Zombie Extinction Event (Book 2): Hush

by c. s anderson

  The fact that they maybe can give us a new weapon to use could change everything. It could bring us all back from the jagged edge of extinction that we have been teetering on for so long now. It could move us from survival mode to having a fighting chance of bringing the war to these undead bastards. The pathogen will keep mutating and eventually come up with a threat that we can’t counter and that will be the end for us.

  Not on my damn watch.

  I will not let these people down, they are counting on me to keep them alive and maybe I can do even more than that.

  Maybe I can end the threat, once and for all.

  Or die trying.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The contraption we are betting all of our lives on, is not really all that confidence inspiring.

  We stand around it and Henry and Winston do some last minute tinkering on it. Two big speakers scrounged from Lord knows where, are mounted on a reinforced shopping cart. A heavy duty really long orange extension cord runs to one of our bigger gas powered generators. The speakers are surrounded by a mishmash of bungie cords, duct tape and other assorted junk.

  “Ok, we are ready.” Winston says as he pops open the tape deck on the old battered boom box he hooked up to the speakers.

  “Everyone put in ear plugs.” Henry advises as he pulls a cassette tape out of his pocket.

  Everyone does, this is a test run so we have no idea how loud this thing might get. Hopefully loud enough to do the job.

  “What musical selection are we playing for our lovely friends outside?” Joyce asks.

  “Icelandic death metal.” He tells her with a huge ass grin.

  Not sure if that will work on zombies, but I am pretty sure a few minutes of that might kill me. I resist the impulse to ask him why the hell he has a cassette tape full of Icelandic death metal, whatever the hell that is and gesture for him to do the honors and load the tape.

  Only thing I can think of that might sound worse is some Kanye West.

  Not even zombies would be caught undead listening to that shit.

  The guards swing the doors open and together we all push the cart out, there is a gentle slope leading away from the doors, so the thing rolls slowly towards the sentry zombies until the extension cord goes tight.

  The zombies more or less ignore it, they just stand there with their heads cocked and listen. Apparently the noise the cart made rolling towards them didn’t ring the dinner bell for them. Our improvised weapon sits about twenty feet away from them.

  Henry hands me the remote for the boom box and steps out of the way so all of the guards have good lines of fire out the open doors. I point the remote at the cart and try to think of something clever to say before I push the button.

  “Come and get it bitches!” Katrin shouts as she charges out the door, past us all. Two steps out, she starts firing her handgun into the air and waving her arms at the zombies.

  Her they notice.

  They come at her at the best lurching, shambling pace they can manage. She drops to one knee and starts taking them out with head shots.

  Screw this time to start the party and if this doesn’t work, her crazy German ass is zombie fucking chow.

  I push the button.

  The speakers erupt with an agonizingly loud guitar riff, followed by somebody screaming lyrics, in what I have to assume is Icelandic. It sounds like a room full of garbage disposals chewing on nails and broken glass, accompanied by tortured cats. It is fast, pounding, discordant and above all else, loud.

  Even through the ear plugs it is fucking painful, the effect on the zombies is nothing short of cataclysmic.

  They freeze in place and begin to twitch violently.

  And then they fucking explode.

  Each and every damn one of them.

  No damn acid blood, they just go poof and gore rains down, splattering everything in gore and goo, including Katrin.

  Yeah, not happy with her right now.

  The speakers blow and the god awful noise stops.

  Joyce lays a calming hand on my arm, but I shake it off and let the anger take me where it wants to. The anger I have being keeping carefully dampened down since Big Al died, fills me and there is no putting it back now, the damn genie is officially out of the bottle.

  She stands up to face me as I come with a blank, gore splattered face. As I get closer she lets the gun fall to the ground. There is no challenge in her posture now and the rational part of me knows that all of the fight has gone out of her, but my rage doesn’t care.

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?” I ask her through clenched teeth, hanging on to enough self-control, not to punctuate the question with a nose breaking punch.

  “I…am sorry. I needed this, since the Singer I feel like my nerve I am losing. It made me its bitch of a puppet and I failed us all.” She doesn’t look at me as she speaks, her eyes are downcast.

  “So you risk everyone’s life to prove something to yourself. You risk screwing up our chance at fighting back to prove what an iron cast tough bitch you are. Let me tell you something you crazy bitch, what happened on the roof wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t a failure on your part at all. But guess what? This fucking was! You didn’t fail us that night, but you sure as hell just did! Now get your ass back inside, you are relieved of your duties and confined to your quarters indefinitely. Move!” I scream in her face jabbing my finger into her shoulder.

  She just nods and turns on her heel and walks back into the building. I pick up her gun and stick it in the waistband of my jeans. The cart catches my eye and I walk over to it and put my hands on it.

  It worked, Oh my God, it fucking worked.

  I turn to face the door and see that they are all staring at me. I lost my cool in a way Big Al never would have and they all have shocked looks on their faces.

  Well, guess what kids? I am not Big Al and I think that I am finally done trying to be. I will honor his memory better by being who I am as a leader, instead of trying constantly to be a cheap knock off of him.

  Katrin I will deal with later. Bigger fish to fry and all that. She will have to keep for the moment. The news is slowly sinking in as I stand here. We have a weapon now, well we will have one as soon as we manage to scrounge more speakers anyway.

  I will have Winston trumpet the good news via ham radio to anyone out there who is still listening and we will finally, fucking finally, have a way to take the fight to the things that have been trying to feed on us. Finally, we can do more than just scrounge and get by, finally, we can do more than just survive.

  Now we can fight back.

  “Haul it back people. Henry and Winston I might just kiss you.” I shout at the doorway. A ragged cheer erupts from the crowd as the idea that our little experiment worked starts to sink into all of them. The elation of succeeding pushed my rage back to the corner of my mind I was keeping it in.

  Which is ok, I know where to find it if I need it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  We are celebrating.

  I have ordered a building wide party to celebrate the success of our experiment. Aside from a few unlucky guards that I post to keep us safe, and trust me I have been on that detail myself, we are all partying. Everybody has brought out their own personal bottles of booze and they are sharing them around. Music is playing and we have abandoned the no noise rule.

  Hell, we gave the bastards some noise earlier today, they didn’t seem to like it all that much.

  Whiskey Dave says the quarantine zone is still in place, he thanked us for the speaker idea, but says he will still have anyone who tries to breach the quarantine shot on sight.

  He did say he would feel bad about it though.

  I knock on the door to the quarters Cassandra and Katrin share and stand there holding a bottle of God awful peach flavored schnapps. The selection of available booze was eccentric at best.

  “What do you want?” Cassandra asks in an unfriendly voice as she opens the door a crack.

  “I need a word w
ith Katrin, I am ordering you to go join the party.” I tell her flatly.

  She is a soldier and her instinct is to follow orders, but I watch her face as she struggles with it. In the last day or so, I both punched her lady love in the face and bawled her out in front of everyone.

  Cassandra is more than savvy enough to know that both of these things were necessary.

  Doesn’t mean she has to like it.

  We stand there looking at each other for a long moment until her shoulders slump and she gives me a nod.

  “Ok Jake.”

  I find Katrin sitting on a battered couch, smoking a stale smelling cigarette and staring off into space. She doesn’t acknowledge me as I come in, which I take as an invitation to grab a couple of cleanish glasses from her cupboard. I pour a generous dollop of the nasty stuff into both glasses and I walk over and hand her one.

  “Talk to me.” I tell her gently.

  She doesn’t say anything at first, she just takes the offered glass and drinks it down in one long swallow.

  “Jesus, that is awful.”

  “Yes it is, do you want more?”

  “Da.” She says nodding at me and holding out her glass. I fill again and she sips at it, slower this time.

  “I was never afraid of them before, they were just things to be killed. Mostly from a distance with my rifle, but I have killed both child and adult zombies close up as well. I was never afraid of them, because I could kill them before they could get to me.” Her voice is distant and cold.

  I take a drink of the terrible crap and wait for her to tell it to me, in her own way and in her own time.

  “But, the Singer was different. She got in my head and there was nothing I could do. I trained the men who jumped off that roof, I should have been able to keep them alive. So now Jake, I find that I am afraid and I really fucking hate it.” She spits out the last few words and there is the threat of tears in her voice that she would probably be better off shedding.

  Not that she will.

  “I could sit here all night and we could drink this whole awful bottle while I tell you over and over that what happened wasn’t your fault and that we are all afraid. We just do what is needed anyway, but that is something that you will have to work out in your own head. In the meantime, afraid or not afraid, I need you back on the job. We are going to take the fight to these damn things, so are you in or are you out?” I ask her already knowing what her answer is going to be.

  “Oh, so very in Jake.” She tells me with a wicked grin that gives me hope that she will find her way back from the dark place she fell into.

  “That’s what I needed to hear. You are reinstated and off house arrest.” I tell her.

  I get up to leave, I have more fences to mend before the night is over. Promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep and all that.

  “Thank you Jake, I will be ok I think. Two things before you go.” She tells me standing up to walk me out.

  “Yeah?”

  “First, peach schnapps is for pussies, man the hell up.”

  I laugh ruefully and shake the still half full bottle at her. I can’t really argue the point.

  “And?” I ask.

  “If you ever poke me again you will be missing a finger, quite possibly your whole hand actually.” She says in a matter of fact tone of voice.

  Well, she sounds more like her old self anyway.

  “Duly noted.” I tell her crisply and then I have the good sense to leave and not discuss the point any further.

  Now I get to go talk to somebody who really isn’t going to want to hear what I have to say. The “somebody” behind the throbbing ache in my shoulder, that the booze has taken the edge off of for the moment.

  Time to go talk to Father Mike.

  Hopefully his jaw aches, just as bloody much as my shoulders does.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The two guards I left in front of the good Father’s door, don’t look happy to see me, they look uncomfortable and like they might be in a little trouble.

  “What happened?” I ask mildly as I come walking up, I hide a smile, because I think I know what happened.

  “Sir, he may or may not be handcuffed to the toilet with duct tape over his mouth.” The taller of the pair barks standing at attention.

  “Really? And why might that be?” I ask in the same mild tone, but giving it just a hint of an edge.

  “He tried to bite me, and well, hell sir, we got tired of hearing him spew bullshit.” The shorter one responds, also standing at attention.

  I face palm it, mostly to hide an inappropriate grin. This does not bode well for the conversation I am going to try and have with the crazy old fuck, but it is funny.

  Especially after a few shots of schnapps.

  “Give me the damn keys, you two are dismissed.” I hold out my hands and the tall one hands me the hand cuff keys.

  They both beat a hasty retreat down the hallway

  I push the door open and snag a kitchen chair on the way in that I drag over to park next to the guy handcuffed to the pipe behind his toilet. One side of his face is bruised and swollen from where I knocked him out.

  Hard to feel bad about that really.

  “Hey Father Mike, remember that time you tried to kill me? Yeah, not over it yet.” I tell him as I sit down next to him.

  He isn’t happy to see me.

  Well, to be fair, the noises he is making through the duct tape, just don’t sound all that happy to me. Hell, I could be wrong. Maybe he is really enjoying himself.

  Only one way to be sure.

  There are only two ways to peel duct tape off, quick and brutal or slow and gentle.

  I rub my aching shoulder absently, while I take a slow moment to decide which one I am going to go with.

  Any guesses?

  “Aaaarrrggghh!” He screams as I tear the tape off in one quick tearing pull, taking maybe just a bit of skin with it.

  “Hello Father Mike, we need to chat.” I tell him cheerfully.

  “Sinner! I have nothing to say to you.” He hisses at me

  “Well, I have a few things to say to you, so how about I talk and you concentrate really damn hard on shutting the fuck up and listening? Big Al let you on the council because he liked that you offered spiritual comfort to your congregation and the only reason that I don’t exile your ass right now is the same. Think about what the word exile means brother.” I tell him looking him straight in the eye.

  He looks away and swallows nervously, he knows what exile means all right. It is our harshest punishment, it takes a full council vote and is pretty much a death sentence. We toss you out of the building with a gun, a knife and one days’ worth of food and water. You can never come back and you have to fend for yourself out there, with mobs of hungry zombies around every damn corner.

  “Ok, that’s progress I suppose. We managed to skip over the part where you tell me I wouldn’t dare, because you crazy old bastard you know I would. I don’t give a rat’s ass about you, but there are those who rely on you and your services and I do care about them, so I am giving you this one time pass. But know this, you ever come at me again in any way, shape, manner or fucking form and I will personally walk you out the front door and ring the damn dinner bell.” I put an edge in my voice that should demand his full and undivided attention.

  He looks up at me and after a minute gives me a slow nod, then he looks down again his bony shoulders slumped in defeat.

  “Listen Father Mike, no one regrets what happened with the child more than me, trust me on this. We did what we thought we had to and it all went to shit on us. But, that is in the past and I want to let you know that our future is just a little brighter now.” I tell him gently as I unlock the cuffs and help him stand up.

  He rubs his wrist absently and we walk over to the table and we both sit down with him looking at me expectantly. I have taken the fight out of him, time to replace it with something better.

  I lay it all out for him, our new weapon aga
inst the undead hordes outside these walls and what it could mean not just to us Narwhals, but to all the survivors out there. I feel good about the new hope and resolve that I can see in his eyes now.

  “I would love to have you spread the good news in your sermon tomorrow, Father Mike and to give the project your blessing.” I ask him as humbly as I can manage.

  “It would be my genuine pleasure.” He tells me sincerely and I can almost hear the wheels turning in his head as he mentally starts writing the sermon he is going to give. I have given him a task now, something to focus on besides a head full of anger and crazy.

  He isn’t a bad man, even though he tried to kill me. Just a man who has lost too much and lived through some terrible damn things. A man who has been pushed to the breaking point over and over again. I don’t like him, but he is a source of strength and comfort for a fair amount of people here. Exiling him would make us Narwhals weaker, not stronger, so I won’t do that unless he absolutely forces me to.

  I think he understands that I will do so, if he makes me.

  Not really much into prayer, but I take a moment to say a quick one that he never does.

  My shoulder aches just enough to remind me that it would still be a good idea to watch my back around him though.

  “Have a drink with me Father? Let by gones be by gones? No hard feelings?” I ask him holding up the bottle.

  He looks at what I am offering and snorts derisively.

  Everyone seems to be hating on the booze I am offering tonight.

  “Not that goat piss.” He says with a little theatrical shudder as he opens a drawer behind him and pulls out a third full bottle of what looks like decent scotch.

  The Lord works in mysterious ways.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Our zombie sentries are back, but they are much further out than they were before. They are keeping their distance which is fine with me. Matt personally led a scavenging team to a large national chain electronics store and Winston and Henry have been busy putting together some nasty surprises for our undead friends.