Z-Risen (Book 3): Poisoned Earth

by Long, Timothy W.

  Behind our men lay several military transports. They idled, with diesel rumbles that were reassuring, to say the least.

  “Shit. Jumper swerved, but I think I winged him.”

  I pressed my hands to the sides of my head as the echo faded into the distance.

  “His arm still on?” one of the men in fatigues asked.

  “Probably just nicked him. Arm's intact but it ain’t gonna work right ever again.”

  The shooter had a slow Southern drawl. He yanked a soft pack of smokes out of his trouser pocket, shook one out and put it in his mouth before fishing out a lighter.

  “That’s Perkins. He’s pretty good with the long rifle. Thinks he bagged a jumper. Couldn’t tell for sure, 'cause the green-eyed asshole fell back into the crowd back there.” Ramirez pointed toward the front of the camper.

  Joel pushed past me and surveyed the damage.

  “What branch are you guys?” he asked.

  “Rangers, mostly. It’s all mixed company these days. We got a few Marines and some dude from the Air Force who wanted to learn how to shoot.”

  I chuckled and thought about spilling my story. The difference was I was in the Navy, and didn’t want to shoot a goddamn thing for the rest of my life.

  “Rangers, eh? What are you guys doing in California?”

  “Shooting stuff, mostly,” Ramirez said, and wiped his nose. “About two months ago we were sitting around an airport waiting to take off for other parts of the world when the place went batshit. We ended up being a good team, 'cept for Park back there. He hates to change his socks. You can’t miss him. He’s the big Korean dude.”

  “Fuck you, I only have two pair,” the guy I presumed was Park said.

  “Anyway, what are you folks doing out in the middle of the road surrounded by a horde of zulu?”

  “Didn’t plan it that way,” I said. “We were headed for Pendleton when we got stuck in a house. Seems like the shufflers had it in for us.”

  “Shufflers?”

  “Those assholes with green eyes.”

  “That’s pretty good. We call 'em jumpers, because that’s what they like to do. Think those fuckers had springs in their feet,” Ramirez said.

  “We’ve seen them do some crazy shit,” I said.

  “So have we. Things are spooky,” Ramirez said. “You have a problem, friends. Pendleton fell during the first few days.”

  Joel stared at the ground for a couple of seconds and didn’t say a word.

  “Sorry, Joel,” I said, but it sounded lame. All of our plans had hinged on reaching Pendleton, reuniting with his Marine brothers, and then going from there. I didn’t know what was supposed to happen after that; all I knew was that Joel Kelly had saved my ass and we were in this together.

  “Before we start getting too friendly, you guys planning to take our shit?” Joel interrupted. He didn’t exactly point his AR-15 at anyone, but he sure seemed like he was going to at any second.

  “That wouldn’t be very neighborly,” Ramirez said. He removed his Kevlar helmet and pushed back his mop of black hair a few times.

  “No it would not,” Joel said.

  I nodded, unsure of what to do. I’d back Joel, of course, because he was generally smarter about these kinds of situations. After McQuinn, I tended to trust nobody.

  “We’re gathering survivors, and if you all can shoot, that’s even more reason to join us. Jumpers are on the move, driving a horde on a couple of outposts, and we need all the help we can get,” Ramirez said.

  “One of ours is hurt. She was attacked by a shuff--I mean jumper--a half hour ago. Can you do anything for her at this base?” I asked.

  Joel stiffened next to me.

  “Probably. We have a medical team that stays pretty busy. If we get back before morning mess, we can get her seen. Means we gotta haul ass, though. Are you planning to follow in that piece a shit? No offense to anyone, but it’s full a holes and covered in blood and guts,” Ramirez said as he looked the vehicle over.

  “This is too good to be true.” Joel said what I was thinking.

  “No sweat if you want to make your own way. We’re not exactly in the habit of forcing people to join us. You want to move on, be my guest,” Ramirez said. “Probably be in your best interest to take a trip to base. You ask me, we’re about the best hope around these parts.”

  The others checked their weapons or moved around the vehicles, looking over the twice-dead. I couldn’t help but feel like they were trying to surround us.

  One of the guys took out a huge knife, leaned over, and stabbed a still-moving Z in the head. It took a pair of blows to crack the poor bastard’s skull, but after a few seconds it stopped moving.

  Anna dropped to the ground next to us and sized up Ramirez.

  “Bright Star,” she said, pointing at the skull pin on his collar.

  “Involuntarily, but yeah,” Ramirez nodded. “More like a joint task force. I got recruited a month ago. The rest of us fall under their purview, but for the most part we’re peacekeepers.” Ramirez shot her a tight smile.

  “I’m Lieutenant Commander Sails,” she nodded at Ramirez.

  He popped a tight salute and then grinned at her. “You could say you’re a captain for all I know, but it’s good. We get you all back to base and get you sorted and you can start cracking orders. Until then, if you want our help, I’d appreciate it if you did what I asked and when I asked.”

  “He’s okay,” Anna said to us. “Unless he took that little symbol off a body. You in the business of looting and killing?”

  “No ma’am. We’re a little rough around the edges but we’re good guys. ’Cept Park. He’s real grumpy because he hasn’t had kimchee in a few weeks. Personally I think the stuff is disgusting. Give me some crap bastardized Mexican food any day. Know what I miss most? You’re gonna laugh. I miss Taco Time. Worst excuse for Mexican food in the entire world but it used to taste like fucking heaven.”

  I practically started to drool.

  “Just like that?” Joel asked. “He comes in, says a few nice things, and we’re going to trust these guys.”

  “Hey man, we just saved you,” the guy with the big knife said. “A little gratitude would be appreciated.”

  “Not saying we’re not grateful, just cautious. We’ve had problems,” Joel said. “The worst shit in the world brings out the worst shit in people.”

  “We all got problems, brother. There’s a bunch of quasi-dead fucks out there with a taste for meat and we’re their main food source. We’ll just leave you to your business. Have a good night, folks.”

  “Cook, that was some action hero line there, taste for meat, someone give this guy an Oscar,” Ramirez chuckled.

  “I’m just here to chew bubble gum and kick some ass. I’m all out of bubble gum,” Cook said.

  “Fucking shoot me now,” Ramirez sighed.

  ###

  06:25 hours approximate

  Location: Just outside of Oceanside

  Ramirez nodded at one of his companions and together they moved into formation.

  “Wait,” Anna said. “Tell us where we’re going and we’ll follow.”

  “Make up your frigging minds. We’re about ten miles from base and it’s a long ten with all those zulu and crap littering the roads. You want to follow us and we’ll lead you to Obstacle Charlie. You check in and go about your business and we’ll go about ours. But we don’t know you all from Adam, so I’d appreciate it if you follow my lead. Sound good?”

  I didn’t know what to say. These guys had saved us, but we didn’t know the first thing about them except that they seemed to operate out of some mythical base that was all puppy dogs and unicorn rainbows.

  “Let’s get the truck running and go with them,” Joel said. “If Pendleton is toast then we don’t have anywhere else to go, except to find a new home and wait for it to get overrun. Besides, these guys have enough firepower to take us out in a couple of seconds. If they wanted to kill us they would have done it already.”


  “Good point, I guess,” I grumbled.

  “Let’s just get this rig moving and see where the day takes us,” Anna said.

  Roz thrashed once, then curled up in a ball. I moved to the door to check on her. She had her hands clenched to her stomach like they were holding in her guts. Her head whipped back so hard I thought she was going to snap her neck.

  Ramirez poked his head inside the camper, then pushed past us. Anna reacted with a “Wait!” but he was already up the stairs. He slipped on a couple of spent shells, shoved aside a bag of canned goods, and dropped beside Roz.

  Anna shoved herself into the space next to him and kept her hand on her sidearm. I moved into the camper as well, my wrench in hand.

  “Tell me what happened to her again?” He pushed aside her hair and studied the wounds on her face.

  “She got jumped by one of the green-eyes. I didn’t see it bite her, but he was busy trying to rip her mouth open or something. The blood might not all be hers, and the wounds don’t seem that bad.”

  He set a hand next to her, avoiding the glob of puke she’d spit up, and leaned in to peel back an eyelid. He slipped off a glove and felt her head.

  “Did he put something in her mouth?”

  “Dude. Why the fuck would a shuffler put something in her mouth?” I said.

  He moved his hand down and pressed on her chest as she thrashed against his grip. She snarled and then her head snapped back again, hitting the floor hard enough to shake the camper.

  “Don’t know, but our mission just got more interesting. We need to get her back to the base as soon as possible.”

  “Damn straight,” I said.

  Ramirez triggered a mic near his neck and spoke a few commands. Men moved in and helped Roz and me down from the door. They weren’t disrespectful, and when they got inside the camper they were very gentle with our friend.

  A medic pushed aside one of the men and inspected the wounds on Roz's face. He ripped a Velcro closure and extracted a white package from a belt pouch. The medic took a pile of gauze and pressed it over Roz’s wounds.

  We were pushed out of the camper, and ended up huddling together. The clouds had been fat and grey, and I guess they’d decided they’d had enough of this day, because rain pissed down on us--sprinkles at first, before water fell in earnest.

  “She’s going to be okay, Joel,” I said, and put a hand on his shoulder. I tried to forget his harsh words in the vehicle, but they still stung.

  He shrugged me off, and moved to consult with one of the men who carried a submachine gun.

  “Alright. We got our extract path cleared, now if this rig don’t start, how do you feel about leaving it behind?”

  Like most anything I’d gotten halfway attached to in this new world, I wasn’t all that keen on leaving our home behind. It wasn’t even that I liked the piece of shit. It was just familiar, in what was about to become all-new and unfamiliar.

  A mini-horde of Zs broke from cover and shambled toward us. The men around Ramirez were quick and dropped them one by one with timed shots. No one panicked; they just took care of business.

  I shook my head to calm the ringing in my ears.

  “We gotta call it, and soon. Many more Zs and we’re just attracting attention with all of the shooting,” one of Ramirez's men said.

  “We have a lot of supplies in the truck,” I said.

  I moved to the front of the vehicle and inspected the damage. Blood, bits of clothing, and body parts were jammed into the grill. Most of the front end was crushed, and the bumper held on for dear life by a couple of bolts.

  Frosty sat in the driver's seat like she was out for a Sunday drive. Her ears perked up when the new guys appeared next to me, and her lips rose. She issued a half-hearted growl.

  I helped a guy pluck chunks out of the front of the truck. We both grimaced but took care of business. Another guy popped the hood and we looked at the engine. There was enough blood, guts, and chunks of stuff that resembled flesh to make a couple of horror movies.

  “Cute dog,” he said.

  “Yeah she’s cool. Likes to taunt Zs. Dog’s been great on guard duty,” I said.

  I wasn’t about to give them an excuse to leave her behind.

  “Shit. I think that’s half a hand stuck in the belt,” I said, and grabbed a piece of clothing that had to have been a sleeve.

  The sleeve was attached to a hand. The hand was jammed between a belt and a gear. Extracting the mess was an exercise I hoped to never repeat.

  “Fire it up,” my companion called.

  The engine cranked, tried to turn over and died.

  “We gotta call it,” Ramirez yelled.

  I looked around the side of the truck. His men were falling back into military transports that had appeared. They were drab shades of tan; they would have fit right in if we’d been engaged in Afghanistan.

  More chunks, so I yanked them out as fast as I could. Bits of flesh were jammed in the radiator but there wasn’t a whole lot I could do, short of hosing it down with a pressure washer.

  They tried to start the engine again but it choked again.

  “Fuck,” I said in frustration.

  “Hey man, we tried. Let’s get the hell out of here before the main horde arrives,” Cooper said.

  “Main horde?”

  “Yeah, be here in about an hour. We were scouting them when we came across the burning house. Good thing we came along. This bunch weren’t nothing compared to the shitstorm’s about to arrive.”

  I kicked the front of the truck a few times, hoping to loosen more crap. The man in the truck kept cranking, but it was no use.

  “We’re out of time. Delta squad, mount up,” Ramirez called.

  “Let’s go, man.” Cooper grabbed my sleeve and pulled.

  A fresh batch of newly-undead broke from cover and came at us. I picked up my wrench, ready to bash heads to relieve some tension.

  “That’s just great,” I muttered.

  The men moved around me and then jogged toward the transports. I stared after them with contempt, because I was sure the truck would start if we took a few more minutes.

  I kicked the grill again and then hit it with my wrench. The only thing that happened was the bumper gave up and hit the ground. I picked it up and lifted it over my head. “Screw you, Zs,” I said, and flung it. The part fell well short and clattered across the pavement.

  I stalked toward our new companions and wondered what we were in for.

  #29 - Reavers

  06:55 hours approximate

  Location: Just outside of Oceanside

  The first order of business was to get Frosty out of the truck. She growled at the military guys, but they were flesh and living blood, so after a little coaxing she began to enjoy the attention. Most of the guys cautiously approached her and took turns patting her head. A few found treats in their pockets and bribed friendship.

  Our new friends put Roz in the back of a military truck. When Joel tried to join her they politely, but firmly, pointed him in the direction of a HMMWV-looking beast of a truck. We piled in and I was reminded of our escape from the military hospital a month or so ago. We’d fled, Joel and I holding on for dear life while a gunner shot the Zs that pursued us.

  When there was a break in the action, the warriors took turns inspecting weapons, reloading, and playing grab-ass. A woman with a scar across her face smacked a guy’s hand away and then punched him in the chest, but she smiled and said something that made him laugh.

  Joel and I took turns showing off our dog tags to Ramirez so we looked legit. One of the guys shook his head and looked away with a snort. Joel dug out a battered wallet and extracted his military ID. I had mine around here somewhere, but it was probably buried in the bottom of my bag. Ramirez looked Joel's over, looked at him a few times and then shook his hand.

  “What’s wrong with that guy who looked like someone pissed in his Cheerios?” I asked Joel after he and Ramirez were done with their little bonding mo
ment.

  “Could be we took the tags off a couple of dead bodies. He doesn’t know us and we look like shit. When’s the last time we tried to look like we belong in the military? That’s why I dug out my ID.”

  “Who’s got time for that Mickey Mouse bullshit? I’m glad to wake up every day. Shaving would be nice, sure, so would a shower, and a turkey and mashed potato dinner. None of that shit’s gonna happen anytime soon.”

  Anna approached Ramirez and took him to the side. They spoke together for several minutes while she dug out a beat-up looking wallet and showed him the contents. Whatever she put in front of his face must have triggered something, because he nodded at her and then they both got very serious.

  I drifted toward them, hoping to catch a hint of what the mysterious Anna Sails said, but she shot me a look and I gave up on learning her secrets.

  Joel stowed his assault rifle in the back of a rig under the watchful eye of one of the men. I kept my wrench at my side and my gun in its holster. If they decided they needed to take our weapons, I was sure Anna and Joel would have a few choice words for them. Besides, we were outnumbered by a healthy margin, and we had a kid with us. As far as threats went, we were slightly above sad puppies.

  Joel shook hands with a couple of men and crawled in the back of their vehicle. I tried to wave at him, to offer a half-assed flag of apology for our words earlier, but I didn’t think he saw me.

  Frosty stuck to Christy and followed her to our vehicle, licking every hand in sight as she passed soldiers. The woman with the scar on her face dropped to a crouch and cautiously pulled our dog into an embrace. Frosty looked at me with her big eyes, tongue lolling out as she waited patiently for the woman to let go.

  Anna was done with her pep talk and joined us. She didn’t meet my eye, but got into the back of the transport and settled in. She looked cool as she stared out the window. She had a look on her face I hadn’t seen very often over the last few weeks: she was determined.