The Gauntlet_Book Two in the Zombie Uprising Series

by M. A. Robbins

  Zeke's hands shook as he slowly removed the sword from the scabbard. Long, thin, and curved, it reflected the light along a sharp looking blade.

  Jen held out a hand. "Can I see it?"

  Zeke hesitated. Jen kept her face neutral. "I'll give it back."

  Zeke leaned forward with the sword. Mark cleared his throat. "Give it to her hilt first."

  "Right." Zeke gave a weak smile and slid the sword into the scabbard and held it out so the hilt faced Jen.

  Jen slid the sword out and gave it a few practice swings. She examined the blade. Damn thing looked sharp, but comic book shops don't sell swords with an edge. Must be the light making it look that way. She traced the edge lightly with a finger.

  "Shit!" She pulled her finger back. Blood oozed from the cut. She slid the sword back into the scabbard Zeke still held, grabbed a t-shirt with a dragon imprint from the worktable, and used it to put pressure on the wound. "Where'd you get that thing?"

  "On the wall over the display case." Zeke smiled. "Of course, a katana won't do much damage without an edge on it, so I broke into the knife shop around the corner and sharpened the blade."

  "Where are the other weapons from the wall?" Mark asked. "The gang get them?"

  Zeke laughed and pulled a stack of boxes away from the wall. He used the blade of his sword to dig between two pieces of sheetrock and pulled the bottom piece from the wall. An assortment of knives, helmets, chain mail, and weapons lay in the cavity.

  Reaching in, Jen picked up a double-headed axe. "This will do quite nicely." She looked at Zeke. "Are these sharpened, too?"

  Zeke shook his head. "But they don't need to be. Those can still lop off zombie parts, and all you really have to do is bash their heads anyway."

  Grant took a huge broadsword. "This one's mine."

  Mark hefted a mace and gave it a few practice swings. "You sure about that? You've gotta carry that heavy-ass thing around."

  "True enough." Grant put the broadsword back and chose a solid, but lighter blade. "What about you, Doc?"

  Doc put a finger to the corner of his mouth as he looked over the cache of weapons. "I do believe..." He bent down and lifted a spiked bat. "I played peewee league as a boy back in Georgia." He swung slowly, following through like a baseball batter. "Balance isn't bad. It's enough for me to smack a zombie upside the head."

  Grant sheathed his sword in his belt and pointed his pistol at Zeke again. "How do you know the gang can't hear us in here?"

  Zeke placed his scabbard on a table next to him. "As long as we don't yell, they'd have to be standing in the store to hear. Out there, it can echo depending on where you're at." He crossed his arms. "Can you guys stop pointing guns at me now? Haven't I proven I'm no threat to you?"

  Jen holstered her gun in her belt. "He's OK. Just a kid." She thrust out her hand. "I'm Jen."

  Zeke smiled and shook her hand, then he held it out to the others, who introduced themselves in turn. Zeke gestured to a shelf loaded with energy drinks and snacks. "Anyone hungry or thirsty?"

  "No, thanks," Jen said. "Now that we've got the weapons we came for, we'll be on our way."

  Zeke's face fell. "What's the rush? It's been weeks since I talked to anyone."

  Jen bit her lip. The poor kid was lonely, but they had to get to the plane.

  "We need to get to the base and catch a plane out," Doc said.

  Zeke's face lit up. "There's still a plane out? Where's it going? I have a brother in Rhode Island I could stay with."

  Grant put a hand up. "Whoa. This is a military plane and it's there to get Doc out."

  "And Jen and Mark," Doc said.

  Zeke grabbed Doc's arm. "Can I go, too? I won't take much room."

  Doc looked at Jen and Mark. "What do y'all think?"

  "Wait." Grant pushed between Doc and Zeke. "He's not authorized."

  Doc put an arm out and guided Grant to the side. "You just made up my mind. I'm authorizing Zeke."

  Grant's face turned red. "What the fuck? Are we going to pick up every damn stray on the way?"

  Jen tried not to laugh at Grant, but a chuckle escaped her lips. Mark said, "I guess that's up to Doc, isn't it?"

  Grant said nothing and walked back to the door. He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. "Need to check in if we can."

  Jen turned to Zeke. "Better get loaded up. You have a gun?"

  Zeke shook his head. "My katana's enough."

  "Have you ever shot a gun?" Mark asked.

  "Sure," Zeke said. "I kick ass in all the top first-person shooters."

  Doc frowned. "What's a first-person shooter?"

  Jen sighed. "Kung Fu Nerd here is talking about video games."

  "Right," Zeke said. "I'm a nerd and proud of it."

  "Doc." Grant pushed through, holding out the cell phone. "The colonel wants you."

  Doc reached for the phone. "What has he said so far?"

  "Nothing. As soon as we connected, he told me to hand it to you."

  Doc put the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

  He nodded. "Yes, it's me."

  He listened, then pulled the phone from his ear. "Exactly where in the city are we?"

  "100th Avenue and Old Seward," Jen said.

  He put the phone back to his ear. "Did you hear that?"

  His eyes narrowed as he listened. "Wait. Just a minute." He pulled the phone from his ear, then pressed a finger to the screen. "OK. You're on speaker. Repeat what you said." He placed the phone on the workbench.

  The colonel's voice came over the phone. "Not a good idea, Doctor. This information is on a need-to-know basis. You're the only one who needs to know."

  Doc frowned. "I truly disagree. This affects us all. Besides, I'll tell them anyway. I'd rather they hear it from y'all so nothing's lost in the translation."

  Jen could imagine this colonel sitting behind a desk and seething at having to give in to Doc. It'll do him some good to realize he doesn't have control anymore. None of us do.

  The colonel cleared his throat. "We are being attacked by the creatures."

  "Zombies," Jen said.

  The colonel paused, then continued. "The base is too big for our skeleton crew to defend, so we've set up a perimeter around the flight line. Even that's a stretch. We can't hold on forever."

  "How long do we have?" Mark asked.

  "There's something else," the colonel said. "Protocol 159.37 has been implemented."

  Doc's face flushed. "159.37? That's—"

  "Yes, Doctor."

  "What's protocol one five whatever?" Grant asked.

  Doc removed his glasses and cleaned them with the tail of his shirt. "The protocol deals with stopping a pandemic in the most absolute way possible."

  "Bottom line, Doc," Jen said. "Make it simple for my small brain."

  "The area of infection will be cleansed with nuclear weapons."

  Jen's breath hitched. "Area of infection?"

  Doc nodded. "That would be Anchorage."

  17

  "Are you shitting me? We're nuking our own city?" Jen's head throbbed.

  "Not city," the colonel said. "Cities. Anchorage, Wasilla, and Fairbanks. The president has given the order to implement the protocol in"—he paused—"fourteen hours."

  Mark put a hand to his forehead, his eyes focused on the floor. "That's until the nuke drops. How long do we have until the C-130 leaves?"

  "Twelve hours. That's the best we can do. Protocol is to be out two hours prior to detonation."

  "Screw your protocol," Jen said. "You're our only way out."

  Everyone started talking at the same time. The colonel's voice barked from the speaker. "Enough!" They all went silent.

  "Good," the colonel said. "We don't have time for this horseshit. It took a day and a half for you to get less than a third of the way here. You need to pick up the pace. We need Dr. Wilson and his data."

  Mark clapped his hands together once. "He's right. We need to go."

  "Check in with me," the colonel said. "As of
ten as you can. Once you hit the base perimeter, I might be able to send a team in a vehicle to bring you in, but we can't help you any more than that."

  "Yes, sir," Grant said. He pressed his lips together so tight they turned white. He's doing that hoo-rah stuff and gearing himself up.

  "Good bye, Colonel," Doc said.

  "Good luck," the colonel answered.

  Doc hung up the phone and handed it back to Grant.

  Jen put her hands on her hips. "We should check our weapons loads, grab some food and water, and get the hell on the road."

  "Wait." Grant stepped up nose-to-nose with her. "Who the hell do you think you are? I'm in charge here."

  Doc put an arm between the two. "We don't have time for this."

  "I disagree, Doc," Mark said. "Better to waste a little time now than waste lives later." He nodded at Jen.

  She drew herself up, her stomach fluttering. "I never was much good at following, and now that the shit's gotten real, my patience for it is gone. I know the city and I'm the best hope we have in getting to the plane in time. Besides, if I want military experience, I'll rely on Mark."

  Grant's jaw dropped. "Him? The rent-a-cop?"

  Mark glared at Grant. "I spent six years in the infantry with tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. Bronze Star. I know how to survive."

  "You're bullshitting," Grant said. When Mark didn't answer, he asked, "Aren't you?"

  Jen patted Grant on the back. "Not a bit, but don't worry, the rear guard position's all yours."

  "I agree that Jen should direct our movements from here on out," Doc said. "Are y'all done here, or do we need more discussion while the clock keeps ticking?"

  Grant shook his head. Mark clasped him on the shoulder. "Look, we need you. We all have to work together or we die."

  "Yeah, sure." Grant turned away, grabbed some beef jerky, and topped off his canteen with bottled water.

  After they'd taken their supplies, Jen grasped the doorknob. "Mark takes lead. Then me, Doc, and Zeke. Grant, we need your skill covering our rear."

  Grant nodded.

  "Wait," Zeke said. "I almost forgot something." He went to a desk and rustled through a pile of papers.

  Jen rolled her eyes. This leading shit isn't going to be easy. "Come on. We need to go."

  "Go on," Zeke said. "I'll catch up. It'll only take me a minute."

  Jen looked at Mark and he shrugged. "You're not out in front of the shop in a minute and you'll miss the bus. We can't wait any more."

  Zeke waved him off. "I'll be there." He opened a desk drawer.

  Mark opened the door into the shop, and the light from the lamps spilled out a few feet. He crept past racks of comics and paraphernalia to the front door.

  Jen followed, but couldn't see anything more than his shadow. Don't want to wake the boogeymen upstairs.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Either the door to the storeroom had been closed, or the lights turned off. An amorphous shadow followed her. Had to be Doc.

  Mark left the store and took a knee. Jen ducked down next to him. "We should find a different door to leave. Those zombies are probably still at the one we came through."

  "Good idea," Mark said.

  She scanned the open food court. With the ambient light filtering in from the entrances, she made out jumbles of shapes, but nothing distinctive. Rustling came from a couple of feet next to her, and her pulse went into overdrive.

  "Are you there?" Doc whispered.

  Jen let out a deep breath and lowered the axe she'd unconsciously cocked back. She whispered, "Right here, Doc. Grant, you there?"

  "Affirmative."

  Creaking and settling sounds came from the darkness. There could be a hundred zombies out there and she wouldn't know it unless they growled or howled. She held her axe at the ready and the seconds ticked by.

  Mark leaned in front of her and whispered, "Any sign of Zeke?"

  Grant raised his voice. "Zeke? You here?"

  No one answered.

  "We don't have time to wait," Grant said.

  Jen frowned. Zeke was just a kid, and she sure as shit didn't want to leave him to melt in a nuclear storm if they didn't need to. "One more minute won't hurt."

  "Agreed," Doc said.

  Something moved across the food court. Didn't sound accidental. It sounded...stealthy.

  Jen slid the axe into a belt loop and pulled her pistol out. Did any of the others hear it? She didn't dare to risk making enough noise to ask.

  It seemed to her that they stayed there, motionless, for another five minutes. Twinges in her calves warned her they were about to cramp. Maybe Zeke had changed his mind.

  Mark whispered even lower than he had before. "Zeke here yet?"

  "No," came Grant's reply.

  Mark rose, and Jen followed his lead. Too bad about Zeke. She liked him, but they couldn't wait.

  She put a hand on Mark's shoulde,r and Doc's hand clasped hers. Mark eased down the row of storefronts. He's not crossing the food court. Must've heard the same thing I did.

  Steady and slow, Mark led them toward another entrance, the light from the glass doors spilling into the mall. Several yards from the short hall that ran to the entrance, he kicked a piece of debris. The group froze.

  Jen tilted her head, straining to hear anything, and she picked up muffled growling. Not a zombie in pursuit of its prey, but one that probably wandered around outside.

  Mark continued on, and the growling grew louder as they approached the doors. They reached the corner to the hallway that led to the doors and Mark peered around it. His shoulders sagged and he turned back to the group. "At least a dozen zombies at this one."

  "Shit," Grant said. "How about we cross to the other side?"

  "Thought I heard something over there earlier," Mark said.

  Jen nodded. "Me, too. But what choice do we have?"

  "Where are the stairs?" Grant asked.

  Jen closed her eyes and ran through the layout as she knew it. "A set at either end, next to the elevators."

  "So if we keep going in the same direction we'll hit them?" Grant asked.

  "Yeah."

  "Good point," Mark said. "We're more likely to run into the gang around the stairs. We'll go across here, but first we'll backtrack to get away from the light coming in from the doors. We'll be harder to spot that way. Hands on shoulders, people." He crept past the others, turning the team around.

  Maybe we'll run into Zeke on the way back.

  Ten yards in, Mark stopped. "We cross here. It'll be slow. Secure your weapons and use your free hand to feel for obstacles. Silence is more important right now than having your weapons ready. And stay low. No sense in making a bigger target than you need."

  Jen slid her pistol back in her belt and held her hands in front of her and to the side. Mark moved one step at a time, paused, then another. She used the pause to feel for anything in the way. Ten steps in she felt a cold metal bar. Feeling up and down, she found it attached to more bars and flat wood. A chair. She stepped around it.

  Sweat beaded on her forehead and a drop ran into her eye. She blinked, and wiped it away at the next pause. Judging by the light coming from the outside doors, they appeared to be no more than a quarter of the way across.

  Mark stopped. A cough came from somewhere off in the darkness to their left. Jen slipped her pistol from her belt.

  Several blinding white lights shined on them from three sides, and the echo of multiple guns being cocked had Jen's heart doing double time. She released Mark's shoulder and shaded her eyes with a hand, but couldn't make anything out.

  A gravelly voice chuckled, "Welcome to our house. I insist you stay for a while."

  18

  Jen blinked, trying to catch a glimpse of anything, but the lights had burned into her retinas. Judging from the sounds of the guns being cocked, there had to be at least a dozen of them.

  The gravelly voice said, "Before we go on, I want you to lay all your weapons down. It'd be bad manners for a guest to w
alk around our house with them."

  "Put them down," Mark said.

  Jen placed her pistol on the floor, then unslung her rifle and laid it down.

  "That cool-looking axe, too," the voice said.

  Jen pulled the axe from her belt loop and eased it down next to her. She straightened and raised her arms. She had nothing left to fight with, not even a knife. She expected Grant to give them lip, but he said nothing as he complied. Doc and Mark followed suit, then raised their hands.

  The lights pointed away from their eyes and at the floor, illuminating the weapons. A man in a dirty, torn pair of khaki pants and a blue dress shirt collected the weapons and disappeared back into the light.

  A man in an expensive-looking suit coat and pants, with a black T-shirt stepped into the light. "My name is Trip," he said in the gravelly voice. He waved his hand like a magician taking a bow. "And these are my people, and this is my property."

  Jen bit her lip. Trip's getup, along with his shaved head, goatee, and beady black eyes was ripe for a half dozen smartass comments. Need to let Mark handle this. Don't think this asshole would take an insult very well.

  Mark glanced at her. Was he thinking the same thing? "We apologize for intruding. We didn't know the mall was already occupied."

  "Well, that's a start," Trip said.

  Grant spoke up. "If you'll just return our weapons, we'll be on our way."

  Trip chuckled and laughter came from the darkness around them. "I don't think that'll work for us. In fact, to pay us back, you'll have to work for us."

  "Work?" Jen said.

  "Nothing's free, girl." He leered at her. "And I know exactly how you can work it off."

  Jen's mouth went dry. No damn way. They'll have to kill me.

  "I'm afraid there's somewhere we must be," Doc said.

  "Oh, did you hear that?" Trip mocked. "They have an appointment." Laughter rolled off the walls and storefronts.

  "We're due at the base," Doc said. "And if we aren't there soon, they'll come looking for us and I wouldn't want to be in y'all's shoes when they do."

  The laughter grew even more. Poor Doc gave it a good try.

  When the laughter settled, Trip said, "What's your name, girl?"

  Jen glowered at him.