by Rick Chesler
“Two-and-a-half miles.” Her mouth tugged downward at the corners as she contemplated the significance of that distance through this carnage.
“What choice do we have?”
Alex continued to survey the damage. He was wary of a group of four zombies who had eviscerated an African-American woman wearing a parking cop uniform. Her little scooter car lay turned on its side nearby, ticket book pages loose everywhere, some stuck in place on the pavement by her own coagulating blood, and one—the last ticket she ever wrote—still affixed beneath the windshield wiper of a parked SUV, a citation representing a government now in its death throes.
The undead fought in sporadic mini-bouts over what was left of the meter maid. Their heads were looking around more now, no longer riveted to the gory meal. Alex froze with a jolt of adrenaline as one of them, wearing a stained and tattered three-piece suit, actually made yellow-tinged eye contact with him.
“Veronica?”
“Yeah.”
“We’ve got to move.”
Wordlessly she slipped off the steps to their left, signaling for him to follow. He crept after her, unable to resist glancing back at the suited zombie. It was a mistake, for the additional eye contact incensed the creature, who stood with a grunt and actually lifted an arm in Alex and Veronica’s direction. Alex turned around in time to see two zombies step out from behind a rental box truck missing a front wheel. One of them had an umbrella sticking out of its thigh and walked with a severe limp a few steps behind the other, which gave Alex a pang of sadness upon seeing a young woman who must have been of high school age wearing a man’s leather jacket.
Then he heard the staccato rat-tat-tat from Veronica’s AK-47 and the former cheerleader was cut down in a hail of lead, parts of her face speckling the yellow siding of the truck. Veronica ejected one magazine and replaced it with another she’d picked off a fallen SWAT guy. Alex focused on locating the suit zombie within the sights of his pistol. It took him four shots, but he ended up dropping the oncoming threat with a bullet to the forehead.
“C’mon. Main highway’s over there. Look for a working vehicle with keys.”
Most of the cars and trucks were overturned or had obvious defects. A few, though, were simply parked and locked, such as the SUV with the ticket. He could probably smash a window and try to hotwire one, but meanwhile more zombies were pouring into the area. It would be a real battle with no guarantees.
They made their way down the street and turned onto a larger one. In the intersection, a small platoon of National Guardsman was set up as a mobile command center. They had a large militarized RV-type vehicle, armored and with serious firepower as well as an array of antennae on the roof. Parked around it were a few Humvees and a large square tent, open with men inside gesturing as they yelled into phones and stared wide-eyed at screens.
And with good reason. There weren’t quite as many zombies here as the street with the CIA building, but two crylopholosaurs were holding court around the intersection, stamping on cars, rushing at people, braying into the night.
“I’m so sick of those damn things,” Alex commented to Veronica.
In response, she pointed silently at a Humvee with no doors or windows and a machine gun mounted in back that was just rolling up to the RV. Four soldiers occupied the seats with a fifth manning the gun, firing off controlled bursts into the dinosaurs. They watched as the driver put it in park but left the engine running. He and the other four soldiers jumped from the vehicle and made for the RV, firing off rounds at zombies from handguns and automatic rifles as they went.
Alex tapped Veronica on the shoulder and nodded toward the Humvee. Our ride? Her eyes widened in response. Normally, it would be inconceivable to steal an armed military vehicle in the midst of a manned field station, but they had left Normal far, far behind. She glanced around the area, especially at the tent and at the RV, before nodding.
“You drive, I’ll handle the gun.”
Alex nodded his approval and she went on hurriedly. “Head down that street there…” She pointed past a building on fire and a toppled street light. “…and then take the next left.”
Alex studied the route for a couple of seconds and gave a resolute nod. “On three…two…run quiet!…one, go!”
The pair dashed toward the Humvee. They reached it without incident and Veronica jumped into the back with the mounted gun while Alex took his seat behind the wheel. As soon as he sat down, the two-way radio in the vehicle blared with some technical chatter, causing him to jump in alarm.
“Go!” Veronica urged.
He put the Humvee into gear and rolled quietly at low speed out onto an unobstructed portion of the street. Alex was about to floor it when he saw an old man desperately trying to fight off three zombies with a cane in one hand and a pocketknife in the other. The man turned in circles with shaky, uncertain movements while the undead attackers outpaced him in all directions. Alex pulled up to the fracas.
“What are you doing?” Veronica swiveled the gun around on the back of the hummer, looking for signs of serious trouble.
“Helping this guy out. Hey c’mon, jump in!”
The old man dodged between the circle of zombies with speed that belied his age, probably triggered by the sight of help arrived. He flung himself into the passenger seat and muttered words of thanks as Alex got back on the road.
“Alex, what if he’s been bitten?”
“We’re going to drop him off at the next safe-looking place we see.” Then, to their new passenger, “Hey, you okay?”
He felt along the sleeves of his shirt while he answered. “Not bitten. Not really okay, either. I always said I dreaded the boredom they say comes with old age, but I’d take a long night in the nursing home any day compared to this nightmare. You in the Army?” He gave Alex and Veronica’s dirty and blood-splattered civilian clothes a doubting stare.
Alex cracked a smile as he responded while gunning the engine. “Don’t ask don’t tell,’ pal, okay?” He made the left Veronica told him about and saw a relatively calm stretch ahead. He pulled over and looked at the man.
“This is where you get off. Zombie Free Zone, at least for now.”
“Where are you guys heading?” The old man didn’t try to disguise his reluctance about leaving the safety of the vehicle.
“That’s classified, sir,” Alex said with all the seriousness he could muster. “But believe me when I say you wouldn’t have a good time where we’re going.”
“I suppose not,” the man said, stepping out of the truck.
“Get inside somewhere and wait this out,” Veronica advised.
“One last favor?” the man called up to her. He looked around, forlorn and lost.
“What?”
“Shoot me with that big gun of yours.”
At length, Alex replied, “Just go inside, sir, you’ll be all right.” But inwardly he wondered how true that statement really was. Veronica swung the hardware away from the man, toward the intersection they’d just turned through.
“Seriously. I’ve had a good life, until recently. Everyone I knew was already dead before any of this happened. Only reason I’m outside is because a bunch of those crazies got inside the home and tore it to pieces. If things don’t get back to normal, well then, you saw back there what’s going to happen to me. You saved me this time, but next time I’ll be on my own. I’d much rather you just cut my damn head off with that big gun of yours than go through what I was about to with those ghoulish things.”
He walked around to the opening of the gun barrel. “I’m joking, but really I’m not.”
“Alex!”
Looking away from their sad previous passenger, Alex recognized the tone in Veronica’s voice, that tone that said, regardless of the words it carried, bad shit is about to go down right now.
Alex had been looking ahead through the windshield, where all was clear. Looked nice and drivable, only a couple of upended vehicles that could easily be maneuvered around. He twisted
around in the driver’s seat and looked out the back, where the old man was still looking around, despondent and suicidal.
But that wasn’t what held his attention.
Around the intersection, they could see the head of a T. rex. Just the head, sticking over the corner of a two-story building, looking down on them on this street while the bulk of its body and its feet were still on the other street. It had the same rotten-looking hide as the one they’d barely escaped from on the runway at Adranos, and even from this distance the yellow tint to its eyes was clearly distinct.
“I see it. Time to go.” Alex turned around to put the Hummer into gear.
“Alex! It’s moving!”
He didn’t need her to tell him because he could hear the gigantic lizard’s feet slapping the pavement as it hopped around the corner to the street they were on.
“Help!” the old man cried out as he dropped to his knees before the rampaging beast’s approach. “Now!” He broke down into uncontrollable sobs, his face in the pavement.
The T. rex saw the Hummer start to roll and jumped toward it, head low to the ground. The old man glanced back as he heard the Hummer accelerate away, then swung around to look at the dinosaur.
Veronica aimed the heavy gun at the tyrannosaur, unleashing a frightening bullet hose of fire the likes of which she had no experience in controlling, rounds that punched into the reanimated animal’s muscular chest while a few bullets went stray and wide into upper level edifices on their right side. The terrible lizard halted its forward progress mere feet behind the old man, who was now crying softly while covering his face.
The T. rex made a sharp hissing noise that reminded Alex of an air brake on a bus. He glanced at the creature in the rear view mirror as Veronica tore into it with a fresh volley from the mounted 50-cal. The shots were finding their mark, pummeling the massive reptile in the head, beginning to open the skull up entirely, when Alex drove through a large pothole that had escaped his notice while he looked into the mirror.
The resulting motion had the effect on Veronica’s gun of jerking it first up—where the rounds skewed skyward—and then sharply back down, stitching along the reptile’s body and lower still, where they found the head and body of the old man. He did an involuntary, violent dance from his kneeling position on the street while the projectiles ripped away the back of his skull.
Then the T. rex stumbled—tripped, really—and toppled, landing on the old man and crushing out of him whatever vestiges of life remained.
“Oh God,” Veronica said simply, knowing the old man could no longer hear her, and knowing that he had gotten what he had asked for, but it wasn’t her choice to make. “I’m sorry.”
She would have enough wrenching decisions to make going forward without making them by accident for other people.
22.
Alex said nothing, his eyes darting to the mirror and back to the road. He drove the Hummer the rest of the way to the air base in stunned silence without major incident. Veronica only fired the gun a couple of times the rest of the way.
Once there, though, it became apparent that accessing the facility would be anything but easy. A veritable war zone greeted them, but not any normal theater of war. Here, men waged battle against near mythical beasts. Pterodactyls wheeled in the air above the facility while crylos rampaged across the ground, intermingling with human zombies who attempted to breach the facility gate. A few of the crylos had zombie riders atop their backs, their dull eyes fixed ahead as their slacked and rotting jaws drooled syrupy fluid. A full contingent of soldiers fought against this hybrid army from a fleet of vehicles as well as a guard post at the entrance to the compound. Beyond this gate a paved road continued about a quarter-mile until it branched out into an assortment of low-lying buildings.
Veronica stepped away from the gun and held up her CIA badge high. She saw a loudspeaker mounted on the front of the truck and asked Alex to use it. He picked up the radio transmitter, handed it back to Veronica, and flipped on the PA switch.
“This is CIA Special Agent Veronica Winters. I have been ordered to report here to board a plane along with my associate. Our orders are to fly to Atlanta.”
The reply came in the form of a clipped male voice over a PA system of their own. “Agent Winters: glad you made it. Proceed at once with extreme caution to the main guard post.”
Alex wasted no time speeding off in the Hummer before a group of coordinated zombies could reach their vehicle. Veronica blasted out intense bursts from the 50-cal into groups of undead as well as a dive-bombing ptero that came too low for comfort. Bullets shredded one of its wings and the bird-like reptile fell into the ground, unable to glide, where it collided with a crylo that promptly and inadvertently stamped the ptero’s skull open.
Under cover fire, Alex skidded to a stop in front of the gate, clouds of dust billowing up from the Humvee’s wheels. Veronica blasted one more group of oncoming zombies with the mounted gun, and then she and Alex ran the few steps to the guard house, where a tall soldier in combat fatigues held out a hand to Veronica—not to shake her hand but to inspect her credentials. She extended the card on the lanyard but did not remove it from her neck. The soldier eyeballed the picture and his eyes bounced from the card to her face and back.
“Agent Winters, the plane is waiting for you inside the gate on the airstrip. Hop in the Jeep, I’ll take you—short ride to the end of the field over there.”
Alex and Veronica looked to where the soldier pointed and were dismayed to see a battle playing out there as well. A small airplane sat on a paved airstrip with a battalion of soldiers fighting a T. rex (the one already riddled with 50 cal bullets) as well as a horde of remotely controlled zombies. They were keeping the enemy at bay for now but to Alex it didn’t look like they could hold out for much longer before the plane would be damaged or completely destroyed. The pilot-side door was open too, Alex noted.
Veronica grabbed him by the hand, urging him to get in the Jeep.
“He’s with you?” the soldier asked, giving Alex a cautious look.
“Yeah, is that a problem?”
He finished his appraisal and shook his head. “You’re cleared for two passengers besides yourself.” With that, Alex and Veronica hopped into the back of the open vehicle. The soldier got behind the wheel while his associate in the guard post pressed a switch that started the entrance gate closing. Alex asked how the zombies had already gotten past the gate.
The soldier turned his head sideways from his position behind the wheel while they bounced along toward the waiting plane. “The pterodactyls dropped the humanoids inside, and the T. rex…well, we’ve learned a T. rex pretty much goes where it wants to go.”
As Alex took in the crushed perimeter fence, topped with razor wire that now lay on the ground, he knew exactly what the military man was saying. Urgent-sounding, jargon-laced chatter burst from the Jeep’s radio as they braked to a stop in front of the plane. Alex recognized it as a Beechcraft Baron, a four-seat twin turboprop with a decent range.
“This thing fueled for the trip?” Alex asked.
“You bet. Topped off and ready to go. Mechanic gave her the blessing just a couple of hours ago. That plane is probably the only thing you don’t need to worry about.” He pointed to the aircraft, making it clear that he would not be getting out of the Jeep. “Get going and good luck!”
Alex eyed the towering T. rex that stood maybe two hundred feet from the plane, surrounded by a contingent of soldiers peppering it with automatic weapons fire that seemed to have little effect. Alex watched as one of the men shouldered a rocket launcher and aimed it at the beast.
“Where’s the pilot?” Alex eyed the empty cockpit, wondering if he’d be called upon once more to show off his flying skills.
The soldier pointed off to their left, where a man in an aviator’s jumpsuit backpedaled as he fired a pistol at a pursuing zombie group. “He’s ready, don’t worry. Just board the aircraft.”
Alex and Veronica took off
running to the plane, Veronica squeezing off a couple of rounds at a pterodactyl that had crash-landed on the ground between them and the plane and snapped at them on broken bones as they sidled past.
They reached the plane and Alex opened the rear door and helped Veronica up inside, then got in after her. He glanced over at the T. rex, which now looked like it was about to collapse at any moment under continued assault of heavy arms fire. Then the pilot came running up to the plane, still firing his pistol.
A middle-aged man sporting a buzz cut and mirrored aviator’s sunglasses, the pilot jumped behind the wheel and yanked the door shut. His hands flew over the controls while he spoke to his two passengers without turning around.
“Name’s Atkinson, call me Skip. Buckle up, next stop Atlanta.” That was the extent of his introduction. He continued throwing switches and pressing buttons in preparation for takeoff as the whine of the engines increased in pitch. As he reached up to press a button on the ceiling console, Alex tapped Veronica’s leg and nodded his head toward the pilot’s bare arm.
A nasty-looking chunk of flesh was missing just below the elbow, the surrounding skin smeared with blood. Before Veronica could react, the pilot’s hands were on the wheel and the plane was turning slowly as it taxied into takeoff position on the runway.
Veronica pointed. “Pterodactyl, incoming! It’s diving on us!”
The pilot gunned the engine and the plane hurtled down the airstrip, rapidly gaining speed and momentum. The passengers bounced in their seats as the aircraft approached takeoff velocity while the radio erupted with base chatter.
Veronica took Alex’s hand and squeezed it as a ptero dashed across the plane’s forward path, missing the nose by scant feet. The pilot picked up the radio transmitter and shouted into it that he was taking off. Veronica turned to Alex, nodding at the pilot’s arm wound.
In a muffled voice in his ear, she asked: “Can you fly one of these?”