Zombie Escape: More Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse, Book 1

by E. E. Isherwood

  “Ouch, what was that for?” he said in jest.

  “Don't think I didn't notice you push me off that bridge. Don't let it happen again, okay? We always jump together.” Victoria's whispering made him want to stay in the safety of the cab and forget about every other problem in his life. Zombies, Elsa, Hayes, Grandma, his dead parents. They all seemed mercifully distant while she was breathing life into his ear.

  But the contractors arrived sooner than he would have liked. A fair number of truckers stood on the tarmac in front of the restaurant, too. He didn't blame them for being curious about a truck that had a corkscrew trailer behind it.

  “Let's go see them clean up the mess,” Dave said as he exited the truck.

  Liam grabbed his rifle.

  “You think they'll let us walk out armed?” she wondered.

  “We know there are bad guys back there. I'm carrying a gun to protect my girlfriend, so screw their rules.”

  Her answer was not complicated.

  She took her gun, too.

  3

  Liam held out his free hand to support Victoria as she came off the last step of Dave's rig. Any other time she might have mocked his efforts and jumped next to him to show him up, but this time she took his hand.

  “I'm getting old,” she said in her mom's voice she'd used earlier.

  “I think you look great,” he blurted out. A second later, he noticed the music playing at the nearby gas pumps. It was loud at the source, but they were parked far across the lot. “That's Supertramp! One of my fave's.”

  “Is that 60's music?” she asked him.

  “No,” he replied as if hurt. “At least I don't think so. It's from the 70s and 80s.”

  “Supertramp is still around, kid,” Dave said from across the gap between the trailer and the back of his cab. “And I like your taste in music.”

  He turned back to Victoria. “He likes my tastes.”

  She smiled but was distracted by someone coming up to them. They let go of each other and unslung their rifles at the same time.

  Liam figured the security guys were going to run to the trailer and set up a perimeter, or something, but they went straight for him, instead. One of the Humvees came across the grass and pulled up next to them.

  “Son, you'll have to drop the weapon,” a man said from inside the military vehicle.

  Liam ignored him completely.

  “Let's go,” he said under his breath to Victoria.

  They walked toward the back of the trailer.

  “Son, there are no weapons allowed on the property. The sign clearly says ... ”

  Liam held his rifle at the low ready while scanning for movement through the holes in the trailer. They kept about ten feet from the side panel and never took their eyes from it. Tons of zombies had fallen out back at the bridge, but he didn't know if any remained inside.

  The trailer was so warped and damaged that light shone in from the other side. Most of the walls between the two long cuts had fallen outward and hung down from the top like a wing. The zombies had squirted out below it, but it created such a space that if anyone stood in the trailer, he figured he'd see them.

  A second before they reached the rear deck, a thin male zombie slid out the back and fell with a bloody splash right in front of them.

  The man wore long pants and a short-sleeved shirt but was so covered in blood it was impossible to see the original colors.

  “Oh, God,” Victoria said with more sadness than surprise.

  Liam almost felt sorry for him because both his arms had been removed as well as most of his feet. The unfortunate soul continued to snap his teeth like any healthy zombie and it tried to slither toward him and attack.

  Liam leveled his rifle and snapped a shot from the hip while on the move. The head of the zombie bounced back, and his body shut down an instant later.

  A few seconds later, the contractors ran up behind him with weapons at the ready.

  “Kid, where'd you get that?” a security guy asked. “It's dangerous to shoot so close to people.”

  Liam got to the back of the truck and found both doors hung wide open. Bodies, blood, and burned clothing littered the wooden floor of the trailer along the entire length. He was simultaneously hit with a smell that had teeth almost as lethal as the zombies themselves. It was as if rotting meat was rolled up and dropped into a raging dumpster fire fueled by a chili cookoff's line of port-o-potties. The truck seemed to belch it all right into his face.

  Liam's eyes teared up.

  “Oh my God! It burns!” he shouted while he yanked the collar of his shirt over his nose for a small bit of protection. He didn't want to puke in front of the arriving audience but wasn't sure he could hold it.

  Victoria gagged and gripped his arm.

  Liam closed his eyes and let Victoria's touch settle him down.

  While he fought the smell, the security guy from the Humvee came around back and looked into the truck like he owned the place. The smartly dressed man wore a black baseball cap, had a well-trimmed mustache, and looked to be in his late forties or early fifties. Everything about him suggested he was the leader on the scene.

  “Accidents need reports, but we don't do that here,” the leader said in a smarmy voice. He continued but changed his tone as the mouth of the trailer got to him. “You can't park ... ”

  He bent over and threw up on his shoe. At any other time or circumstance Liam would have laughed out loud at how stupid the man looked, but now he was on the knife-edge of losing his stomach, too. Seeing others puke often did that to him, even when he wasn't staring into the jaws of a zombie blender.

  “Aw crap,” he said as he hunched over. His stomach lurched with one great upheaval, but nothing came out. He used that piece of luck to get a grip on himself and try to do what needed to be done.

  “There's a guy trapped in there,” Liam said while still holding his knees. “We need to see if he's okay.” He pointed into the mess without looking in there.

  “I heard the guy,” Dave said from nearby. Liam glanced over at him and noticed he stood off to the side as if he couldn't take the smell.

  The security leader coughed and sounded disappointed rather than concerned. “In there?”

  More security guys arrived at the back of the truck and almost to a man coughed up lunch when they looked inside. Liam decided if he didn't commit himself to climbing in, he might never do it.

  “Victoria, I really need you.” He didn't think she'd lost her lunch but didn't inquire.

  He climbed onto the back of the trailer and ignored getting blood all over his palms. Victoria climbed in next to him and smiled.

  “Are we having a good time?” she asked.

  “Living the dream, right?” he replied.

  “So romantic,” she said while holding the inside of her elbow over her nose.

  He was ready to walk through the destruction when the leader of security climbed in and stood next to him. Liam got a good look at the taller man and saw the mistrust in his eyes.

  “I'm Captain Hamilton,” he coughed. “Is this your truck? You better have a damned good explanation for all this, or I'm going to take you both into custody.”

  Liam wondered if the man had seen Dave get out of the driver's seat but decided it didn't matter at that moment.

  “We came from the pickup in Wilson City and had a malfunction back here, as you can see.” He smashed his mouth and nose back into his sleeve.

  “Just show me the man and we'll get out of here, okay?”

  Liam couldn't argue with that. He stepped ahead into the muck and debris searching for zombies that were still alive. There were many body parts, and several whole bodies with damaged or severed heads, but nothing moved.

  They had to go all the way to the front wall of the trailer before they finally saw movement. The explosion that ripped apart the walls and back of the truck had failed to do any damage in the front, so it created a shadowy alcove up there, but something did survive.

&
nbsp; “Help,” a man croaked from the darkness.

  Liam took a step forward because it had to be the guy they wanted to rescue.

  “Wait, back up,” the security man ordered Liam. He took a few seconds to unsnap something on his belt, then pulled out a flashlight. When he shined it at the source of the voice, Liam cried out in despair.

  Hamilton took a shot with his gun before Liam even knew what was going on.

  “Holy shit!” Liam screamed in fright.

  The security guy tried to shoot again, but Liam struck the man's arm.

  “He's alive!” Liam shouted.

  Hamilton aimed the gun and his light at Liam's face. For several long seconds, Liam stared down the barrel and wondered if the man behind the flashlight was going to pull the trigger.

  “Hey, it's alright,” Victoria said from nearby. “It was a mistake. Sir, please put the gun down.”

  Liam had flashbacks to Hayes shooting Victoria in the hip. She got extremely lucky in how she survived, but he doubted the same luck would apply to him. If he was shot point-blank in this truck, it would be lights out.

  Security guys outside the truck yelled.

  “I'm fine,” the leader shouted back to them. “Don't come in here.” His tone was full of authority for his men, but when he turned back to Liam, he didn't seem so certain.

  “I thought he was one of them,” Hamilton said mechanically.

  Slowly, like a one-quarter speed replay, the guy lowered his weapon.

  “Don't ever touch me,” Hamilton said with seething anger.

  Liam glanced to Victoria as if seeking someone stable. “He's alive.”

  Her brunette hair glowed like a halo from the backlight of sunshine coming in from the gaping rips in the truck wall behind her. “I know,” she said in a kindly voice, “we have to save him.”

  Victoria gestured to the man in the darkness, so Hamilton knew where to point his light. Eventually, he did.

  A living man was on the floor.

  He'd been wrapped in chain-link fence like he'd been rolled up in a carpet by some kind of mob boss. The fence was held in place by metal wire spun around the outside.

  Liam tried to determine if the man had been shot by the trigger-happy security guy, but every square inch of his body was covered in blood except the whites of his eyes. It would have been easy to mistake the man for a zombie if he hadn't said something.

  “Are you okay?” Liam said before he realized how absurd he sounded. “I mean, we're here to save you. We'll get you out of that cage.”

  “She said I'd be free,” the man responded with despair.

  Liam stepped closer, but Hamilton put his arm across Liam's chest. “Wait.”

  “Rivers! Jives! I need you two up here.”

  Someone at the back of the truck groaned loudly. A short time later, two security guys struggled onto the bloody deck of the truck and made their way to Liam and the guy wrapped in the chains.

  “I want you to get this man to safety, do you understand? He needs to be cleaned up and given some food, then we'll get to the bottom of how these people are transporting prisoners like this.”

  Liam watched as the men each took an end of the chain-link and dragged the survivor toward the back like they were movers hauling away an old sofa. The man's arm stuck straight up over his head, like he raised his hand as he was wrapped in the fence. It allowed him to tap the wall with his bloody knuckles. Liam wanted to commend him for thinking ahead.

  “Well, wait a minute,” Liam blurted out. “We saved that man. We have to know his story. Who he is.”

  “I'm with the Patriot Snow--” the chained man said in a wispy voice, as if he'd not touched water in days.

  “Get him out of here!” Hamilton shouted to his men before turning back to Liam. “Look, you two, I don't know what kind of game you're running here, but we haven't had a single incident since we took this gas station under our protection. We aren't going to start now.”

  Liam's head swam in the stench and his eyes watered with whatever fumes came out of blood and guts from the dead, but he pulled at Victoria's hand to get her moving.

  “Hang on.” Liam jogged toward the back where it was less stuffy. “He said he's with the Patriot Snowballers. Is that what he said?”

  He'd spent some time with the Snowballers and his mom was one of the big leaders of the movement. Before she died. He knew loyalties were mixed everywhere in America when it came to whether or not the apocalypse was caused by those Patriots, so he had to be careful about showing too much sympathy for the man. Still, he couldn't let him get taken away without so much as a name.

  “Hey, guy. We heard your S.O.S. What's your name?”

  The two security guys slid the blood-stained chain link bundle off the back deck of the truck into waiting hands. The man in the fence shut his eyes when he went into the late morning sunshine, but Liam got a good look at him as he jumped down, too.

  “Sir, who are you?” he asked the prisoner. “Who put you in there?”

  “Emerson, Preston J. Chief Petty off--”

  “Take that man to the command tent. I want him out and cleaned up by the time I get over there, do you understand?” He talked over the man at Liam's feet.

  “Will we get to meet him?” Liam asked Hamilton.

  “Sure, kid. I always allow teenagers unfettered access to my command tent. Makes perfect sense, right?” He hopped down and slipped a little on the pooling blood from the original zombie that had fallen out.

  “What I meant to say was no. I'm going to find out what you've been doing between here and Wilson City and then we'll have a nice, long chat. Better have your shipping papers ready because I'm going to look ‘em over with an electron microscope.”

  Liam chafed at the insult but looked at the dozens of heavily armed security guys and realized how stupid he must look standing there with his one little rifle.

  “If I see you move this truck I'm going to come out shooting, you understand? You don't leave until I get my answers.”

  Liam nodded.

  “And do your best to clean up Mr. Meatball here,” he pointed to the armless man on the nearby pavement.

  He nodded again but had no intention of touching the body. He recalled several zombie books he'd read over the years in regard to the sanitation problems caused by all the death, but that was one problem he'd avoided in real life. He shuddered at the thought of being responsible for burning or burying so many bodies all across the world.

  Preston looked up at Liam from inside the chain-link. Liam used his free hand to give him his best effort at a salute.

  “She said I'd be free,” the man repeated with failing strength.

  Ten or fifteen drivers had arrived and stood next to the truck. They saw the man come out of the trailer. Liam thought back to how he manipulated Duchesne on that bridge in St. Louis and wondered if he could distract Hamilton long enough to get some answers, but a man stuck something in Preston's neck.

  The security guy didn't even bother hiding what he'd done. He held the syringe in his hand and nodded to his boss.

  Liam also took things in stride. All the drivers had witnessed what came out of the truck. They could plainly see the trucks were transporting zombies. As far as he could tell, the charade was over. He wasn't convinced Hamilton and his friends were NIS, but they weren't good guys, either. They silenced Preston when he said he was US Military.

  That made them bad guys in his mind.

  He wanted to get the bad guys to admit defeat, and he was about to help that along.

  Time to tip over some apple carts.

  4

  “Dave, will you help me get these people together?” He showed Dave how a group of curious onlookers had formed at the back of the truck, but the pony-tailed driver seemed hesitant to go near the back of his trailer.

  Before he could answer, a small red sports car sped out the exit of the truck stop. “Hey! It's that guy.” Liam pointed to the Mustang that had passed them on the highway.
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  The grey-haired man stomped on the gas and took the right turn while burning his tires the whole way. Smoked poured out the back and the tires chirped a few times as he shifted gears, but he was over the bridge and heading for the highway in twenty seconds.

  “He lost his lady,” Victoria noted.

  “She wasn't in there?” Liam asked. He'd been watching the car's tires, not the occupants.

  “He's probably scared shitless,” Dave said. “Speaking of scared, can we meet over there?” Dave pointed to the base of the tall sign for the Flying J truck stop.

  Liam sighed because he was frustrated, but quickly decided it was better to be away from the security guys, even if it meant leaving the truck. Anyone with half a brain could figure out the story just by looking at the raging gashes along both sides of the trailer.

  Even Mustang guy could figure it out.

  About ten or fifteen drivers joined them at the sign.

  “Hey, my name is, uh, Pierre. Pierre Chesterton. I've been riding along with Dave since we picked up our cargo in Wilson City. Did you all get your cargo from there, too?”

  Most of the guys and gals raised their hands.

  “Are we carrying what y'all had back there?” one of the gray-haired drivers asked. He wore a greasy ball cap and gray overalls like his whole life revolved around trucks.

  “I think so. Me and my girlfriend blew off the lock because we heard that man tapping S.O.S. on the walls of the truck. We also heard the zombies scraping at us when we shouted, and that really freaked us out. To protect ourselves, we backed the trailer over a river bridge, so the zombies would fall away harmlessly. The people who put the plague victims back must have anticipated we'd open it, so they included a bomb to release all the zombies at once. It was a failsafe.”

  Thinking about it from the safety of having survived it, the booby trap was perfect. Anyone who dared crack open the lock would surely die in the effort. If Liam hadn't thought to park the truck on that bridge, it would have been impossible to survive against the hundreds of zombies shoved out by the explosion.

  “Sounds like science fiction bullshit,” overalls dude replied.

  “What do I care what the cargo is?” another man called out from the small crowd. “I just want to get paid. My family is counting on me.”