Zombie Road (Book 5): Terror On The Two-Lane

by Simpson, David A.

  She looked around the room, at nearly every inch shot up with bullet holes and shattered glass and broken pictures and stuffing strewn from the couch. Bodies were scattered about, none of them moving, all of them with most of their insides decorating the room. It stank of fresh death, blown open intestines and blood. Bob didn’t even want to come in the room.

  “I heard you scream. What happened?” Jessie asked, relief washing over him.

  “Oh, that was just to get the others to come closer.” she said. “The locals had orders to take me in so I took them out.”

  “You’re too messy.” she added, inspecting her weapons, looking for traces of blood.

  Scarlet collapsed her batons and looked at Jessie. His nose was still dripping and he was going to have a couple of black eyes. Again.

  “I was trying to keep one of them alive so we could question him.” he said, a little defensively. “It’s a lot harder than just killing everybody.”

  “What questions?” she asked. “I already know the answers.”

  Jessie grimaced. Of course, she did. These were people she’d worked and trained with. She knew their battle plan as well as they did. He was covered in blood, only some of it his own, and had a gun buried two or three inches deep in a mans eye hole. Blood was welling up around the barrel and spilling over, running down his cheek.

  “That’s kind of gross.” she said.

  “You sure we don’t need to ask this guy anything?” he asked.

  “No, but he’s reaching for his gun.” she said

  “I know.” Jessie said and pulled the trigger.

  The man stopped reaching for his gun.

  33

  Jessie + Scarlet

  The secretary never did come back and the director was cowering in his office. The frosted glass on his door was shattered and bullet holes pockmarked the wall. Papers and pictures and plants were smashed and littered the floor. He looked up in fear when Jessie pushed the chair away and crouched to look at him hiding in the knee well of the polished mahogany desk.

  “Are there any more of them here?” he asked conversationally.

  The director shook his head rapidly, his eyes huge, staring at the blood drenched boy. He knew they had been lying in wait, he’d heard the machine guns, listened to the screams and thunderous booms, seen thousands of bullets sprayed all over the foyer but the boy was right there in front of him. The boy wasn’t dead but the invincible soldiers were.

  They’d put on a little display of their skills when they’d shown up a day ago. They’d walked up to the west gate with hundreds of the undead following. They’d breached his walls, had simply jumped to the top of them, then killed his guards and anyone else that challenged them. They left the screaming horde outside and told him they were in charge now. They told him they were taking over and he could do as they said or he could be fed to the zombies. They told him they were unstoppable.

  But the boy had stopped them all.

  He took the proffered hand and Jessie helped him get shakily to his feet. He glanced out of his broken door and saw the bodies splattered all over the floors and walls and even the ceiling and felt faint. He had been an assistant to the comptroller in charge of audits. He was a community organizer, a coordinator and planner, not some G.I. Joe. He didn’t even like horror movies. He had stepped up and helped shape this town and had taken over when the first director had been killed while on a supply run. He was the brains behind the brawn and had used his time in charge to get things organized again. To get the people under control. To bring order and structure back to the masses instead of rampant chaos it had been under Director Colonel Barton’s command. The former Director had only concentrated on building a fighting force and reinforcing the walls. Very important, to be sure, but that had all been completed. Now things needed to be done properly. Paperwork was needed to ensure compliance. Permits were required so his administration could approve or deny any new marriages or building improvements. Things must be controlled or there would be anarchy. He learned early on if he assigned the best houses to his militia commanders, they would help him and not try to stop what was obviously for the betterment of all.

  At the sight of all the blood, he had to sit down before he fell down. He couldn’t even look at the boy, still dripping on his polished marble floors, or he might be sick. Was that pieces of someone’s brains speckled all over his shirt? He reached for the trash can and barely got it to his mouth before he lost his breakfast.

  “We’ll give you a minute, Director.” Scarlet said. “He is kind of a train wreck, huh? Mind if he uses your bathroom to clean himself up a little?”

  She didn’t wait for an answer, just pointed Jessie in that direction, careful not to touch him. He was a mess.

  She poured the Director a stiff drink of Scotch from one of the bottles that hadn’t been shattered and he gulped it down then started coughing.

  “Easy there, Tiger.” she said. “If there’s no more of them then you’re in no danger. You’re safe if you told the truth. You weren’t lying to us, were you? There aren’t any more in town?”

  “No.” he said and held his glass out for another tall shot. “They came in yesterday, that was all, just those six. They were evaluating and inventorying the towns assets. They said they would spare everyone’s lives if we joined them. Their leader heard you were at the gate and called all his men in here to, uh, get you.”

  Jessie came back out, dripping wet, his boots squishing with water. He’d hopped in the private shower, clothes and all. It was the easiest way to wash the mess off.

  “We came back to warn you about them.” he said. “You’ve seen what they can do and you’ve seen what we can do. The war has been building for months and now that it’s started, you’re going to have to choose sides.”

  “But we want to remain neutral.” the director almost whined. “Like Sweden. We don’t want to pick a side. Why can’t you just forget about us? We’ve tried hard to stay under the radar, to take care of ourselves. We want to be left alone.”

  “We’ll leave you alone.” Jessie said. “But they won’t. They’ll be back and they’ll be pissed you let their soldiers get killed. They might even think you did it, that you ambushed them.”

  “But that’s not true!” he wailed and held out his glass for more Glenfiddich. He was a man of papers and pens not one of guns and ammo. He was at a complete loss. He didn’t know what to do.

  “How many of your men did they kill when they came in?” Scarlet asked.

  “Eight.” Heh answered. A figure written on a piece of paper. A fact he knew and understood. “But seven more were injured and three of those probably won’t make it.”

  “They’ll make an example of you when they come back.” Scarlet said, watching the director turn a whiter shade of pale.

  In just the few minutes they’d been talking to him, Jessie and Scarlet both intuited what kind of man he was. An opportunist and a coward. Lakota didn’t roll in and eliminate someone just because they didn’t like them. That’s what Casey or the Anubis cult would do. It was still a free country and it was still the people’s choice who their leaders were and this guy must be doing something they liked. They needed him to tell his people what to do, which side to chose and who to fight.

  “You need to call a town meeting.” Jessie said. “And it needs to be now. We have to know if we’re going to help you defend against the Cult or if we’re going to leave you on your own. There are other towns that need us if you don’t want assistance.”

  He quickly agreed, seeing them as his only hope. Like it or not, if he didn’t want to be skinned alive or fed to the zombies or any of the other tortures the Cult had promised, he had to join with Lakota. His only other choice was to go on the run but that was out of the question. He’d never survive outside the walls.

  It took less than an hour for the runners to notify the town and everyone that wasn’t on guard duty or out on the boats checking the fish farms was gathering on the square. Nearly f
our hundred people were milling around and even if he didn’t particularly like the way they ran the town with so many rules and regulations, they were very efficient. He wondered if it was because they were mostly of German descent in this part of North Dakota. He’d heard his dad tell stories of how organized and meticulous they were. How everything had to be orderly and neat. How they built some of the finest automobiles known to man. Maybe he’d just got off on the wrong foot on their first visit. They didn’t do things the Lakota way but so what. What ever worked for them, as long as they weren’t trying to enslave people or eat them, it was fine with him. He would never be able to live here himself, it seemed way too restrictive, but if they liked rules about what color your house could be, more power to them. It was sort of like living in a strict HOA neighborhood that encompassed the whole town. He was pretty sure there were people in Lakota and maybe even Tombstone that would be eager to move to the island. His dad had always said some people thrived on structure. He’d bet Sheriff Collins would feel right at home.

  The Director used a PA system to address them and gave a brief rundown of what had happened. How two teenagers had just killed the black clad men of the Anubis Movement and now the town had a choice to make. No more neutrality, no more sitting it out. They had to choose and they had to choose now. They already knew what joining the Cult entailed. The men who had killed their guards and lead a horde of the undead to their walls had made it clear. Join us, defeat the enemies of the Lord of the Underworld and you will live. Refuse and you will die. We will open the gates and you will be devoured. There was no choice.

  Now, standing before them, were two kids not even old enough to vote telling them there was another way. Most had heard of the Road Angel from the radio, had heard of his deeds and exploits. Some believed but most didn’t. They assumed it was stories with a kernel of truth that were overblown and exaggerated.

  Jessie told them of Lakota, told them nothing was expected of them except they fight and defend their own town. The new United States didn’t need them to join an army or send supplies. In fact, they would send soldiers to train them and heavy weapons to mount on their walls. They only needed for them to fight for what was already theirs and if the citizens of the island were willing to do that, they would show them how. Show them the weaknesses of the Cult. Show them how to defeat them.

  “But what about the hundreds of zombies at the front gate?” some one yelled. “They killed most of our fighters, our militia who knew how to take them out.”

  “Everyone has to learn how to kill the undead.” Jessie said. “Not just a chosen few. In Lakota, Tombstone, Cascade and Blackfoot, everyone fights. Old and young, weak and strong. If you can hold a gun, you can kill the zombies.”

  He saw doubting looks on their faces and had to remember where they were. An island only accessible by a road at either end. A tourist town that by a stroke of luck hadn’t been infected back in September. They had watched it all unfold on TV, had put up some walls and a few dozen men started a militia that kept everyone safe. It was probably the least affected town in America and they’d found solace and comfort by staying isolated, following the rules and living from greenhouse crops and fishing.

  The undead were still pounding on the gates at the West end of town, still listlessly trying to get through.

  “We’ll go out and eliminate most of them.” Jessie said “and we’ll leave some alive for you to practice on.”

  There were looks of disbelief and outright scoffs that a couple of kids could go kill a hundred undead. Jessie knew the first thing he had to do was put their doubts aside. He had to make them see the dead weren’t as deadly as they used to be and the Cult wasn’t all powerful and invincible.

  “Get on the wall.” he said. “We’ll show you what we can do. After that, we’ll teach you how to do the same. It’s all in the training. If a ninety-eight-pound girl can do it, you can learn to do it, too.”

  He didn’t tell them about their enhancements, they needed to believe in themselves, believe they could learn to fight. They could, Jessie knew. They’d never be as fast or strong as him and Scarlet but they wouldn’t be taking on a hundred zeds by themselves and they would be using guns but they needed to believe. Needed to know Lakota had the baddest bad asses who would fight for them, have their back and wouldn’t be defeated by a bunch of clowns attacking from the north. If two teenagers could take on an armed squadron of the Anubis warriors, it they could defeat a horde of the undead, then they would realize Lakota was as strong as they claimed. That they would be fools not to join them.

  From the top of wall, they could see the horde stretched out before them, packed tight and surging forward. They were slow and broken, couldn’t even muster up enough coordination to pile on top of each other to make a ramp. They’d been out in the weather since the beginning, overall a pretty sorry bunch of zombies.

  “That’s it?” Jessie asked when he saw them. “They’re afraid of that?”

  “Don’t be show off.” Scarlet said, buckling the collar of her leathers tight around her neck. “They’ve never had to fight them and most of their warriors are dead.”

  The whole town couldn’t stand on the catwalks but most of them had managed to squeeze on and could see the grasping, rotting hands pressing against the steel. Most were nearly naked and old wounds had crusted blood and broken bones sticking out of them.

  “Me and Bob can take care of this.” Jessie said as he fastened his own battered leathers and pulled his spiked knuckle dusters from their hiding place under the pauldrons.

  He turned to look over the edge, trying to find a fat one to land on.

  “Why don’t you sit this one out” he said, knowing it would piss her off. “go make me a sandwich and maybe some of that iced tea.”

  He loved it when she got mad and her English faltered. It sounded so cute.

  “I not you slave!” she said and kicked him over the edge. There was a sharp intake of breath as two hundred people gasped but Jessie was laughing all the way down. He drove his boots into hungry, upturned mouths, went down under a pile of squishy flesh and brittle bones and came up swinging. Bob barked a few times from the wall and dove in after him, his armor tearing apart faces and his fangs ripping out throats. Jessie was like a piston driven machine, his blades and spikes dealing out death, sending teeth and jawbones flying, crushing heads and splashing out their contents. Bob’s raging snarls were guttural and undead screams ceased one after another as the tore into them. The people on the wall watched in wide-eyed wonder as the boy and his dog waded through the scrabbling monsters, breaking them and killing them in blindingly fast and vicious blows.

  “HEY!” Scarlet yelled as she dove. “Leave some for me!”

  She leaped high and rolled in midair, whipped out her batons extending the stainless-steel harbingers of death and landed on a mound of flesh. From on top of the wall they watched in disbelief. They witnessed as two kids and a dog tore through a horde of hundreds that would rip them limb from limb if they could. Would sink rotting teeth into tender flesh and tear chunks of if away if they could. Would turn them into one of the undead if they could.

  But they couldn’t.

  Biting heads were caved in, reaching arms were brutally broken, stumbling legs were shattered. If one of them did get close enough to bite, their teeth would break on the armor or slide away on the leather. They watched in awe as the strangers killed them all and then argued over who should kill the last one. It stumbled towards one then the other, unable to choose which one to attack. The dog finally finished it when he sprang and nearly ripped its head off with a savage snarl.

  The Road Angel bowed low to the girl in black leather and clapped his hands in appreciation. She curtseyed, spreading an imaginary dress while her boots were in a pile of entrails from skull smashed corpses. Not five minutes had passed and they were standing among the remains of hundreds of dead. The horde that had the whole town nearly paralyzed with fear, the terrible enemy, that wasn’t so terr
ible after all.

  34

  Jessie + Scarlet

  The people who hadn’t seen the carnage, who almost couldn’t believe what the ones on the wall were telling them, saw it first hand when the gates were opened and the two kids and their dog walked back through, piles of corpses stretched out for a hundred yards.

  They met back in the town square and listened raptly as the blood covered boy with too long hair, a scar on his face and guns hung low addressed them. He’d shown them what was possible, the undead were slow and easily defeated if you knew how. The Anubis Cult would force them to join their army in the march to conquer the lands. Lakota offered them friendship and trade. Mutual defense, military grade weapons and men to train them how to use them.

  “Vote now.” Jessie said when he’d finished. “Show of hands. If you’re not interested in our help, we’ll leave.”

  He couldn’t tell if all four hundred people voted to join with Lakota but everyone he could see had a hand in the air.

  “I’ll get on the radio, let them know what you need.” Jessie told the Director. “Welcome to the new United States.”

  35

  Tombstone

  The people of Tombstone were dead set against loading the Bradley back up on the lowboy. They’d seen it in action and wanted to keep one for themselves. Hot Rod spent some time on the radio with Cobb, Tackett pleaded his case and, in the end, they decided it could stay. The kids got a scolding but not much of one. It was hard to be upset with the group that had just saved a bunch of lives, maybe even a whole town.

  “Leave two of them in Tombstone to train some crews on the Bradley’s.” Cobb said. “I should have known they were up to no good.”