“Get your head in the game, man. Let’s go!”
He was right. There were ten or fifteen of them for each one of us and more coming. The only thing stopping them from overrunning our position were the remains of the barricade. We could make a valiant stand and take a shit load of them with us.
Or we could do something else. We could haul ass.
We did the latter.
###
12:25 hours approximate
Location: Undead Central, San Diego CA – Roz’s Place
It’s been a week since that day, and I still think about it maybe more than everything else that’s happened since. But I’ll have to get to that later.
Joel’s back from his little trip to Fortress and he isn’t alone. He brought a couple of teenagers with him. Were these the little shits that broke into our house?
Joel had knocked on the door three times and then once. He’d paused and done it again, so Roz opened the door. She took one look at him and at the two dirty faced behind him, and she didn’t seem annoyed or put out at all. She just motioned for them to come inside.
Roz took one look at them and motioned for them to join us.
“Fortress?” I asked.
“Gone, but we got bigger problems.”
“Bigger? What’s bigger than losing our home?”
“Losing everything. That’s a hell of a lot bigger.”
“What do you mean?”
Joel turned to the kids – a boy and girl – and nodded. The girl was fifteen at the most. She tried to look brave but she was a mess. Her hair was a pale bird’s nest that pointed in every direction. The boy was older by a few years and he was well armed. He had a small bat slung over his back. The strap was a piece of rope but I noticed right away it would be easy to swing it under his arm and have it at the ready.
He had a pair of knives tucked into his belt and a snub nose revolver in a holster at his waist. Call this kid Dirty Harry.
“I’m Christie and this is Craig.”
“Hey.” Craig nodded.
He had a deep voice for such a skinny kid. If he weighed a buck ten I’d be surprised. But he was gangly and I bet he could swing that little baseball bat with devastating force. They were both dressed in clothes that had seen better days a week ago. Now they were practically rags and covered in dirt. Neither one smelled all that great, but who was I to judge? Joel and I had lived in our own sweat for ten or eleven days now.
“So you took over our home?”
“Wasn’t us. Someone came before and searched it. We just moved in after they left. Thought you guys were gone.”
“Was that you I heard rummaging around the night before?”
“Yeah. Sorry about that. We were so hungry but we waited until you were gone. We were just going to eat some food and leave, but the other guys got there first. Not us. We went in later. Got a few scraps.”
Roz went to the kitchen and cracked open some packages. She brought them both bottled water and a “meal ready to eat” apiece. They tore into it like it was a number 3 at McDonalds.
“So who took our shit?”
“Some dudes that looked like they were ready for war. Looked tougher than you guys.”
Joel burst into laughter.
“We do alright,” I protested.
Craig looked us over but clearly wasn’t impressed.
I stared at the kid for a minute while that processed. A helicopter overhead rattled the windows, giving me a scare and a half.
Joel moved to the window and cracked open the blinds to look up. He craned his neck around but shook his head after a few seconds.
“We're saved?” I asked Joel.
“Can't tell, man, but it can’t be worse than a city full of fucking zombies.”
Roz ‘hmphed’ and looked toward the kids.
“Sorry. Gosh darned zombies.”
Both of the young ones snickered.
“What else could it be?” I asked.
The answer to that question would come soon because Joel was gearing up, and that meant we were going to reconnoiter. I thought about my swollen ankle and decided that if he was going out, I was going along as well. Enough of this sitting around.
I'd have to wrap it tight and take my chances, because I was not letting the Marine go out there without me. I'll finish up the story of how we got off the base and founded Fortress later.
This is Machinist Mate First Class Jackson Creed and I am still alive.
Fight and Flight
19:45 hours approximate
Location: Undead Central, San Diego CA – Roz’s Roof
Supplies
Food: a few protein bars
Weapons: almost zip
Worst. Day. Ever.
My dad was a big guy who didn’t talk much. He was in the Army and told me that the military wasn’t the best place for a kid like me. He said I’d be better suited for a blue-collar job like construction or sanitation where I didn’t have someone constantly telling me when to wipe my ass. I said that would be funny if I was in sanitation. He smacked me upside the head.
Why didn’t I listen to him? He was a goddamn genius.
Don’t get me wrong, I got nothing against blue-collar workers or the job I ended up with in the Navy. Someone’s gotta keep the fires on a ship lit. Gotta keep that engine turning. I just wanted to do something different, like get into journalism, but that required money. I joined the Navy so I could see the world, fuck a lot of girls, and then have my college paid for.
I got one of those wishes.
One wish I didn’t make was for my very own Marine Sergeant Joel “Cruze” Kelly. One night I asked Joel what the “Cruze” was all about. He smiled and deflected the question. Jerk. I kept bugging him about it, because what the hell else did we have to talk about? I asked if it was some kind of Marine secret handshake. After a few minutes of my good-natured ribbing, he finally told me it was something his Mom had called him as a kid and it just stuck around. I didn’t bother him about it after that.
My own mother didn’t have an opinion either way about me joining up. On one hand, I’m sure she didn’t want her youngest son leaving the house. On the other hand, it was probably a relief. My three older bothers weren’t amounting to much and continued to mooch off our folks while I had dreams of going to college. Money I wasn’t going to make working at Burger King.
I was going to join the Army, like Dad, but then I watched some videos of boot camp and decided a ship would be a much more interesting place to hang out instead of in the sand while some asshole shot at me.
Joel did not have a similar story. His dad was in the Marines, and his dad’s dad was in the Corps, so that meant that Joel Kelly was destined to hold an assault rifle and shoot at people. Hoo-ah – oh yeah, they don’t say that in the Marines anymore. If Joel reminded me of that one more time I was going to strangle him with his own gun strap.
Roz didn’t tell us much more of her story but she listened to us talk about our pasts and asked questions when it seemed like there was a break in the flow. She said it would be a way for all of us to break the ice and get to know each other. Now that we had a couple of kids with us, I guess it made sense.
I know it sounds like I’m planning for the future, but I’m not really. When you get right down to it, our life expectancy is next to nil. When you really think about what we are facing, you’ll understand that it’s not a good idea to make long term plans.
Especially now.
Especially. Now!
###
15:45 hours approximate
Location: Undead Central, San Diego CA – Roz’s Place
Joel snoozed in my chair for an hour. I took the time to eat and drink as much as my gut could handle.
It was glorious.
Roz was busy pacing the living room. She walked to the front door and then back to the windows that faced the yard. I took the opportunity to check out her ass in a pair of grey sweat pants that seemed molded to her body. I’m glad she didn’t catch me. I’m prett
y sure she’d have no issue with sticking her shotgun up my ass. Roz peeked out every few minutes. After a while she must have made up her mind to do whatever she needed to do, because she woke Joel up and asked for cover.
Joel popped up like a Marine Jack-in-the-Box, snapped up his assault rifle, and did a quick ammo check. He nodded at Roz and followed her to the door.
“What’s she doing?” I asked Joel.
“Her father.”
“Oh,” I said, and lost whatever little bit of a good mood I’d had a few minutes ago. No kid should have to bury their own parent.
“Should I help?”
“I don’t think so. She looks determined to do it herself. Why don’t you keep watch out the back.”
Roz went into the open garage and dragged out an old carpet. She took the piece to her Dad's body and rolled him onto it. Smart. That way she could drag him easier, and it also created a sort of burial cover.
I went to the back of the house and peeked through a window. This was Roz’s room and we’d been forbidden from entering it. I had a feeling she wouldn’t mind since we were protecting her.
She wasn’t the neatest girl. There were clothes in piles all around the room. Shirts and dresses hung from a homemade wire rack that ran the length of the room. Dresses? That was the last thing I expected to see Roz in. After a few minutes it hit me. What else was she supposed to do with her clothes? There sure as hell wasn’t any way to wash them in our new world.
The back room’s windows were boarded up but a couple of spy holes offered me a limited view of the world outside the house. Dried up shrubs, a road littered with discarded crap. Broken furniture and empty suitcases. Someone’s sports jacket baked in the sun next to a pair of white broken white sunglasses. The only things missing were a few shamblers.
In salute to the dead world I lifted a plastic wrapper, tore it open, and munched on a protein bar. Then I sipped a bottle of water. The only thing that would make this better was an ice-cold beer, but the lone brew we’d saved from our beer-run a few days ago was probably in the coffers of whoever the fuck ransacked our place.
It was early but already hot inside the little brick house. It may be seventy five at the hottest out there, but once the place gets warm it stays that way.
Sound to the west. I was on the east-facing side of the house and couldn’t see a damn thing until the helicopter thundered overhead. It hovered for a few seconds over a building and then passed over the house. Did they see Roz? Did she signal to them? Were they going to come back and rescue us?
Over a week in this city and I was sick of being cut off. I was sick of living day to day, meal to meal. I wanted out of San Diego and I wanted to know, more than anything, what in the hell was happening in the good ol’ U S of A, because the way we were living could not be the new normal.
I pulled my handgun before I’d even had the chance to think about it. If I could just signal the chopper
I popped the magazine out of habit and checked the load. Full. I lined it up and then fumble fingered the mag. It hit the ground and bounced under Roz's bed. I followed it and dropped to all fours to get it. I got a handful of panties and stockings and stared at them dumbly. I bet Roz would rock this stuff.
I carefully put the naughty clothes back, picked up the heavy magazine, and slammed it home.
The sound of the chopper was long gone. I stared up but they didn't materialize again. Then I looked down.
“Oh. Fuck. Me.” I holstered my pistol.
A horde was headed our way. I don’t mean ten Z’s or fifty of the dead fuckers. It was even worse than the day we almost got stuck in Ty’s apartment when Joel’s little fuck up seemed to bring the whole city our way. Only speed and luck had saved our ass that time.
There had to be several thousands. Thousands!
“Uhh,” I said. Real smart, right?
I was so scared I considered just crapping my pants. Then Joel’s voice in my head told me to man up or he’d find an adult diaper and make me wear it. Here we were in a nice safe house where we could silently wait for them to pass us by, and Roz was out on the front yard. There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation, no thought of leaving her out there.
I stared and tried to get a count but after a few seconds I dashed out of the room.
I ran at a gimpy pace on my twisted ankle through the hallway. I passed a room where the two kids, Christy and Craig, slept. I made it to the living room and almost crashed into the recliner I’d called home the night before.
“Joel!” I called as loudly as I dared.
He had the door propped open, one foot inside the threshold, the other on the porch. The assault rifle was slung across his chest with his finger poised right over the trigger. Joel wore his New York Fire Department ball cap backwards and the pilfered shades over his eyes.
“Joel!” I yelled louder this time.
“What? I’m keeping watch. Why aren’t you doing the same?”
“Dude. We got trouble. Big fucking trouble.”
“What?”
“Come look.”
“I can’t leave Roz out there.”
“Roz. Shit.”
I didn’t have to think about the stupid shit I was about to do.
I tried to brush past Joel but he stopped me with a meaty Marine hand. I towered over him and could have knocked him aside, but for all the shit we give each other, I’d never had a better friend.
“What're you doing?”
“It’s bad. There’re so many of them I couldn’t count the first wave. It’s an army and they’re all headed in this direction. We need to get Roz back in here now.” I looked around the yard. “Where is she?”
“In the garage. Please tell me you’re exaggerating a little bit.”
“I wish, man. I wish. Did she flag down that chopper?”
“They took off when they saw her.”
“Damn.”
“You go get her. I’ll cover. No, wait. You cover and I’ll go. You and your busted leg.”
“You’re ten times the shot I am. I’ll go.” And this time I did take his hand, but with more of a handshake grip as I pushed it down. “It’s the right thing to do. Stay here and pop anything that gets close.”
Joel nodded and clapped me on the shoulder.
I did the stupid thing and took a step outside the house.
###
16:05 hours approximate
Location: Undead Central, San Diego CA – Roz’s Place
The garage wasn’t attached to the house. If it was, this might have had a different ending. As it was, the little building was only thirty or forty feet away from the door and only a few feet from the side of the house, but it might as well have been a mile with me naked and armed with a toothbrush.
I swear I could hear them already, even though they had to be at least a hundred yards away.
The morning sun was nice and high in the sky. I shaded my eyes and crunched across the short concrete patio, down the couple of stairs, and onto the sidewalk. Dead grass in all of its yellow and brown glory spread around me. A lone water sprinkler sat next to a dried blood stain which roughly resembled the shape of a man.
The corner of the house erupted in noise. The moans of the dead had reached us much quicker than I thought and that meant one thing.
Shufflers.
A group came into view from the side of the garage. They were a motley assortment of dead, cobbled together by their need for fresh meat. Men and women, boys and girls. The virus had taken everyone in its path.
“Ugly bastards, all of you!” I yelled.
I hoped Roz heard me. I was already headed toward her, so I drew and shot on the move. I missed. My second shot missed as well, so I stopped, took a breath, aimed down the sights and then dropped the Z that was about to enter the garage.
I spun but more of the Z’s were rounding the other side of the house. I was trapped.
Hobbling on my bum ankle, I got to the walkway. Joel swung into his super Marine mode by moving ont
o the porch and dropping the first of the dead. His second shot spun another one around but it completed a halfway decent dance move by turning three hundred and sixty degrees. Joel hit it between the eyes with the second shot.
Another pair right behind the first. I gasped and took a shot. Missed. God I sucked. My hand was shaking like a leaf but I didn’t stop firing.
A couple of former soldiers, from the look of their rotted and hanging uniforms. I took out one and hit the other in the chest. He dropped but got a hand out and hauled himself to his knees. I kicked the rotter in the face and dove into the garage.
The bodies from the night before lay in a pile. Roz had executed one at point blank range and most of his head was just gone. Joel's shots had been neater but the bodies were still that—bodies.
“Oh no! Oh shit!” Roz yelled.
“Can you close the door?”
“Shit!” She jumped and grabbed a rope and yanked but the door didn’t budge.
The former soldier I’d kicked in the face snarled around a dislocated jaw and came at us. I kicked him in the gut before he could reach the boundary of the garage. He was dead, so he needed to stay on his side of the world. I used the best persuader at my disposal by lifting the hand cannon and firing into his face.
I’d made good use of the gun, but in the heat of the battle I’d lost count of my shots. I went over the action in my head and thought I might have seven or eight rounds left.
Roz grabbed at the door again. I got a hold on the rope with her, this time, and we both yanked. The garage door came loose and slid down with a creak.
The old and heavy slab of wood swung down and dropped into place. It clicked when it was flush with the ground, so I tested the handle, but it wouldn’t turn. At least we were safe for now, even if we were trapped in a giant box with no light and four or five bodies. My skin crawled, and that was before I got the first whiff of their bloating corpses.
More gunshots and then they went silent.
Z-Risen (Book 1): Outbreak Page 9