Undead Flesh

by Dennis McDonald

“Shhh!” Telia said. “Listen to what he has to say.”

  “—are attacking the living. Do not approach the bodies of any casualties of the disaster. Do not attempt to bury the dead. I repeat that the office of Homeland Security has declared that the dead are coming back to life. These living corpses are extremely dangerous. If possible, stay in your home or other secure location. Lock all doors and barricade the windows. If you have to evacuate your home, use the less-traveled routes and avoid populated areas. The National Guard is setting up rescue stations for survivors, so stay tuned to this channel for the locations of these sites. This has been a public service announcement of the Emergency Broadcast System.”

  The squawking intro of the broadcast started again and the message repeated.

  “It’s just a public service announcement,” Doug said. “It’s coming from 93.7, the rock station out of Alva.”

  “They’re broadcasting on a loop,” Max said. “Probably no one left at the station by now.”

  “I think we all got the message.” Jack shut the irritating announcement off.

  Max pulled out the handheld radio he’d taken from the farmhouse.

  “Let’s see if this was worth risking our lives over,” he said and handed it back to Doug. “Here, son, try to contact the Watkins National Guard Armory. It’s already set on the channel, so see if you can get anybody on the other end. We might still be out of range yet, but give it a try.”

  “Cool,” Doug said, taking the unit. “I’m the radio guy.” He activated the unit, and static emanated from the radio. “Hello?” Doug pushed the “talk” button. “Is there anyone tuned in to this frequency? I’m trying to reach the National Guard Unit in Watkins, Oklahoma. Are you receiving?”

  He’d repeated the message several times before the radio’s speaker squawked, “This is the Army National Guard in Watkins, Oklahoma. Come back.” The voice sounded distant and grainy.

  “Granddad, I got them.” He handed the radio back.

  Max activated the call button. “This is ham operator Maxwell. Over.”

  “This is Corporal Billings of the Army National Guard. Our location is the armory in Watkins. What is your location?”

  “We are about twenty miles away and trying to reach you. What is the situation there? Over.”

  “Not good. We’re surrounded and low on ammo. There are a total of seventeen civilians and thirteen military personnel. Some are injured. We’ve barricaded ourselves in the armory and are waiting for an emergency airlift at 0500 hours. Repeat, there will be EVAC at 0500 hours. Over.”

  Max shot Jack a surprised look.

  “Come back,” he said into the radio.

  “Emergency airlift at 0500 hours. Survivors are to be transported to a fortified encampment at Fort Riley, Kansas. Over.”

  “Is there any chance for us to catch that ride? There are seven of us. We have women and children. Over.”

  “Roger. If you can reach us by 0500 you will be evacuated. Be warned, though, the town is overrun with zombies. Repeat, Watkins is overrun by zombies. Take extreme caution. Over.”

  “0500. Copy that. We will try our best to reach you. Will contact you again when we get closer. Over.”

  “Good luck. Corporal Billings out.”

  The radio went silent.

  “Did I hear that correctly?” Jack said with excitement rising in his voice. “There’s going to be an emergency airlift of survivors?”

  “Yep.” Max smiled big. “It’ll be just like when I airlifted out Saigon in ’75. They’ll fly us to Fort Riley, where we’ll be surrounded by an entire base of fully armed U.S. infantry.”

  A resounding cheer went up inside the RV. Doug reached forward and gave Jack a high-five. “Army helicopters,” he said. “Now that is sick, Mr. G.”

  “There’s the matter of the town being overrun by zombies,” Telia said.

  “It’s going to be dangerous, but we were on our way there anyway. I say we don’t let anything stop us from getting on that flight, zombies or no zombies. Are we all in agreement to try to reach the National Guard in Watkins?”

  “Damn straight,” Jack said. “Can we make it by 0500 hours?”

  “Yep.” Max nodded at the clock on the dashboard. “It gives us about eight hours to get there. We should make it if we don’t encounter too many delays.”

  Jack turned to his family. “Did you guys hear that? Army helicopters will take us to Fort Riley, Kansas, if we make it to Watkins in time. It’s the first good news we’ve had since this terrible thing began.”

  Brett and Kerri let out a joyous cheer.

  Kate looked up from her Bible. “It won’t do any good. Only God can save us now. Not the government or the Army. You must have faith in the Lord and be patient.”

  “I’m putting my faith in a good firearm and an Army helicopter,” Telia said.

  “Then you’ll fail and die.”

  “Great way to piss all over our moment of hope there, Kate,” Jack said.

  “There’s no hope without God.” She returned to reading her Bible.

  Fighting his frustration, Jack returned to watching the road. He thought again about his wife. She had always been his rock when he was sliding deeper into alcoholism. Now she was the one sinking in mental quicksand, and he didn’t have a clue how to pull her back.

  “Dad, what’s that burning up ahead?” Brett said.

  Jack looked where his son pointed. The RV had just topped a small hill, and the higher elevation offered a panoramic view of the surrounding land. A large burning structure loomed to the right. Its orange flames lighted the countryside for miles and sent clouds of black smoke spiraling into the dark sky.

  “You know what that is?” Jack asked Max.

  “The Great Plains Oil Refinery,” he said. “The whole damn thing’s on fire and out of control.”

  “It looks like we’re going to pass right by it,” Jack said.

  “One of the access gates is just off this road. No turning around now if we want to get to Watkins on time. We have to hurry before the fire spreads and blocks our way. That means putting the pedal to the metal.”

  “Why the hell not?” Jack said, throwing up his hands. “I’ve already survived an exploding gas station and an exploding house. Let’s add a refinery to the list.”

  “You got it.” Max nodded. “Hang on,” he said to everyone else, “we’re going in.”

  “I hate it when Granddad says that,” Doug said, putting his arm around Kerri.

  “Kate, if you’ve got any prayers left, now is the time to use them,” Max said and stepped on the gas.

  The Winnebago raced over the damaged road toward the engulfed refinery. Several times, Natalie hit a pothole, causing her to bounce hard on her suspension. A cabinet door in the kitchen popped open and pans spilled onto the floor. The sudden noise caused Kate to stop praying and scream in surprise.

  The massive wall of flames loomed larger, and its roar intensified to a thunderous level. It appeared to Jack that they were driving straight into the heart of hell itself. Heat blazed against the side window and he clutched the Mossberg until his knuckles turned white. A tense minute ticked slowly by as Natalie raced past the refinery. Just as the RV crested the next hill, a storage tank exploded in the inferno behind them, sending a huge rumbling fireball into the night sky. The reverberation of the explosion shook the Winnebago, and Max fought the steering wheel to keep it from going off the road. Jack looked into the side-view mirror. The path they had just traveled down was now a hellhole of burning oil.

  He let out his breath. “That was close.”

  “Too close,” Max said.

  “I thought we agreed not to do crazy shit like that again.”

  “Remind me that next time.”

  * * * *

  The burning refinery was just an orange glow stretched across the dark sky in the Winnebago’s rearview mirror. The countryside of flat open fields changed to wooded low hills. On both sides of the road, shadowy trees stood like silent
sentinels just beyond the headlights’ glow. Fatigue numbed Jack’s mind and dulled his sense of reality. His eyelids started to droop, and he slipped into a dream in which he was riding in a ship passing through some alien land. Shaking his head to clear the fog from his mind, he sat up in the passenger chair.

  “You okay?” Max said.

  “I’m sorry,” Jack said, rubbing his eyes. “I’m really tired.”

  “We’re close to Harrison,” Max said. “Less than seven miles.”

  Jack focused his tired eyes on the road ahead and spotted the dim outline of another vehicle blocking the way.

  “Slow down, Max. There’s a truck or something up ahead,” he said.

  Max hit Natalie’s high beams to reveal a yellow school bus stretched across the road.

  “A school bus—I’m not surprised,” Max said bringing the Winnebago to a halt thirty yards before the vehicle. “The quake happened while the kids were on their way to classes this morning.”

  Jack took a long moment to study the classic yellow bus. It was of the same style as the bus he had ridden to school thirty years ago in Missouri. Stenciled in letters along the side were the words Osage Creek Public School System. The way it was wedged between the stand of trees on both sides of the road made it impossible for the hulking Winnebago to drive around it.

  “Shit,” Jack said. “Now what?”

  “Let’s get a better look first,” Max said. “Jack, there’s a spotlight in the gear from the Jeep. Can you grab it for me?”

  Jack reached around and removed the portable spotlight from the pile of equipment. He handed it to Max, who plugged it into the cigarette lighter and rolled down his window. Clicking on the light, he shone the beam up and down the long body of the bus. Jack’s heart sank. Children’s bloody handprints were smeared on the windows, and the steps leading to the open doors were likewise covered in blood.

  “I don’t like this,” Telia said, leaning over Jack’s shoulder. “I got a real bad feeling.”

  “That makes two of us,” Jack said. “God, why couldn’t it be the short bus instead?”

  Max shut off the light. “Well, it’s blocking the whole damn road, and we can’t go back, because of the oil fire. We’re screwed unless we move it somehow. Somebody has to go and drive it out of the way.”

  “Do you see the freaking blood on those windows?” Doug said. “It could be filled with zombie children, yo.”

  “I’ll have to chance it,” Max said, unlocking his door.

  Jack grabbed Max’s arm. “Oh no you don’t, you old fart. You told me to remind you the next time we’re about to do something stupid. Well, this is it. It’s too dangerous for you to go on the bus. We need you to get us to Watkins.”

  “What do you propose?” Max said.

  “I’ll move the damn thing. The schoolchildren are probably long gone by now. At least I hope so. The thought of facing a busful of zombie kids doesn’t exactly appeal to me.”

  “It could be very dangerous,” Max said.

  “Tell me something new.” Jack stuffed shotgun shells from the box on the floor into the pockets of his jeans. “I’ll move the bus as fast as I can. Everyone else just sit tight and stay here.”

  “All right, but let’s make a modification to your weapon first.” Max picked up the shotgun and reached into the toolbox. He removed a Mag flashlight and a roll of black duct tape. “Duct tape. It’s in every redneck’s toolbox,” he said with a chuckle and wrapped the Mag-Lite to the end of the Mossberg’s barrel. “There you go, man. Just shoot at anything in the light.”

  “Hopefully, I won’t have to,” Jack said.

  “And just in case there’s trouble”—Max unsnapped his gun case and lifted his Remington 700 from its padding—“I’ll take a firing position on the roof and cover you with the rifle. The starlight scope will allow me to see in the dark. I’ll have it trained on anything moving in your area. Don’t do anything too heroic. Just get on the damn bus and drive it out of the way.”

  Telia stood and put her hands on her hips. “Hey, is this a boys-only party or can a girl play, too?”

  “I think we only need one person to move the bus,” Max said.

  “Who’s the one who said no one goes anywhere alone? I’m going.”

  “You could argue with her,” Jack said to Max, “but I know it won’t do any good.” “I spent too much of my life arguing with women anyway.”

  Jack patted him on the shoulder. “Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?” He turned to everyone else. “Doug, you stay here and keep the engine running in case we need to get out of here quick. Shut off all the lights.”

  “Will do, Mr. G.” He slipped into the driver’s seat.

  “Kate, Brett, and Kerri, sit still until we get back. It won’t be too long.”

  “Please be careful, Dad,” Brett said.

  “I will. I promise.”

  Kate closed her Bible and looked up. “I’ll pray you will be safe.”

  “You do that.”

  * * * *

  Jack followed Telia and Max out of the Winnebago’s side door and inhaled the cool country night air to clear his mind. Behind him, Natalie went dark as Doug shut off the headlights and the interior lights but left the engine running. He heard the click of the side door being locked.

  “Give me a minute to get on the roof and take a firing position,” Max said with the sniper rifle slung on his back. He headed for the aluminum ladder mounted on the rear of the Winnebago.

  “It’s too quiet,” Telia whispered after he’d gone. “There should be the sound of crickets or frogs or something.”

  “I’ve noticed things are quiet when the dead are around,” Jack said.

  “I was afraid you were going to say that.” She drew both her pistols.

  Max reached the roof. “Okay, let’s do this,” he said.

  Jack flicked on the Mag-Lite taped to the barrel of his shotgun. “Come on, girl, we’ve got a bus to catch.”

  “After you.”

  They jogged across the muddy ground to the side of the bus and paused with their backs against its long yellow frame. Jack glanced toward the open doors. Bloody steps led into the interior, and the smell of something rotting floated on the air. His heart thundered as he gripped the Mossberg tight and calmed his breathing. Telia stood beside him with both pistols raised.

  “I’ll cover you while you start the bus,” he said.

  She gave a slight nod. “Just remember, these aren’t children. They’re zombies. Don’t hesitate to fire.” A fierce glint shone in her dark brown eyes.

  He took another deep breath. “Jack the Zombie Killer, right?”

  She smiled. “Right.”

  “Screw this.”

  Jack charged up the steps with the mounted Mag-Lite shining before him. Each step felt slick beneath his shoes. He half-slid into the bus interior and swung the shotgun light in a sweeping arc down the center aisle. A girl’s head poked up from behind a seat and he guessed her to be about nine years old. Blood covered her face, and torn flesh hung from a hole in her scalp. In the flashlight’s beam, the child’s eyes showed the color of egg white. She let out a hissing cry as he pulled the trigger—and missed. The shotgun blast blew a hole through the seat in front of her. Jack rode the recoil and ejected the shell as the pitiful creature squirmed into the center aisle on all fours. Crawling toward him, she dragged her intestines through the greasy floor. Jack fought back his horror and fired the shotgun again. The girl’s head disintegrated into a mass of gore and brains.

  Ejecting the shell, he checked over his shoulder on Telia. She had jumped into the driver’s seat and pumped the gas pedal while turning over the ignition. The engine groaned but didn’t start.

  “Come on, damn it,” Telia said, pumping the gas again.

  A sucking noise came from deeper in the bus. Jack jerked the shotgun light around to the dark corners of the back wall, where an adult male, in his late fifties, stood up in the sudden illumination. The thing sta
red back at him with lifeless glazed eyes. He realized that the man had to be the bus driver and that Jack had interrupted his feeding. A gory chunk of flesh dropped from the thing’s mouth as he emitted a horrific moan.

  Jack pulled the trigger of the Mossberg and the blast blew off the driver’s left arm at the shoulder. The shotgun’s recoil caused his feet to slip on the slick floor, forcing him to grip a seat to regain his balance. Staggering down the center aisle, the zombie driver showed blood-covered teeth while reaching for him with his remaining arm. Jack was preparing to fire again when a bullet punched through a side window and drilled a hole through the driver’s head. The disgusting corpse collapsed inert at his feet.

  “Good shot, Max,” Jack whispered under his breath.

  Telia turned the key once more and the old bus’s engine roared to life.

  “Hell yeah!” she said, slipping it into first gear.

  “Just pull it a short distance into those trees.”

  “You got it.” She let off the brake and the bus rattled forward. Jack braced himself using a nearby pole as the vehicle bounced over the shoulder of the road and into the thick of the trees. It traveled twenty more feet before Telia put on the brake and shut the engine down.

  “That wasn’t so bad,” she said. “A piece of cake.”

  Jack stared out the front windows at the dark stand of trees. Something moved in the shadows between the trunks.

  “You may have spoken too soon,” he said. “Turn on the headlights.”

  “Okay.” Telia found the switch and flicked it on to illuminate the expanse of woods in front of the bus. What Jack saw made his heart freeze for a beat. A large group of zombie children shambled toward them through the trees. He estimated them to be about twenty-five in number, with ages ranging from grade-school to teenagers. All were visibly dead and covered in bloody wounds and gore.

  “Damn it!” Telia said and kicked the door lever. The side doors slammed shut just as the first group of kids reached the steps.

  “Out the back!” Jack shouted and raced down the bloody floor toward the emergency exit.

  “Right behind you.”

  Telia released the door lever and snatched up the twin Glock pistols. She aimed down the length of the bus as zombie schoolchildren pushed their way up the steps and through the doors. In a scene straight from hell, the kid mob staggered toward them, groaning and slobbering blood. Jack reached the back door and pulled up the lever of the emergency exit. He felt panic when it didn’t budge. Behind him, Telia’s pistols thundered in the enclosed quarters.