, sailor!” Sails to the rescue.

  I got to my feet, slammed a fresh shell into the Mossberg, and shot the Z that was closing in on Joel. The explosion lifted the fat man off his feet and drove him backward into another Z.

  I dropped to Joel Kelly’s side and rolled him over. He coughed, and then reached for his side, but his sidearm was still in the car.

  “Where’s our backup?”

  “Nothing on coms.”

  Nothing on coms? Markus was supposed to have our back. Roz was also supposed to be waiting to drive out and help us. What was happening back at Fortress Mark II?

  Joel looked like hell. I helped him to his feet just in time for him to lunge forward and bury his blade in the head of a female Z. She fell away, dragging his knife with her.

  Z’s to the side and now a few to the front. I reached for another shell and realized I’d exhausted all of the rounds on my pump action, so I turned it around and used it as a club.

  The first Z to reach me took a face full of tactical stock. He staggered away but wasn’t dead. I kicked the legs out from under another while Sails got Joel Kelly into the car.

  I dove back through the rear door as Sails slammed hers shut. She hit the gas, and we ripped over the easement and hit the asphalt hard enough to bounce me into the roof.

  “Gun!” Joel said and reached over his shoulder.

  I looked around and found his piece on the floor. I handed it over. Kelly did a quick inspection, and then leaned out of the window and fired two rounds.

  That’s when the shuffler hit the car.

  He must have been in the mass of Z’s, because I didn’t even see him until he was on the trunk. He held on as Sails slowed to maneuver around the fresh hell that had arrived from the road. This mass wasn’t as big as the one we’d left behind, but there was no way we could just plow through them.

  The shuffler howled at me, so I howled back. He was an ugly fucker with lank hair that hung just above his eyes. There was that look of something…intelligence? Anger? It seemed to nestle there in his gaze, and I saw, for the second time, the hint of green, like he had some kind of dye in his eyes.

  “Gun!” I yelled.

  Sails handed back her big .357. I took the handgun, lifted it, and then fired. The explosion in the little vehicle was like the soundtrack to the end of the world.

  The shuffler fell away, but he’d moved as I’d lifted the piece and aimed. I slammed the gun into the rear window, near the bullet hole; most of the safety glass fell into the car.

  I sank back into the seat as Sails found an open spot of road. The only problem? We were headed away from Fortress Mark II.

  ###

  08:20 hours approximate

  Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

  The wind tore into the car as Sails pushed the vehicle up to speed.

  “We’ll hit the freeway and then double back around the outskirts of the city. Go the way we came in, yeah?” Joel spoke to me and Sails, his eyes darting around.

  “Sounds like a plan.” My voice sounded weird, like I was talking through a gag.

  My ears rang like a bitch from all the gunplay; shooting at the shuffler had nearly made me deaf.

  Just when I thought we were home free, the car came to a screeching halt. Joel and I were both thrown into the seats in front of us with a few healthy howls and curses. I got my arm up, but still managed to kiss leather.

  “Christ on a crutch, Sails!” Joel was wide-eyed.

  “Wow, gee. I must really suck at this driving shit. Now shut up and look!” Sails sounded like she wanted to rip our heads off. I peered forward and saw why.

  I exhaled a long, slow, weary breath, then swore. Joel looked through the cracked front window and joined me. Great. We’d gone from one fuckening to another in the space of two minutes – and this one left us completely exposed.

  Ahead lay a sea of dead.

  They’d taken to the roads like a parade of the damned. Moaning, lurching, covered in filth and blood. Missing arms, ears, lips, and cheeks. Damaged bodies, torn skin, mangled limbs. They had the telltale white eyes; most swiveled to take us in.

  “How the hell do we get back to Fortress, now?” I wondered out loud.

  “We may have to go through them,” Sails said.

  “That’s not much of a plan,” Joel responded. Can’t say I disagreed.

  So our choices came down to either going back, or going around them.

  “Fuck it.” Anna punched the car into reverse and backed down the ramp, then flipped around and drove until she found a bit of shoulder that wasn’t covered in bodies, busted cars, or the remnants of looted supplies. She slammed the car to a halt, and this time I was ready. I got my hand up to stop my forward momentum, but before I could, she gunned the engine and shot down a side alley.

  Joel tried his throat mic again. This time he got through.

  After speaking in a low voice for a minute, he shot Sails a look of fear.

  “What’s wrong?” Sails looked puzzled.

  “Fortress. We need to get back now.”

 
“Dammit! How many Z’s?”

  “A few, but there’s another problem. Some locals came by and wanted to look around. Sounded like they had eyes on the HUMVEE.”

  “How many?” I asked.

  “A couple, but there may be more on the way. That vehicle is prime property.”

  “There’s plenty of cars to go around,” I said.

  “Yeah but how many are armed and armored? With enough ammo, you could go just about anywhere.”

  “Haul ass, Sails.” I gripped the back of her seat.

  “If you say that one more time, Jackson Creed, I’m going to pull this car over and shove my gun down your throat.”

  “I love it when you talk dirty.” I grinned.

  She responded by slamming on her brakes hard enough for me to nearly end up in the front seat.

  A pair of Z’s were right ahead of us, blocking the street like they were out for an afternoon stroll. Sails moved around them. They reached for the car, but Joel kicked the door open and knocked one of them to the ground. We maneuvered beyond them and were on the move again.

  The city was new to us, but the center of town was still at our backs. From there, it was easy enough to triangulate the hotel’s location. Sails drove over a couple of cross streets and ended up finding the freeway we’d come in on. Then it was just a matter of pulling off and retracing our tracks.

  As if Markus sensed us talking about him, the sound of a really big gun spoke in the distance. It rumbled over the car, followed a moment later by a second shot.

  “That’s probably Markus.” Joel did not look happy.

  Sails sat behind the wheel and gripped it tight.

  “This is not good. We don’t want a blood bath, but can we even assist?”

  “We’re low on ammo and we have a car full of supplies,” Joel replied.

  “We can’t just abandon them,” I said.

  “We ain’t abandoning anybody. I just mean, we can’t let our supplies fall into the other guys’ hands. We worked too hard for them.”

  “Yeah, well, most of the food was already here. I hope Donny survives, so I can punch his lights out. We could be sitting in a hotel room right now, eating canned green beans and catching up on sleep,” I said.