“I don’t know why it’s clear to me as to what we have to do and why we have to do it, but it is. Unless, of course, I’m delusional—but that, my friends, is for you to decide.
“If so, then don’t follow me and have me arrested for killing that racist slaver because I deserve it. I looked him dead in the eye and pulled the trigger without regret because I knew … I knew that every victim after today would be my victim, not his. Mine because I allowed him to continue to exist. Is that a God complex? I don’t know. I believe it’s the result of their own action more than anything else. We’re taught that every action will have an equal and opposite reaction. Well, physics just got real.
“If you choose to live like an animal, then people like me are here to make sure that you die like an animal. This is not my law or my rules; this is natural law. The sick must perish in order for the strong and healthy to flourish. That’s simply how it is.
“Let this be a warning to any of you who have not made it to the safety of the compound yet. There are gangs of drug addicts, murderers, thieves, and rapists out there looking to exploit you and your children. Slavery of many sorts is alive and well.
“There is a serial killer on the loose in the city right now. His name is Doctor Webber, a physician in Mount Ida. There are some walking around with his photo if you need to see it, but he is real and he will kill you in the most horrific manner and possibly even cannibalize you. His last victim was tied spread eagle on a building front. When the zombies came to feed, he watched, even delaying the inevitable just so he could revel in the man’s terror. He has blond hair …” Lisa continued with her description as Tasha made all sorts of disapproving eyes at her.
“Good people; unite and stay strong. And don’t let the scum left in this world bring you down. Thank you,” Lisa finished, and Tasha went right into music.
“What the hell is your problem?” Lisa snapped.
“My problem? Really … my problem, you say?” Tasha looked at Skit, who just shrugged, not knowing what was going on.
“That’s what I said; what is your fucking problem?”
“You walk through town killing anybody on a whim, and then you come in here and tell the people to do the same as you. Then you draw the attention of a serial killer to my station and ask what is wrong with me?”
“You are way out of line here, Tasha. They were slavers and rapists—and possibly murderers—that I killed out there.” Lisa reached into her pouch to pull out a piece of material which she threw on the table in front of Tasha.
“They were waving this, Tasha. Do you know what they would have done with you when they found you?”
“This? What is this?” Tasha asked as she lifted a corner of the flag.
“The official colors of the local Ku Klux Klan. You, being a pretty black woman, would have made a nice addition to their stables. Of course, they’d have to whip the uppityness out of ya first.”
“It is hard to believe that they still exist in this world,” Tasha said regretfully.
“This world? Or do you mean the world we had a few days ago? Because in this world they have free fucking reign until someone steps up and takes care of them. I am that someone, Tasha, and I took care of them. So judge me for it, or don’t judge me for it; it doesn’t really matter. Lord knows I am going to have to deal with a shit storm about this when I get back to the compound as it is.”
“Okay, okay … I’m sorry. What about the serial killer though? Should I come to the compound with you?”
“Can’t. You are way too valuable here doing what you’re doing. And for the most part, he supports you in this. After all, you’re attracting more victims to him, but that will also be his downfall. We’re sending down a rotation of twelve soldiers as we speak; they’re going to stay here with you for a while. With them and your wingmen, you should be all right. He’s not known for his courageous attacks,” she said.
“Do you think it was all that smart telling everyone about him? I mean, there could be some panic,” Tasha said, a little uncomfortable with how Lisa might react. She seemed to be on edge or hopped up on something. Something inside of the policewoman was burning hot, an intense energy that she could hardly restrain.
“I know how I’m coming off right now, Tasha. I realize that I am hitting some sensitive issues hard right now and may come off as calloused. People need to be afraid,” she said. “People need to feel fear, or they are not going to make it to the compound, and the compound needs as many bodies as it can get. Especially right now.”
“Why now, Lisa? What is so urgent? Why not take a moment and get it all set up?” Tasha asked.
“This is still the beginning stages. We have lost most of the people to this virus already. Soon—very soon—food will run out for the dead and they will start to wander. They will follow their nose just like Tonka would and their nose will lead them right toward food. We are food to them, Tasha. We have to be trained, supplied, and ready for them,” Lisa said, leaving Tasha staring at a wall as her mind worked.
Finally, she turned back to Lisa, her face twisted into an unrecognizable expression. “The Horsemen.”
“I’m being serious here, Tasha. Don’t go all religious with this, all right?”
“I know that you don’t believe, but a lot of us do and I am sa—”
“Don’t say it. Don’t waste your fucking breath, because I don’t give a shit what it is. It is just my job to fix it,” Lisa said, resolute in her conviction not to fall into any mumbo jumbo and simply deal with it.
“Now we can either build a holding pen for victims, where people sit back and wait to be air lifted to La Ti Da, which doesn’t exist, or we can establish our ground and take back what is ours, and for that, I need fighters—not sheep. But first, I need survivors. The ones who survive both the zombies and some brilliant, yet sick, butcher who masturbates to fear. Those are going to be the ones who set this world straight, and we don’t have the resources or time to waste on bottom feeders.
"Now, if you don’t want to help me anymore, I get that. You have already done enough to earn your place with us, so your home isn’t threatened. I would sure like you to be on board with me though and keep your beliefs to yourself.” Lisa’s tone or stance never wavered and she spoke as directly and honestly as she could, but her mind was made up; Tasha had to buy in or bow out.
“I’m with you, Lisa. Of course, I am. It’s all just a little hardcore for me, that’s all.”
“You and me both, my friend; you and me both.”
“You can’t stop me from expressing my views on the radio.”
“You are the source of news for all people right now, Tasha. Not just Motown fans and not just Christians. If you want to create a show that played for an hour then you had better represent all faiths, or we will push some needed people away.”
“I can do that. I would enjoy doing that. The Jihad perspective and Buddhist teachings; even Nostradamus’ quatrains.”
“And Atheists.”
“Atheists?”
“Oh yeah, we have a perspective on this too. Deal?”
“Deal.”
***
“So we headin’ back?” Skit asked once they were back on the streets. More and more often, they were seeing skid loaders and trucks instead of zombies and even ran across an assault force that had started clearing buildings. A few who did not know who she was even handed her pictures of Web, and for some reason, that made her feel as if she was doing her job. If she couldn’t protect them, she could at least inform them.
Lisa and Skit heard shouting from a building across the street, and as they moved in, Tonka flanked right. Sedge just watched, not knowing what to do. Lisa pushed through the people trying to get out of the building, only to end up in a lobby of sorts.
A mass of dead humanity was falling down an open staircase; only one guy swinging a four-foot chunk of rebar confronted them at the bottom. He moved like he wanted to know karate or judo but had gleaned his skills from watching Jet
Li movies. The man’s long ponytail swung back and forth as he kicked and spun with an awkward grace that made Lisa think of Buck and the first time she met him. Buck, however, had been successful at keeping the infected at bay; this guy was too closed in and was soon going to be overrun.
“Skit, start swinging,” she said as she pointed out toward the far side of the room, wanting him to distract the crowd away from Ponytail. Tonka went with him as Lisa started to line up precise shots up close to the bobbing stream of hair.
She tried to clear out over his right shoulder, taking two out that were dangerously close to swarming the man.
“Step right!” she shouted.
The man did as she instructed but not nearly far enough for her to make the shot. Her eye was locked on a zombie that was moving with such distinct purpose, she knew it was going to score on his left triceps. He spun in a pseudo-karate move, almost putting his arm right in the creature’s mouth. It bit as she fired; she saw the spray from the bullet hitting his arm before entering the zombie’s brain via the roof of its mouth.
The man was frozen in place as he stared at the bullet wound in his arm. A large arm reached over Lisa’s shoulder, grabbing Ponytail by the collar and dragged him backward out the door. She heard Ponytail start to sob, which dissipated the farther away he got.
The room was open and Lisa started to pick her shots more carefully as she heard Skit grunting with every swing and Tonka dragging down bodies to snap their necks. The maneuver didn’t kill, but paralyzed the zombies and seemed to come way too easy to the canine. She switched magazines when they had ten or so left—none of which were runners—and it was like standing them up in a shooting gallery at the county fair.
Soon she and her team left the building only to find Ponytail on his knees as a woman brought a revolver down toward his forehead.
“For Norman’s love?” the woman with the revolver asked.
Ponytail nodded his head gently and pointed his eyes toward the ground.
“For Norman’s honor,” he whispered.
“Hold it! Wait, wait, wait one fucking minute here!” Lisa shouted and people gasped as they recognized who was amongst their group.
“What in the fuck do you think you are doing?”
“I’m bit,” Ponytail said to her with the dim light of resignation in his eye. “I choose to go with dignity, like Norman did.”
“First off, you weren’t fucking bitten. I shot your dumb ass because you wouldn’t move out of the fucking way. Next time I tell you to step right, step right, dammit.”
“Oh … I’m sorry,” Ponytail replied.
“It all right; I’ll get over it.” She meant it but for some reason, him apologizing to her for her shooting him struck a chord with the entire group and some chuckles rang out. “Sit down now and let me have a look.
“I am Lieutenant Reynolds.” He nodded, already knowing that. “Let’s take a look at your arm. The rest of you, I appreciate that you are following procedure, but be certain they are actually bitten before you take such drastic actions.” Her eyes landed on the woman who was to take the shot. She was visibly shaking while looking at man she was ready to shoot in the head.
“It’s all right, honey, he’s okay. What is your name?”
“Lois, Lois Talbot.”
“You were doing the right thing, Lois, so relax. What is your name, mister?” Lisa said in a chiding fashion.
“Paul Talbot,” he replied then added, “I like the new hair look, or lack of it.”
“Thanks, Paul Talbot,” she said, deciding she was going to call him P.T., although, for a completely different reason than his name being Paul Talbot. “Are you two husband and wife?”
“Siblings.”
“Damn, you got ice water in your veins, Lois. That is cold blooded. You too, P.T.; fending off the Z’s like that so the rest could get out … nice job,” Lisa said, which was merely just banter in order to calm the situation as their adrenaline settled down. “I’m going to call you off for the day though. The rest of your group can stay out, but you two I want back in the compound pronto.”
“I’m good; it is only a flesh wound,” P.T. said.
“This isn’t a Monty Python movie, P.T.; ordeals like this cause you to lose focus, especially if you’re not used to it. You need to relax for twenty-four or forty-eight, get some grub, and sleep. You can trust me on this or just do what I tell ya, pissing and moaning all the way. It doesn’t matter because it is what’s going to happen.”
She walked over to Skit after a pickup truck came and collected the brother and sister. Skit sat on the curb, looking out on the blacktop with a dog on either side of him sitting peacefully.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Oh hey,” he replied.
“Is something bothering you?”
He shook his head side to side. “Naw.” Then he nodded up and down before saying, “Yeah.”
“What is it?”
“Well … there’s a group of people here clearing zombies out of apartment buildings. Also there are people over there clearing out apartment buildings and office buildings down the street.”
“Yeah, so … isn’t that a good thing?” Lisa asked, not really getting where he was going with this.
“All of these people are accessible to … to him.”
“I know, Skit, but there isn’t much we can do about him right now.”
“So where is he?”
“I’m sorry, I’m not getting you.”
“The only time he is not scheming and setting something up is when he is talking to you. He’s planning something and we’re out here in the open,” Skit said visibly shaken.
“Relax, Skit. He hasn’t had time to set anything up.”
“I think you are selling him short. I’m not going to feel safe until we are back in that compound.”
***
“Re-load, then hold fire; I got these few,” Dean said as he kept mumbling, god damn son of a fucking bitches who st… He stabbed out with Shaaka up under the chin of a former postman, visibly bulging the eyeballs from the heavy steel blade entering the brain. He quickly yanked it back to strike out in a roundhouse style swing that plunged the blade through the temple of the one behind the zombie that hadn’t finished his journey to the ground.
He let the blade rest in the skull as he shoved chest high with the buckler, sending another falling back into a third as he swung the club into the skull of a runner who was trying to sneak around from behind the one he had shoved. Crushing his cranium, he sent him flying to the right only to have his place filled by another shuffler. The main group of zombies was still thirty yards back but there were five in front of him that he had to take care of in order to make a break for it. He jerked the blade of Shaaka out of the head he had roundhoused and fallen to its knees.
Chicken shit bastard and his slut who stole my truck and left me out here with two kids and no guns, Dean continued to mumble as he slammed the buckler back into the zombie at his feet. Just like a jackhammer, Dean plunged his spearhead into one, two, then three more skulls.
He stepped back, releasing the one he had pinned, to snap the knee on the Z coming in from behind. Reversing the spear, he plunged it through its eye socket as he fell while simultaneously hitting so hard across the face it snapped the Z’s neck, paralyzing him.
“Over there!” Dean said and pointed at a hardware store that looked as if it had been raided. There wasn’t an inch of glass in the frames, having been shattered and spread all over the floor. The inside of the store was a chaos of tipped-over shelving, displays and merchandise everywhere, causing them to slow down and pick their way through.
Charlie was the first to get to the back door, opening it in a rush only to slam it shut again. He looked at his dad with big eyes.
“Zombies, lots of zombies,” Charlie said just as a few runners hit the first of the debris behind them.
“Fucking A, where do they keep coming from? This way,” Dean said and directed them down
a long storage room filled with shelves of nuts, bolts, pipefittings, and other assorted brick-a-brack. Pulling out every box he could get his hand on without stopping, Dean knocked them to the floor, making it hard for anything to come at them fast from behind. They heard the success of this maneuver as two or three runners hit the small debris, sending their feet out from under them and crashing into the shelf-lined wall.
A set of wooden hand-railed steps leading up to a platform where a door sat unopened came into view. They headed for it and pushed each other up and out the door where Dean slammed it shut behind him. The door opened out on to a flat roof above a garage where they worked on small engines. There was no lock on the outside nor was there anything that they could shove in front of it.
“Dad! Kick it,” Charlie shouted as he held a wooden wedge meant to block the door open when they were out servicing things on the roof. Dean brought his size-twelve steel toe down on the wedge, knowing that it would only slow them down for a second or two but it should also prevent them from opening the door completely so he waited, ready to kill them one at a time as they came through.
He heard the first one hit the door, slamming it hard and struggling against it without the presence of mind to operate the doorknob. On impulse, he brought the sheath of Shaaka down on the handle, breaking it off. He then used his finger to push the turn rod through and out on to the floor behind the door, making it inoperable and keeping the dead inside for a little while longer.
By the time he turned around, Charlie was already being lowered to the roof of a van by Jonah. Dean looked over the edge and saw Charlie take point with his shotgun and four remaining shells. Dean smiled with pride; he was a good boy and tougher than he had ever given him credit for.
They crossed the alley and found the door to the opposing building locked; their only option was to head out onto the main street where the zombies were still filing into the hardware store. They all knew that their survival depended on quick thought and action, so they didn’t hesitate when Dean pointed at a consignment store across the street. He readied Shaaka before they made a dash for it, knowing they’d be spotted by runners almost immediately.
Zombie Rush 2 Page 12