Zombie Rush 4: Zombie Rush

by Joseph Hansen

  How many rounds in his magazine? He counted shots, knowing it could be five or seven or—worse yet—thirty if Web had a high-capacity magazine. Five shots, pause. One, two, three, and four … right before the fifth shot, Dean changed direction and increased to a sprint, causing the fifth shot to go wild. Pause … Dean was clear for a second before another shot hit in front of him. He was across the street running alongside the storefronts, effectively cutting off Web’s angle. He was up and running free, knowing that Web now had to reposition.

  Two blocks later, he collapsed, coughing from the smoke that had filled the building he jumped from. He lost the throng two corners ago and was in a somewhat open area currently free of Zs. Tucked in to the exterior foyer of a glass-fronted furniture store, he lay there trying to catch his breath and watching the distant smoke of the building where he had been. More Zombies continued to move across his view and toward the fire, in search of the living that might be their next meal. A few minutes was all Dean needed. He held some cloth to the hole in his left shoulder, the wound on his shin forgotten. The zombies never noticed the man lying there as they stayed focused on the distant billowing smoke. It was the slow, purposeful steps he heard that put him on edge. He didn’t know if he had another burst in him right now so he waited and prayed it wasn’t who he thought.

  Web stepped into view on the street and Dean hurled Shaaka at the figure from a lying position. The shot was true enough to cause Web’s shot to go off target as he ducked the missile.

  The bullet was like lightning in that it struck the same place twice, and Dean winced from the pain that ravaged his shoulder. Web snarled and shot again. Dean barely managed to get the hardwood buckler up to absorb the shot. The large-caliber bullet jarred his arm, the bullet showing splinters inside the handle but not quite making it through the ash barrier. It was a standoff as Web tried to aim around the solid two-foot barrier Dean held between them.

  “You shouldn’t have punched me back there, Deano.”

  “I should have broken your fucking neck, you little prick,” Dean said, refusing to show weakness and slowly working himself back to his feet while keeping Web’s rifle focused on the center of the buckler. He knew that one slip and Web would pull the trigger.

  An odd, barely noticeable sound started to come from the distant burning building. It sounded like a rolling river that was slowly escalating into the firestorm of a raging forest fire.

  “I would think that in these final moments of your life, you would have learned a little something about respect. I suppose something like courtesy truly escapes those in your station. Hell, you probably can’t help it; it could even be a wiring in your brain and that makes it perfectly acceptable for your loser status in life,” Web taunted, hoping to cause Dean to make a mistake.

  Dean, however, was unflappable and didn’t give a fuck what this piece of shit cannibal thought; his only focus was to survive long enough to kill him.

  “Why don’t you just pass out, Deano? My shop is down the block; I could take you there and make sure you leave this world in a truly unique fashion,” Web said, having been able to shed his earlier fears and urgency to kill Dean. The sight of the large man lying wounded on the ground stimulated the perverted doctor. This man had actually frightened him, hurt him, and now he was right there, weakened. If only he could get him to … Web was so intent on figuring out how to use the syringe in his pocket that he lost track of the noise that had continued to build—but Dean hadn’t.

  Dean’s eyes widened as a group of what appeared to be ten living people rushed a small horde of zombies and start tearing into them, devouring the flesh as they decimated the horde. More joined in and skin, bone, and blood started to fly into the air; the zombies barely moaned as they were consumed. The new romped around the undead like dogs at a dog park. Web decided to shoot instead of play and refocused his rifle. He thought Dean was trying to psych him out by looking off to the side with fear, but when the big man ignored the rifle and turned to go into the building with such urgency that he shattered the glass on the furniture store door, Web couldn’t help but look and had no choice but to follow; he found himself in a battle for the rifle once he made it inside.

  Dean grabbed the rifle, thinking he could just yank it out of the smaller man’s hands, but the wiry fucker hung on for dear life. Web looked like a rag doll as Dean tried to shake him loose. The rifle went off, startling both of them, as well as knocking more glass out of the window. He threw a knee into Web’s groin; the shorter stature of the doctor landed his knee in the abdomen, but it was enough for Dean to steal a look outside.

  Twenty of these new things were rushing toward the store entrance, attracted by the shot. Dean pushed Web back hard and released the rifle before diving onto a loveseat that he rolled over on top of himself with the impact of his landing. He tried to reach through the cushions to get a hold of the frame, but the leather was too strong so he managed to get fistfuls of the tanned hide and held on for dear life. He pressed his head and feet between the arm rests, trying to cocoon himself within the diminutive sofa.

  The room filled with a roar and three shots fired by Web before a scream mixed with dozens of running feet. He could hear furniture being lifted and thrown as they searched for him and then something was on top of the couch, the weight bearing down on him and threatening to suffocate him. He gripped tighter and something hit his barricade hard before he was suddenly lifted with the love seat and sent spinning through the air. Dean held on and when he landed upright, his weight shifted to complete the rollover so the sofa once again covered him. Again between the floor and the loveseat, he could see as they searched where he had been, almost sniffing the floor. There were no screams or howls, just the rampage of their search as more furniture was piled upon Dean’s hiding spot.

  Then it was over. Silence hanging thick, suffocating him under the mass of furniture, yet still he waited, listening and watching.

  Half an hour, then three quarters of an hour passed and still nothing. He could only hope that those things had taken care of Web; Dean wasn’t sure he had it in him to continue the fight. He lost Shaaka but knew the buckler was in there on the floor somewhere. He crawled out, into the fading light of day. Dean was going to have to barricade the door and rest there for the night, but first, the buckler needed to be found.

  An hour later, he sat back in the nicest recliner he could find. Still bleeding from the double wound in the shoulder and his shin throbbing from the bullet that skipped off of it. He could feel the blood starting to trickle into his sock and wondered if he ever did have that bleeding stopped. With a shrug, he relaxed; Web was surely dead and the streets looked swept clean of zombies.

  I wonder if I will even wake up tomorrow. Dean didn’t care; he knew that his job was done. There’s no way that little fucker could have survived that. He was a tough little prick though; I’ll give him that, was Dean’s last thought before darkness took him.

  *

  “What do you think?” the youngest of the group asked his newly acquired friend.

  “What do I think? I don’t know … that plume of smoke tells me something is going on over there. Usually where there is smoke there are people.”

  “I agree. What about you?” He then asked the third member in another attempt to pull her from her singular goal. Her focus created a wall between her and the rest of the world, her only touch with reality being the pain from her freshly sliced face.

  “I don’t give a fuck; just get me in the right area and I will see what I need to see.”

  “You think so, huh?”

  “Oh, yeah,” she scowled at her companions.

  Chapter 14

  Reality Sucks

  Regardless of the complications with the salvage of Little Rock, the city of Hot Springs continued to attract survivors. The news of an open airfield brought so much traffic they had full-time ground personnel operating 24/7, and they were parking planes out in the fields. Tankers and military planes started arriv
ing, causing several near misses in the air.

  The city had taken on a life of its own. Soon people were taking over sections of the city and homesteading it. Huge pyres cropped up where bodies were burned by the hundreds, metal shavings thrown in the flames to make it hot enough to even consume bones. A gang of some sort had taken over the horse track and was turning it into a farm as others took over housing developments and schools, set on creating and establishing their own value to the community, be it making weapons or raising food. A pig farmer had taken over a small school and had half his original stock living and breeding on the main level and a horde of boars he would sell for ammunition and other staples every day. Paper money was useless unless you wanted to use it to start fires or as toilet paper; coins were accepted but only to be melted down into something useful, namely weapons. Fire became the ultimate cleanser, consuming all of the valuables from life past to make way for the necessary.

  A natural expansion began throughout the city, and the councils that had been formed were nothing more than a hub where people came for supplies or shipping containers for new walls, timing their arrival when the councils would be meeting. In turn, they also came to see what the city needed.

  Some of the council members wished for more privacy, not enjoying the open-sided tent and though people watched, listened they were very quiet. A new respect had come about through the city as people began to realize how precious each life had become. Courtesy from days gone by suddenly sprang forth as the norm. Doors were opened for men and the sick or homely instead of simply for the pretty ones. Hi, how are you? actually meant something and people truly wanted to know the welfare of their cohabiters and what fates they may have faced. As they listened to the council, a profound feeling came over them that this was or could be the new “news” of the world. They also realized they were happy that they didn’t have to make these hard decisions. Not now, not yet—too soon.

  They quickly expanded their permanent walls with the intent that the people would work their way toward the barriers as they claimed places to live. Record keepers were established and people were only allowed to claim one property per adult; bigger properties were granted to groups or co-ops.

  Then it all changed with the landing of one plane.

  It was Cat and Malcolm who made their way out to the plane where Captain Thompson waited anxiously. He was done asking them to release Colonel Jeffers once he realized that was beyond their scope of authority. Captain Thompson could appreciate those who stood by their protocol even though the arrest of the colonel was beyond his capability to accept.

  Three men in dark suits exited the plane first, where they conducted quick interviews with everyone on the ground before one of them headed back into the plane. Two more men exited the plane, followed by a woman with her head held high and her family in tow. She looked out at Hot Springs in a way Cat wasn’t quite comfortable with, but she ignored it in her amazement; former talk show host and sports commentator, Anita Berry—the Vice President of the United States of America—had come to Hot Springs on Air Force One.

  After her were more secret service men followed by an assortment of other important-looking people, some in uniforms, others not. Cat didn’t know what to think about all of it; she knew things were too much for her to control but she had to—at least until the others got back from Little Rock.

  Cat didn’t even have time to think about the things banding together and attacking refugees, nor did she know what to do about it other than double the guard and make sure there was enough ammunition on hand to fight them when and if they came. She turned her attention back to the events at hand.

  “Captain Thompson.”

  “Welcome to Hot Springs, Madame President,” Captain Thompson said with a crisp salute, the presidential reference not being lost on Cat. “I am sure you will find things to your satisfaction.”

  “I don’t know about that, Captain. I was told there was a Colonel Jeffers here that I would be in contact with.”

  “I am sorry to report, Madame President—”

  “President Berry will be fine, Captain.”

  “Yes, President Berry. Well, I regret to inform you that he is being detained by the powers that are in control here: mainly local law enforcement that are currently outside of the walls on assignment.”

  “It’s all very confusing, Captain. Their efforts should have ceased as soon as the colonel arrived.”

  “Actually, I have been researching that very topic and there is no protocol for what you suggest. In fact, it clearly states that if there is a functioning local government, they have certain rights of control that can only be stripped from them by one of the three branches of Federal Government or the governor of the state itself. It’s designed to prevent militias and warlords like you see in some of the third world nations,” the captain replied, knowing immediately that he had provided a little too much information.

  “Well then, Captain, take me to the person currently in charge so we can fill them in on what is going to happen here—assuming, of course, that I fit the bill as one of those three branches of government?” the president said in such a casual tone it almost sounded southern instead of the East Coast where she was from.

  “You more than fit the bill, President Berry. That would be Cat or Malcolm right over here,” Captain Thompson said as he led the president to the two and introduced them. Cat wondered if the woman could see her shaking from fear or if that was her imagination.

  “Madame President, it’s an honor to meet you,” Cat said as she bowed slightly, not knowing what else to do.

  “Relax, dear, I’m not royalty, and call me President Berry. It’s a pleasure meeting you also,” she said and gave a nod to Malcolm.

  “President, huh? So that means …” Malcolm said, unimpressed.

  “Yes, he’s dead; though you wouldn’t know it from a distance. The Marines who witnessed his fall were unable to put him into his final rest, so he’s probably still wandering around. For another day or two, at least.”

  “Day or two?” Malcolm inquired.

  “Yes, it seems there is an expiration date on these things and after about a week they simply fall down and are unable to move,” she said with a slight smile.

  It was incredible news to both Malcolm and Cat. It meant their lives wouldn’t be spent living in the squalor of zombie guts.

  “If only it was them we had to worry about,” Cat said. “We have a new kind of … zombie, I guess. But they’re really fast and strong and eat on the run. And they’re alive; they devoured a whole group of twelve fighters down in Little Rock and didn’t even leave any bones.” Cat felt like she had just related an urban legend that was so unbelievable it was absurd, but that was how she heard it from her father on the front line.

  “Yes, that was an anomaly we didn’t expect,” the president began slowly, obviously having some information on the subject. “It seems when you ingest the fluids, it has an adverse effect; it doesn’t kill you, it changes you—and not for the better. Hot Springs is the first that we have heard of them banding together though. But we’ll have many hours to talk about this; I plan on keeping you both on as advisors. Now, you know that I am going to release the colonel, right?” President Berry said as she draped her arm around the shoulders of Cat with a forced camaraderie that made her uncomfortable before they walked toward the Sam’s Club.

  “Yeah, I had nothing to do with the colonel; that came down from Lisa and nobody is going to buck her.”

  “Ahhh, Lisa, I have heard a lot about her. Can you please tell me about her?” the president asked gently, and Cat realized she was caught in the trap before she even knew it was coming.

  “I think that you would be better served if we brought you to Officer Benson. He’s in the hospital due to an unfortunate experience the other day, but he’s able to communicate when he’s awake.”

  “And this would be the Officer Benson—Arthur, I believe his name is—who was one of the initiators of this compo
und?” President Berry asked, grateful that there was a lack of etiquette that enabled quicker access to information. It was here in the hospital where she could inform one of their leaders as to how things were going to play out.

  *

  “So you’re saying that it’s a matter of how much infected blood that they have been exposed to? That can’t be; I’ve had it completely covering me and I’m fine—other than missing a leg,” Benson said to the recently introduced president.

  “My people in Colorado actually predicted it hours before we saw the first case. Some people don’t get it—just like the flu or cancer. They just digest it and pass it while others metabolize it into whatever you consider these things to be,” President Berry said as a newly arrived major exchanged formalities with Captain Thompson.

  “This is Major Kyle. He will be handling my military affairs for now.”

  “What else do we know about them?”

  “Nothing, really, other than they are going to clean up this world for us. They devour everything in their path, alive or dead. Nothing is safe from them; livestock is going to be virtually wiped out, as well as fields and storage facilities. They’re like giant, omnivore locusts,” the major said, signifying that he was the go-to as far as the research went.

  “I wish you could have warned us about this sooner,” Benson said, almost accusingly.

  “When a city that is unplanned and unsanctioned pops up out of nowhere then arrests the highest ranking military presence available, it causes us to have doubts. For all intents and purposes, we assumed you were some kind of warlord setting up a slave trade. That is happening, you know,” Major Kyle spoke again, causing Benson to nod his head in agreement.