I ran back to meet Joel even though my legs screamed for a break.
“Got the tiny car and a truck. How many can we cram in the back?”
“That car is a joke, man. The truck? Probably not big enough. We may have to split our groups up,” Joel panted. A line of sweat rolled down his forehead and along his nose.
Anna raced away and tried another vehicle but threw her hands up in the air. The rest of the group arrived and we laid out what we had found. Some of them started piling into the back of the pickup. Eric, Scott, and Katherine piled into the front of the truck. Tim Feely lowered the SAW and pointed it at the truck’s six. That damn thing was a proper machinegun.
Erik backed the truck up. He leaned out of the window.
“What’s the plan?”
“The bridge. Not much else we can hope for unless everyone can swim,” Erik said.
“I don’t think that such a good idea,” I said, thinking of how tired I was.
“No shit. Waters too cold anyway. It was kind of a rhetorical statement.”
“We can cram one more in,” Feely said.
“How about a girl and a dog?” I asked.
Christy looked at us like we were betraying her. She didn’t know the crew in the back of the truck so I didn’t blame her. But we wouldn’t have enough room in the Smart car.
“Barely. That dog bite?” Feely asked.
“Only Zs,” I said.
“I don’t know them,” Christy said under her breath.
“Erik and Katherine are there, plus Scott. You know them,” I replied.
Scott slid out of the passenger side. He went to the back and climbed up between the packed people. “Come on, Frosty.”
Frosty wasn’t having any of that. It took Joel and I to lift her into the back. Christy shot me an unreadable look as she went to the front of the pickup. I waved and she offered a half-hearted wave back. Poor Christy. She had seen some of the worst of the world, lost her brother to that asshole Lee when he tossed the kid out of the chopper, then been stuck with strangers for months. I had always treated her like a little sister and loved her like one.
“You guys better take good care of her,” I said to the mass in the back of the truck. “Or you’ll have to deal with me.”
“We got this, bro,” Feely said.
“Better,” I muttered.
The pickup pulled away and headed toward the bridge.
We approached the smart car.
Anna eyed the two of us.
“Joel, you drive. Anna, you’re in the passenger seat.”
“What the hell are you planning to do, run alongside us on your super-Marine legs?” I asked Joel.
“No. You’re going to drive real slow because I’m going to be on top,” Joel said.
“What?”
“Just pack it up, we only have about thirty seconds before one of those damn shufflers gets here,” Joel urged as he glanced over his shoulder.
“This is nuts, man.”
“Just pack it up!” Joel ordered.
I shook my head in disbelief and got into the driver’s seat. Anna slid into the other door and closed the door. Joel hopped on top of the car and the roof bowed in.
“Roll down your window,” Joel yelled.
I hit the power switch and the window lowered. He reached down and grabbed the top of the car with his fingers inside.
“You good?”
“Go!”
Joel fired his gun three times. I glanced up in the rearview mirror and found a dozen or more Zs and shufflers right on us. I put the car in gear and gently pressed the gas hoping Joel didn’t slide off.
He fired again and hit a shuffler in the upper chest.
A Z jumped over the downed rotter. I pressed the gas a little harder and swerved around the wreck. Then we were on open road and following the pickup.
We only had to make it about two miles. At our current speed, it would take approximately: forever. I couldn’t speed up for risk of losing Joel, and I couldn’t go too slow for fear of the horde approaching from our ten o’clock. The pickup swerved around a mass of Zs that staggered into the main strip. Feely turned the big gun on them and fired. The gun sounded like a freaking chainsaw as it did its job and cut the Zs to shreds. A shuffler danced out of the way and disappeared behind a delivery truck that had been completely burned from the inside out. At least it had been left to block the street, almost like someone had pushed it there on purpose.
Joel crumpled the roof as he spun and one of his feet appeared over my view.
“Can’t see,” I yelled out the window.
Joel shifted so his foot took up the center of the windshield. Then he fired a couple of rounds and made a shuffler fall. But the bastard was back up. I hit a small pot hole and got a cry out of him.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Warn me next time,” Joel yelled back.
Joel fired a few more rounds, but I couldn’t tell what he was shooting at.
The pickup was a few hundred yards away when at least fifty Zs staggered into the road. I slowed but drove toward the sidewalk.
“Hold on, man,” I yelled.
“Oh shit,” Joel said.
“Jackson,” Anna warned.
“I got this,” I said and slowed even more.
The tiny car bounced over the sidewalk, and we drove along it until I found a small alleyway. I cranked the wheel to the right, and we were in the clear again.
Anna pulled her .357 and reloaded but kept an eye on our route.
I cut across a road, and then drove back up to the main strip. The detour had put room between us and the pickup truck, but it also helped us avoid the mass of Zs.
I sped up a little until we were about to hit twenty miles an hour. Erik waved out of the window and I was grateful to see brake lights. He came almost to a halt and Feely jumped out of the back. He and another man, the older guy with the shotgun, spread out and opened up on a fresh group of Zs.
“They’re keeping the road clear for us,” Anna observed as she took out another side arm and loaded a fresh magazine.
“Nice of them,” I said.
Tim Feely and his pal got back in the truck. I kept the speed up and, when we were close enough, I made out Christy in the back of the truck. She waved and I waved back.
The bridge was a quarter mile away and the path appeared to be clear. Erik must have gotten anxious because he sped up. I wished I could keep up but that would probably mean having to deal with one pissed off Marine and at least one broken bone.
I drove around an abandoned red sedan, and then drifted back into our lane.
A couple of the guys in the back of the truck jumped down and joined Feely and the older guy. They setup a line of defense and fired at a target I couldn’t see. Whatever was coming down the cross street had to be big.
A shape flashed from their right flank. Then another. Joel aimed, but he wouldn’t be able to pick off the target without shooting one of ours.
“At your three o’clock,” he yelled.
Feely spun, and then fell back. The shuffler was fast and nearly took Feely down. The older guy fired the shotgun and the shuffler took the brunt of the blast to his chest and shoulder. Another shuffler appeared and launched himself onto the older man. Then the rotten bastard dragged him behind a car. The man screamed, but Feely was already on the way to help.
Joel shifted on top of the roof until it practically bowed in enough to touch my head. What was he doing?
He fired three rounds, and then I realized that crazy son of a bitch was standing on top of a moving vehicle.
I slowed even more until we were practically coasting.
Scott made it around the side of the car, but he shook his head and went back to the truck. Feely wasn’t done and turned his gun on whatever was there. I had a feeling I knew what had happened. The older guy had fought back and been killed. Then Joel had popped the shuffler. Now Tim Feely just wanted to fill the dead fuck with lead.
The truck start
ed up again and drove on. We arrived about thirty seconds later, and I got a good look at what they had stopped for.
The massacre had been quick and brutal. Bodies lay in heaps where they had fallen over each other. A rotter struggled to get out from under the mass, but he clawed at the ground ineffectively.
An eighteen-wheeler blocked a four lane road. As we passed it, I again wondered at its placement. It was almost like it had been moved there on purpose.
We were soon past the bodies. Erik slowed the truck until he was practically at a stop. He flashed his lights, and then the folks in the back abandoned it. We closed to within ten feet, and I slowed. Joel sat down on the roof and swung his legs over the driver side window.
“Stop, I’m going to check it out,” Joel called.
I came to a slow halt, and he hopped off the top. Anna popped out of the car and trained her gun around.
“Oh shit, Creed,” she said.
I turned and found that the pile of bodies was only a temporary road block because hundreds more Zs had already arrived and started to claw their way over the pile.
Joel motioned, and I got out of the car but left it running.
“What’s the hold up?” I called.
“We’re almost out of fucking gas,” Erik said. “Time to hoof it.”
Feely rejoined the crew, and he did not look at all happy. He slung the M249 around and took a few steps away from us. As Zs crested the pile of bodies, he opened up. The gun rattled and fought him. The kid stood his ground and fired until it ran empty, then he dropped it so it hung by the sling and went for his side arm.
Erik pulled him away because we didn’t have time for this shit.
The Zs poured over the piles of bodies with shufflers moving among them. Hundreds of rotters all snarling for our flesh.
A shuffler jumped and landed a few feet away. Anna turned and calmly shot him through the head. He dropped without a sound and lay still.
“Is the truck totally dead?” I asked Erik.
“It’s on fumes. It kept choking so I pulled over,” Erik said.
“Keys in it?” I asked.
“Yeah but there’s not enough gas to get us there and with Joel on the roof of the car, crazy motherfucker. It made sense to make a run for it. Why, what did you have in mind?”
“The usual,” I said. “Something stupid.
I broke away and raced to the pickup. The crew had already cleared out of the back and reequipped whatever gear they had dragged into the truck. Since the larger road was blocked, this was a bottleneck. If I could wedge the gap closed we might have a chance.
“Go on ahead. I’ll catch up in a few minutes,” I told Anna and Joel.
Joel nodded without argument. Anna’s face clouded over, and I thought she was going to smack me.
“Be careful. I’ll never forgive you if you die out here,” she said.
“On it,” I said.
I crawled into the pickup and started it. She sputtered to life, and then nearly died.
Anna and crew raced for the bridge. Shufflers appeared over the top of the little body pile. One of them leapt towards me, and I got the door closed just before he could reach for my face. I fired the Glock and caught him in the side of the head. He had stringy white hair that practically floated around his noggin. The round that penetrated his cheek, and exited near his ear, didn’t make him any prettier, but at least it gave his hair some highlights.
I put the truck in drive and turned the wheel until I was pointed at the sidewalk, then accelerated. When I was as far as I could go, I rolled up the side windows and put on the seatbelt.
Joel waited a hundred yards away guarding the refugees flank. He shot me a quick beckoning motion. Yeah, I get it, do what I’m about to do and hurry the hell up.
At least a half-dozen shufflers were in the alleyway that probably served as a delivery path for trucks. It was too small for a two lane road, and that was just why I thought this was a good idea to begin with. The green-eyed bastards had company in the form of about a hundred Zs. If I didn’t judge this correctly, I was going to be one sorry squid in about three seconds.
But I had this covered. I would simply button up this hole, then get the hell off the truck, and be back with my companions in a few seconds. Easy peasy.
I put the truck in reverse and it sputtered. Shit. This thing really was low on gas. I backed up, angling the wheel hard to the left. There was no way I was going to have a straight shot so I made the decision to correct as I accelerated.
Four shufflers got out of the alleyway before I could plug the hole and raced toward Joel. If many more of them got out, they’d create a force that could completely harry our crew while the rest of the Zs had time to close. They wanted to use this as a staging area? Fine. But it was a bottleneck, and I was going to be the fucking cork.
They weren’t.
“Come on, baby. Just a little more fuel,” I said, hoping the car gods were smiling on me today.
I got up to speed, managed to fight the wheel until the rear of the truck would just slide into the alley, and then the engine sputtered and died. I quickly slammed it into neutral and let momentum do the rest until it rolled to a stop.
I put the emergency brake on and considered my options.
The back of the pickup rammed into the half-dozen shufflers, then partially rolled up the pile of bodies. Somehow, I’d managed to avoid hitting the walls on either side but that left me in a very bad position. I was so close, on the driver’s side, that I wouldn’t be able to open the door far enough to get out. I maneuvered over the console in the middle of the truck and got in the passenger’s side. A shuffler appeared in the window as I went for the door handle.
The Glock was a cannon inside the truck and my ears, already ringing like hell, took the full force of the noise. I dug into my right ear with a finger and opened my mouth a couple of times in an attempt to make it pop.
The shuffler was gone. I looked over the back of the seat and found another one creeping up the tailgate and into the cargo area. Shit, the door wasn’t going to let me free without me spending a lot of time wiggling out.
I covered my left ear, looked away, and fired three rounds into the windshield trying to spread out my shots.
The Glock clicked, and I took out my last magazine and reloaded.
The rounds had created holes that splintered outward but they hadn’t busted the glass. I used my elbow and struck one of them. Glass tinkled across the dash, but the window didn’t shatter like I’d hoped.
I turned and put my back against the passenger side seat and kicked with both legs. My feet went right through, leaving more safety glass all over the front of the hood and inside the cab. I dragged my feet back and the cloth ripped. Son of a bitch. So much for safety.
I hit it again and widened the hole. This shit wasn’t this hard on TV shows. Shoot the window, and then kick out the windshield.
I used my elbow again to clear a hole. One of the shufflers jumped on the roof. I fired a couple of rounds upward, and he fell away.
Then I did the stupid part of this plan. I kicked open the two doors and wedged them against the wall. Zs were dumb and when they tried to get around the side of the truck, they would hopefully end up reinforcing the barrier with their weight.
I kicked more of the glass out of the way until I had a hole I could get out of and put my pipe on the dash. I’d already lost my wrench, no way I was leaving this weapon behind.
Maneuvering my body in the tiny space wasn’t ideal because it made me feel exposed. The feeling was even worse when I stuck my head out of the hole, leaving me completely exposed. I pushed my way through expanding the portal in the windshield.
My right hand was next, and I got it up just in time to shoot at a shuffler as it closed in on me. Behind him there were many more. I’d plugged the hole and stopped the horde for now.
I sidled out of the truck and got my ass as far as the dash. I found a pair of shufflers waiting for me.
Dumb
ass number one had a scar that ran down his forehead and nose. Looked like someone had taken a hatchet to him. He barely wore clothes outside of some superman boxer-briefs that looked ridiculous and were literally covered in shit. His shirt was little more than a tank top and might have been yellow at one time. Now it was just a putrid brown like he had slept in vomit.
Dumb ass two was a woman. One of the first female shufflers I had run into. She was a looker by comparison to hatchet-to-the-face. Little upturned nose, pixie haircut that might have been rainbow-colored at one time, and a nose ring that stuck out of a crusted over putrid hole. Seriously, it leaked puss and probably smelled like death itself.
She wore a jean jacket over a black T-shirt. Her pants, such as they were, had been ripped from knee to hip. Neither one of them wore shoes.
I shot at hatchet face, but he dove behind the pickup’s cab. The girl crawled up the hood of the truck, fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth surface. I swung around and took a swipe at her with the gun. I caught her upside the head, and she fell on her face. I fired a round and it entered her back. She rolled off the truck and fell on the ground in a heap.
I got most of my upper body out of the windshield and struggled to pull my hips through. Safety glass tore at my overalls and jacket, making me slow my movements. This stuff was supposed to be safe but it felt like I was going to be torn open with every movement. Instead of freaking out, I trusted that the makers weren’t blowing smoke and this stuff would eventually shatter.
I put my hands on the hood of the truck, even though this meant releasing my weapons, and pushed with everything I had. Finally tinkling chunks of glass rewarded my effort, and I got my butt out. The female hipster shuffler picked that moment to leap onto me.
She came off the ground like a damn spring, and one hand hit my chest, knocking me flat. I battered her head with my fist and was rewarded with a dazed look. The nose ring glinted at me, so I grabbed it and ripped it free. She shrieked like a banshee, and renewed her assault.
Kicking with both legs, I got free of the glass, and slid backwards. She was off balance so I scissored one leg around and caught her midsection. She scrambled for purchase but fell backwards with a thump. Hatchet face crawled over the cab, eyes green, angry, and they glowed with malevolence.
Z-Risen (Book 5): Barriers Page 14