Zombie Rush

by Joseph Hansen

  “Tonka, is that you?” Benson said. As he looked at the hound, it instantly laid his ears back, wandered over, and sat at attention in front of the officer.

  “At ease, boy,” Benson said as he reached out and scratched behind the dog’s ear. “Where did you find him?”

  “He was tied to a fence post behind a townhouse I had to dash into. Do you know him?”

  “Yeah, most all the cops knew him; he was a sergeant until his handler was KIA. It’s a long story, but he ended up with a brother-in-law and nobody saw him again.”

  “Well… he obviously didn’t like the brother-in-law much because all I did was release him and he stuck with me and saved my ass several times since.”

  “It’s the uniform; he saw your uniform and did his job. That’s the kind of cop he is. He should have never been allowed to leave the force, but he was a family-owned dog and not a recruit.”

  “Well, the uniform and a little collie he had to go and check on.”

  “Oh, Lucy? Everybody on the island knows Lucy. She is a notorious escape artist and has been picked up by the pound every month for so long, now they just bring her home. Our place was over a block away and I don’t think she missed a single night of grilling,” Benson said with a smile as he walked over and roughed up the familiar dog’s head. “Where did all of the zombies come from?” he asked, not expecting an answer but truly curious as to why there were more zombies on the island than there ever were people.

  “Remember when we saw them clearing the bridge with bulldozers? Yeah, well guess where the Zs came out of the water? Uh huh… in your backyard.”

  “Fuck me,” Benson said under his breath so the kids didn’t hear. He looked at the island, which was now swarming with thousands of undead as the tritoon smoothly pointed north. “So what’s next?”

  “We’re going up to Ouachita,” Justin blurted out as if it was a given.

  “What? Ouachita? Why would we go there?” Benson asked.

  “Because, the old world is gone and we gotta hide out for a while. That’s how they do it in the movies and it sounds pretty good to me.”

  “We can’t just go and hide out in the woods, Justin; it takes more thought than that. We at least need a cabin or good tents.”

  “Cabin? Where you picked me up was our cabin and where we live for the school year. Our house is up on the island in the middle of Ouachita. I am telling you guys, it’s the best place to be right now.”

  Benson and Lisa just stared at the kid, amazed but not for a second doubting that he told the truth.

  “Oh… here,” Benson said as he put something wrapped in plastic into Lisa’s hand.

  “What’s this?”

  “You told me to make you a sandwich. It’s a sandwich. Bologna,” he said and she couldn’t help but smile. Then she looked at his kids, seeing Danny staring right at her; actually, he was staring at the sandwich. She took half and gave it to him but kept the other because she was famished.

  “So what’s all of your hospitality going to cost us?” Lisa asked, knowing that the kid had to have an angle.

  “I don’t know; we can figure that out as we go,” he said and kind of fidgeted as he looked hopefully at the two adults.

  Lisa pulled Benson aside and whispered, “He doesn’t want to be alone—then again, I don’t either right now. It doesn’t sound like a bad plan; maybe we could rig up a radio and find out more of what’s happening.”

  “I have to admit that I would feel a lot safer with my kids in a more remote setting.”

  “Cool, so we’re going to stick together for a while?”

  “With the number of times you’ve saved my ass today, you kind of own it.”

  “Sold,” she said with a smile, but she couldn’t help letting her mind wander a bit; he was pretty good looking. Cutting short her thoughts, she asked, “How many rounds do you have?”

  “I’m out, not even loose ones in a pouch,” he replied.

  “I have a full mag in my vest, and well, I don’t know how many here,” she said as she handed him three magazines with leftover rounds in them from switching out during various lulls in the action.

  “Standard SWAT procedure… nice.”

  “Yeah, took the training but never passed the tests before I was transferred. Look, if we’re going to stay with the little extortionist here, we’re going to need more guns and ammo… and I think you know what that means.”

  “Yep, it means we have to get back to the station.”

  “Not we… me. You have to stay with your kids.”

  “No, no, no. You are not going alone; you wouldn’t be able to carry enough to do any good.”

  “The hard part will be getting there, then I’ll have my truck and I can meet you down along the shoreline somewhere.”

  “No, it’s too dangerous; you can’t go alone. You need someone to watch your back.”

  “What about him?” she said and pointed to the hound that was right next to them at attention as if he were listening to the whole conversation.

  Benson shrugged.

  ****

  Ally felt herself falling backwards as rough hands grabbed her from the window ledge. She landed on her back looking up at the grotesque visage of a man who had half of his face torn off and blood still dripping. He was oblivious to the flap of flesh that still portrayed a twisted resemblance of what used to be his face as he reached for her legs, which were now by his head.

  She screamed and pulled her legs down as she rolled away from the creature. Once her legs moved, it started grabbing at her back and hair, trying to snag something on her, but she kept rolling across the lawn and down into the parking lot. The change in terrain caused the freak to stumble, giving Ally enough time to regain her feet. She ran around the corner where her mother’s car sat, along with several other parked vehicles in the lot. She grabbed the keys and hit the button on the fob, unlocking the door. A look behind her showed that the zombie was still around the corner, and although there weren’t any others nearby, she didn’t slow down. Her pace felt like she was in a room filled with mice crawling all over her, and all her legs wanted to do was cringe up into her body, but she pushed on until she reached the car and hopped in the driver’s side.

  Having her license for just over a week, she threw the car into gear and then remembered that she hadn’t started it or even put the key in yet. She struggled to get it in the ignition and panicked more when she turned it and there was nothing. Oh no! She moved the shift from reverse to park and tried again; the engine flared to life.

  Half-face, who had pulled her from the building, suddenly slammed into the side window, smearing his facial goo across the glass. She smoked her tires in reverse and missed the brake, slamming a different zombie into the car behind and setting off the alarm before clipping another with her front end as she sped out. Ally could see the shattered headlight casing flapping in the wind as she drove to her dad’s place. Mobs of people—who were obviously no longer people—moved toward her as she drove, causing Ally to feel very much alone. She looked for someone normal who she could ask what the hell was going on, but saw no one who wasn’t running in a panic or trying to chase her. Houses were burning and shots rang out sporadically as she made her way across the small town of Mount Ida.

  She drove past the Dollar General Store on the way to the little white shack that her dad had rented a few years back when he and her mom split. She saw his old beater truck in the parking lot right next to the car that belonged to her. The bitch that, in Ally’s mind, had intentionally broke up their family. But the car was burning, as was her dad’s truck and the house where he lived. The whole neighborhood looked like a war zone to her; abandoned vehicles with shattered windows and blood were everywhere, houses destroyed, some burned and smoldering. Grocery carts tipped upon their side, bodies lying here and there, and no sign of anyone that didn’t want to eat her. Tears welled up in her eyes when she saw a body hanging partially out of a window of her dad’s burning house. Although
not burning, the body was charred and smoking and it was the size and shape of her dad. It was true he had abandoned them a couple years prior, but a lot of that wasn’t his fault and he remained a good dad—as much as her mom allowed. Ally suddenly felt very alone. She felt as if her one chance, her last hope, was gone and the tears started to flow.

  “Ally, Ally, open up!” A pounding on her side window startled her back to reality.

  Ally turned and looked at the woman outside pounding on the window. She recognized the voice and was half-tempted to drive away. So much had gone wrong in her childhood and this woman was at the heart of a lot of it, but could she just leave her here?

  Elise had always tried to be nice, but there was so much bullshit between Elise and her parents that Ally felt as if she had to take sides. All in all, Elise was generally nice and had a lot of street sense that Ally could use a bit of right now.

  “Ally, what the fuck? Let me in.”

  She hit the unlock button on the door and Elise quickly hopped in.

  “Why the hell wouldn’t you let me in? There are fucking zombies out there. Where’s your mom?”

  Ally didn’t know why, but for some reason she couldn’t answer right away. Instead, a single sob escaped her as her body began to shudder.

  “Oh baby, I’m so sorry. Is she one of them or did you…?”

  “The doctor…”

  “The doctor? What doctor? Where?”

  “Doctor Webber… He killed her.”

  “What, how? Was she having surgery or was it a wrong prescription or something?” Elise asked.

  Ally just stared at her, not really knowing how to say what exactly happened. She decided that she had to face the truth, and telling Elise was a start. So on an empty street corner between the Dollar General and the Family Dollar, Ally related the horrors of the clinic. Elise became very quiet and listened, stone faced at the horrors committed on her and her mother by the good doctor.

  “Don’t worry, Ally; we’ll find him and make him pay… I promise.”

  “We?”

  “We are all we got now. You may not like that because of our history, but you’ll get used to it. I’m a lot tougher than you think, kid,” Elise said with a wink.

  “We should probably start moving though,” she said as she nodded toward some of stumblers who had arrived and taken note of their car.

  Chapter Eight:

  En route

  "Two miles; how the fuck are we going to make it two miles in this shit?" Lisa asked the hound, who was also looking down the street at the pack of infected. They were both out of breath from the running and hiding they had been doing since being dropped off on a shoreline that offered a slight break between the hordes of dead.

  There weren’t as many as there had been on the island, but there were more than enough, especially considering Benson’s last words before they left the boat.

  “It only takes one,” he told her, which instantly made her think about the only magazine she had left. He had mentioned a couple of friends along the route who may be able to help her out if they still lived. There was also a street gang that ran in this neighborhood, but she doubted they would have any .40 caliber rounds. She wasn’t going to trust their firearms unless she had to either; an improperly maintained semi-automatic was about as affective as throwing a rock. He also mentioned that Nobles had lived in the area, but not knowing the neighborhood left her without the means to find a shortcut to Nobles’s place. She was just going to have to rely on her speed, brains, and a hound who was every bit the cop that she herself was.

  She tucked back behind the corner of the old brick apartment building. She checked the alley before deciding that the hallway down the inside center of the building was the best way around the groups converging on her location. She wondered if somehow they knew she was hiding there through smell or intuition but then shrugged it off to plain dumb luck and coincidence. She backed into the non-security building and cursed when she saw there was no dead bolt to be thrown on the exterior door, which opened inward.

  Lisa turned and ran down the hall with Tonka leading the way when a voice much louder than it needed to be called out from the open door of an apartment.

  “Dogs? We don’t allow dogs in my building.” Without once looking behind himself, a man stepped out from the doorway between her and Tonka with a rifle pointed at the hound. Tonka froze and looked at the man calmly. The cold steel of a barrel behind his ear froze the man in his tracks.

  “That’s a police dog, young man. Drop the rifle and face the wall,” Lisa said in her most authoritative tone, but then she didn’t know where to go with it. There was no way to arrest the guy without a squad or a radio to call the station for backup—if either still existed. He hadn’t shot the gun yet, but she could tell by his clothing style and tattoos that he was an obvious gang-banger so she needed to be cautious. She heard the zombies banging on the glass door of the apartment building and a glance showed her one opening it. A second zombie fell into it, pulling the door out of the other’s hand and closing it. It would be a while, but soon they would get through.

  “Alright, pick up your rifle by the barrel with your right hand,” she stated, having noted that he was a right-handed shooter.

  “What the…?”

  “Do it! Now get into your apartment; move easy, bud.”

  “You got a warrant, lady cop?” He snickered before continuing. “Or ain’t there any warrants to be had these days.” It was not a question and Lisa felt that the guy had just grabbed the upper hand even if she was the one holding the gun.

  “What kind of dumb fuck are you? I don’t need a warrant when I catch you with a gun pointed at a police officer in a public place; now move.” He wagged his head back and forth as he reluctantly moved into his apartment. Tonka slid in ahead of him and cased the room, freezing in the center as he stared between one occupant on the couch and an empty chair. Lisa had never worked with a police dog before or she would have seen his signs. Sitting on the couch against the far wall was a skinny man wearing baggy jeans and a wife beater, displaying multiple homespun tattoos, and a black baseball-style Thug Life hat cocked sideways. He sat looking dumbly at the table, which was full of little baggies of a white crystallized substance as if he could hide them before she saw them.

  “Relax; I’m not going to take your drugs. Don’t you idiots realize what’s going on outside?”

  “Watch who you call idiot, bitch,” the thug in front of her said without a hint of fear, despite the loaded gun to his head. She looked at him and he stared back. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and caused her to cringe. Her early training days came back to her as the phrase scene not safe echoed through her brain. The same phrase firefighters and EMS used on calls.

  Scene not safe!

  She didn’t know if it was the man on the couch’s head turning in her peripheral vision, or Tonka tensing for a spring, or the smug dirty smile on the thug in front of her. It could have even been the transference of air as another body moved or simply her instinct. She couldn’t turn her back on her first contact; he was waiting for that and she knew it. In the split millisecond she had to react, she made a decision and acted in a way that she hadn’t even thought she could up until right that very moment. There was no time to think or plan. The world had changed and her with it. A small, red, perfect circle accompanied by the percussion of her firearm and the sound of blood, hair, and bone spraying the wall coincided with her spin-and-drop as she pulled her gun around to face the chair. The hidden thug already had a bead on her and had fired, the sound lost in the explosion from her barrel. His shot missed her and hit the falling body of the already dead thug whose brains she had just blown out. She fired twice, hitting the man behind the chair in the chest and chin as she fell to the floor before turning to the man on the couch.

  She held fire when she saw him curled into a protective ball and screaming, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I ain’t got no gun!”

  She visually s
earched the rest of the room before she checked her own body in case he hadn’t missed, but she was clean. She stood up and looked at the wimp cowering on the couch, wondering just what kind of fool he was going to turn out to be. She never had any intentions of stealing the guns, but now that she was down three rounds from her eleven-round magazine, she picked up the rifle that the thug was going to shoot Tonka with and nodded her head. She expected some kind of overblown tactical-looking, Chinese P.O.S. that was over oiled and filled with grime. Instead she found a well-designed walnut stock Marlin .22 magnum bolt-action rifle with a scope and oversized magazine; not of competition standards, but a remarkable find on a utilitarian level. Not only was it clean, but it looked as if it had never even been fired.

  “Where are the rounds for this gun?” she asked the guy, who was trying to squirm away from her view without ever leaving the couch.

  “Answer me,” she said sternly. As she scanned the 9mm that the other man had dropped onto the couch, Lisa put the rifle to her shoulder.

  “NO, no, no here, here take it,” he said then grabbed the gun by the barrel before tossing it at her feet. “I ain’t no cop killer or an anybody killer.”

  “Yeah, well that better change in a hurry,” Lisa replied.

  He peeked over his own hands to see if she was serious. She was and was tempted to leave the 9mm for him when she left, but there were others counting on her. She walked over and picked up the 9mm, noting that it was a Glock 17—one of the more common guns out on the street. “I asked where the bullets are.”

  “What…? Oh, back in the closet in his bedroom.”

  “Show me.”

  He got up without argument and looked at his fallen friend.

  “God damn, you shot Jonah dead center of his fucking head. Shit, you didn’t even blink; man, that was some cold-blooded fucking shit.”

  “Jonah, huh? What a nice name for punk, thug motherfucker,” Lisa replied with her eyes locked on the banger, still not sure if he had a knife or club. Tonka was relaxed and she remembered how he squared up on the chair. His nose and ears made for a fantastic early-warning device. She was going to have to pay closer attention to the experienced hound. She had never had a dog before, and never even dreamed of being a handler, but she was sure benefiting from being with one now. Their eyes met for just a second and Tonka leaped ahead of the trio, scouting the room first.