“Hey. I gave you one of my last energy drinks!” Mindy said as she continued up the stairs ahead of me.
“Not you.” I grunted and hit my vape pen. “Her.”
I pulled out my pack of smokes, salvaged one or two that hadn’t been crushed in the battle, stuck one in my mouth, and lit it.
“I’m pretty sure I saw a sign that said no smoking,” Roger said.
“I guess someone can write me up and send the complaint to the doc,” I muttered, as I lit my cigarette.
“Fuck it. Give me one of those.” Roger pointed at the pack. “I thought we were going to die down there. I guess a cigarette is currently the least of my problems.”
I shrugged and shook one out for him, completely forgetting the fact that less than half an hour ago I had made a solemn promise to myself to give up smoking as soon as possible.
Roger hadn’t stopped grumbling since we had left Elizabeth and her zombie wannabe bestie behind. I didn’t blame him. He’d come here in the hopes of getting some more information for his conspiracy buds, and maybe play the hero a little bit. He had certainly gotten his fair share out of Elizabeth. Now all he had to do was figure out how to get it out to his fellow nuts.
There was no doubt in my mind that the opportunity to run around brandishing guns didn’t hurt, either. Roger had gotten a lot more than he bargained for, even though he needed to get over this blowing off his ammo hang up. It’s like, dude, you’re alive thanks to all of the rounds you purchased. Get a grip.
Sure, Mitch, Mindy, and Elizabeth had borrowed some of his weapons, but without their help we would be running wild with the ragers right about now. Cure or no cure, I had no desire to find out what that felt like.
We came to the first floor and Mitch continued to lead the way to the exit. At any second I expected a hallway of rage zombies to show up and chase us right back downstairs, but so far we had either been lucky, or they were on another floor. I found it hard to believe that the building’s infected were confined to just the lower level.
“When we get out of here, who’s up for a trip to Chick-fil-A?” I asked.
“Might not be such a good idea, man. We had the radio playing while we were waiting, and it sounds like even more of the city is being shut down,” Mitch said. “Some entire blocks are now inaccessible. Plus, it’s Sunday.”
“Sunday? I guess I forgot. Anyway, that makes sense. If the virus does have an incubation time, as Latimer said, then it might be that people who were infected hours ago are just now reaching their full potential,” I said.
“Full potential?” Mitch asked.
“You know what I mean. Elizabeth told us that the virus is like an infant that needs to grow,” Mitch said.
“I don’t remember that part.” I scratched my head.
“You were a little out of it for a while there.” Mitch put his hand on my shoulder. “You know, when you fainted like a little girl with a scraped elbow.”
“You know what? You can go fuck yourself right into the next rager get together.” I smacked his hand aside.
“I’m kidding, man. You just sort of checked out for a while. The doctor kept checking on you,” Mitch said. “So that was nice.”
“She may have a thing for me,” I said, stupidly. “But I’m going to have to put the brakes on that. She’s not exactly playing with a full deck, if you know what I mean. Plus there’s the whole honesty thing.”
“Not what I meant.” Mitch nodded sagely. “She kept checking your temperature and your eyes. I think she was worried that you had become infected. Don’t worry. I told her you were too dumb to get infected.”
I made my hand into a fist, and made a show out of slowly turning a small crank that lifted my middle finger for Mitch’s benefit.
“Could have been either of us, honestly,” Roger put in. “We were surrounded, fighting hand to hand. I got some of that eye-gunk on me. So gross. I don’t know if there’s enough showers in the world to wash that stank off.”
“Haha.” Mindy laughed. “Stank.”
“How baked is she?” Roger turned and whispered in my direction, to which I shrugged.
A few minutes later, Mitch took a turn, and ahead of us lay a dark door at the end of a short hallway.
“That’s it.” Mitch pointed.
“So who’s going to scope out the cars?” Roger asked.
“You have the biggest gun,” I replied.
“You got that right, man.” Roger smirked.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” I sighed.
“I vote Jake. Anyone second?” Mitch said.
“Me. Like, I totally second Jake to check out the vampire zombies.” Mindy grinned.
“You can’t combine zombies and vampires. One’s dead, and the other’s undead,” Mitch said.
“Half-dead can be a thing,” Roger said. “They only go out at night, but they live on flesh, not blood.”
“That’s idiotic,” I replied.
“Wait. What if vampires kept human pets during a zombie apocalypse so they have a constant supply of blood?” Mitch said, I’m sure just to annoy me.
“Oh my god. I’m going just so I can get away from this stupid conversation,” I said in frustration. “Seriously. You guys sound like you’re on one of those podcasts that talk about ridiculous stuff like mutant chickens at KFC.”
“Or, like, rage zombies?” Mitch said with a shrug.
“Fuck all you all,” I said.
* * *
Mindy handed me her radio. Roger handed me his pistol, a Glock, and Mitch handed me the rest of his energy drink. I downed the Bawls, slid the gun into my waistband, and carried the Motorola in my left hand. I needed my right hand free so I could take out my vape pen.
My ‘friends’ talked me up as I walked toward what was probably going to be my death at the hands of a half dozen rage zombies. But if I was going out, it wasn’t before I sucked on my vape pen a few times.
I put my hand on the door, took another long draw, and then blew fake smoke at the ceiling.
“Maybe you can go out there in a fog and the ragers won’t see you. You can float right into the parking lot, reconnoiter for us, and come back in one piece,” Roger said.
Mindy blew me a kiss, while Mitch followed her lead and did the same thing with an extra wrist flourish. God, those two were so weird.
I closed my eyes, took one more slow drag, and then pushed open the door.
22
Sirens sounded in the distance. Gunshots echoed around the city. A helicopter roared overhead before veering north. Another siren answered the second but they sounded like there were headed in opposite directions. Even though we were in a section of town that had been mostly empty earlier, the sound of a woman screaming for help still reached my ears.
“What in the hell?” I said out loud. How had things gone south so quickly?
I stuck my head out of the doorway and looked both ways. The coast was clear, so I opened the door and stepped outside.
A hulking figure came into view before I could say, “Where did you come from, fella?”
Frank Evans had looked like shit yesterday. Today he looked like he had been run over by a truck covered in raw hamburger meat. His eyes, not that I could see them thanks to the mucus, locked on mine, and he let out a guttural howl of rage. He must have been lingering behind the shrubs that edged the building.
Yesterday, Frank had been strong, but he had been disoriented. Today was a different story. He basically flew across the ground, jumped into the air, and then crashed down on me. I tried to slide one foot back in an attempt to reinforce my stance, but it was useless, as Frank dragged me down before I could utter a cry for help.
The gun triggered in my grasp as I shot him in the chest several times. The muffled thumps hammered against my stomach. Evans took the blows like a pro and kept on fighting me.
His mouth came in hot and fast. I pulled my face to the side and he ended up nuzzling my neck as he tried to get a piece of the action, the action being m
y skin and cartilage. Slimy mucus rubbed across my cheek. His breath smelled like a cat had barfed up roadkill and then put it in the slow cooker.
I struggled away from him, pushed, prodded, used my legs and knees, but Frank didn’t have any interest in letting me go until he’d had a taste, which wasn’t going to take long since I didn’t have a lot of energy left in me. Practically an entire morning of fighting ragers, combined with a lack of sleep and the remnants of my hangover, equaled a very worn out half-assed warrior.
I pounded the side of his head with the radio, and each time it struck, the button was triggered.
“…what’s hap…”, smack, “… fight”, smack, “…you okay”, smack, “… dude”.
The gun thumped into my chest as I shot Frank again. The round punched through his upper chest and hopefully went through his spine, because screw you, zombie Frank Evans.
Frank collapsed on me but one of his hands still worked. I knew this because it was currently attached to my face as Frank tried to gouge out my eyes. His mouth moved rapidly, lips smacking and jaws clacking. His tongue, a gnarled slug-looking thing, slipped out, and he actually tasted me.
I shoved the gun up under his chin, leaned my head to the side, and said a prayer that I didn’t blow my own stupid head off in the process. I pulled the trigger and the retort came immediately. The side of Frank’s head erupted in blood as part of his skull blew off. Blood and brain matter splattered on my face, but I kept my eyes closed, as well as my mouth. One thing we had not discussed, and let’s just say it was a huge fucking oversight, was the fact that we knew the virus needed a bite to be transferred, but what about simply being covered in rage zombie juice?
I blew out a breath and heaved Frank off of my chest, then ripped off my shirt and wiped as much gore as I could off of my face, neck, ears, hair, and just about everywhere else. I shouldn’t have been so pissy with Elizabeth until after I’d had a chance to ask Latimer a few more questions about how the virus worked.
“I’m covered in this crap. Can I get the thing from this stuff?” I struggled to find my breath as I rolled to all fours and spoke to Roger over the radio.
“You can’t get the thing from that stuff. But the thing will get you via a bite, and then you have the stuff. It spreads just like in the movies, dude. A special fuck you from our friends at DARPA,” Roger said. “At least that’s what Latimer said, but he said it in his pussy voice.”
“Like, that is so rude.” Mindy chided Roger in the background.
I rolled my eyes, got to my feet, put my back to the wall, and then ejected the magazine to find I had fired off five rounds in one fight. At this rate, I would have to change magazines after killing two or three more, unless I managed to get a few headshots.
I raced toward the side of the building and found the parking lot much as we had observed in the video on Elizabeth’s tablet. Ragers prowling, sniffing at the air, staring at the darkening sky, and generally looking crazy as fuck. I was surprised that they hadn’t been attracted by the gunshots, but as I listened, there were more blasts around us, and from many directions. We weren’t the only ones fighting out there.
I was about to move out, and take to the side of the long, paved lot beneath a bunch of trees, when a noise drew my attention.
Gunfire rippled out as the back door we had entered this morning slammed open, and Elizabeth appeared. She dropped a big black case on the loading dock, aimed again, and then blew a rager right off her feet.
Latimer staggered against the wall behind her. He pointed and said something, but I couldn’t make it out.
Ten or twelve ragers made right for Elizabeth. If they had been slow zombies, she would have had a chance at taking them out, but these were all fast, and they wanted a piece. I half-expected Latimer to lower his tarp, hold out his hand, and point at them. They would all come under his control, and he would direct them away.
Too bad that shit didn’t happen.
“It’s our chance,” I said into the radio. “Everyone out. The docs have the attention of the ragers and they’ve cleared us a path for the cars.”
“On it,” Roger said.
A few seconds later the side door crashed open and he came out, guns in both hands, while Mindy stayed close to him, and Mitch, carrying the little pistol I had used earlier, covered their rear.
They closed on me and, with Roger taking the lead, we headed straight for his Hummer. It was a quick dash taking us right to the back. Roger opened the trunk, and then tossed one of his guns inside, but then maneuvered another box around and popped it open.
“Everyone in,” Roger ordered.
I couldn’t tear my eyes off of Elizabeth. She shot a rager, but three more took his place, and one of them leapt atop the loading zone. Indecision ate at my stomach. I should leave her here. What had she done other than lie to me and my friends? Even if she was a pawn, as she had implied, she was still full of shit.
In the distance automatic weapons fire erupted. A car crashed into something and then there was a scream, whether a rager, or someone being chased by one, I couldn’t tell.
Fuck!
“Be right back,” I said like the utter idiot I am.
* * *
Body aching, limbs leaden, barely able to catch my breath, light-headed with the effort, and wishing for more than the first time today that I had given up smoking a year ago, I raced across the ground until I closed on the first rage-bitch. The woman was shorter than me, and her pants weren’t fastened so they sort of rode around her butt, and I can assure you, it was about as unsexy an image as you can imagine because for some damn reason this rager seemed to have forgotten that she need to drop her drawers to do her business. I shot her in the back of the head and I’m sure she thanked me from heaven, or wherever, then I raced on even though I wanted to stop, put my hands on my knees, and pretend like I wasn’t about to pass out again.
A gun sounded from behind me, and a rager who had been close to the back of the building dropped in mid-step. I stumbled, looked over my shoulder, and found Roger in a kneeling position with a big black assault rifle of some sort in his hands. He panned the gun, and for a second I thought he had it aimed at me.
I ducked but he waved me on.
“Go, man. I’m being careful!” Roger shouted.
“Easy for you to say, you don’t have a gun aimed at your back!” I yelled back.
The gun cracked again, and a rager who had been closing in on Elizabeth bounced against the wall and dropped, then twitched across the ground as it still tried to get to her.
It was like the city came alive then. More gunshots echoed Roger’s as people opened up on what I assumed were even more ragers. Latimer’s words about how the virus needed an incubation period came back to me. Were the infected just now coming out of their stages of denial, or sickness, and rising as rage zombies? How long did we have before the entire city was crawling with them?
The sun continued to fall as night came on. I wondered if we would have a chance to get anywhere once it was full dark.
Only seven or eight more, and I would have done my good deed for the hour. Sign me up for an Eagle Scout badge, or whatever they give zombie killing maniacs who rescued the damsel in distress. In a way it was only right that I came back for Elizabeth. She had been the one who’d led the assault on the rage zombies who had kept us trapped in the lab below. I guess you could call it karma.
“I’m coming, Elizabeth!” I yelled. “Hold them off for a few more seconds.”
Imagine if you will, me, running across the expanse of a parking lot, gun blazing, support fire behind me, just like something out of a video game. Cool image, right? Now imagine a man coming out of no-goddamn-where and plowing into me with the force of an F-250 truck.
He was bigger than Frank Evans, and he was madder. Foam dripped from his mouth just as mucus fell from his eye sockets. I heard him coming, got my head around, and barely had one arm in place to take the brunt, but it wasn’t enough.
Do you
know how much it hurts to get road-rashed by a big dude who wants to eat your face? I do. It sucks!
The asphalt bit into my exposed elbow, ripped skin, the back of my head smacked the surface and bright motes danced before my eyes. I exhaled every breath I had ever taken in my life, and there was nothing there to replace it. Worse, the gun went flying. How many times had I recognized that as a dumb plot twist in a tv show or movie? A character has their grip on a weapon, and suddenly it is slipping away because the writers called for it.
Stupid writers.
Stupid real fucking life!
That gun slid across the ground and might as well have been on the roof of the building because I had no way of dragging my ass two feet to grab it.
The man’s face came at my chest, his teeth got a hold of my shirt and skin, and tried to rip off both. I screamed in pain and pushed him away with one hand against his neck, the other punching, with very little force, his temple. I nailed him three times, but the blows felt like I was striking a side of meat, Rocky style. I might as well have been punching a couch pillow for all the effect it had.
I was so screwed. Again. Third time in a day, but I think this was going to be the last time, because this guy was about to kill me. Or rip my skin off, and I would soon be just like him. That was, unless Roger shot me in the head first.
So much for being a well-trained video game zombie killing machine. Goodbye, cruel world. I hope you’re nicer to me in the next.
23
Suddenly the remnants of daylight hit me.
The weight lifted off my chest as the man slid across my body. Mitch came into view as he dragged the rager by the leg. Mindy kicked at the zombie for what it was worth, but he was a big mofo, and he took the blows like a champ.
But not for long. She put her gun right next to his head, a foot or two from me, and pulled the trigger. The rager’s head struck the ground, bounced back up, and blood and brain matter spewed everywhere. I was so covered in gore I would be the best extra ever in whatever horror movie was currently filming in town.
Dawn of the Rage Apocalypse Page 16