The Long Road Ahead: A Zombie Tale

by Key, Thomas

  He slumped over and landed on the ever-growing pile of dead bodies in front of me. I did not spare even another second of time on him as I pivoted to the next one in line and fired. What I had not known at the time, was that this and our previous firefights that night had begun to pull more Zs than we were prepared to handle from metro Albuquerque. I was told later, by a survivor that had not been in our group, as they hid out on the roof of a nearby building, that they had seen a line of infected roughly a mile-long heading in our direction, following the sound of the gunshots. Lucaya sat only a few minutes away from three major hospitals, with UNM Hospital and Lovelace being the two closest. Anyone who knows anything about viral outbreaks knows that without proper containment, outbreaks radiate out from hospitals like targets on a map. The highest concentration of living dead is always around these formal bastions of health.

  I continued to fire round after round into the mass of the undead, and as another magazine went dry, I ejected it into a growing pile on the ground by my feet. My barrel was beginning to glow a dark red as it was heating up from the rounds of death leaving the chamber. George, who had only been about 10 feet away from me, pointed past the zombies directly in front of us towards the west. I followed his line of sight and saw that all the alleys and streets were becoming enveloped in the oncoming horde. "Well, this is new!" I yelled as I turned back to him and saw his face grow pale. I made a quick judgement call and ran over to him. I had to yell to be heard over the cacophony of gunshots. "George! We’ve got to contact the military. I don’t think we will be able to hold much longer!" He looked hesitant. "But we don't even know it’s really them! We didn't do the meeting yet!" he yelled back. I shook my head wholeheartedly. "It can’t be any worse than it is now! We're running out of options!" He looked past me again, seeing the ever-growing population of the infected flooding the streets like the old tales of the biblical great flood. Finally, George nodded and quickly headed back inside and towards the radio room. After he had left, I resumed my former position and continued to fire round after round into the growing undead mass.

  Chapter 14: George

  George was not the strapping young man that he used to be and getting up the three flights of stairs leading to the third floor was extremely difficult to do in a hurry. His joints creaked and ached with every step. Every time he thought about slowing down, the frantic pace of gunshots from outside spurred him on. He ran as quickly as he could down the hallway and to the last down on the right. As he nearly smashed the door open, he startled the radio operator so badly, that he fell from his chair. George stood in the center of the room, trying to catch his breath. When they both recovered, George spoke quickly, "Mike, I need you to see if the military is listening. Shepherd thinks we are going to be overrun." Mike swallowed hard, his body visibly sagging. He nodded and turned back to his radio. "Calling the US Military, is anyone there?" he said into the microphone. After what seemed like an eternity, a voice crackled over the speakers. "This is PFC Rogers of the New Mexico National Guard. Are you there? Over."

  With a sigh of relief, Mike picked up his headset once again. "Yes, we are here. We spoke to a Staff Sergeant Rodriguez and we were trying to setup a meeting. However, our circumstances have changed. Over." There was no response for a moment before an exhausted sounding man came over the radio. "This is Staff Sergeant Rodriguez. It’s kind of late for a meeting request call, don’t you think? Over." Mike looked at George who came over to the radio and held the mic up to his lips. "Yes, I realize that, but we have a bit of a zombie infestation problem. A large mass of infected is heading our way and we believe our defenses will fail," he said. Another few moments went by before the voice came back over the airwaves. "Understood. We are dispatching three UH-60 black hawks with medics, and crew served weapons. Expect their arrival within one hour. Over." George looked at his watch. "Okay, got it. We’ll do our best to hold them off until your arrival. Out."

  He handed the microphone back to Mike as he stood back up. "Tell everyone who isn't shooting to pack whatever they need to. We're leaving," George told the man. He turned back to the hallway and began to slam on doors as he went. "Pack up, bring only the necessities. We need to start heading for the roof!" he shouted repeatedly as he worked his way past every door on all three floors. He began to pass people who were in various states of panic. He saw women grabbing photo albums, blankets, teddy bears and can after can of food. Several children were crying in the halls as their world was once again being turned upside down. The safety of their home yet again being proven as inadequate. People rushed all around him, and he felt as if he was moving in slow motion. As he hit on the last door, he moved back out into what sounded like the Wild West. Zombies were ten deep all around the fence, with even more coming. He knew this was it. Their last stand. He pulled his rifle from his back, chambered a round and got back to work. One hour......God help us.

  Chapter 15

  Roughly thirty minutes had passed, and we continued pouring weapons fire into the throng of the undead, I heard people around me sound off that they were almost out of ammunition. The fence line on the north side of the compound was beginning to tilt inwards, as if the iron bars would soon be pulled from the ground and the entire thing would come toppling down. The sheer volume of bodies lying against the fence on that side was just staggering to look at. The infected were starting to use their dead brethren to create a ramp. The tips of the fence were now about chest level with the tallest. They saw a way in, and they were taking it. Even if it meant tearing themselves to sheds on the spikes. The sharp shooters on the roof had already come down from their elevated positions and set down their now useless rifles to use their side arms at close range. The shooters were nearly right up against the fence, firing at any face that popped up out of the massive ever-growing pile of corpses. As each one of our group began announcing that they were empty, they picked up their gear and empty magazines, then went back inside the apartment building. Finally, it was just I and one other shooter left. I had already used up all my ammunition for my AR, plus all my stored ammo for my Ruger 9mm. As the last round left my chamber, I heard a screeching noise. It's hard to really convey in writing what the sound was like, and that was a lame attempt. Have you ever had the displeasure of having the side of your car scrape up against a wall or post? No? Just me then? Whoops. I suppose it just sounded like metal grinding on metal. The sound sure got my attention as I saw the bars begin to bend, and then snap. I grabbed my gear and yelled for the other man to do the same. "We've got to go!" I yelled to him. Within just a few moments, the epic pile of dead and undead bodies tumbled over the bent fence and into the parking lot. It was like a dead body avalanche. It would have been comical had it not been so horrific. I heard the man who had been much closer to the fence than I, scream in pain. I stopped my run and turned back to look for him. He was pinned under a section of the fallen wrought iron fence. I began to rush towards him to try to pull him out, but the infected got to him first. I slowed my steps as I saw the first zombie that reached him bite down on his face. I saw blood erupt from the wound as he screamed again. A ragged strip of flesh was torn from his cheek. A second undead bastard reached him and went for his jugular. His screams died away as the zombie tore into his neck. As his life was ripped from him, his eyes came to rest locking with mine. As if an accusatory stare of 'how could you let me die like this?' I was still standing, staring back into his now lifeless eyes as I felt a hand grasp my shoe. I looked down and saw a crawler with two broken legs, and a caved in abdomen trying to pull itself up my pants legs and towards my junk. Not today Satan, I thought as I quickly back peddled and gave it a firm kick to its head, hearing the crack of its spine. Looking back up, I saw another dozen or so infected within just a few feet of me. I turned and ran back to the apartment building. As I slammed the door behind me, I yelled that I was the last one in and to barricade the doors. We were about to experience the joys of close quarters combat.

  The bottom floor windows were not bar
red windows, and each apartment had a porch with large glass doors. The sound of breaking glass was heard by the survivors through the entire length of the north apartment building. The remaining adults in the compound gathered at the bottom of both staircases, with whatever handheld weapons that they could find. Several had fire axes, some had small hatchets, batons, and crowbars. We had begun to stack furniture at the bottom of the stairs in an attempt to stall or slow the impending horde. Within only a few moments, the infected that had broken into the bottom floor apartments had found the front doors to the units and began to pound on them. The sound of straining, then cracking wood became prevalent. I was with the group at the northeast corner staircase and I had a metal baseball bat. I was going to give these bastards one hell of a home run headache. I heard whispers being spoken through the group, "Oh shit." "Here they come," and some that were just out of my hearing range. As the first infected reached our makeshift barricade, several people let out loud gasps. There was about ten of us in each stairwell, with not nearly enough room between all of us to swing our weapons. I had my group step back and spread out up the three flights of stairs. The first zombie crashed through the door and began to climb over the cheap futon that we had placed at the bottom. The man to my left took a swing with a fire ax. The ax lodged deep into the infecteds’ shoulder. It knocked the zombie backwards a few inches and the man who had swung fell over backwards once the handle leapt from his hands. The Z, with the axe still buried in him, began to climb once again. I took my baseball bat and swung for the fences so to speak, sending the creature’s head first back down the stairs. The now weaponless man turned, shrugged, and ran up the stairs.

  The imaginary scene of me jumping up and down in celebration that went through my head quickly died as a pair of them began to ascend the barricaded stairs. I pulled back and swung again, hitting the fastest of the two right across the cheek. The sound of its face caving in was something I wish I did not have to behold. It was like the crackling of twigs under your feet. It fell back, barely missing its companion. I once again pulled back but as I swung, the little shit slipped on a chair and I missed completely, nearly toppling down the few open steps. As I regained myself, the zombie lunged for me. I yelled out something like, “Get the hell off me you ugly fuck," as I tried to smack its arms away from me. I kicked it, right in what used to be testicles, but it didn't so much as twitch. I wanted to reach up and check my own goods after that kick. I swear, I felt the things burst when my steel toed boot made contact. I was finally able to get my hands flat against its chest, and I shoved it backwards. The look on its face on the way down was fairly epic. It was what appeared to be confusion and frustration as it saw its prize move away. It was kind of comical until I saw its landing spot. It landed onto nearly a dozen more infected that had been at the bottom of the stairs watching me. "Oh shit," I said to myself. As they all began to climb, I started to slowly back up. Two made it up the same time, and I slipped on a step and landed once again on my ass. They were both nearly drooling as they crept closer. I got my feet under me and felt a hand on my shoulder. I heard a voice, and nearly swung at the figure behind me. "There's too many, let's go!" said the voice. I turned and began moving up the flights of stairs and saw that it was Ken who had spoken to me. The other survivors had already vacated the second floor. On the top flight of stairs, there were access hatches leading to the roof with fold down ladders. As we reached the top steps, I saw the last survivor from my staircase step out into the dark. Ken led the way, climbing up in front of me. I heard footsteps on the metal stairs behind me as I began to climb up the ladder. As I closed the hatch, the closest infecteds’ face was right up against the latch. I, with pleasure, slammed it down right on its nasty mug, and had several people stand on it to keep them from coming up.

  Chapter 16: George

  George had taken up guard at the east entrance of the building, trying to bar the infected from entering the second stairwell. As his people streamed by him on their way to the roof, he continued to fire into the oncoming crowd of zombies heading their way. Most of them had gone for the other entrance, where he saw Shepherd run towards. It was when he began to hear breaking glass he realized the undead were now in the bottom floor apartments. It would only be a matter of time before they were in the hallways. A scream came from apartment 110. A woman, Lacy, lived in that unit. He rushed forward, as fast as an old man could and tried the door. “Lacy! Get upstairs!” he shouted, banging on the wood of the door. The door was locked, but it did not stop him from repeatedly trying the handle. As he was knocking again, the door swung open and he was knocked over as the woman ran past him and into the hallway in a sheer panic. Right on her heels were six or seven of the infected. George fired into the mass of zombies as they followed her path into the hallway. The fall had broken something, his hip maybe. His aim was true, and his shots were able to destroy the heads of the first two zombies closest to Lacy. She bolted up the stairs and was out of sight. With nothing else in sight, all the undead eyes focused in on George. “Betty, I’m coming darling,” he looked up, as if to send the words to heaven as he did so. With hordes of infected breaking in all around the bottom floor, and no hope of rescue coming, he knew. He knew this was it, the end. He had lived a good life, with an amazing woman. His children, if they survived would be proud of him, he knew. As he expended round after round, his life flashed before his eyes. His wedding, the birth of his children and grandchildren. Then the death of his wife. His eyes focused back to reality just as his rifle clicked empty. He sighed and pulled out his last death-dealing device. A fragmentation grenade. He pulled the pin and as the zombie horde began to bite into him, tearing flesh from his legs and his right arm, he smiled. “Betty…there you are my dear,” he said with a smile on his face a moment before the hallway was rocked by an explosion.

  Chapter 17

  "ETA five minutes out Sergeant!" shouted the helicopter crew chief to Staff Sergeant Rodriguez over the headset. The 5'9, black haired Hispanic man had been lost in thought when he heard the announcement. He readied his weapon, a modified M4 assault rifle. Across from him sat two medics and the crew chief. They had kept the choppers light so that they could take on as many survivors as possible. In his flight helmet, Rodriguez was able to hear the pilot nearly gasp. "Sergeant, you'd better take a look at this," one of the pilots said over the mic. Rodriguez stood up, holding onto the straps that were hanging down for handholds. The crew chief pulled on one of the side doors, opening the section up to the cold wind and the open view of pitch-dark Albuquerque sky. Below, the Staff Sergeant saw a long line of undead leading them to the one building that was lit up just a few minutes away. "I'm guessing they are here for the party too?" he asked into his helmet headset. He saw the crew chief nod. Behind their black hawk and in a staggered formation were two more evacuation helicopters. "Relay to the other teams. We're going to be coming in hot," he said as he pulled his rifle up to his shoulder, as the top floor of their target building came into view.

  Nearly two blocks away on an adjacent rooftop sat a small group of four men, dressed in all black BDUs. None of them had any identifying marks or patches to signify who they were. Not even the standard flag on the sleeve of which country they hailed from. One of the men went prone with a long-barreled sniper rifle, a .50 caliber. He relayed the information to the other three. "They're on the rooftop. Looks like the smelly shits finally got in," he said. "Can you take a shot?" another man with a deep southern voice asked from behind him. He slowly shook his head in response. “With all the movement, I can't get a clear shot," he replied. Another of the men spoke after a moment, this one with a thick Irish accent, "Do you hear that? It sounds like a helicopter," he spoke, turning each way trying to locate the source of the sound. He saw the flashing lights from the choppers in the distance and pointed towards the incoming rescue helicopters. "They've got rides," he said. After the four watched for another few moments as the Blackhawks began to land on the rooftop, the apparent leader spoke,
again with a southern accent. "Go get our new toy. We'll send them a goodbye present," he said as they quietly watched on from the darkness.

  Back on the rooftop of the Lucaya compound, I motioned for the remaining survivors to get low to avoid the rotors of the landing helicopters. We had lost four more people on the way up to the roof, and I wasn’t going to take any more chances. I saw the helicopters begin to descend, with all of their side doors open. As soon the wheels from the first vehicle hit the roof, a man jumped out from the lead copter. "Let's go everyone! Women, children and injured first!" he yelled. Rachel, who had been carried up by several other survivors during the beginning phase of the zombie defense was put onto the helicopter first. Then next came the few kids that we had left. Within moments, the first helicopter left the roof and began ascending back into the dark night. The man that I had seen jump out was motioning for the second chopper to get closer. The next group, another group of survivors jumped in. I pointed to the Evac and yelled at Ken to go on the second one. "Nah, I'm good," he said. I shook my head, "Get on it or I won't give you any more of my beer," I told him. He gave me a look of shock and walked begrudgingly to the chopper. The nectar of the gods is one of the most powerful things to men. I stopped him before he jumped in. "George?" I asked. He shook his head. "No one's seen him," he said as he got on board and found a seat. His eyes met mine as it lifted off. It would revoke my man card to say that we were sharing a true feelings moment. I did feel, however, that in that moment, we acknowledged and said goodbye to each other like only battlefield brothers can do. As it took off, there were only four of us left on the roof. Myself, the army guy, and two other survivors. We all boarded the last helicopter. I took an extra minute to look around at what I had called home for the past few months. I thought about the hours of blood, sweat and tears, that myself and others had spent making this place livable. We quickly moved away from the roof and I heard a klaxon sound. "RPG!" yelled one of the pilots, as the black hawk moved side to side to try to evade the incoming projectile. The rocket hit the right side of the helicopter barely, just enough to give us a jolt. One of the two other survivors tumbled right out of the open doors and fell into the waiting horde below. The three of us in the back held on for our literal lives as the pilots fought to maintain the helicopters position. After a few seconds, the chopper stabilized and we once again, began to move. The pilot chose speed over height and began to rapidly move away from our former abode, in a wide arc to avoid any future rocket fire.