Zombie Rush 2

by Hansen, Joseph

  Halfway across the street, Dean stutter-stepped in order to get a runner who had leaped to come down in front of him. He slammed the buckler on its head as it fell while using the butt end of the spear to sweep two more out of the way while he continued to run. It was only seconds until they were up and running hot on his trail. He could almost feel their breath on the back of his neck as he tried to pour more energy into his feet.

  Dean had never been one who was considered to be a runner; in fact, his stocky shape led people to believe that he was anything but a runner. He could move when he had to and though he might not be all that fast, he ran powerfully. So when two popped up in front of him just feet from the store and still had two others on his back, it didn’t slow him in the least. He lowered his shoulders and barreled through the corpses in his way, sending them sprawling.

  The two behind him were gaining on him but he couldn’t stand and fight without slowing to the point where others would have him, so he just kept running. Charlie jumped out from behind a car as Dean passed and spent two of their remaining four shells on the runners, giving them some much-needed space.

  Dean never slowed as he blew through the wood and glass door in the older, brick and mortar building. “Find the back door," he said to the boys as they ran by. He threw an entire shelf with everything from stuffed animals to playschool toys onto its side and pushed it in front of the door. Charlie started throwing strollers and cribs and anything he could lift on top of the shelf before Dean dragged another shelving unit over. He tipped it onto the pile just as two runners hit it full speed, causing the pile to shudder but hold in place. They drew back and hit it again, slightly moving it some more, before Dean and Charlie turned to look for Jonah. They had already made it a habit to check a building first, but there was no time for it; any zombies inside would have to be dealt with as they went along. Since the door had been locked, Dean felt the place was free from marauders and zombies up to this point. Where the present owners were was a mystery they didn’t have time to contemplate.

  “Where’s the back door?” Dean asked Jonah.

  “There isn’t one. There’s a door to the basement but there are no lights and I can hear something banging around down there.

  “Fuck!” Dean said, not caring that the boys heard him swear. He had never been sensitive to that and was even less so now.

  “Dad,” Charlie said and pointed toward the ceiling off in the corner. A steel ladder led up to a steel trapdoor leading to the roof.

  “Great, another fucking roof,” Dean replied as he headed over to the ladder. Looking up, he could see where a paddle lock was set to lock it but the lock itself was missing.

  “Charlie, you first,” he said anxiously as he watched the runners struggling with the debris in front of the door. They only had a couple of seconds before they were in and would be directly between them and the basement—which would be their next option regardless of what was banging around down there. Charlie turned the handle and the door opened to the relief of all of them.

  “Come on, Jonah, don’t lollygag.” Dean checked the ladder top when he went through and saw that it was merely a hook over a lip. He let Charlie take care of the surroundings as he grabbed the top of the ladder and pulled it up with them.

  “Oh shit,” he said when he closed the door and saw Charlie locked in a Mexican standoff with a woman who held a large pump-action shotgun.

  “You might as well put that ladder back and get the hell out of here. This roof is private property,” the woman said nervously.

  Dean believed that she would shoot them if too much went wrong. “Just relax, okay? Nobody needs to shoot anyone. Lower you gun, Charlie.”

  “Yeah, lay it on the ground right over there,” the woman said, indicating a spot with her barrel.

  “No, just lower the barrel, son. Look, the truth is that we would rather be shot by you than eaten by zombies so if you’re going to shoot, go ahead,” Dean said as he scanned the scene behind the woman. It was obvious that they had been living up there since the beginning. They had a bright orange tent set up where another woman sat next to a Weber grill, drinking a cup of what he thought might be coffee. A pile of broken furniture and other wood items sat to the side looking as if they had sacrificed product in order to cook food.

  He looked back at the woman with the gun before he said, “I would like to debate things with you but that smell is driving me nuts; what do you have cooking over there?”

  “That’s none of your business, mister; it is time for yo—”

  “Knock it off, June. Put the damn gun down and let them come over here and get something to eat for Christ’s sake,” said the woman by the grill. June reluctantly lowered her gun. To say the couple screamed lesbian would have been an understatement but Dean didn’t care and was curious to find out if Charlie and Jonah would pick up on it.

  “Hi, I’m Mabel; this is my wife, June. So I guess you boys have had quite a time of things? We would like to hear about it.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you. I’m Dean Solomon and this is my son, Charlie, and his friend, Jonah.” Each boy nodded in turn, not showing any reaction to June being called Mabel’s wife.

  “So tell us, Dean, what’s going on in the world?”

  “Not much to tell other than run and hide. Rescue this person only to see them killed later by a horde and then you get to scavenge and run and hide some more.”

  “Hmmm, I was hoping that you would have more news on what is really going on. Have you heard anything about Hot Springs?” Mabel asked.

  “Hot Springs? No, we haven’t seen news or heard a radio since an hour after it all started,” Dean said and looked to Jonah in case he had heard anything; Jonah shook his head in reply.

  “Oh, well, we heard on the first day a garbled broadcast that some construction workers and cops were trying to set up a stronghold at the Sam’s Club there, but then our batteries died and we don’t sell those so we’ve just been watching the streets ever since.”

  “The Sam’s club, huh? Well, if they don’t have tons of guns and a few tanks, I doubt they made it. I haven’t seen any military the whole time we have been running."

  “Same here. We were hoping that our orange tent would attract the military, but we’ve only seen a couple of private planes flying by,” June said, jumping into the conversation.

  “The only military or cops we have seen want to eat us. I haven’t seen a radio or TV since it started and our smart phones aren’t picking anything up.”

  “Yeah, it looks like a truck or something smashed into the tower. We saw it crumble right away and something burned for almost a full twenty-four hours. Hordes of undead went toward the blaze on day one, but they have come back since.”

  “Well, that explains why it was easier to move around the first day. I just didn’t think there were that many zombies at that point.”

  “There are more every day,” June said. “We saw several people get away the first day—or so we thought—but then on the second day only a couple got away from the zombies. Now you’ve brought them to our door.”

  “It was only a matter of time before they found you; even up here. They’re slow and dumb but they’re also tenacious. We have people waiting on us, so we can’t stick around. You’re welcome to come with us if you like.”

  “Naw, I think we’ll be good here,” June replied.

  “You’re kidding, right? There's nothing here for you except a flat roof,” Charlie said.

  “Well, we got the Scooby van down in the garage. We will take that when we get a chance.”

  “It is not the Scooby van. The Scooby van was a Chevy—not a V.W.,” Mabel whined. It was obviously a familiar argument between the two. “We have to go with them, June.”

  “I don’t want to get hooked up with some hat wearing redneck truckers waving some kind of banner, all right? They just don’t get us.”

  “Hey now, I may wear a hat from time to time, and I do drive a tractor trailer, but I�
��m not a redneck. I know you’re gay. Hell, even Charlie can tell you are lesbians.”

  “Lesbians?” Charlie’s eyes got big, causing Dean and the two ladies to smile.

  “Come on, Charlie; she introduced June as her wife,” Jonah chided and Dean smiled.

  “Okay, maybe Charlie didn’t know, but my point is that no one will care. We have all manner of people with us just trying to find somewhere safe, that’s all,” Dean said as he looked over the rail at the fire escape nine or ten feet down. “The other thing is that we need your van.”

  “You’re not going to steal our van,” June said as she raised her gun again.

  “Not if you come with us.”

  “Wait, wait now …” Mabel said and June put the gun down. “It’s my van, and I’m not staying here any longer, so let’s just cooperate with him.”

  “Oh, so all of a sudden he’s in charge?”

  “I think he knows a little more about things down there since he’s been running and hiding while we stayed up here. So just shut up and let’s get on with things.” Mabel was obviously the smarter of the two. “Now grab the shells and food while I get the other gear.”

  “Shells? What gauge shotgun do you have there?” Charlie asked.

  Dean didn’t hear the answer … he was flabbergasted. They were as much a couple as any husband and wife could be; he never imagined that it would be so similar. Dean never thought of himself as opinionated or judgmental, but sometimes it just crept up on him.

  Dean hang-dropped down onto the railing of the fire escape, trying to stay away from the window, which acted as a skylight inside the building. Charlie stayed on top with June as they handed the other two down to him. Charlie came next, followed by June, who leaned in and whispered, “There is no way to let this down quietly, so once we do, it’s going to be balls to the wall.”

  “Okay, you got the key ready?” Dean asked, and June turned her head back to the roof with an oh fuck expression. “Oh fuck, don’t tell me …”

  “Just kidding. I got the keys right here,” June said, making Dean wonder if she understood the gravity of their situation.

  “Don’t you fuck with me, little missy.”

  “Relax, there always has to be time for a joke, or I’m not playing,” she replied seriously, and Dean just shook his head.

  Mabel dropped the ladder and things suddenly became a mad scramble. Charlie hit the ground first and instantly posted toward the front of the building as if he were a battle-hardened soldier. June came behind and Mabel and Jonah followed while, through the window, Dean kept an eye on the zombies filling up the shop, the closed door to the roof unnoticed. He followed Jonah down and pushed everybody toward the detached shed that housed their vehicle. The noise had attracted several away from the front door of the consignment shop, but Dean was ready. He had no fear of these slower ones. Shaaka seemed to lend him an energy or speed all its own.

  With his guns, he would have been dead already, refusing to budge while he still had rounds. With Shaaka, he had to pick and choose more carefully; in right circumstances, he was almost indestructible to zombies. The custom-shaped hardwood buckler would push three or four back at a time as his spear plunged with the bladed end or smashed with the butt. His large old muscles could create a constant motion that the slow ones didn’t have a chance against, unless there were too many of them.

  This time was no different as he covered their trek to the van. He directed the van back to the south, leaving most of the zombies still inside the consignment store.

  Chapter Ten

  Stage Left

  They were starting to see signs of the compound already stretching out beyond its walls in the form of scavenging groups, people clearing buildings, and of course, the heavy equipment used to combat the infected. Brett had said this would happen as they kept most of the undead focused on one side of the compound or several blocks away to allow access to and from.

  Lisa and Skit both heard the bleating sounds of hundreds of zombies just beyond the pile of cars and debris that was piled in place the day before. The blockades were all over the city and designed to thin out the herd before it hit the walls of the makeshift compound. Some streets were blocked completely, forcing the zombies to wait until extermination teams could be put together to clear them out. In other streets, the zombies were allowed to filter through vacated buildings and out the other sides, spreading their numbers thinner for easier kills.

  Lisa was still having problems digesting how they had to think of the past humanity. They needed to be eliminated completely or there would be no survival, no future. But it was still going to take a toll on her and everybody else. It was frightening to think about what the rest of the living would be like; would they long for more trivial times buried within their memories, or would they embrace this new brutal world? She couldn’t even venture a guess and couldn’t tell which would be better, but she knew which group would survive.

  Lisa felt as if the Z’s in Hot Springs were already on the defensive, and the Springers were dominating because of a common goal. She looked up, stopped, and smiled at a man who was working a front-end loader, piling more debris into another alley mouth. He waved back, happy to have someone watch his skills on the giant cat. Lisa looked toward the other man running a New Holland skid loader and working in tandem with the bigger machinery. He worked the levers back and forth, diligently clearing the streets of smaller garbage.

  The pop of a rifle sounded off close to their location and sparks sprayed off of the steel roof of the skidsteer cab. Lisa cocked her head, not quite sure what to make of it, her eyes still on the driver. Was it a ricochet or a misfire?

  The answer came in the form of another rifle shot, as the inside of the skidsteer’s cab turned red and brain matter streaked the large windows. She waved to get the other guy’s attention, but it was too late; another rifle shot and his cab interior also changed to crimson.

  Lisa scanned for the shooter but noticed the rooftops were clear. Then she looked for Skit, her rifle ready. Skit was a half block away; he had kept walking, not realizing that she had stopped. He was turned and looking at her, wondering what was going on. He looked around when he saw she had her rifle ready.

  “Sniper!” she yelled.

  He crouched down, continuing to scan the area with his .45 out. A large explosion, followed in quick succession by another, and then a third, forced them both to their bellies. The source of the explosions destroyed three separate blockades, and zombies began filling the streets between her and Skit.

  “Get to the compound!”

  Skit gave a quick nod and started running with both dogs in tow. Tonka looked behind him as he went, wanting to go to Lisa but not seeing a way through the thick wall of zombies now flooding the streets.

  Lisa brought her rifle up and took out a couple around Skit and the dogs before they disappeared behind the mass of bodies. She bolted for the door of a market. Locked. She had to crawl over an abutment to make it to the next building—some sort of counseling center—but it too was locked. She continued to sprint, keeping only just ahead of the mass.

  She turned and stepped backward to take down a couple of runners that were getting up to speed before she dashed down an alley and into another street. This one had trash piled in front of every door, blocking people from going in or out. She took another right, crossing behind the street to where the zombies had originally been trapped prior to the blasts.

  A few stragglers were still there but headed away from her. She let her rifle hang and drew the Glock from her holster so she could move through doorways quicker. She was coming up on the large brownstone where she thought the shots may have come from. She wanted to slow and check it out, but the Z’s had already rounded the corner of the building behind her. She could hear the screams of building clearers when they noticed the escaped Z’s. Shots started ringing out, but were blocks away and Lisa was on her own. She wanted to go to them and help, but she would be on the wrong side of the hor
de, in the line of fire, and she had her own mess to get out of first.

  The door on the end was locked, the barber shop inside clean, as if it had never been touched by the apocalypse. The sandwich shop around the corner was also locked, as was the V.I.P. Nail Salon. She stopped and looked up at the condos above and saw zero activity. It was strange; crews had found people hiding out in almost every building. This building looked untouched and could have living people still inside, but it appeared abandoned.

  After emptying her mag into the approaching wall of dead, she crossed the entrance to an underground garage with a closed overhead gate. She moved on, reloading as she went.

  After the garage was the second half of the building, its lower level dedicated to a clinic of some sort. She practically fell through the open door, pausing only to empty her mag so she could slam it shut and hold it with her slight frame. She threw the deadbolt-style lock and breathed a sigh of relief as the bolt slid home. She dropped the horizontal blinds in front of the glass to cut off their view of her in hopes that they would calm down. The safety glass would keep all but the most determined living humans out, and zombies were no exception.

  Lisa took a couple of steps backward, noticing the chemical smell in the room. Her eyes scanned as she holstered her sidearm and dropped her magazine in the rifle while checking all of the potential trouble spots in the front of the business. Her hand was in her pouch, getting a full magazine, when a strong arm came over her face, smothering her mouth and nose with a cloth.

  Her initial reaction to gasp was the worst thing she could have done. Her sharp intake of air filled her lungs with chloroform, sending her world to black and denying her the opportunity to fight back.