I put my ear to the door to listen to the inside. I gently rapped on the door. I was rewarded instantly with scraping feet coming towards the door.
“Sounds like three,” I whispered.
“Let’s just bash the door in and finish them,” Marshall said.
“Have at it, big brother.”
Marshall lifted his foot and smashed the handle of the door, splintering the wood around the deadbolt. The door slammed inward throwing the lead zombie back into the room. It landed on its back and slid into the wall between the doorway to the kitchen and a beautiful antique grandfather clock. The walking corpse looked to be in its mid thirties. It was wearing dark blue jeans and a black tee shirt under what had originally been an expensive sportcoat.
Marshall and I stepped back and to the side as the other two zombies shuffled out of the house. I brought my hatchet down on the skull of a gray haired man wearing a charcoal pinstripe suit. He fell forward with a thump onto the bricks. Leo ended the other with a quick blow from her kukri. The old woman fell on her face, landing on the bricks beside her husband.
The zombie that had been their son had reached his knees when Leo dispatched him. His head rolled a few feet eventually coming to rest at the base of the old wooden clock. We searched the house, but found no more people and thankfully no more shut-in cats.
In the garage we found a cream colored 1973 Cadillac Coupe DeVille and on a pegboard in the laundry room, we found the keys. The car was immaculate and had 7,200 miles on it. There was no sign that it was 107,200; the blue velour on the driver’s seat wasn't the slightest bit crushed. The motor turned over easily and the antique car roared to life. I'm not sure what a mint condition 1973 Caddy was worth before zombies, but it would have been worth it. This car was a beautiful example of automotive engineering.
We pulled out of the garage rollin’ gangster style leaned back on the bench seats. The Caddy had half a tank of gas so we headed towards the highway. We'd taken back roads to get to the government installation but I was in a hurry to get home. The on-ramp had a pretty severe accident, nine cars all smashed into each other blocking the road. Luckily we were riding in a steel shrouded tank with an insane amount of power under the hood. The Caddy easily pushed the small commuter cars out of the way. The previous owners were probably turning over in their grave, or at least rolling over on their front porch.
At highway speed the Caddy was like riding a couch down the road. My three friends fell asleep as I drove and only woke up when I had to slow down to push some cars out of the way, before falling quickly back to sleep.
"Wake up, zombies ahead," I yelled.
Each of them started awake as I plowed the giant car into a group of zombies that were taking up the entire width of the highway. Gore covered the window, which held up under the barrage without a scratch. I flicked the wipers on, which smeared blood and brains across the glass, temporarily blocking my view. A second twist of the wiper knob flooded the windshield with windshield cleaner. A few seconds later the wipers to cleaned enough area for me to see out again.
One of the zombies managed to get herself caught on the bumper. Her hand reached up over the front of the hood, trying to find something to grab on to. I tried swerving, but eventually I had to pull over to remove the remains.
The act of removing the recently mutilated carcass from the smashed chrome bumper was much more arduous than I anticipated. Every time I pulled on some part, pieces of the zombie separated from the core, which was wedged firmly in the grille. Both arms virtually fell off in my hands when I yanked on them. The legs were ground down to stumps from dragging on the road under the car. Behind the car there were two long bloody streaks trailing out behind the vehicle back to where I'd initially impacted the small horde.
The rest of the legs gave me no leverage either, the bones pulled right out of the rotten thigh meat. If all the zombies rotted at the rate of this one, we wouldn't have much of a threat to worry about in a few more months. If they wintered outside, there wouldn't be much left by spring.
We pulled into the driveway at home about noon, met by Leuty and Baker at the gate.
"I'm sorry Mr. Tookes. Frye took Max. We tried to stop them, but we lost a lot of men, I think they would have killed all of us.”
The news hit me like a sledgehammer in the chest.
"Which way did they go and how long has it been?"
"They went north out the back, they came a few hours after dark last night.
"Guys, get some food. Get some ammunition and resupply. If you're coming with me, I’m leaving in fifteen minutes, I'm going to get Max and put an end to Frye once and for all.
A fire like I'd never felt before ignited in my belly. I wasn't just going to kill Frye. I was going to make him hurt.
I was going to send a message, do not fuck with me.
Chapter 16
Lieutenant Steve
"Steve sees soldiers coming in. Lieutenant staying outside.” Max heard in his mind in a quiet voice from Steve.
"Max, we might have to fight. We are not strong, so you have to do it Max. The soldiers are dumb. They only walk straight for you; if you run in a circle you can get away.”
Max heard the shambling zombies enter the house downstairs, crashing against the furniture. He heard their footsteps entering the kitchen, where he'd eaten.
"Can they smell like doggies?" asked Max
"Some can. Some soldiers have slightly enhanced abilities like lieutenants, but It’s much less powerful.”
"I think they are smelling for me," thought Max.
"If that’s the case, we're definitely going to have to fight. Get up now. Go to the closet and open it.”
Inside the closet were several things Max was very happy to see, including a pair of red Converse sneakers that fit his feet. He found a basket of socks, some jeans and a sweater. Max was very grateful the jeans were the snap kind; he still had a hard time with pants that buttoned. There was a picture of a boy and a man in a suit hanging on the wall, the boy looked a lot like Max. Both of them had blonde hair, blue eyes and were all legs and arms. The little boy in the picture looked a younger than Max, but based on the clothing sizes available, he seemed to be pretty close in age. Perhaps it was an older picture, or perhaps he was small for his age, Max was certainly several inches taller than average for an almost four year old.
The zombies stumbled around in the kitchen, Max heard the can of green beans he'd left on the counter hit the floor and some other things come crashing down on the light marble tiles. While the badguys were down there distracted making a horrible racket, Max used that time to take his filthy pajamas off and slip into the pants and a dark green hooded sweatshirt. He put on the fresh socks, but the shoes presented a problem. Max was just learning to put shoes on. He ended up just knotting the laces together as best he could. The jeans were a little too short, but Max didn't really notice, he was happy to be warm and comfortable.
"How do I fight them?" asked Max.
"Think about your Daddy. Think about how much you miss him and how much you want to see him and give it everything you have. Don't ever stop fighting. If they hurt you we'll make it stop. Don't ever give up Max; because your Daddy won’t ever give up.”
"Ok. I'll try. I'm scared. I wish my Mommy and Daddy were here.”
"We know, Max. Your Daddy is coming. We promise.”
Max heard the zombies hit the steps. The door to the bedroom opened inwards. Max recalled a cartoon he watched one time where the kid hid behind the door when the bad guys were looking for him so he took up the spot right behind the door. He thought about the zombies walking into the room. In his imagination, they were following his smell towards the bed. He wanted them to go to the bed. He needed something to draw them towards the bed.
At that moment a faint blue glow filled the bed. As he concentrated on his need; he felt part of himself walk over to the bed and lay down. He watched himself lay down in the bed and pull the sheets up pretending to be asleep. He reac
hed up and turned the knob as quietly as he could and pulled the door open just a bit. These badguys were dumb. Maybe they couldn't work a door.
A few seconds later, there was a loud crash as the first zombie smashed against the door; having followed Max's smell straight to that bedroom. Max was safely behind it as the zombies went straight towards the bed. As soon as they were past, Max slid out the door, pulling it closed behind him. He heard the zombies ripping the bed to shreds as the blue glow flowed through the door and rejoined Max. He ran down the hall and down the stairs.
"Steve, get a stick. Walk to the lieutenant and hit it in the head" Max's symbiotes commanded.
"Steve follow Max. Not you.”
"Please do what they say," said Max.
Outside, Steve picked up a large stick and stumbled towards the super standing outside the house. It looked at him, but it was focused on controlling the stupid soldiers in that bedroom. It took most of his concentration to get them to open the door. Steve walked up behind it but that was fairly normal. Soldiers were drawn to lieutenants. The lieutenant knew it would stand behind him awaiting orders.
Steve drew the stick back and smashed the super in the head knocking it flat on its face right as Max bolted out the door. The super started to roll over and lashed out at Steve with its mind. Steve dropped the stick and fell to the ground in a heap.
Max put his hand on the super's head and whispered in its ear and in its mind, "You follow Max now,” While erasing the word ‘directions’ and drawing his own picture in the creatures mind. This super had a lot of other orders. It was much harder to find the directive to eat. He searched and searched; passing directives he didn't understand, looking for the control telling it to eat. Deeper and deeper Max went into the things mind.
Max's own symbiotes started screaming "Max, no. It’s hurting us!"
Max continued, stubborn as any three year old could be. He knew it was in there. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he just did. All zombies eat people. Finally, he found it buried at the bottom of the thing's mind. Max added the word no in front of it. He pulled his hand away, severing the connection between him and the dazed super.
The super zombie stood up standing straight and motionless, awaiting orders.
"Max, order it to bite you. We'll make it not hurt, but it can give us more friends. If it gives us its friends, it will make us better, stronger.”
"Bite Steve," ordered Max. "Make him smart, like you.”
The super bent over and bit Steve's leg, transferring all of the parasites in its mouth to Steve. Steve convulsed a few times, groaning and thrashing on the ground.
"Max, you should have had it bite us. It won't be able to do that for several more days. It will take a while for lieutenant this weak to build up enough friends to make another lieutenant.”
"I am Ok. Steve was not Ok. He needed help more than me.”
"Max, Steve is not a person. Steve is a tool.”
Steve rolled over and stood up, his wounds closed, fresh pink flesh showing where his old rotten skin had been. His rib cage was filling back out, with new flash growing over the places that were missing. Within minutes Steve could pass for a normal, pre apocalypse human.
"Max, may I go inside and find some new clothes? And maybe a pair of shoes?" asked Steve, who suddenly had a Welsh accent.
"Steve!" shouted Max, who ran over and gave him a hug. "You're all better!"
Steve stood still while the child hugged him. There was no feeling there. There was no love, no animosity, no feelings at all. This is what it was like to be a zombie. The old Steve, the living Steve, had been a man named Giles. He'd had a wife named Sean and two children. The oldest was a six year old daughter. His youngest was just a newborn baby back in Wales. Steve felt no emotion as he relived Giles memories. He felt no worry about them, no concern for their well being. There was a memory of loving them, but no feeling. Steve stood, remembering the birth of Giles daughter. He relived all of the most emotional moments in life, feeling nothing. The only thing he felt was a desire to serve Max.
Max looked up at Steve, "We have to find my Daddy. He will be sad that I'm gone and I miss him.”
"We have to go, now. The men chasing you aren't far behind," said Steve. "We have to make time. Max, can you ride on my back?"
"Ok," replied Max simply as Steve lifted the boy up. They took off at a run; the two supers and Max. Neither of them was as fast as Leo, but they were faster than a normal person. They ran around behind the house and off into the bush at the edge of the property. Max was holding on to Steve's neck so tightly that he would have choked him, if Steve had the need to breathe.
"What's your name?" Max asked the other super with them.
"This human was called Jason," said the zombie.
"Jason, I am glad to meet you. My name is Max. My Daddy will find us and he'll make this all better.”
"We need to keep running," said Jason. "The men chasing you have vehicles. We can move faster on foot, but they haven't stopped looking for you. Before you took me over I was trying to find you so I could make a deal with them. I was going to hand you over to them in hopes of currying favor with Laura.”
"What's favor?" Max asked.
"It means make her like me"
"Why do you want her to like you? She's bad. She talked to me once, she said mean things. She said I should come to her and if I didn't she would kill my Daddy. But my Simboats said I shouldn't. They said my Daddy would kill Laura.”
Jason replied "I don't think anything can kill Laura.”
"My Daddy can.” replied Max.
They were running through the woods, as fast as these supers could go. Max was hanging on as tightly as he could through the bouncing. They ran for nearly an hour before Max started slipping.
"I'm tired," said Max. "I need to walk. My arms are burny.”
Steve and Jason stopped running in the tree line along the edge of the woods leading to a huge grassy field. Out in the field hundreds of horses were running wild, thundering across the countryside.
A smile crept across Max's face as he watched the huge animals move. It was pure joy. They were beautiful running together. They turned as a group before heading up over a hill and disappearing from sight.
Then Max figured out why they were running. Two men on quads were racing up the tree line. They were wearing full combat fatigues and the quads had been spray painted jungle camouflage. Steve and Jason knelt down in the undergrowth at the edge of the field and in one cohesive movement both of them sprung out of the bushes taking the riders down to the ground. Both zombies rolled to their feet. They stood prepared to kill the soldiers. Only one of the soldiers stood up, shooting Steve in the leg with a pistol. Steve flinched at the impact, but continued coming forward. By that time Jason had the man by the neck, biting into him. Steve joined in biting the other side.
Max shouted "NO! No eating!"
"We're not eating him, we're turning him," replied Steve calmly, a bit of blood running down his chin.
"No turning. No biting. Biting is bad.”
Both zombies released the soldier. It was of course too late, but perhaps next time. The soldier, who had slumped to the ground, stood back up and started walking towards Max.
"Follow Max. No eating," said Jason to the new zombie-soldier.
"Max, you're going to have to do it. But you can't keep that up, every time you turn one of us, it uses up a little part of your energy. We need you to be strong, until we are better. Do not make any more friends out of us Max. Doing so will make you sick and it will make us sicker.”
Max ran through the now familiar routine of making the zombie his subject.
"Can you talk?" asked Max. "What's your name?"
"Greenwood. This humans name was Greenwood,” replied the newly turned soldier.
"Ask him where the rest of his companions are," the symbiotes said to Max.
"Where are your umpanions?"
"They're about three clicks back. We'll need to move these
quads into the underbrush and hide Small's body. They'll be able to track us if they find the bikes.”
"Max, may we speak directly?"
"Sure, you can borrow my mouth.”
Max's symbiotes spoke through his mouth. "We have a better idea. Greenwood, you stay here. Lay down on the ground and act like you're hurt. When the other soldiers come, take care of them.”
"I will be terminated.”
"Your job is to serve Max. Do so," replied the symbiotes.
Max was unhappy with this plan it didn't seem right to him but he didn't fully grasp the concepts of taking care of them or being terminated and his friends had kept him safe for this long. He trusted them.
What Zombies Fear (Book 2): The Maxists Page 13