Gen Z Boxed Set

by Baileigh Higgins

  Finally, Dean found a box of tools and was able to retrieve a small ax, a hammer, and a crowbar. “Here. This will have to do.”

  Chas took the ax and pushed it through her belt so it hung securely by her side. Giving the truck a final once over, she stumbled across a case of cool drink tucked in next to several cans of fuel, and a box filled with more tools and duct tape. Grabbing a roll of tape, she made her way to Vanessa and Dean.

  “Here. Let’s wrap up our forearms and wrists. Our collars around our necks too. It should help against wandering teeth.”

  With the tough tape wrapped around their most vulnerable parts, they were a little more prepared for what awaited them outside, though Chas giggled when she saw Vanessa and Dean. “You look like aliens in tinfoil!”

  Vanessa shot her a sour look. “So do you.”

  They moved back to their former spots and hunkered down, sharing a bottled of water. In silence, they sat as the convoy drove. They had no way to tell how far they’d gone or the distance they still had left to travel. All they knew was darkness.

  At certain points, the truck would come to a stop, and Chas assumed they’d reached a block in the road or some other obstacle that caused them to stop. A few times they turned, and the three of them would sway to the side. At others they weaved through traffic, their vehicle moving in a zig-zag pattern.

  Only once did they hear anything beyond the roar of the engine, and that was when the driver had a shouting match with someone in a neighboring truck. Chas sighed as she tried to get comfortable. It’s gonna be a long trip.

  Chapter 9

  Roughly an hour had passed since they’d left the base, and Chas was beginning to feel the boredom caused by the enforced inactivity. She shifted from side to side, but her butt had gone numb, and no amount of wiggling was going to fix that.

  Vanessa sighed. “Jeez, how much longer?”

  As if the universe had heard her, the truck jerked to a sudden stop causing all three of their heads to smash into the cabin behind them. Chas muffled the cry of pain that sprang to her lips and perked her ears for any strange sound. She didn’t have to wait long.

  Shrill screams and feral shrieks rose around them in a cacophony of chaos, broken by the rough bark of several guns as the soldiers let loose. The zombies closed in, milling around the supply truck and smashing into the canvas. They bounced off the tough material and streamed around it, their shadows dancing on the wall like ghostly bypassers.

  Chas huddled next to Vanessa and Dean, praying the infected wouldn’t find them. She doubted the tied-down flap would be much of a deterrent to a determined zombie. After a few seconds, the fighting moved away from their spot and Dean tugged at their arms.

  “Come on. Let’s check it out,” he said. When Chas hesitated her frowned. “This is what we came for, right?”

  She swallowed and scraped together her courage. He was right . This was what they’d snuck out of the safe zone for, and she’d be stupid not to have a look. “I’m coming.”

  Vanessa said nothing, but she followed them without hesitation. Together, they unlaced and lifted up a corner of the flap. Not too much, just enough to get an eyeful of the scene playing out in the street.

  Chas gasped. It was a shocking sight, and far worse than she had thought possible. The convoy had pulled up in a parking lot in front of a red-brick building that looked like an office block. It had only one entrance: a set of metal double doors at the top of several wide steps. Small, high windows ran in rows along the sides of the building, and Chas counted four stories. The CDC and Army vehicles were there too, parked off to the side and abandoned.

  Chas swallowed when she spotted dark smears of blood on the white paint of the CDC vehicle with more of the stuff pooled on the tarmac. Something bad had happened here, and it was pretty obvious what had caused it.

  Zombies.

  Bodies littered the ground. The corpses of those who’d attacked the CDC party. Many more ran around like ants, however, screeching their hunger and snapping their teeth like piranhas. Their fingers were like claws, their movements erratic and jerky, almost as if their muscles were spasming.

  It was exactly like the night of the fair, and Chas was transported back there in an instant. The sight of innocent people changing into monsters, the sound of the screams issuing from countless throats, and the smell of cotton candy, buttered popcorn, and blood. Lots of blood.

  It was just a memory, though, without the power of her earlier visions, and Chas managed to shake it off. She looked around for a familiar face and spotted Sanchez not far away on top of a car roof. She was on one knee, her elbow supported by her thigh as she sighted on one infected after the other. Her accuracy was quite astonishing, and she hardly missed a single shot. Whenever she got one, her teeth flashed pearly white against her smooth mocha skin, and her laughter could be heard over it all.

  “She’s insane,” Dean said.

  “I think she’s awesome,” Vanessa said, her admiration shining through.

  Chas grinned. “Me too.”

  The other soldiers were likewise giving a good account of themselves, but Chas wondered if it would be enough. There were hundreds of zombies streaming in from all sides, and the noise was alerting the rest of the town as well.

  A bloodied face suddenly appeared in front of Chas’ face, and she yelped as the infected tried to shove its way inside the supply truck. It snapped at her, its crooked fingers reaching for her arms as it wiggled through the gap.

  Dean punched the middle-aged zombie in the face, but it ignored him, honing in on Chas with single-minded hunger. She fumbled for her knife, and her hand closed over the handle. Taking a deep breath, she jabbed the blade into its eye, turning her head away. Fluid squirted out, and the zombie became as stiff as a board before falling away.

  “Ugh,” Chas said, searching for a cloth. She found one and wiped her face, hand, and blade clean with it. “That’s gross.”

  “Tell me about it,” Vanessa said. “The smell alone is enough to kill a person.”

  Cautiously, they stuck their heads out once more to look. The soldiers had lost ground. The bodies were piling up, with gaps opening in the National Guard’s ranks. A few had tried to breach the door to the office block, but they remained shut tight. Soon, they’d be overrun by the undead.

  “This is bad,” Chas whispered. “There’s too many of them.”

  “I know. We have to help them,” Vanessa added.

  “Impossible. What can we do? We’re not even armed properly,” Dean said with a vehement shake of his head.

  “Maybe we can cause a distraction,” Chas suggested.

  “But how?”

  “We haven’t got anything, and I don’t think we should go out there. It’s suicide,” Dean said. Even as he spoke, another zombie attacked the truck, growling as it tried to claw its way inside. More bodies slammed into the canvas sides, and the truck shook from side to side.

  Vanessa slammed her hammer down on the zombie’s head. It sounded weird. Like a dull hollow pop, but the undead woman fell away, and Dean slammed the flap shut, tying it in place once more.

  Chas turned on him. “We have to help the soldiers. We can’t do nothing and sit here while they all die.”

  “I know that, but we need a plan. We can’t just run out there willy-nilly,” Dean said.

  “He’s right, Chas. If we go out there with nothing we’re as good as dead too,” Vanessa said.

  Chas sagged with despair. They were right, much as she hated to admit it. “Okay. A plan. Make a plan. Let’s find something we can use create a distraction. Something that will draw the zombies off. Maybe we can set fire to something.”

  For the second time that day, they rummaged through the supplies in the truck, discarding one object after the other. Suddenly, Chas bumped against the fuel cans. The liquid inside sloshed around, and she paused as an idea occurred to her. “There’s gas here. We could stuff a cloth into the necks and toss them out to burn.”

 
; “A fire might distract a few zombies, but will it be enough?” Dean asked.

  “What about gasoline bombs?” Vanessa suggested. “We can toss as many as we like, set fire to the infected, draw others away. We could even set off a box of ammunition. Now, that would cause a distraction.”

  “I like your thinking,” Chas said eyeing the nearest ammo case. It was a small one, filled with 9mm bullets. “What do we use for the bombs?”

  “These,” Vanessa said, hoisting a glass cool drink bottle in the air, “and this.” She waved a few bandages from the first aid kit.

  “That’s perfect. Let’s get to it,” Chas said, grabbing a roll of bandages, and a few beers before settling down with the canister of fuel. “Dean, keep a look-out for zombies, will you?”

  “Sure,” he agreed.

  “This will take a few minutes,” Chas said, popping a drink open and pouring it out through a small gap between the side of the truck and the canvas.

  Vanessa did the same, and soon the back was filled with gas fumes as their nimble fingers moved as fast as possible to create the much needed bombs. As they worked, Chas prayed their idea would work, but even more…that they could pull it off in time.

  Chapter 10

  “Are you ready?” Chas asked, holding a gasoline bomb in each hand.

  “I’m ready,” a grim-looking Vanessa answered.

  Dean untied the flap to the outside and peeked out. “It’s clear for the moment. The zombies are all focussed on the soldiers. We’ve got a very small window of opportunity here.”

  “Then let’s go for it,” Chas said, trying to sound brave despite the quaver in her voice.

  Dean held up the matches he’d found and lit one. “Are you guys sure about this?”

  “There’s no going back now. If the soldiers fall, we’re all dead. It’s only a matter of time until the zombies find us.”

  He lit the ends of the porous material hanging out of each bottle until it burned brightly and nodded. “Go for it.”

  Dean lifted up the flap, and Chas threw herself feet-first out of the opening, not allowing herself a chance to think about what she was doing. It had to be done. As simple as that. Even if she died in the process.

  She landed on the other side, lost her balance, and staggered a few steps. She stopped abruptly when her back hit the bullbar of another vehicle.

  An infected man stood barely three feet away, and his face turned toward her. He growled, and she reacted on instinct, tossing one bomb at him. It missed but landed at his feet and exploded into a ball of flame as the gasoline inside the fragile glass bottle caught fire. Chas cowered away from the burst of heat, raising her hands to protect her face.

  The zombie howled in rage, but his eyes never left hers as his hands reached out to grab her. Even when on fire, he still wanted to kill her, scarcely seeming to feel the flames licking at his flesh.

  Chas screamed as she scooted backward, her gaze fixed on his burning visage. Vanessa came roaring through the opening, knocking him away with her booted feet, and he fell over, his head hitting the tar with a dull thud. Twitching a few times, he tried to get up but failed, the fire eating away at his tendons and flesh.

  “It’s working,” Chas cried.

  Vanessa grinned and helped Chas to her feet. “What are you waiting for? Let’s get them!”

  With the fire forming a halo around her head, Vanessa looked a lot like an avenging angel, and Chas drew comfort from that. She found herself yelling like a banshee as she stormed the zombie hordes, tossing her remaining bomb into their midst.

  The infected were enveloped in flames, their limbs contorting as the heat burned away their flesh. They hissed in frustrated anger as their ability to feed and infect was hampered. Vanessa followed up with her bombs, and they disappeared into a wall of fire.

  The next moment, Dean was there, lugging a backpack filled with more gasoline bombs. He tossed a lit one into the crowd before handing them each another one.

  “Hold on,” he cried as he lit the ends of the bandages with his matches. His hands shook, though, and more than once the flimsy matches broke in his fingers.

  While struggling to light the stuff, three zombies closed in on them. Chas was about to drop her bomb and pull out her ax when someone shot the attackers, dropping them like dominoes.

  She looked up, and Sanchez threw her a salute and a grin which Chas returned with pleasure. “Thanks!”

  “No problem,” Sanchez shouting to be heard above the din.

  Once Dean got the next batch of bombs lit, Chas and Vanessa ran around and tossed them where ever the undead congregated the thickest. The glass shattered, spreading hot shards of fiery rain over the tarmac. The zombies burned easily, like wood left too long in the sun, their clothes disintegrating into ash.

  The soldiers had pulled back into a loose circle, using their trucks as cover, and they were now surrounded by a wall of flames and burning bodies. Alvarez bellowed out commands, organizing a barrage of withering gunfire into the closest ranks of zombies.

  Meanwhile, Dean wrestled with the small crate containing the live ammo, tearing off the lid. He doused it in gasoline, picked it up, and threw them each a look. “Cover me, guys.”

  Chas had thrown her last bomb, so she grabbed the hatchet still hanging from her belt and ran after him. Vanessa followed them with her hammer, and together they protected Dean from attack while he made a bee-line for a cluster of metal dumpsters standing at the edge of the parking lot.

  A snarling teen raced toward Chas, and she slashed at the girl’s neck with her blade. The ax buried itself deep into the neck vertebrae, and she had to wrench it free with a kick to the zombie girl’s stomach.

  Another met with the business end of Vanessa’s hammer when it tried to grab Dean by the collar of his shirt. She slammed the blunt end into its temple, and the bone crunched audibly. It fell to the ground with a dull thud.

  Dean had reached his destination, and the girls closed up around him with their weapons ready. The smell of rotting garbage filled their nostrils, and roaches scurried across the damp concrete beneath the containers.

  He opened the lid of the nearest dumpster and tossed in the box of bullets. Already wet with gasoline, he struck a match, and the box lit on fire. With a resounding crash, he slammed the lid shut again. “Run, guys. She’s gonna blow!”

  Chas sprinted away with all the speed she could muster, weaving between both the zombies and the abandoned vehicles in her way. She had to duck a few times, and once she banged into the corner of a stationary car, bruising her hip.

  “Ow,” Chas muttered, her sprint reduced to a limping jog as pain shot down her leg.

  Vanessa appeared next to her, ready to help should Chas need it, but the next moment, the ammo box exploded. The burning gasoline had done its job, and the bullets popped one after the other. Contained inside the dumpster, the live ammo pinged off its metal sides creating an almighty racket. It sounded almost like popcorn being made, only the kernels were made of solid steel.

  As one, the zombies turned toward the sound, their growling features seeking out the source of the terrible noise. They honed in on the dumpster and made their way over at various rates of speed: Shuffling, crawling, shambling, and running. There were old ones who looked a bit worn out, fresh ones who seemed too human for comfort, and they came in all shapes and sizes, ages and ethnicities. The virus wasn’t picky. Not picky at all.

  Chas fell to the ground, covering her ears with her hands. She looked around and shouted at Vanessa and Dean, “Over there.”

  Together, the trio crawled underneath a nearby camper van, hiding from the numerous feet heading their way. The infected streamed past as they held their breath and Chas prayed no crawlers would spot them. Pebbles dug into her flesh, and the smell of rotting flesh caused her to gag, but she didn’t dare move.

  The soldiers stopped firing as the infected leached away, using their knives to finish off those that were the nearest. Alvarez took the opportunity to r
egroup his men and draw them back into formation. “Fall back. Fall back into formation. Remember your training, damn it!”

  The noise carried on and on until she thought her eardrums would burst, and her head rang nonstop. Finally, the pops tapered off as the last of the bullets exploded, and billows of smoke curled from the dumpster’s lid as the contents caught fire. The poor rubbish bin looked a bit worse for wear, the metal sides indented, and the top half was blown off its hinges.

  Chas saw only a little of this from her vantage point under the camper, but she heard Alvarez shouting out his orders. “Sanchez, stop up those gaps, Williams try to get a hold of the CDC group on your radio. Smith, Davis, Johnson, Murray, and Keene, get up top and pick off the infected. Thin the crowd, and use your silencers. We cannot afford any more attention.”

  The soldiers shouted their agreement, and Chas decided it was time to move. “We need to get back to that supply truck, guys.”

  “Good idea. Let’s move,” Vanessa said.

  Together, they scooted out from underneath the camper and headed toward their hiding place in a low run, trying to avoid both stray zombies and the soldiers. Chas still had the vague hope that Alvarez didn’t know they were there, and they could sneak a ride back into the safe zone. It all happened so fast…maybe they missed us. Yeah, right.

  She should’ve known better, of course.

  The brooding face of Alvarez appeared in their path, his scowl every bit as intimidating as she remembered. “There you are. I knew it was you the moment those bombs went off. Nobody else could be so stupid…or brave.”

  Chas swallowed hard on the knot in her throat. “I can explain.”

  He raised a hand to forestall her. “Save it for Major Brown and your mother. I don’t know which one is worse, but I’d bet it’s your mom. To be honest, I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.”