Zombie Mountain

by J. R. Rain

  Carla stretched and wiggled to face the carpet. There’s got to be something, she told herself. She remembered the tiny objects Joe and Mike had used to their benefit; a simple bobby pin, a nail. Arms bound behind her, she used her feet to feel for something she could use.

  She was sweating; Cole would wonder what she’d been up to. But Carla didn’t care. As far as she was concerned, they weren’t on speaking terms. Oh, I want to kill him, she thought as she swept her shoes methodically across the floor.

  She imagined how she would kill him, in what way she would take his life. Thinking of the possibilities, she almost missed it. But there it was... a pen. She contorted into an impossible position to see it. A Bic ballpoint.

  Carla kicked off her shoes and tried to grasp the smooth sides with her toes. She was on her stomach now, her intent to bring the pen up behind her...it fell onto the passenger seat. Damn it. She glanced up to find Cole returning alone.

  Salty drops slid into her eyes. Maybe she could get it if she sat back in her seat. And her shoes...

  He was studying the stadium as he walked. Carla wriggled again onto her back, sliding as far as she could into her seat. She shoved her shoes back on; one of the heels collapsed, she tried again. Meanwhile, Cole turned his gaze to her. She tried to appear calm, all the while searching for the pen behind her as he drew nearer. Her hand found it with just enough time to slide it into her pants and inside her underwear, which kept it snug against her skin. She could feel it poking her and wondered if it was visible from the outside.

  “What have you been up to?” he asked, his voice cold. Carla ignored him at first, looking straight ahead. She’d wiped some sweat onto her jacket, but her hair was messed up.

  She glared at him, unable to answer.

  “Whatever it is you’re doing, it won’t work,” he advised. He unlocked the cuffs again. “Time to get going.”

  He drove the SUV down the empty stadium concourse ahead until they reached the Press Room. He’d emptied the SUV of all weaponry and shattered several beer bottles, spreading the glass across the floor. Obviously, this was intended to alert him when someone attempted to rescue her and Anna. She watched him type on the computers, and test the sound system. At one point, he asked her, “Hear that?”

  Other than the initial test signals, she heard nothing. It wasn’t until he turned her face to view the ballpark and its surroundings that she saw legions of the undead approach en masse from the hills, slowly ambling toward them. He wanted to make sure she saw them. Carla was amazed and frightened by how many there were.

  “High-pitched sound,” he explained. “We can’t hear it, but the crazies can. Like dogs. I hope your friends are ready for this. If they are, it will be a fun, ah, ballgame.”

  He’d kept the soundless pitch going, apparently from the huge speakers throughout the park, until the zombies crowded the fences and gates, pushing against them. Some of them found a way in. Carla watched in horror as he hit another switch. The classic organ started the song, and “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” blared through the park. The mob intensified their efforts, pushing their way through any open gates. Soon, they wandered the ball field, their ears attuned to the now-eerie song and the high-pitched signal.

  They climbed the stairs, dragged themselves over seats, and more and more came. They made their way into the concourses and smaller halls, searching, yet unable to find the source of the alluring sound.

  Cole lit a cigarette and smiled into Carla’s smoldering eyes. “Aren’t you excited, sugar lips?” he asked, though her mouth was taped. She didn’t bat an eye when he exhaled a cloud of smoke into her face. “This is it. The final move, the nitty-gritty, as they used to say.”

  Carla fought to appear stoic. She wondered what the others were doing. Jack was probably frantic. She knew they’d come for her. She prayed it was soon. The longer they waited, the worse things would get. That’s how it looked as the music blasted, and they kept coming.

  Despite her growing anxiety, she was determined to win the staring game with Cole. She knew police psychology; undoubtedly, he was also well educated in behavioral science. They couldn’t bullshit each other with psychology strategies. She wouldn’t even give him the satisfaction of knowing she was about to pee her pants.

  Then the look on Cole’s face changed, and Carla saw what she hoped would never be there. A leering look of mad desire.

  “I’m tired of talking to myself,” he said. He reached forward and ripped the tape from her mouth, opening her fat lip again. Blood dripped down Carla’s jaw. “I might let you clean yourself up a little,” he said casually.

  “How kind of you.”

  “Now, don’t be like that. I’m keeping you alive, aren’t I? I could toss you out there and be done with you just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “As a matter of fact, I’m going to untie you. I’ll need your shoes first, and to frisk you. You understand, I’m sure.” He didn’t wait for a response. It was simple to tie her shoes into a complicated knot that would take some work before she could use them again. He pulled her to a standing position and searched her, his hands lingering at her breasts and inner thighs and ignoring the pen stuck into the back of her underwear. Still Carla kept her wits and didn’t break or react. Outwardly. Inside, her rage increased as she swore again she’d see him dead before the end of what she now believed would be a bloody battle on the horizon.

  Cole waited just outside the bathroom, keeping the door open, watching her. She washed the blood from her face and blotted the wound with toilet paper. When she came out, he gave her a soda and a pretzel.

  Carla downed the entire soda, unable to stop herself from drinking.

  “Where’s Anna?” she asked, wiping her mouth and chin.

  “Safe. For now.” He handed her another drink.

  “They’ll be here, you know,” Carla whispered. “They’re coming.”

  “Oh, I’m counting on it,” he mimicked her soft voice. “I’m still undecided on what part I want Anna to play. But I have something big planned for all of you. Very, very big.”

  Carla hated the demented glint in his eyes. She knew she didn’t have much to work with. For now, all she could do was try to buy more time. She set down her half-eaten pretzel. “Why don’t you use me, instead of Anna?”

  Cole smiled. “Oh, I intend to use you, Officer. To the very end. As for the girl, she serves a purpose. A damned worthy purpose.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  If the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, then we were on the right track, thought Jack.

  All of them were bone tired, and it was late. If they were going to stop a madman, then they needed their rest, figured Jack. They also needed to come up with a firm plan of attack. But first, they needed sleep. Which is why they found themselves in an abandoned motel not far from Dodger Stadium, in Echo Park.

  Jack took the first watch, then his brother and Mike. In all, they were lucky to get a few hours between them, especially with Julie proving to be a real pain in the ass. Apparently, she didn’t like being tied up and muzzled. Go figure.

  “She’s sleeping with the enemy,” Mike said, dismissing her discomfort with a shrug, to which she tried to object strongly. “Tough shit,” he added.

  “True,” Brice said, “But not anymore. Not for the time being, at least. Hell, she’s from the beach. I bet she doesn’t even know which way is north. She’s not going to go running out into the night by herself. Not here.” Julie now shook her head enthusiastically, eyes wide.

  After some debate, they decided to let her loose under the condition she spoke as little as possible. She set about rubbing her hands. “Well!” was all she said.

  The guys started talking about how to best enter the Stadium. And what they should expect. Jack was an avid Dodger fan, but Brice had been one for decades longer. He knew the most about the place.

  “There’s a powerful generator there,” he advised. “The place could be lit up like a giant roman candle.”

&nbs
p; Getting in unnoticed was an assured impossibility. Joe and Mike were adamant they should at least scout the place out before ‘driving into the field with guns blazing.’

  “We aren’t driving anywhere in that truck, unless we want to be heard from miles away,” said Joe.

  Mike shrugged. “I’ll get us more suitable transportation.”

  * * *

  They decided the best plan of attack was to park a fair distance out of sight, and walk the perimeter of the stadium to gather as much information as possible. This meant each guy carried as many weapons as possible and relied on radio communication once they separated. Mike and Joe volunteered to venture out to the Big 5 Sporting Goods nearby in order to procure enough ammo, radios, and whatever else they could carry with them.

  The pair returned an hour later, out of breath.

  “Sorry it took so long,” said Joe, panting. But Mike was smiling. Joe added, “Big 5 was practically empty. It’s been looted, stripped. No radios, no nothing. Not even socks or snacks.”

  Jack jabbed a thumb in Mike’s direction. “Then why does he look like the Cheshire cat on ecstasy?”

  “Because we found another place,” Joe continued. “The police station. It’s empty now. Man, they still have everything.” Joe showed his brother the same kind of radios Carla carried. “We just have to change the frequency to limit to our own group. And you should see what Mike picked up.”

  Mike’s grin broadened.

  “You’re gonna love this, Jack.”

  Jack didn’t think he would love anything in this nightmare. But he followed Joe and Mike to the motel’s parking lot.

  The brand-new Cadillac Escalade was indeed a shocker. Beautiful, fully loaded. More importantly, the tires were huge. “It’s a four-wheel drive,” Mike smiled as they approached. “Found it with the keys inside. A little blood on the driver’s seat, but that’s all.”

  “Gasoline?”

  “Full tank.”

  Jack shook my head, and allowed a weak smile to pull on the corners of his mouth. Maybe there was hope for them yet. They loaded the rest of their supplies. Finally ready, they woke up Brice and Julie, and were on their way. None of them knew what to expect, but Jack was certain of two things: he would get his daughter and Carla back. Then he would personally kill Cole, the agent in black.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jack and the gang arrived at the great Dodger Stadium just before three-thirty in the morning.

  An unusual number of zombies roamed the grounds. There were more than Jack had ever seen gathered before. They headed toward the ballpark, coming in droves from all directions as they filled up the huge parking lot. The fences were torn down in places; some of the gates stood open. Jack and his companions were astounded at the numbers of undead. How did they get here? And why? There was nothing here for them. No humans to feed them all, no prey. Yet there they were, wandering listlessly in the night.

  Brice led the way to a fairly hidden spot to park close to Top Deck. “This will give us the easiest way out, whenever we need it,” he explained. “We used it all the time with our season tickets, helped us escape the crowds.”

  “Human crowds,” added Jared glumly.

  “I don’t know why they’re here, but we can dodge them,” said Jack. “We have to be quiet, stealthy. We’ll check which gates are open, too.” He handed out the radios, having already set them to a private frequency. Then he added flashlights and Sharpie pens. “Use the flashlights only in an emergency, and only after communicating that you’re about to by radio. If anyone sees a flashlight without communication, we all come running. Got it?”

  “What if he uses a flashlight?” Julie, of all people, asked.

  “Good question. We’ll all be outside the stadium,” replied Jack. “If we see light inside, announce the location via radio. If Cole’s outside, I guess that’s a chance we’re gonna have to take. Use your knives on the infected, and try not to get bit.” Jack smiled at his wry joke that went ignored.

  “Um, Jack? What are the Sharpies for?” Brice asked.

  “Mark anything that could be of use to others. An open gate, any sign of recent human activity, anything your gut tells you. Write the location, the gate and aisle number and the time.”

  Jack was grateful that his brother and friends had military training. The plan seemed sound... solid. Joe took over the conversation. “We use the buddy system. Jared, you’re with me. We’ll start from the left. Jack, Brice, you two go the other way.”

  “And Mike and Julie?” Jack asked. He could tell Julie was dying to say something, but she kept quiet.

  “She stays with me,” Mike answered. “I’m going to check out the lower level. I’ll make myself invisible. I want to see if I can locate him, or them. Julie, I will find you a safe place to stay.” He faced her, eyeing her seriously. “I’m saying this in front of everyone. If you make unnecessary moves, or sounds, or try to run, I will kill you. I don’t want to, but I can’t have you screw this up for us. Do you understand me?”

  “I—I understand,” she said. “But don’t leave me alone, please. I’ve never been here. I’m scared. You know how in the movies, they always split up, and it’s always a mistake.”

  They collectively rolled their eyes.

  “What is it that you really want to tell us, Julie?”

  She looked at Jack, surprised, then nodded. “Cole has something... something big planned. I don’t know what it is, but he said you’ll be dead once it happens.”

  “No, you tell us what it is!” Mike demanded. “We don’t have all fucking night, so make it quick!”

  She cowered at the harshness in his voice.

  “All I know is it’s in a suitcase. A shiny silver suitcase.”

  Jack looked at his brother and Mike, and then Brice. They looked at him.

  “There’s no way he has one,” Joe finally said.

  “Has what?” asked Jared, stepping forward. “Tell us, please.”

  “A bomb,” said Brice.

  “A bomb?”

  “And my guess, based on what we know about this asshole, is it’s a thermonuclear warhead.”

  “How in the hell did he get his hands on one of those?” Jack asked.

  “He’s a high-ranking agent in a shadow program,” Joe explained. “There’s no telling what he has access to, or what force he’s been authorized to use.”

  “Jesus,” Jack whispered in dismay.

  “And he’s figured out a way to lure the local chapters of the undead.”

  “And, us, too,” added Mike.

  “Well, we have to get the girls and get the fuck out of here,” said Jared, “Before....”

  He didn’t have to finish. They all knew what he meant.

  Before Kingdom Come came to Dodger Stadium.

  * * *

  Jack gave the final briefing before exiting the truck.

  “If we move quickly, we can make it around the perimeters within twenty minutes.” He regarded Brice before going on. “Twenty-five max. If you’re slow at halfway, then communicate that. It’s three-oh-nine by my watch,” Jack continued, “That should get us all back here, at the car, no later than three thirty-four. Any problems, we cover each other.”

  He took stock of the roaming mass of infected humanity. “Are we ready? Mike, you and Julie wait here in the car until we’re well on our way.” Jack looked everyone in the eye one last time. “Cut your way through them, run faster than them, and get back here safely. Let’s go!”

  They exited the car and stepped into the madness of mingling with zombies in the dead of night.

  * * *

  Moving through the undead was easier than expected. For reasons Jack couldn’t fathom, the zombies’ main focus seemed to be only on getting inside the ballpark. They killed the few that came after them, splitting their skulls with razor-sharp knives. But for the most part, it was easy going at first.

  As they made their way down some exterior stairs, Brice and Jack took turns writing down which ga
tes were open, where the zombies were heavily gathered. They figured they would make it back within the prescribed twenty-five minutes. So far, Brice kept up. If all went well, they’d meet Joe and Jared outside of center field.

  They were just getting into the rhythm, near third base, when the stadium lights suddenly flashed on. Jack gasped in surprise and blinked to adjust his eyes to the brightness. He and Brice appeared stunned by how many of the undead were on the field, dragging themselves up the stairs. There were thousands of them.

  “Holy mother of Christ,” Brice whispered.

  Jack’s heart raced when he saw Carla, standing atop the SUV Cole had stolen. It was parked in center field. She wasn’t tied up, and he thought he saw a knife in her hand. At least the fucker gave her a fighting chance. She was completely still, obviously not wanting to attract attention.

  Jack and Brice barely had time to take it all in when the music started. The hair on Jack’s neck prickled at the guitar riff of “Welcome to the Jungle” blasting from the speakers.

  It brought back good memories, of how it was when fifty thousand Dodger fans would gather here. Jack recalled the goose bumps he felt years ago, every time “The Jungle” introduced the Dodger’s closing pitcher, Eric Gagné.

  Now, the music brought only horror, and was even more amplified. Axl Rose’s voice screamed in that high-pitch of his, causing the infected to shudder. Then the frenzy began.

  From atop the SUV, Carla turned slowly, watching the insanity. The music deafening, it drove the infected berserk.

  “Mike!” Jack hollered into his radio. He couldn’t hear anything, but prayed his brother’s pal could hear him. “I see Carla! We’re going in.”

  Brice was sweating. His grim expression said all Jack needed to know. He didn’t think they’d survive.

  “We use the rifles first,” Jack told him. “Until we’re in the midst of it. Then the 45’s. Try to use a knife if you can.”

  Brice had been in Vietnam, he knew. But he wasn’t sure whether that experience would help or hinder him, with all the chaos going on. They would both know in a moment. The pair burst through the gate and started shooting.