Zombie Rush 2

by Hansen, Joseph

  “That was Alabama Shakes. I have someone special here to talk to you all—Lieutenant Reynolds—and she is going to share with you some of the things that have popped since yesterday,” Tasha said and gave Lisa the nod.

  Lisa wasn’t going to get into pleasantries or anything that could waste time. One second without information could lead to one life in the world ending.

  “We do have a compound or safe zone set up in the Sam’s Club parking lot off Martin Luther King Highway. Stay away from the equipment you will see on the way; they are trying to attract the dead, not the living. So if you want to avoid getting shot, stay away from the machines. The operators will see you and try to get you help, but keep moving. There is food, showers, water, as well as other items you may need. The hospital and some medical staff are under our umbrella, so if you’re sick, you can get help. If you are bitten … well, you know what you have to do.

  “I have met a lot of incredible people over the last day and a half. One man in particular stands out. His name was Howard. Howard had been bitten. He didn’t want to die, but more than that, he didn’t want to come back and eat someone or infect his daughter or wife. So he asked me to do something that I never would have considered in the old world, but for Howard, I would do it. Because Howard came to me with honor and integrity. We argued still, but in the end, I put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. Complete strangers to me, and complete strangers to Howard, collected his body and carried it with them until they could bury him with the consideration he deserved. Howard didn’t die for nothing. His sacrifice wasn’t senseless. Howard died for love. Howard died for the love of his family, true, but he also died for his love of humanity … his love of life.

  “Another man, named Michael,” Lisa started again after a pause, “was bitten on his ankle, but he knew the results. They all seem to say that you can feel it as the infection burns through your veins, and makes your heart and skin boil. Mike launched himself out of the back of my own pickup truck and into the path of four runners. Several of the living would have died if he hadn’t made that move … that decision. Michael sacrificed himself so that strangers could live. So that people he had never met before could carry on the precious commodity that we call life.

  “I am telling these stories in hope that you realize how important these lives are, even in their last seconds on earth. We need every one of you to get to the compound, so if you see other survivors, don’t shoot at them. We have what you need, and you are what we need, so there is no reason to kill anyone. The reclaiming of the city is underway and we need more hands to get it done. I also need you to be aware that there are bad people out there too; be careful and don’t turn your back on anyone you don’t trust. The best streets to use are …”

  Lisa carried on with the pertinent basics of her message, but she had one more call to battle she wanted to put out there before signing off. “I know we have all been through a lot these last couple of days. Truth is; it’s been a fucking nightmare. We have experienced loss, deep resounding loss, and senseless death without value or meaning. Now, I can’t tell you that there is no death at the compound, because there is. We call it sacrifice because we, when we fight together, are making a sacrifice so that others may live. We need you and you need us, or our deaths are meaningless … our lives, a waste of time. Join us so that we can live or die together. Not a great offer, but it’s all I got, and it beats the hell out of the alternative.”

  Lisa sat back from the mic and looked at Tasha as she put on a news loop from Minnesota that she had scavenged off the airwaves the night before. Lisa felt as if nobody heard her—that she wasted several hours getting there for nothing. She was unaware that the compound had practically shut down so that no one would miss a word of what she said. They cheered and laughed, some exclaiming it was the first time someone in charge was being honest with them. She unknowingly cemented a bond with those under her protection and created a yearning in those who were still working their way toward Hot Springs.

  “That was really good, Lisa,” Tasha said.

  “But?”

  “Hmmm, I don’t know. Times like these, a lot of people will bring up this faith or that. It gives people hope.”

  “Yeah, that is not something I can do; people would see through it. I am probably the only Hispanic to be raised as an atheist.”

  “An atheist, really? Hmm … so what motivates you to do what you’re doing?”

  “You mean the compound and everything? That’s simple. Life. Life is what motivates me. And the potential survival of the human race. I don’t need God to show me what needs to be done.”

  “Easy girl, I meant no harm. I was just curious.”

  “Sorry, I have run into a lot of religious zealots in my day and have no desire to get into that discussion again.”

  “Excuse me, Tasha. Could I say something to the people?” Skit asked.

  “Absolutely. Let’s tape it and I will play it in a couple of hours, after this news loop is done.”

  “What’s the news loop about?”

  “Demons, believe it or not. Here let me set you up with some headphones before I start in with Skitter Pop.”

  “Ah, just Skit … okay?”

  “Okay.”

  After talking to the Guard troops who had stationed themselves there, Lisa learned that heavy equipment was actually checking on them every half hour and refugees streamed by from time to time. The street was an official route for refugees and was a main focus for the resistance.

  Resistance? Is that what we are? A resistance? Lisa wondered and decided to come up with a more appropriate name for what they were doing here.

  After they left the station, she and Skit had a few cleared blocks that they could almost leisurely walk through … until they hit an unsecured area and they started seeing small groups of Z’s almost immediately. It was approximately a twenty-block stretch from that point to where she wanted to go. Lisa hoped it wouldn’t take all night to get there because she was starting to get weary.

  They ducked and hid behind dumpsters, alcoves, and corners long before being spotted by anything other than Z’s trapped inside buildings. A constant tick, tick, tick on the pavement seemed to follow them at a distance as they went. It was so constant she thought it was one of Skit’s shoes squeaking.

  “What the hell is that, Skit?” she whisper-shouted.

  “That ticking sound? I don’t know, but it has been following us since we left the compound. I told you about it earlier.”

  “You said it felt like we were being watched.”

  “I’m sure I mentioned the footsteps too.”

  Lisa was just about to walk back and surprise whatever was following them when a larger group of zombies came around the corner up ahead, catching them in the open and unprepared.

  “Shit.” It was exactly where they didn’t want to be. A solid brick wall lined the sidewalk beside them. No trashcans or dumpsters, not even an alcove to defend.

  “Here!” Skit started running across the street toward what looked to be an alley, but was more just a pathway between buildings.

  Lisa followed, cringing at the sound of his full voice. She watched as slow-moving corpses followed them across the street, knowing that a runner was bound to show up soon. The telltale scream came in the form of two behind her, coming from the opposite corner. She turned with her M4 already on her shoulder and dropped the closest with three shots but missed the second when she stumbled over the curb to the sidewalk. She ran into the alley as she heard Skit grunting while he swung his rebar at two slow movers already in the alley. His bar got stuck when he caved in the head of a teenage girl who wanted nothing more than to listen to Taylor Swift as she gnawed on his femur.

  Lisa took out the second one over his shoulder and turned to face down the remaining runner, now dangerously close. She tracked him up his right forearm; elbow … chest … neck … until she finally got to his head, sending gray matter spraying out the back, and she kicked herself for
not training on a more regular basis.

  “Get that door open, Skit!”

  “It’s locked! Who locks a door during the zombie apocalypse?”

  “Use your .45 and blow through the deadbolt … do it now, man!” Lisa was getting close to panic. For some reason, she wasn’t slipping into the zone where everything clicked, but then she had been hit on the head just the night before.

  The sound of Skit’s .45 reverberated off the narrow walls of the alley, and Lisa glanced to see how he did. She had to remind herself he wasn’t a cop as she saw how he tried to blow out the lock.

  She grabbed his gun barrel and set it where she wanted it as she continued to fire at the slow movers. She heard more screams and knew that some runners would be following up behind the swarm.

  “Turn your face away and pull the trigger, Skit.” Lisa said a prayer that it was a hollow-core steel door and not one filled with concrete. A loud report combined with the spray of metal fragments, and the door popped open. All they had time to do was get inside before the zombies were on them. They rushed across the large warehouse room to another door, just inches ahead of the zombies, hoping to get it closed but knowing they wouldn’t have time to block it. The room was filling with zombies before they located another door that opened into an older brick portion of the building. The contraption was more of a room divider than a door; there was no lock, but it did latch. The room was empty so there was nothing to pile, even if they had the time. Skit ran full bore to the other side of the room and panicked when the first door he came to was locked, so he rolled down to the next.

  Lisa crab walked backward, providing cover fire in three-round bursts. Fuck, what was I thinking coming out here without an army?

  “Lisa, over here!” Skit shouted from behind her.

  “Reloading!” she shouted back.

  Skit pulled the .45 and fired five of the seven rounds into the heads of four Z’s before Lisa was back in action and next to him.

  “Reload,” she said as they backed through the open door into absolute darkness.

  There was a lock on the knob, so they engaged it before backing away toward the other side of the room. Lisa hit a switch and a tactical light on the end of her barrel fired up. Skit switched out his speed loader in the dim light then they started looking for an exit. The light shining on the door they had passed through showed that the frame was pushing inward.

  Another door revealed itself in the dim light, and they hoped it was on an outside wall. Old brick buildings with long, narrow alleyways between them made up this part of town. Skit cracked the door open, only to close it again.

  “Zombies.”

  “How many?”

  “I don’t know; seven, ten, or fifteen. It could be a hundred.”

  “Okay, we gotta go for it.”

  “What the f…”

  “We can’t get trapped in here, Skit. We have to get out in the open where there might be help.”

  Skit looked down at the revolver in his hand, even though he couldn’t see in the dark. Lisa could feel his trepidation, but he had held up well and took out four zombies as she reloaded. He could do this; she knew it.

  “Hey, just guide and fire as I reload. We’ll make it.” As if to emphasize her encouragement, the crashing of old brick, brittle mortar, and a steel doorframe slammed into the room, flooding it with dim, dust-riddled light from the windows beyond. Runners hit the opening at full speed, instantly getting a bead on the two breathers by the exit.

  Lisa burst out into the alley. She switched her M4 to single shot and started taking precision shots as she moved deeper into the alley and farther away from the door. It would take the creepers a while to find the exit, but those runners would only be seconds.

  “Watch that exit!” she said, and Skit walked backward with the .45 readied.

  The first runner came skidding around the doorframe, open arms flailing to keep its balance. Skit let his arms react and the creature dropped with one round to the head. The other was right behind and Skit fired again; once in the chest, slowing him down. The second higher in the chest, pushing it upright, and a third slammed through its chin. Lisa’s gun fired constantly behind him while he watched the second runner fall at his feet. Nothing followed it, but he was loath to turn his back on the door.

  “Reloading!” Lisa shouted. That was Skit’s cue and he spun to cover her front, leaving his back exposed.

  Lisa looked over his back at the third runner who burst out the doorway. It was an ending for one of their lives; she knew it. She couldn’t bring her gun up over Skit’s back in time, and Skit was almost empty and pointed away from the door.

  The runner launched toward Skit’s back from three steps away. Time slowed as Lisa watched the competition between her rifle and the flashing teeth of the Z. She knew she wouldn’t make it with her rifle moving slower than the runner and a round not yet charged into the chamber.

  Lisa had to pause and blink when the runner was suddenly gone, swept to the side by something black and covered in shit or blood. She heard a familiar growl as the zombie’s neck broke.

  “Reload, Skit,” Lisa said as she watched the beast kill the zombie before turning and jumping on another.

  A large canine covered in grime joined with the first creature, using their body weight to clear the entrance of the alley. Lisa shook her head and smiled as she grabbed Skit’s arm and guided him out onto the street. Lights from a Humvee blinded them for a second before the tires screeched and several reservists jumped out, firing at the pursuing horde.

  Chapter Seven

  Goin’ Big

  The two Humvees backed up as a front-end loader, followed by a smaller skid loader, made the tight turn into the alley which easily contained the Z threat.

  “Are you Lisa Reynolds?” one of the troopers asked.

  “I am,” Lisa replied as she rubbed behind Tonka’s grime-coated ear. She took several beef sticks out of a pouch and handed them to the dog. The dog she didn’t recognize tried to get one but was too slow and looked up at Lisa expectantly. She was out, but Skit was able to offer his up and the dog, who was twice Tonka’s size, gladly accepted. Both looked like they had been through hell and showed multiple bite marks, proving in her mind that the virus was strictly a human thing.

  “What can I do for you well-timed gentlemen?” Lisa asked.

  “An Officer Krupp told us you would be in the area. He also mentioned that you would be interested in a little something we found when we were forced to bivouac downtown last night. Would you mind taking a look?”

  “Not at all. Do you have any spare five-six rounds?”

  “Affirmative, we have a couple of deuce and a halves around the corner loaded with ammo, and several mags right here you can have.”

  “Perfect,” Lisa said as she and her group piled into the back of his Humvee.

  The soldier didn’t have to drive far before he pulled into a newer section of the city where the buildings switched from older brick buildings to fancy glass and stucco. They let the soldiers enter first into what looked like a mannequin shop but had a catering sign outside. They went back into what was assumed to be the work area to find a scene from the depths of hell.

  “Holy shit,” Skit said as they walked into the climate-controlled room that was surprisingly free of the odor of decomposition.

  Lisa quickly scanned the room; it looked like it could be a meticulously cleaned butcher shop, except there was no livestock to be found. A couple of the Guard members posted up at opposing doors as the others chose to remain outside. Men and women were suspended, skinned or partially skinned, from meat hooks mounted on a ceiling track that could move them to a commissary kitchen in back. There they found fifty-gallon barrels labeled hides, bones, and offal.

  Skit started to vomit as Lisa took it all in. She noted that most of the bodies had been there at least a week and had been stripped of all vital organs, leaving just coarse muscle. The room was a cooler temperature to age the carcasses, muc
h like how a traditional butcher would treat beef. New corpses hung by the entrance and appeared to be field dressed like a hunter would do before bringing it to the meat locker.

  Skit got control of himself as they approached a large stainless steel reach-in refrigerator. Lisa noticed a dehydrator running the length of the room appeared to be stuffed with meat and spices. Labels of an unknown jerky company were stacked neatly, waiting to be filled. Lisa thought she was going to lose her own lunch.

  She inspected the label of the jerky package and marveled that it claimed to be over 90 percent hominid pith and byproducts. She tasted bile as it tried to rise to the surface before she could choke it back.

  She suspected the good doctor to be a cannibal, but she didn’t expect him to be mass marketing it as a dried meat product. But to whom? Were there that many who were like him? How many people had savored the flavor of Gramp’s Huntin’ Haul Jerky? She thought back to the previous hour when she fed Tonka a beef stick, remembered it was a Slim Jim, and sighed in relief.

  “Krupp, are you there?”

  “Nope, this is Art; what can I help you with? Over.”

  “We need to check our entire store for Gramps Jerky. If you find any, burn it.”

  “Why, what’s up? Over.”

  “It’s not beef, or elk, or buffalo, or whatever. I’ll explain later; just trust me, okay? Over.”

  “Roger that. Over.”

  “Out.” As Lisa slapped her radio back in its sheath, she noticed Skit staring wide-eyed at the labels. She was about to say something to him but was signaled by one of the soldiers that he had found something.