Z-Risen (Book 3): Poisoned Earth

by Long, Timothy W.

  Anna dug out a small stash of .357 rounds and she dumped a handful into her pocket. With an 8-round cylinder, she would be able to reload at least one more time.

  Roz went over her weapons while I tucked the Springfield XDM into my belt. The wrench was always at hand and never ran out of ammo. I was likely to run out of juice swinging the damn thing before my partners ran out of bullets.

  Joel returned. He put a pair of large cans down, then slid the NVGs off and tucked them into his backpack.

  “Damn. Probably thirty or forty out there. I lost count.”

  “What’s that?” I asked, pointing at the cans.

  “Paint thinner. Time to light up the night so we can get the hell out of here.”

  “What, Molotovs?”

  “Yep,” Joel replied. “We don’t have cans and bottles, so we’ll improvise. Gather up the empty cans and fill them about halfway. Jam a piece of wadded up cloth inside so it’s good and soaked. Be careful not to sop that shit all over the side. When we light 'em, you need a few seconds to throw.”

  “Is this going to work?” Roz asked.

  “Better than sitting on our asses and waiting for them to wander away.”

  “Dude. How are we going to keep from getting burned? The thinner’s gonna splash all over the place when we try to throw the stupid cans,” I said. “Not to mention Frosty. If she sees fire she might freak the fuck out.”

  “Tape. Just a little over the top. Cover the can so the cloth hangs out, but not too tight. Frosty’s too smart to run at the sight of fire. Dog’s smarter than me,” Joel said.

  “She is a keeper,” I said and rubbed her head.

  We gathered half a dozen empty cans and put them near the back door. Roz ripped a shirt into big clumps while Joel poured.

  “Why not wait?” Christy asked.

  “What?” Joel said.

  “Just wait. They’re dumb Zs, so they’ll wander off soon.”

  Joel scratched his head.

  “She’s right. Stay inside, chill. Wait,” I said.

  More than anything I wanted to lay down and sleep for a few more hours. I rubbed grit out of my eyes and looked at my sleeping mat.

  “No. We need to get the fuck out of here. Something is up. I didn’t see a shuffler, but something weird is happening. Zs don’t just hang around in clumps like that.”

  Something hit the front door hard enough to shake the side of the house. We went still and waited, wide eyes staring at each other.

  The door shook again.

  “Right. Plan A: get-the-fuck-out sounds like a winner to me,” I said.

  “You got that right, man. We get trapped in here and we’re screwed, so as they say in your branch of the military, all hands on deck,” Joel said.

  “You heard the Sarge,” I said, trying to sound badass.

  “I’ll crack a window and throw the first can. That should give us enough light to see what we’re up against. After that, we move to the truck. Push any slow fuckers to the ground. Don’t stand around trying to kill them all. We’re interested in speed, people.” Joel looked around our small party.

  I nodded and lifted my wrench.

  We assembled by the back door with gear stowed back in our packs. We’d have to leave some stuff behind, but I tossed out a few clothes and gave up my sleeping mat in favor of jamming all of our food supplies into my backpack.

  Joel held his hand up for silence. I looked outside, but the moon was obscured by clouds, so making out Zs was practically impossible.

  Something hit the roof. Then it happened again. A window shattered, and the sound of feet upstairs made my hair stand on end. Then more crashes, like the house was being broken into by a giant hammer.

  “Fucking shufflers,” I said.

  “Don’t waste ammo,” Joel whispered. “When I start shooting, you all start tossing bombs at anything moving around back there. Move fast to the truck and get it started. Don’t stop to kill. Like I said, speed is your friend.”

  “Is that really the best plan? To have a bunch of burning Zs running around out there?”

  “It’ll provide enough light to get out. Just don’t let one of the flamers take you down,” Joel said.

  “This shit isn’t going to work,” Roz said.

  “Better idea?” Joel asked.

  “I got nothing,” I said.

  Roz just shook her head.

  Joel slipped a pair of loaded mags into his kit and moved toward the stairs.

  “Joel, what are you going to do?”

  “What I do best, muthafucka. Shoot the bad guys.”

  Then he was gone.

  #26 - Overrun

  03:30 hours approximate

  Location: Just outside of Oceanside

  Joel’s departing form wasn’t what I wanted to see. With his skills--not to mention his assault rifle--it was going to be up to us to secure the area and make it to the truck in one piece. There were only about fifty feet separating us from freedom, but it might as well have been fifty miles.

  Our weapons were piled next to the window, so I grabbed the little hell-raiser we’d dug up in the abandoned house a few days ago. The Sig home defense assault rifle was loaded and ready for action. I had a spare mag filled with .45 ammo, so I shoved it into my pocket.

  My backup was the Springfield XDM 9mm. I had one extra magazine, but it was only half-full—I guess I’m still an optimist after all this shit. I pulled it out of the holster, slipped the magazine out and made sure it was filled. After slamming it home, I racked back the slide and let it slam shut, loading a fresh round into the breach.

  I didn’t want to fight these things. I wanted to follow Joel’s advice and make a run for it. At the same time I felt a sense of panic, because he was stuck in the house fighting shufflers without backup. As if to punctuate my thoughts, his rifle hammered away from upstairs a couple of times before going quiet. The ceiling creaked as figures moved around upstairs.

  Frosty was on her feet and growling toward the back door. I patted her head and tried to reassure her.

  Roz kept her cool, even if she did keep looking over her shoulder toward the stairs. No doubt she wanted to go as backup. She grabbed my upper arm and gave me a squeeze. I nodded to her, hoping she got my intention, which was to say “we got this”. I didn’t actually feel like we had anything but a slow death in our near future.

  The ceiling rattled as things up there moved. Joel’s gun sounded a couple of times, and one particularly loud crash probably meant something had just bit the dust. I hoped it wasn’t my buddy.

  Moans from the outside drew my attention to the window.

  “Light me,” Roz said.

  Anna put a lighter to the flammable rag and it flared to life. Roz didn’t waste any time and threw, but it fell short and splattered paint thinner a few feet short of the Zs. The yard lit up in a spooky glow, making the shadowy figures that approached look more like demons than the undead. I tried to count them, but gave up at twelve.

  “Should we go?” asked Christy.

  She knelt next to me, the snub-nosed .38 in one hand. She’d picked up a copper water pipe from somewhere in the house, and held it in her other hand. Christy’s eyes were wide and nervous.

  “We need more light,” I said. “Christy, when we move, don’t let go of Frosty if you can help it. She’s gonna go batshit and we need to get her into the truck in one piece.”

  “Sorry about my short throw. I thought that stuff was going to splash all over my hand,” Roz said.

  I thought the same thing as I hefted one of the cans. It wasn’t quite half-full, and the smell made me blink my eyes a couple of times. Anna held up the lighter.

  The shufflers upstairs made a hell of a racket. Joel’s gun spoke a couple of times, and something hit the floor above hard enough to shake the glass light fixture. Then it was quiet.

  Frosty wasn’t too happy with all the noise. Her hackles rose and she bared her teeth. She alternated between growling in the direction Joel had disappeared a
nd toward the noise in the front yard.

  I moved next, and Roz slid out of the way. I wanted to throw right-handed, but was sure the damn thing was going to blaze up and burn my hand. We didn’t have time to make these things very well. My can had held some of the stew we’d enjoyed the night before, and now it sloshed with flammable liquid.

  The ceiling shook again under pounding feet. Joel’s gun fired several times and then it was quiet again.

  Anna lit the cloth. The fire flared immediately and just like Roz, I panicked and threw. The night came alive with more light, but I’d hit nothing.

  “Oh Jesus,” Anna exclaimed.

  Anna picked up a can and shouldered me aside. She still cradled her injured arm, but managed to do a hell of a lot better than me or Roz. As soon as the cloth was lit, she held the can tilted slightly until she was sure it was aflame. Throwing from her fingertips, the can sailed through the air and plastered a Z in the chest.

  Thinner exploded all over the man. He howled and fell back, knocking down another Z. The pair thrashed, and managed to make the flames even worse.

  Joel pounded into the kitchen and nearly got a face full of wrench.

  “Dude.”

  “Gimme a can. I’m gonna light this place up. I took down a shuffler, injured another one, but one other fucker is still sneaking around up there, too scared to show his face. See how he likes this shit.”

  Joel snagged a can and Roz lit the rag. He moved fast, with the mini-torch lighting his way. A few seconds later there was a whoosh and something screamed: a tiny whoof of noise as the improvised bomb must have come to life.

  Frosty nearly broke free. I grabbed her collar, and tried to reassure her with a few soft words.

  “We’re out of here,” I said and grabbed another can. “Christy, take the lighter and fire us up as we go. Follow and get ready to pop anything that gets too close.”

  She nodded.

  Roz, Anna, and I each took one of the last three improvised Molotovs. I pushed the back door open and was on the landing before I could acknowledge the fact that I was holding a can of flame that could light me up just as quickly as it could a Z. With the backyard now illuminated, it was easier to make out the Zs. I drew back and let the can sail. It splashed across a Z and turned it into a walking torch.

  I had other issues.

  In my excitement I’d managed to splash flammable liquid over my hand and shirt. When I threw I knew I was in trouble.

  Flames roared to life on the Z's shirt. It stumbled back into another creeper and set his ass on fire. They actually looked like they were scared of the flames as they tripped, and ran into each other.

  I flailed my arm around as fire and pain raced across the top of my hand.

  Anna slapped at my burning appendage while Roz moved into position, lit her can, and tossed it.

  As far as Molotovs went, I’d have to say these weren’t the best idea. With the partially-exposed lids, a lot of fluid leaked out as they were jostled. Flames followed on a stream of paint thinner, further lighting the night, but also splashing fire over the partially-finished yard.

  Zs by the dozens moved in on our position. They stumbled, flailed, shambled, and generally scared the ever-living fuck out of me. I moved in front of Anna as I slapped my hand into my armpit to extinguish the blaze.

  “Move!” Anna said, and gave me a small push.

  I did.

  With the wrench in my off hand, I took the two steps to the yard and smashed a Z to the ground. Dude was reaching for me, his shirt on fire, flames eating at his face. His mouth was a horror of broken teeth, dried, copper-tinged blood, and something that might have been a nose. White and partially-desiccated eyes fixed on mine.

  I hit him hard enough to cave in the side of his head. He dropped, but his body caught my legs, and I staggered into Anna.

  Roz came to the rescue and shot a flailer between the eyes. The Z's head snapped back, and her body hit the ground.

  They were all around us.

  Frosty darted in and nipped at a Z, then danced around as it reached for her. The dog played it smart and kept out of the rotter’s grasp.

  Christy called to Frosty, so the dog shot between the legs of a Z, knocking it down.

  In a panic I recovered, and did a little half-spin as I tried to decide which of the creepy crawlers to take on first.

  There was a teenage kid who was taller than me and skinny as a rail. His clothes were rags, his once grey-and-black camo shorts barely hanging onto his hips. An older couple dressed in the remains of hospital smocks. The woman still trailed an IV tube from one arm. The man wore a cast that immobilized his leg, but he shuffle-stepped like he was in a weird dance.

  I shoved the couple aside, batted the kid’s hands away with my wrench and kicked him into a flaming Z who shambled in circles.

  Anna drew her big handgun and shot the kid as he sat up and reached for me.

  Christy shot the woman with the IV and clipped the side of her neck. I swung up and caught her under her chin. Rotted teeth flew, and part of her head broke loose. The Z flew backward into another of the rotted things, and the pair fell in a heap.

  With our way free and only a dozen or so feet from us to the truck, I thought we now had a straight shot.

  Hands reached for me, so I slapped them aside.

  Frosty barked at something, but I didn’t have time to look.

  I made out the truck in the murk and ran straight for it. I had the whole thing mapped out in my head. I’d beat down the Z that was in front of me. Reach the truck, make myself a big barricade while the others got to my location. They’d load and then we’d be inside. We’d be surrounded, but with any luck the big truck would shove the dead aside. That was, if the shufflers didn’t hit us first.

  I almost made it.

  ###

  03:45 hours approximate

  Location: Just outside of Oceanside

  Sure enough, a shuffler dropped from the roof and hit me from behind.

  He was a snarling mess of wounds and open sores. His eyes glowed with hate and his mouth opened to reveal teeth filed to points. The smell was the worst: like someone had left a body covered in dead fish to rot in the sun.

  He caught my leg and I nearly fell, but stumbled into the truck and recovered.

  I gagged as I turned to confront him.

  A Z had been closing in on me, but I had his number and kicked back, catching him in the groin. The decomposing little shit bent at the waist and collapsed.

  The shuffler moved sinuous as a whip, and swung out a leg to catch Anna. She stumbled back and caught herself on the porch railing. Roz reached for her, but the shuffler spun and took her to the ground. She thrashed as it covered her and leaned in to rip at her face. I ignored a Z that almost got a hand on me, and rushed in.

  I grabbed the rotting creature by a foot and with adrenaline roaring in my ears, ripped it off of Roz. The shuffler wasn’t much more than flesh and bone, but it was strong and lashed a foot up, catching me in the shoulder.

  My left arm went numb, but I didn’t let go. I got my other hand on its ankle and used all of my strength to rip the bastard off of Roz and fling it at another Z. The shuffler didn’t even hesitate; it scrambled to all fours and leapt.

  Roz clambered back, legs kicking at the ground as she tried to get to the porch.

  Anna lifted her gun and fired, but the shuffler was fast, and the shot whizzed past its head.

  Frosty darted between Zs in the yard, avoiding the burning Zs, but harrying others.

  The night took on a glow as flames rushed across the upper story.

  In the wan light, I caught a female Z coming at me. I didn’t want to take my eyes off Roz and the shuffler, but I couldn’t ignore the arm that looped over my neck. Teeth went for my shoulder, so I whipped my elbow around and caught her in the side of the head.

  Roz fell under the smart Z again. I howled in fury as I shook off the rotting Z and lifted my wrench, intent on cracking shuffler bones.
/>   Roz got her handgun up to shoot the Z, but it batted her firearm aside.

  Anna tried to get a good shot, but it was obvious that if she fired, she had every chance of hitting Roz as well.

  I hit the shuffler’s leg, and bones cracked. It hissed in fury, and its head spun to regard me. Eyes glowed with malevolent intelligence as they swept over me. It rose up and lashed at me with one claw-like hand. I drew back and turned so he didn’t have a chance at my numb shoulder. Make that kind of numb. Feeling was returning, and it hurt like a bitch.

  A Z was on me. I didn’t have time for this Mickey Mouse bullshit, so I lifted my wrench and took off most of its head.

  Anna drew her knife and slashed at the shuffler from behind. She tried to drive the blade into his neck, but the creature was fast, and got a sliced shoulder for his efforts. Take that, you bastard.

  Roz choked and rolled onto her side.

  The shuffler turned to take on Anna, so I swept the wrench around and hit him in the arm. I’d aimed higher, but my shoulder wasn’t exactly responding to what my brain tried to tell it to do. Anna lashed at the thing again as it came up on its two feet. Driving forward, she cut him hard enough to sever fingers.

  The shuffler shrieked and leapt.

  Anna shifted to the side but he still bowled her over. He scrambled over her as she fought him off.

  “No!” I screamed, and got hit by another Z as I moved to help.

  Frosty grabbed the shuffler’s pant leg and pulled. The bastard struck back, and Frosty whimpered as her snout took the blow. She backed up and shook her head. Christy grabbed Frosty’s collar and tugged the dog away from the melee.

  Joel appeared in the doorway. I caught sight of him out of the corner of my eye. He paused on the landing, lifted his gun, and calmly dropped a pair of Zs that were bearing down on me.

  Anna was my priority. If not for him the two Zs probably would have taken me to the ground. Leave it to Joel Fucking Kelly to come to the rescue.

  Anna kicked at the Z as it crawled over her.