The Zombie Wars: Call To Arms (White Flag Of The Dead Book 7)

by Joseph Talluto

  “Guys, where do you think all of the motorists who were trapped on the highway in our immediate vicinity ended up?” I asked.

  Duncan looked around. “Off hand, I’d say they were in the trees, but that doesn’t account for them,” he said, pointing backwards.

  “Jesus!” Charlie yelled. “Get up on the truck!”

  We didn’t have to be told twice. On the road leading into the gas station was about a hundred zombies all headed our way. They were your old school zombie type, graying with interesting bits of green mixed in for that extra special putrid factor. Z’s were spilling out of the convenience store as well, way too many for comfort.

  I followed Tommy and Duncan to the rear of the truck, climbing up the ladder to the roof. Charlie came up last, and after jumping over Duncan, settled down in the middle of the truck with the rest of us. Duncan whipped out his tool kit and managed to disconnect the ladder from the truck, sending it clattering to the pavement.

  In about three minutes, we were completely surrounded. A sea of arms and mouths lay beneath us, and in all honesty, I had no idea what we were going to do. My pick handle was of a decent length, shorter than Duncan’s weapon, and neither of us could reach the zombies without putting ourselves in danger.

  With the four of us on top of the truck, it was a little crowded. We stood there, looking down at the zombies. Duncan reached out with his long mace and almost had it grabbed out of his hands.

  “What do you want to do?” Tommy asked.

  “Not sure yet. We can’t get off, and we can’t reach the zombies. Getting to the trucks is not an option, and that’s where we left our rifles and ammo,” I said.

  “Well, we can’t stay here,” Charlie said.

  “If you have a method for sprouting wings and flying, I’d love to hear it,” Tommy said.

  “I might have something…” Duncan started to say, reaching for his pack.

  “NO!” We all yelled in unison.

  Duncan pulled his hand out of his pack. “Geez, what’s the problem?”

  Tommy patted Duncan on the shoulder. “Please wait until we’re not all standing on top of a tank of flammable liquid before created an explosion nearby.”

  “Oh. Right.” Duncan put away whatever he was holding.

  “Well, we can try something,” I said. I walked over to the truck and stepped over the open space to the top of the cab. The roof buckled a bit, but it held. I carefully eased myself down to the hood and watched as dozens of hands, reached up for me. There was a surge in my direction as the zombies saw I was much closer than the three on the trailer.

  Kneeling on the hood, I used the flat end of my pick to cave in the skull of a nearby zombie. He slipped down and immediately another took his place. I cracked his skull, too, adding to the pile. I cracked skulls for a good twenty minutes before my arms got tired, and the pile of dead zombies allowed the ones on that side to stand a little taller as they pulped their dead comrades beneath their feet. It helped to put them closer in reach, but then it didn’t help because it put them closer in reach.

  I stood up and stretched my shoulders, climbing back up to the top of the trailer. Charlie and Duncan were lying down, taking in the sun, while Tommy was on his stomach, trying to look over the back of the truck without being seen.

  “Next!” I shouted, startling the two sunbathers. Charlie got up, and I handed him my pick, it being longer than the handles of his ‘hawks. He jumped over to the cab and down onto the hood. He kneeled and worked the other side of the truck, killing and stacking them up.

  At the end of another twenty minutes, Charlie had had enough. He killed as many as I did, but still there was a good number of them milling about, groaning and reaching.

  “Wears out your shoulders,” Charlie said, handing my pick back to me. “Can’t use anything but your arms.”

  “Yeah.” I looked back at Tommy who was still laying on the edge of the trailer. He waved me forward with a little flick of his fingers, and I decided to crawl down there. I noticed when I got low, the zombies were out of sight and couldn’t see me.

  I reached his feet and tapped his foot. “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Got your pick?” Tommy asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Follow me.” Tommy suddenly slipped off the back of the trailer.

  “Jesus!” I scrambled forward and followed, trusting that Tommy wouldn’t just leap to his death or ask me to do the same. That being said, timing was everything, and if I delayed, Z’s would fill the gap.

  I heard Charlie shout behind me, but I was already gone, grabbing the top rung of the ladder that was left behind when we removed the rest of it. I swung down and raced away, chasing Tommy’s back, and dodging three sets of zombie hands that reached for me.

  We ran towards the road, trailing a horde of ghouls. I figured out Tommy’s strategy when I hit the ground, figuring he was going to draw off as many of the Z’s as possible without dying. The first part made sense and seemed possible. The second part was still up for debate.

  We ran to the other side of the road and stopped to catch our breath. It wasn’t that we weren’t in shape, but we were going to need to oxygenate for the next round of battle.

  “Ready?” Tommy asked, taking a practice swing with his weapon to loosen up his shoulders and arms. His weapon was pretty basic. It was a long handled axe, but he had added a spike to the other end to give it killing ability when the Z’s were on the ground.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I said. “Remind me why we left the army?”

  “Because you suck as a general,” Tommy said.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “But you’re a positive genius for scouting and small units,” Tommy added.

  “Thanks. I still don’t like you.”

  “Quit being a girl, and kill something, would ya?”

  I swung hard at a quick moving kid, batting him to the ground with a cracked head. Tommy thumped several with his mace, beating the zombies down. I kicked another to make him fall at the feet of a couple others, and killed all three with quick strikes with the pointed end of my pick.

  “You two have any better plan than that?” Charlie called from the gas truck.

  “Shut up, or I’ll use my rifle,” I called back, killing another.

  Charlie must have suddenly realized he was standing on a bomb, and any accidental bullets might send him and Duncan to the moon. He quieted down and sat back to watch the show.

  I settled into something of a cadence, swinging my pick and slamming it into zombie skulls. Every time I killed one, another took its place. Every time I killed one, I took a small step back. The zombies spread out a little, and that was going to become a problem. If they got behind me or on the side, it was over.

  Tommy was swinging like I was, methodical and precise. Every down swing killed another zombie, and the swing swept up to another down swing and another dead zombie. Like me, Tommy kept stepping back. We struck and struck again, piling up the dead like chopped wood.

  “Enough of these bastards,” Tommy said, crunching a skull.

  “Would be nice if a couple of lazy bastards would join in,” I said, backhanding a swing into the head of a short, older woman with white hair. Her eyes were bulging out of her head, and she was actually more frightening because of it. After she fell I realized I had nothing to fear from her since she didn’t have any teeth.

  I heard a sound over the groans of the zombies, and I glanced over at Tommy. He heard it, too. It was a metallic sound, almost like very soft wind chimes. I had heard it many times before, and every time it was a welcome sound.

  Tommy and I redoubled our efforts, swinging hard and killing zombies. We were running out of gas, though, and would have to run again if it came to it.

  However, the Z’s suddenly ran out. I killed a middle-aged man in a shredded suit, then I was looking across a sea of bodies at Charlie and Duncan. The chiming I had heard was Charlie’s tomahawks cracking into skulls. He and Duncan had climbed down
when the herd thinned sufficiently and started the killing on their side.

  Tommy and I made our way over to our friends. I held up my pick in salute, and Charlie smacked the metal with one of his hawks, making a loud metallic ringing.

  Over the hills we heard a chorus of groans in reply, and we decided we had seen enough of the underside of Louisville.

  Taylorville Lake State Park, KY

  The drive south was quiet, and while Charlie drove, I looked over the maps. Part of me was okay with what we were doing, but the other part wasn’t sure it was the correct strategy. We should have been more methodical in clearing out the zombies, which was driving my plan to split the army and start working to seriously clear the areas. While we were doing a good thing, I felt like we were missing a good part of the country, leaving it wide open to outbreaks and attacks. If I were honest with myself, I had to realize we couldn’t do it all on our own, that people had to decide for themselves what kind of life they wanted. Huddling in a building waiting for the zombies to move on was life, but not living. Not by a long shot.

  “How far behind do you think the army is?” I asked Charlie.

  “Not really sure. Figure they would be two, maybe three days, depending on what they encountered. Why?” Charlie asked.

  I tossed my idea over at Charlie, and he mulled it over for a bit. After a minute he grudgingly nodded.

  “Have to say it’s not a bad idea. Likely more efficient than what we are doing so far. Can I modify it a bit?” Charlie asked.

  “Go for it.”

  “What if instead of having three equal parts, have them split into half, then halves on of the halves. So you have a main group focused on the big areas, then the other two, while still large, have greater mobility and are able to clear larger areas without being outnumbered,” Charlie said.

  That was another good idea. I told Charlie that, and he smiled like a kid who gave the teacher the right answer.

  The sun was swinging low in the sky when we decided to call it an evening. I told Charlie we should find a place to hang out for a few days and meet up with the army when they crossed out path. He heartily agreed, and we settled on finding a place where we could hunt and fish. I checked the map and saw we were on a straight course to a forest preserve. Charlie heard that and pressed the gas down a little further.

  Just as the sun was setting we arrived at the forest preserve. The last three years had seen the forest reclaim much of what it had given up in terms of campsites and picnic areas, but the roads were surprisingly clear of debris and grass. We drove in, following the signs to the lodge. High trees reaching out from hills darkened our path, and I kept an eye out for small glowing lights. Two left turns and a right found us in the overly large parking lot of a genuine log-built lodge. It was remarkable how much it resembled Starved Rock.

  I must not have been the only one who thought so since Charlie commented on the resemblance as well.

  “Wow. Déjà vu,” he said, backing the truck up to the stairs that led from the parking lot to the back of the lodge.

  “Seriously.” I could see several small cabins branching out from the main area, and in the center of the parking lot was a huge water tower. A winding stair led up to a platform about fifty feet in the air, presumably to allow visitors a view of the hills and valleys surrounding the lodge.

  Tommy and Duncan backed their truck up as well, and we stretched a bit before drawing duties. Tommy and Charlie would check out the cabins and the tower, while Duncan and I scouted the main lodge and surrounding area.

  We circled the building, keeping an eye on the surrounding trees. I could hear some small animals moving about, checking out the intruders, so I didn’t think there were any Z’s in the area. At the front door, Duncan tried the easy way, which didn’t work, so he tapped a small hole in the glass. Using a small stick that had a fork in it, he fashioned a hook and pulled the safety bar towards the door, opening it.

  I was about to step in, but Duncan held up a hand.

  “Kittens first.” Tucker poked his head out of Duncan’s pocket, and with a little petting, allowed himself to be brought out and held. He purred his head off, but his ears and eyes were all about the new area he was about to go into.

  I could see his tiny nose working the air, and when he closed his eyes and rubbed Duncan’s hand, I knew the immediate area was clear. That little guy was better than a dog.

  Inside the lodge was dark, and we had to pull out our flashlights. The main room was just a sitting area with dusty couches and benches. A small souvenir shop was next to the door, but I couldn’t see any use for Native American replica junk this trip. There were some nice looking lodestones, but they served no purpose either.

  A balcony ran around the room, and I could see small tables and chairs placed up there. The view was pretty good, so people could enjoy themselves in days gone by.

  We passed the main reservation desk and walked through a double door into a bar. The serving area was a circle, allowing visitors to find a drink no matter where they sat in the room. Duncan let Tucker work his magic again, and this time his ears focused on the bar. I took a small bowl off a table and threw it over the polished surface. It clattered loudly, and we waited for a moment. We knew nothing was behind us, so anything else was in front. Nothing happened, and I wondered if Tucker was losing his touch. I went over to the bar and looked down.

  Lying on the floor was a mostly dead zombie. I say mostly because while his head still twitched and his teeth still snapped, the rest of him was immobile due to the broken bottle sticking out of the front of his neck. Apparently the dead bartender slipped on the slick floor and fell on a bottle, which neatly severed his spine as it made its way through his neck. He still wore the uniform of the lodge with a white shirt, green bow tie, and green apron.

  “Cat’s got skills,” I said, stepping around the bar and making my way to the zombie. The dead eyes followed me, and the mouth opened and closed. I imagine the dead don’t feel frustrated, but that’s all I could sense from this one. One downward swing with my pick ended this barkeep’s shift in a hurry.

  The bar was mostly empty, but I found a single unopened bottle of bourbon which I put in my pack. Duncan raised an eyebrow, but nodded when I told him what it was. Liquor was almost better than hard currency in some places.

  There was a small eating area just to the right of the bar, but it was closed off, and Tucker wasn’t interested.

  To the left was a set of French doors, and we decided to go that way. I opened the door and flashed my light in. Something dark whisked out of sight at the back of the room, and I spent a good amount of time playing my light over the area. A large fireplace was back there and a couple of windows on either side. What I saw was something dark that was in front of the left window, and I saw it move across the right one.

  “Did you see that?” I asked Duncan quietly.

  “The dark, human shaped form that went across the room from left to right?” Duncan asked.

  “Yeah!” I whispered.

  “Nope. Didn’t see a thing,” Duncan said.

  I turned to him, and I saw Tucker looking out of his pocket. The cat’s ears were flat back, and his eyes were huge. He was making a small sound in the back of his throat, and all of a sudden the hair on the back of my neck was standing up.

  Something was in this room, and I had a feeling our weapons weren’t going to be of any use at all.

  “There!” Duncan whispered. He moved his light up and shined it across the room. We didn’t see anything until he put the light down. At a dark opening, there was a darker shape standing in the corner. There was a loud clatter, startling both of us.

  “Ow! Ow! Shoot, that hurts!” Duncan was gingerly pulling at his vest, sticking a hand underneath and rubbing his chest.

  “What the hell?” I asked, bringing my gun up. “Something hit you?”

  “No. Tucker is scared, and he just went full pointy with all of his feet. No place to go but back into my chest.” Dun
can made a face, and I nearly hit him myself.

  “Come on. Let’s see where this goes.” I walked forward, and kept my eyes open. I shined my light around, hoping not to see any more of what I thought was in here. Duncan was right behind me, and I’d be lying if I said the hair on my neck and arms wasn’t standing straight up.

  At the end of the small hallway we could see more clearly what the room was. At some point this must have been some kind of restaurant, and this was the main eating area. Off to our left was a truly pitch-black hallway with a set of double doors leading into what I assumed was the kitchen area. I walked carefully around the tables, trying not to disturb anything more than I already have.

  “No more what?” Duncan asked.

  “What?”

  “No more what?” Duncan asked again.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, moving over to the very dark hallway.

  “Didn’t you just say ‘No more’?”

  “Not me,” I said. “When did you hear this?”

  “Just now.” Duncan stopped. “Quit messing around. I distinctly heard you say ‘No more.’”

  I looked back at him. “Wasn’t me.”

  “Great. Just great,” Duncan said, mostly to himself. “Now I’m hearing things.”

  “Probably not,” I said. “Likely whoever died in here or around here is lurking, and they just made a comment about your jokes.”

  “Have I ever told you you’re funny?” Duncan asked.

  “No.”

  “Ever wonder why?”

  “Not particularly. Is that a door?” I asked, swinging my light down the dark hallway.

  Suddenly the air became ice cold, and something brushed past me. I felt a distinct hand on my arm, and then it was gone. I thought for sure I had heard the sound of a baby crying, but distant, like it was on the other side of a wall.

  “Did you hear something?” I asked Duncan.

  “All right, that’s not cool,” Duncan replied petulantly.

  “I’m serious,” I said. “Did you hear something?”