Becker nodded in the direction of the apartment complex, where they had a clear path with no ghouls in their way. “All right, let’s do this.”
As they closed in on the front gate, they realized just how tall it really was. The eight-foot-tall slotted iron looked to be on a motor, held together by tough stone walls running the perimeter of the property.
Becker cocked his head as he peered in at the machinery. “Yates, you think you can get that thing going?” he asked.
“Should be able to,” his companion replied. “Those bad boys usually have a manual release in case the power goes out. Can’t be having rich folks be stuck in their apartments, after all.”
Becker crouched down and laced his fingers together. “Okay, let’s get you over, then,” he said.
Yates planted his boot in his cupped hands and easily sprung up over the gate, landing gracefully on the other side with a loud thud. The noise attracted a few zombies from the highway, and Jean pursed her lips in concern as she noticed them turning and ambling in their direction.
“Hey, Becker, we’ve got company,” she said.
He glanced over and then waved them off. “I wouldn’t worry about them.” He shook his head. “They’re gonna have trouble getting over the guard rail. And even if they did, the fall down the hill would cripple them anyway.”
She kept a wary eye despite his reassurance, watching them struggle with the guard rail. One of them let out a screech of frustration, and they both began to moan loudly in anticipation of a meal. Both Becker and Jean froze as moans echoed from inside the complex in response.
“Should we worry about that?” she asked.
Becker leaned over to look at Yates. “Hey, buddy, how’s that gate coming?”
“Slow, some dumbass put a padlock on the motor cover,” the Private replied. “Trying to pick it.”
There was a rustling in the bushes about twenty yards from the gate, and Becker gripped the iron bars. “Pretty sure you can just shoot it off,” he called.
“You sure?” Yates asked, brow furrowing.
As a few zombies emerged from the bushes, Becker drew his handgun and aimed. “Really sure!” he cried, and then fired three times, dropping the first three corpses quickly.
The echoing moans from inside the complex grew louder, drawn by the noise, and Yates’ eyes widened.
“Holy shit,” he breathed, and took a step back, firing several times into the lock. It finally pinged open and he dove forward, studying the motor for the manual release.
“Forget the fucking gate!” Becker cried as he holstered his gun, and laced his hands together again. “Help me get Jean over!”
Yates ran back to them as she put her foot securely in his companion’s hands.
“Just roll over and he’ll catch you,” Becker explained.
She nodded firmly, bracing her hands on his shoulders. “Got it,” she said.
He tossed her up, and she pushed off of him like a springboard, catching the top of the gate with her arms and using the momentum to propel her body upwards. She planted her foot on top and managed to swing over, holding on and glancing down nervously.
“Let go, girl, I got you,” Yates encouraged her, and she took a deep breath before letting go. He caught her waist and her feet touched down softly.
Becker whipped around and drew his rifle, switching to three round bursts to try to hold off the horde that was now growing into the dozens. He emptied the magazine and then turned back to the gate.
“Jean, catch the gun,” he said, and without waiting for a response, he tossed the assault rifle over the top.
She jumped forward and barely caught it, and watched with wide eyes as Becker took a run at the stone wall. He leapt against the one side, planting his foot into the pillar to give him more lift, and sprung up to grip the top of the gate with both hands. He let out a loud grunt as he pulled himself up, vaulting over and flopping back onto the other side.
Yates caught him, though they stumbled back a little bit. “You all right?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Becker replied, letting go and brushing himself off. “Let’s get a move on.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jean handed Becker his gun, and he reloaded it as they backed away from the gate. Leaving it closed was the only option, as it was now completely covered in moaning, rotting corpses. It bowed and creaked a little but held.
“Good thing you didn’t get it open,” Becker said.
Yates nodded, eyes wide. “Never been more thankful to fail a task in my life.”
They turned and headed through the complex, keeping their weapons at the ready. There were only a few cars in the parking lot, definitely a lot less than would have normally been around for all of the residents.
“Looks like those who could, picked up and got the fuck out,” Yates said.
“This thing hit pretty early on a work day,” Jean replied, shaking her head. “A lot of these people are probably dead on the interstate.”
Becker clucked his tongue. “Ironic.”
“How so?” Yates furrowed his brow.
His companion shook his head. “All those people sitting in rush hour traffic day after day after day, probably wishing for death a thousand times. And now they got their wish.”
Yates shivered. “You know what, that one’s close enough.”
A loud clang echoed in the distance, and Jean swallowed. “What the hell was that?”
The soldiers glanced at each other with concern.
“That sound like the gate to you?” Yates asked.
Becker nodded. “Let’s get to the office.”
They picked up the pace, jogging across the parking lot to the front office. In the employee parking spots, there were two black SUVs with the Shady Grove Apartment logo branded on the side in swirly gold lettering. Directly behind them, the office door was slightly ajar, but there was no movement in the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Becker stepped inside cautiously, sweeping his gun back and forth as he headed into the dim office. Jean stayed close behind him, and Yates brought up the rear, closing and locking the door behind them.
He stepped up beside the other soldier. “Bring ‘em to us?” he asked.
Becker nodded. “My legs hurt, I’m game.”
Yates knelt and smacked the butt of his rifle against the marble floor, echoing sharp cracks through the building. It was a large open area, and almost immediately moans carried back to them from the offices on the far side.
The soldiers led the way in that direction. All of the office doors were closed, and they found the one that was vibrating with smacks of zombie hands. Yates stood off to the side, and reached over to turn the knob and throw the door open.
Becker couldn’t see anything in the darkness, but fired a few shots at head level. The moaning stopped in favor of the sound of bodies crumbling to the ground, and he stepped inside to make sure that he’d gotten them all. Yates knelt and smacked the ground again, but there were no answering noises this time.
Jean pulled out two little flashlights, and held one out to Becker. “Ready to go find us some keys?” she asked.
He clicked it on and offered her a smile. “I appreciate the eagerness, but let me do a quick sweep just to be safe.”
She nodded and stayed behind with Yates as their leader made quick work of running through the last few rooms.
“Okay, we’re good,” he declared as he strode back to them. “Yates, I want you to keep an eye on the front. That horde already took down a metal gate, and while those giant windows are beautiful, I doubt they have much load capacity. If they show up here, we need to be ready.”
“On it,” his companion said, and hurried back to the front door.
Becker turned to Jean. “Let’s start the hunt,” he said, and they headed to the first set of desks.
They rummaged through drawers, pulling out every one and digging for anything even resembling a key. They checked in filing cabinets, in the pockets of any clothes strewn over
chair backs, on the floor beneath in case anything got dropped.
“Nothing but fucking apartment keys,” Becker grunted as he tossed aside yet another set he’d found.
Jean finished with the desk she was going through, feeling equally deflated, but then spotted a purse sitting on the windowsill nearby. “Oh, please tell me you were a naughty manager,” she murmured, and hurried over. She dumped the purse out onto the desk, rummaging through random candy wrappers and makeup, she found a set of car keys on a Shady Grove keyring. “I think I’ve got them!” she declared, holding them up above her head like a precious artifact.
“Thank fucking christ,” Becker replied, “cause I haven’t found shit.”
She held them out to him as he approached her, and offered a grin. “I mean, unless you want me to chauffeur you two around?”
He returned it as he took the keys. “Tempting thought, but I got this.”
They headed back to the front, and Yates held up a hand to stop them. He put a finger to his lips and waved them forward to a crouch behind the front desk.
“Those bastards are out there,” he said, motioning to the parking lot. There were at least three-dozen zombies milling about, in and around the cars. At least they hadn’t clustered around the door, but it still wasn’t an ideal situation.
“Goddamn they just keep multiplying,” Jean groaned.
Becker held up the fob on the car keys, hitting the lock button. One of the SUV’s lit up and gave a happy little beep, agitating the zombies nearby.
“What the hell did you do that for?” Yates hissed.
Becker took a deep breath. “Well, if we’re going to fight our way through these things, I wanted to make damn sure we have the right set of keys.”
“Now that you’re sure,” his companion said with a shrug, “how do you want to play this?”
“Fuck man, I don’t know,” Becker admitted. “You got any bright ideas?”
The trio looked around the room for anything to give them a lightbulb moment.
Yates motioned to the furniture in the lobby. “Maybe we can pull that couch into the doorway here and use it as a stopgap? Then we can pop those things in the head as they get close?”
Becker pursed his lips. “But if the noise we make attracts more, we could run out of ammo.”
“True,” Yates admitted, “but at the moment that sounds like our only solid plan A.”
“Let’s put it on the back burner as plan B, and keep working on a plan A,” Becker suggested.
Jean ducked back into the office she’d found the keys in, and snatched a map of the property from the wall. She spread it out on a table out of sight from the front windows, waving for the soldiers to come see. She stared at it, illuminating it with the flashlight, and tapped her finger on the community pool area.
“Hey guys, I think I’ve got a plan,” she said as they approached.
“We’ve got nothing but shit ideas on our end,” Becker admitted with a shrug. “What you got?”
“Okay, we’re in the office here.” She pointed to the map. “And all the zombies are in the front parking lot, right?”
Yates nodded. “And we definitely do not have a safe way of getting out there.”
She took a deep breath. “So we let them in.”
Yates raised an eyebrow and turned to Becker. “My plan B ain’t looking so bad now, is it?” he joked.
Jean scowled at him. “I’m not finished.”
“Sorry.” The Private put up his hands in surrender.
“So, once again,” she continued, “we let them in. We keep their attention as long as we possibly can. Once it starts getting too close for comfort, we open the doors to the pool behind us. As long as we keep their attention, they’re going to follow us. We get them into the pool area, and we take this side walkway around the building, right up to where the SUV is.”
Yates furrowed his brow, leaning over the map. “Won’t they just follow us?”
“Nope,” Jean replied, tapping on that section of the map. “There’s chest high gates with a magnetic lock, so it’ll work even without power. We get out, they’re trapped in.”
The soldiers glanced at each other and chuckled.
She frowned. “What’s so funny?”
Yates put his hands up again. “Trust me, we aren’t laughing at you.”
“We just think it’s funny that a SuperCenter shipping manager has more tactical sense than half of the superior officers we worked under out in the field,” Becker added.
“So… you think it’s a good plan?” Jean asked.
Becker nodded. “It’s fucking brilliant. Let’s do it.”
After doing a quick sweep of the pool area and making sure the magnetic gate was as secure as they’d assumed it was, they gathered in the community room.
“All clear,” Yates declared. “We’re good to go.”
Becker motioned to the front windows. “Jean, would you like to do the honors?” he asked.
She grinned. “Absolutely.” She aimed her gun at the front floor-to-ceiling glass, and pulled the trigger. It shattered, shards raining down onto the sleek marble floor of the ritzy apartment office. The zombies in the parking lot immediately swarmed the lobby, excited by the sudden turn of events. Jean shot out two more windows to give them a good pathway to the pool, and the horde screeched as they poured inside.
The trio backed into the pool area, and Yates rushed to the gate to make sure it was ready to go. Jean and Becker continued to move slowly, hoping to draw the horde as best they could. They picked up patio chairs and tossed them into the path of the oncoming zombies, sending the corpses stumbling over each other. A few of them fell into the pool, but the rest continued to gain on the trio.
“Close enough for my comfort,” Becker said when the gap between them closed to about ten yards.
He threw up a hand and Yates opened the gate. The three of them slipped through and then slammed it shut behind them. They stood there as bait for another few moments, making sure that as many creatures as possible poured into the pool area.
“Let’s get to the SUV,” Becker finally said, and they darted up the side walkway. They reached the corner of the building, and he peered around the corner, seeing two zombies still in the parking lot. “Two left, apparently not impressed by our show,” he muttered. “Be ready to move,” he said, and then stepped out, popping both zombies in the head. “Next stop, SuperCenter!” he declared as they jogged across to the SUV.
“Shotgun!” Jean said brightly.
Yates grinned at her as he opened the passenger door and waved her in. “Hell, girl, after the way that plan went off, it’s all yours!”
“Such a gentleman,” she replied as she clambered up into her seat. “Your momma would be proud.”
Yates closed the door and hopped into the back seat. “I’d like to think so.”
Becker fired up the engine and peeled out with a satisfying screech of tires, taunting the zombies one last time before leaving them in their pool prison.
CHAPTER NINE
Strickland handed his binoculars over to Paul as the trio crouched in the grass within 50 yards from the main Sky Tours building.
“How we looking?” the Corporal asked.
Paul pursed his lips as he surveyed his old place thoroughly. “The refueling truck is going to be parked in front,” he explained. “Keys are going to be in the main office, so if we take out that trio of zombies on the landing pad we can go in through the back door without much trouble.”
“What about on the inside?” Strickland asked. “Are we going to have any nasty surprises when we go in?”
Paul shook his head, lowering the spectacles. “Doubtful,” he replied. “Only had one employee and they came to the shelter with me. Doors were locked tight and I can think of about a hundred better places to take shelter.”
“Okay, let’s do it then,” the Corporal declared. “Goodman, silent kills only, we don’t need any unwanted attention. While we handle that, Paul,
you’re on door duty. You got your keys?”
He pulled a keyring from his pocket and gave them a little jingle before handing back the binoculars.
Strickland nodded and clipped them back to his belt. “Okay, let’s move,” he said, and pushed up to a bent-over position and began the jog across the field. As they hit the blacktop, the noise of their boots on asphalt attracted the attention of the three zombies staggering about.
They were grouped together, so the Corporal rushed up and slammed his shoulder into the closest one’s abdomen, sending it toppling back into the others. The three all fell to the ground, and flailed around in frustration to try to untangle and get back to their feet.
Goodman and Strickland made quick work of them with blades to the head, and soon the three corpses lay still.
Paul unlocked the door and stood at it as he waited for the other two to join him.
“Why aren’t you going on?” Strickland asked as they approached.
Paul took a deep breath as he grasped the knob. “Because, I’ve been wrong before and it’s bitten me in the ass,” he explained. “If I’m wrong this time it could be a literal ass-biting.”
The Corporal cracked a smile and motioned for him to go ahead. He raised his weapon and moved in quickly as Paul threw open the door, doing a quick sweep about the empty warehouse.
“We’re clear,” he said, and Goodman ushered Paul in before securing the door.
The pilot strode quickly for his office, easily locating his keys in the organized chaos. “Got em,” he called as he reentered the warehouse, “let’s get outta here!”
“Guys, that might not be so easy,” Goodman declared from the front window. The others joined him, and froze, wide-eyed.
“Fuck me…” Strickland breathed, jaw dropping to the floor.
The refueling truck stood in the front parking lot, near the road. An SUV was plastered into the front of it, melding the two together into a spectacular mess. Two zombies in the SUV flailed and thrashed in the front seats, trapped by their seat belts and the hood of the vehicle crushing them in.
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