by Bible, Jake
“That’s your ride,” I say. Her eyes go huge and she shakes her head. “Uh, I’m not sure how keen El is to take a helicopter ride.”
“Which is why I need you to convince her, too,” Camille says, “or the package Platt took will detonate. Is he there, perhaps?”
“Nope,” I say, “he has a booboo and had to stay home from school.”
“Ah, the legendary sarcasm,” Camille sighs. “It must be exhausting being around you all day.”
“That’s what I’ve been told.”
“Is anyone from Platt’s Team there?” she asks.
“Yep,” I say.
“Then ask them what package I mean,” she says, “I’ll wait.”
“I don’t need to ask what’s in the package,” I say, “they already told me. It’s a dirty bomb.”
All eyes turn to me.
“Exactly,” Camille says. I can hear the smile in her voice. “And when it goes off it’ll render Asheville uninhabitable.”
“Yeah, that’s what I hear,” I say. “But you don’t have it, Platt does. So I’m not getting what you’re selling.”
“Did you think we’d ever let something that powerful out of our hands, Mr. Stanford? We didn’t secure Atlanta by being stupid and careless.”
“No, I guess you didn’t,” I say. “So you’re saying you let them steal it?”
“Ah, fuck,” John says, “Platt was so right.”
“I am saying that, Mr. Stanford,” she replies. “And I have the detonator right here in my hand. Since you took down the jamming array, I now have a clear signal to the package. I press this button and Asheville will be a radioactive wasteland. It’ll take a couple weeks, depending on weather, but soon your entire area of the Blue Ridge Mountains will be completely unlivable. Unless you like vomiting blood and dying of quick spreading cancers that haven’t even been discovered yet.”
“I don’t like that at all,” I say.
“Then tell my daughter and the others to get on the helicopter,” Camille says. “You have about five minutes.”
Stuart and the sisters finish bracing the door with the poles. He looks at me and shakes his head.
“Whatever she’s asking you to do, don’t, Jace,” he says. “It’s all lies and bullshit.”
“I’m texting Platt,” John says, “he’ll defuse the bomb.”
“I can hear your friends trying to sway you,” Camille says. “They can’t. They will quickly learn that the bomb has a hardwired failsafe. If the remote detonator is disconnected then it automatically explodes. There is no way to stop it, Mr. Stanford.”
Elsbeth is talking with John and Melissa then looks at me. “Give me the phone,” Elsbeth says.
“Uh, El would like to speak with you,” I say.
“That would be lovely,” Camille says. “While I speak to her you can convince the others to get on the helicopter.”
I hand the phone to Elsbeth and wait. The helicopter is close, only a couple blocks away. Elsbeth’s face goes white then turns bright red as she listens to her mother. She looks at me and smiles.
“Fuck you, Mom,” she says then drops the phone and slams her heel down on it.
“Hey!” I yell. “That was my phone, El!”
“You’ll get another one,” she snaps and walks over to John. Without saying a word, she takes his sniper rifle, checks the chamber, puts it to her shoulder, and aims at the motherfucking helicopter and HOLY FUCK SHE SHOOTS IT!
Cracks from a hole in the windshield splinter across the glass and the helicopter starts to spin out of control. It tilts to the side and then drops quickly. We feel the heat of the explosion all the way from where it crashes down in the Z herd. A black cloud of smoke rises up over the edge of the roof, filling our nostrils with the stench of fuel and burning corpses.
“What about the bomb?” I ask.
“Platt has that under control,” John says. “Kind of.”
Stuart frowns and shields his eyes from the sun. “Incoming.”
We all look in that direction and can see shapes on the horizon.
“Looks like two more helos coming our way,” John says, taking his rifle back from Elsbeth and looking through the scope. “Blackhawks. Fully loaded.”
“We need to get off this roof,” Stuart says.
“And go where?” I ask. “Have you forgotten about the undead street party below? Or the zombie rave going on in the stairwell?”
“We can take back the stairwell,” Cassie says, “that’s easy.”
“But where are we going?” I ask.
“Third floor,” Melissa says, looking up from her phone. “Critter’s on the way.”
“On the way?” I say. “On the way how? There’s nothing that can get through the Zs down there! You’d need a snow plow that’s like…two stories…tall… Oh. That sneaky bastard.”
“That’s my uncle,” Melissa smiles.
***
“On the road again,” Critter sings, his voice a raspy falsetto. “Just can’t wait to get on the road again.”
The flames are intense, even with the steel of the truck protecting them from the majority of the heat. All around them buildings on Merrimon Ave burn, burn, burn.
“Why aren’t we going faster?” Greta asks.
“Doing the soldier lady a favor,” Critter says. “She has folks around here that need saving. Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Stella asks. “There are folks up ahead that definitely need saving!”
“I get that, boss lady,” Critter says. “One of them folks is my niece, but I ain’t about to give up on…”
“There!” Lourdes shouts from the edge of the haul truck bed above them. “Slow down!”
“No slowing!” Red shouts back from the cab. “This is as slow as it gets or we’ll have Zs crawlin’ all over us!”
From the left gunfire erupts as five PCs run full out through the herd of Zs towards the haul truck. Babs is in the lead, a Mossberg 590A1 tactical shotgun blasting away, clearing space for the others. She empties her nine rounds, pumps the four extras in, and keeps going. Behind her, firing a .45 in each hand, Shots is screaming at the top of his lungs. The three PCs in back are swinging and stabbing with batons and machetes.
The furthest back PC cries out as he’s grabbed and chomped on by two Zs at once, each taking an opposite side of his neck. Blood sprays everywhere and the herd goes mad. He goes down screaming for help before his throat is completely apart. None of the PCs even glance his way, they just keep fighting.
Babs gets to the haul truck first and tosses her shotgun aside as an M-4 is dropped down to her. She spins, side-running, and lets loose, the rifle on full auto, as Shots and the other two PCs hurry past her and begin to climb up the ladders onto the platform.
“Come on!” Shots screams.
Babs slams the butt of the rifle into one, two, three Zs, drops it and runs all out, elbowing her way through the sea of undead. She lunges for the ladder, which is just out of reach as the haul truck continues down the street, and she comes up short.
There are gasps and cries from those watching as she is lost under the massive front tire. Many cover their ears, blocking out the sound of her body bursting and bones crunching under hard, vulcanized rubber.
“Jesus,” Lourdes says as she looks down on the red smear that is quickly covered in Zs, all fighting for a taste.
“Tough break,” Critter says. Lourdes whirls on him, but he holds his hands up. “I say that with all due respect, ma’am.”
“Uh, Critter?” Red calls. “Any thoughts on which way to go?”
“Well, Mr. PhD, how about straight?” Critter replies.
“That’s going to be a problem,” Red says while he drives the haul truck through the herd of Zs, and abandoned cars, shoving, crushing, pulverizing them as he steers the truck down Merrimon Ave to where it becomes Broadway. The distinction line being the overpass of I-240, which still has hundreds of Zs tumbling off the side and down to Merrimon below. “We aren’t going to clear that
overpass. The truck’s too tall.”
“Guess we’ll need to go around,” Critter says.
“Which way?” Red asks.
“Turn at the old Staples,” Critter says.
“Nope,” Red says, “there’s still an overpass that way.”
Critter scratches his chin. “Then get up on the highway.”
“Come again?” Red asks, looking over at Critter. “You want me to drive into the thick of them?”
“That off ramp is wide enough,” Critter says as he points. “Use that, then off road it across. We’ll turn on Woodfin and get back to Merrimon that way. BB&T’s only two blocks up from there.”
“Jesus, Critter,” Red says, “this isn’t the best idea.”
“Didn’t say it was,” Critter smiles, slapping the man on the back. “But it’s an idea.”
Red makes the hard left turn, crunching up over an abandoned Prius, and pushes the haul truck right into the heart of the Z herd. Critter nods then leaves the cab, walking over to a ladder that takes him up to the top of the truck so he can look down into the bed.
“Hang on, folks!” he shouts down at everyone. “This could get a might tricky!”
He has to grab onto a rail as the truck bumps and lurches its way through the Zs, then slams into the concrete divider that separates the eastbound and westbound lanes. People in the truck bed cry out in fear, but Critter just smiles, his eyes turned towards downtown. That smile leaves his face in a hurry.
“Well, that ain’t good,” he mutters as he sees the Blackhawk helicopters heading straight for the BB&T. “Guess we’s got ourselves a wrinkle.”
“Shit,” Lourdes says at his side, “we’re close to being out of ammo.”
“Get everyone up here that can shoot,” Critter says. “Time to lock, load, and pray.”
***
“So third floor, east side towards Pack Square,” Melissa says. “That’s where they’ll be.” Her phone chimes. “And we best hurry before those helicopters get to us. We’ll be sitting ducks in that open bed.”
“I took out one,” Elsbeth says. “I can take out two more.”
“But not before they launch rockets,” John says. “One of those and it’s all over.”
“First we have to get to the third floor,” Stuart says as he and the sisters stand by the door to the stairs, ready to kick loose the poles keeping the Zs in. “One step at a time, people.”
“Anyone have ammo at all?” Reaper asks.
“Just what’s left in my rifle,” John says. “Which won’t be so useful in close quarters.”
“We won’t need ammunition to get down there,” Cassie says. “Sisters? Ready?”
“Ready,” they say in unison.
“Ready,” I add, just wanting to be part of the gang. The looks I get tell me I’m not going to learn the secret handshake anytime soon. “Sorry.”
“Stay close to me,” Elsbeth says, “you’re my family.”
I nod, knowing what she means.
“One, two, three!” Stuart says as he kicks the poles out of the way.
The door bursts open and Zs come streaming out at us. It’s all blades and butts, slashing and bashing. Uh, by butts I mean butts of the rifles. I didn’t mean actual butts. Although being able to assttack someone would be pretty cool.
Cassie and the sisters take lead, followed by Stuart, John and Reaper. Elsbeth is next with me and Melissa right behind. I’m really there for moral support since we don’t have any Zs behind us. The professionals are doing all the actual work. I jam a pole up against the door to keep it propped open, giving us some light.
We make it down the first flight of stairs before a scream and a string of curses fill the stairwell.
“Dehlia’s been bit!” someone shouts. “Motherfucker!”
Shit, one of the sisters caught some Z teeth.
But we don’t slow; they just keep pushing through. Only fourteen more floors to go.
Which wouldn’t be so bad if the Zs were only in the stairwell. They aren’t.
“Fuck!” I yell as a stairway door opens and a dozen Zs try to push through at the same time.
I have a couple options here: keep running and let the Zs get through or take out some Zs while they’re wedged in like Black Friday shoppers at a Wal-Mart.
If I leave them then they’ll just be at our backs in a few minutes, making things worse. If I go after them now, then I have a very likely chance of dying. I roll my shoulder, letting the excruciating pain remind me that I’m dead anyway, I’m just the only one that knows it.
“Got ‘em!” I shout as I turn and head toward the snarling Zs.
They are pretty stuck, but I can start to see skin and flesh tearing under their rotted clothes. They’ll slip-slide their way through in no time. I don’t hesitate and go at them, Stumpageddon raised with Mr. Spikey ready to pierce some skulls.
“Long Pork!” Elsbeth shouts from below as she and Melissa realize I’m no longer behind them.
Can’t really stop and think of how pissed she is going to be at me, just have to kill, kill, kill. Faster pussycat!
Mr. Spikey drives right through one Z’s head, sending shattered, and kinda mushy, skull and brains out the back. The smell is quite lovely; a nice cross between the ass end of a dead syphilitic possum and, well, shit. Yeah, I couldn’t think of anything more creative than shit. It smelled like syphilitic possum and shit.
“Long Pork!”
“Sorry!” I yell as I punch a Z in the face then get all stabby on two other Zs.
The bodies that can get loose from the crowd slump to the ground while others just hang there, jostled and shoved by their still hungry brethren. And sistren. Is sistren a word?
The numbers are down to five and that’s when the dam breaks. Here come the Zs! They lunge at me, moving faster than I anticipate because of the sudden momentum. I have two on me and I stumble backwards, my one hand reaching for the railing. I catch it, but don’t get Stumpageddon up in time and I’m suddenly face to stanky face with a Z. Its jaws snap shut and I am close enough to see cracks form in its teeth. It chomps down again and bits of rotten enamel spray onto my cheek. Jesus these things have strong jaws.
“Get down,” Elsbeth hisses next to me.
You know, I’d really like to, but physics are not on my side. I have a Z in my face and its work buddy pushing up against it, pinning me to the railing. Stumpageddon is wedged between the Z and me and my other arm is just trying to hang onto the rail so I don’t fall and get covered by Zs.
Oh, wait, my hand.
I let go and the weight of the Zs takes me down to the concrete landing. I watch as Elsbeth decapitates one, coating me in Z blood, and then kills the other, yet again coating me in more Z blood. Joy.
“Get up,” she says and grabs me by my bad shoulder as I try to pull myself up buy the railing.
“AAAAAA! FUCK!” I scream as she wrenches my shoulder.
“Are you hurt, Jace?” Melissa asks, helping me to my feet. “Did one of those Zs bite you?”
“No,” I say. Which is the truth. One of those Zs didn’t. But…
I can see the suspicion in their eyes and neither of them tries to hide the look they give each other.
“I swear on my family’s souls that neither of those Zs bit me,” I say, “cross my heart and hope to die.”
“That’s not something to hope for,” Elsbeth says, getting right in my face. “So don’t say that.”
“Aye aye, captain,” I say. “Can we go now?”
“Come on,” Melissa says and led us down the stairs.
The rest of the group is about three floors ahead of us and we have to jump and hop over Z corpses every step of the way. It’s a bit of the apocalypse two-step because not all of the Zs are stilled. Some of them have had their legs and arms chopped off, making them immobile, but still dangerous with the chompers.
I kick in a couple Z faces, careful not to lose my footing in the gunk slick stairs, and stay close to Elsbeth and Melissa. The
y are busy themselves finishing off the Zs that have taken a licking, but keep on ticking. We’re almost one floor above the rest of the team when another scream fills the air.
Then the rage yells hit and the entire stairwell is filled with the sounds of women shouting and bones crunching. I can hear Stuart yelling for them to get control of themselves, but as I look over the railing, all I see are women going all Viking berserk on some Zs.
We race to the next landing and stand there stunned; well, Melissa and I are stunned, but Elsbeth is grinning from ear to ear. So, being Elsbeth, she jumps in. Can’t blame her since it looks like so much fun…if you are a rage monster from hell.
A Z arm is ripped right out of the shoulder by Steph and she slams it into the thing’s head, again and again. That’s a favorite move of mine; beating a Z to death with its own arm. Priceless!
Cassie has a Z by the throat and I can see its skin sloughing off around her hand, but she doesn’t care. She also doesn’t care about the snapping jaws as she brings the fucker’s face right up against hers so they are almost touching, nose to nose. Then SNAP and the thing’s neck cracks in half. The weight of its body pulls the neck flesh apart and all Cassie has left in her hand is part of a spine and the head. Which is still snapping at her. She blows it a kiss then throws the head against the wall. It explodes like a ripe melon.
Next to her, pretty much shoulder to shoulder, is Brittany. And that woman is crazy! She grabs a Z by the head then jumps up against the wall, almost walking across it, coming down hard on the other side. The Z’s head is twisted completely around and then all I see is her fist come exploding out of the thing’s belly with part of its spine! She yanks back and the Z folds in on itself, but before it can fully fall, she grabs the head and rips it off then crushes it against the wall. Holy fuck!
Audrey is right behind and she actually tackles a Z around the waist, but instead of falling all the way down she uses her momentum to flip herself over it, landing on her feet with the Z wrapped in her arms upside down. The thing is thrashing against her, its jaws trying to bite her calves, but she could give a shit as she drops onto her ass. Fucking piledriver! The Z turns into a crumpled mess of bone and blech.