“We won’t,” R.T. said from behind them. “If we ain’t good for nothing else, we gotta be good for other people.”
“Either way, Morley’s supposed to have had about ten thousand as a population,” Bulldog informed them. “If a bunch of rednecks shot their way in there, it’s gonna be hopping.”
“Can’t be helped now,” Jake said. “They said the fire station, right?”
“Yes,” Ash answered.
“All right then,” Brock said. “You boys set up and head in to that fire station. We’ll make sure you get in.”
“How’s that?” Mick asked over his shoulder from the front seat.
“You need a diversion,” Brock said. “Ain’t no better diversion than live bait.”
“That’s suicide,” Holcomb observed.
“Only if we’re stupid enough to let ‘em get us,” Brock said. “Jake, one of you all got those hand grenades?”
“Yeah, three or four, why?” Jake answered.
“Might need ‘em to make a little ruckus,” Brock replied.
“You got ‘em,” Jake said.
“Great,” Jon uttered. “Now all we have to do is get there.”
The truck rumbled along, and Ash shook her head a few minutes later.
“I don’t feel good about leaving Dawn there,” Ash said. “Not with Mark.”
“Pretty sure he’s harmless,” Mick said. “I think.”
“Still,” Ash said. “She’s not good, right now.”
“I know it, but the alternative was bringing her into a gun battle with hillbillies and ten thousand zombies,” Jake said. “I couldn’t do that.”
Ash glanced over at him, and gave a nod.
The truck continued along, ultimately slipping and sliding its way through the freezing rain and snow to the outskirts of Morley. The group inside was not let down in their estimation that it would be a zoo, as it was clear that something had gone down. There were enormous fires in at least two places, and Jake figured that whoever was waiting for Ash had started those, maybe to keep the zombies off their back at the fire station. Jake brought the truck to a halt.
“All right, let’s cover this truck with the tarp, and then we head in to start this party,” Jake said. They were quickly out of the truck, and between the lot of them, had pulled the big tarp over the truck, then secured it. With that complete, Brock had approached Jake.
“Time now for some good old fashioned heroics,” Brock said. “Save the day, rescue the girl.”
“If something goes to shit in there, don’t wait for us,” Jake said. “You get your asses back to the truck, go get Dawn and captain Shit-pants, and head to that Airlift.”
“You mean you want us to leave you here?” Brock asked, somewhat horrified.
“If something goes wrong in there, it’s not going to matter,” Jake said, and handed off the four grenades he had to Brock, who stuffed them in a coat pocket. R.T. approached.
“Well then, I guess this may be goodbye,” Brock said, and shook hands with Jake.
“Well, we are planning on getting out,” Jake said. “R.T.? Do some of that great shooting you do.”
“You got it,” R.T. affirmed. He and Brock then set out, and Jake was joined by the others at the side of the truck.
“All right, we’ll set up near the fire station, and move when we think it’s clear enough,” Jake said. “Let’s go.”
Brock and R.T. were jogging through the town, avoiding zombies as they went, and noting their path through the place, so they could return to the truck. Soon enough, they had come to a gas station near the far edge of the town, and R.T. looked out to note that zombies were all but absent. Brock watched as R.T. adjusted a bag hanging off his shoulder, and took out the first of a bundle of Molotov cocktails.
“Now?” he asked.
Brock looked around only a moment more, and then smiled.
“Now,” he said.
R.T. emerged from the cars where they were hidden, headed toward the gas station, and he let forth a long, bellowing cry into the night. He lit the rag on the first makeshift bomb, and let it burn a moment. He then shouted again as he hurled the thing, and it struck a car near the gas pumps, bursting into flames. Brock turned, and fired a shot from the G3 that took down a zombie.
But soon, more zombies were appearing, and staggering in through the slushy ground toward the gas station. The AK-47 and the G3 began to go off in bursts of fully automatic fire, downing zombies, and sparking off cars and sign poles. R.T. hurled another of the bombs against a car near a crowd of the things, and the flames caught them. Still, the fires would hardly last in the rain and slush.
Inside the fire station, in the upstairs living quarters, Tank had been sitting at a desk with his feet up, but immediately got up, and went to a window at the sound of the automatic gunfire. He peered out into the gloom, but couldn’t see much of anything except zombies surrounding the place. Still, there was a steady enough flow of them toward the eastern edge of town that Tank turned to watch as Clyde approached another window.
“You hearin’ that?” Tank asked. “That’s some serious fucking shit, man.”
“I heard it,” Clyde said calmly.
Missy and Dana exchanged a glance, and missy looked down at the pair of revolvers she had in her hands. She wasn’t exactly an expert with guns, but being on the road, she’d gotten better, and she looked at Dana with some nervousness in her eyes.
What they hadn’t seen was that a large boat, parked on a trailer in a vacant lot across from the rear of the fire station had just become cover for a group that had run to it. Jake and Mick were at the head of them, and they looked at the fire station, noting that it seemed completely ringed in by the moaning horde. Still, zombies were milling away, and Jon gave a nod.
“I’d say they’ve gotten some attention,” he said.
“Look there,” Mick said, pointing. “If they can draw enough away, we can hit that south access door.”
“Then all there is to do is wait,” Jake said.
“I hate the wait,” Bulldog grumbled.
Brock had taken one of the bombs from R.T., and he hurled it into the air above a crowd of the ghouls. It landed and exploded, immediately lighting up a small number of them as the G3 went off again. R.T. kicked away one zombie, and then scattered it with the 7.62mm ammo from the rifle. Another had grasped him from behind, and he was unaware that more and more were closing in. He shoved the grasping one off of him, and it tumbled backward onto the ground before the last of a magazine from the AK-47 blasted four holes in it.
R.T. worked quickly to take the empty magazine out of the weapon, and he scrambled for another to load, while the zombies were closing in.
“R.T.! Move!” Brock howled through the wind.
But as R.T. jammed the magazine into the weapon, he felt the teeth rake through the flesh of his arm, and he looked down in wide-eyed terror at the creature that had been a human teenager, hanging off of him, and sinking its teeth in further. He screamed in pain, shoving the thing back, which tore away a gory wound in his arm, and he knew he had to chamber a round on his rifle to get it back in action. He went to one knee.
But Brock, seeing the scene, and hearing the continuing screams of his friend, fired off a shot that killed the teen. He then rushed to R.T. killing another of the closest of the monsters with a shot that struck it in the right eye. It fell into the path of more of its kind, and they became jammed up in the gap between the cars. R.T. was reaching for the rifle when Brock grasped him.
“Leave it!” he shouted, and helped R.T. back up. He looked around quickly, and then began to drag R.T. through the town, and the thickening sea of zombies.
“Now’s our chance,” Jon said. “We should go.”
“Did you hear those screams?” Holcomb asked nervously. “That was one of ours!”
“Stay calm,” Mick said.
“We have to go help them!” Holcomb cried out.
“We go get the girl, the diversion was their par
t,” Jake said.
“I’m going to go find them,” Holcomb said, and lifted his M16 rifle as he jogged away. Jon reached out for him, calling for the doctor to wait, but Mick stopped him.
“Let him go,” Mick said. “We don’t have the time.”
“Idiot,” Jake grumbled. “Get ready.”
In another moment, the group left the hiding of the boat, and began a run across the parking lot filled with cars to reach the fire station. Mick leveled a zombie with his rifle’s stock as they went, and they continued along to reach the building.
Inside, Clyde’s attention, and his interest was captured when he spotted the figures making their way toward the building. Tank had noticed them as well, and his brow lowered.
“What have we here?” Clyde asked slowly, smiling a little before turning to Dana. “Looks like my favorite slice of pie just arrived.”
He winked, and Dana flipped him a middle finger.
“You’d better not hurt her,” Dana warned.
“Come on, now,” Clyde said. “She’s no good to me injured, if you know what I mean.”
Missy had now discovered just how much she hated Clyde, and she looked at him in disgust, which only made Clyde laugh again, and turn back to the window. Could she shoot him? It would likely have made them all safer, but she knew Tank wouldn’t favor that. If there was one thing he hated more than Clyde, it was being left in charge to make decisions. Tank shook his head.
“Who’s that with her?” Tank asked. “I don’t recognize any of ‘em.”
“It don’t matter,” Clyde said, and turned his one eye on Tank. “Tank? Take the girls and head on up to the roof.”
“Did you see those guys!?” Tank asked. “It’s like she brought a fucking army.”
“Hey, dummy,” Clyde said. “I’ll worry about that. You just take these two up to the roof, and do it now.”
“I don’t like it,” Tank said in a low voice.
There was a pause, and Missy knew Clyde was reaching the end of his patience.
“Take the fucking girls, and go up to the god damned roof,” Clyde growled, almost making each word its own statement. Tank smirked as Missy rose from her chair.
“Come on, Tank!” she said frantically. “Let’s go!”
Tank shook his head as Missy had grabbed Dana and taken her toward the door that led to the stairs which they had already discovered would take them to the roof.
“They’re gonna turn you into Swiss cheese, you dumb ass,” Tank warned him, but Clyde turned to him with a grin.
“I doubt that,” he said, and eyed Dana. “I got what they want.”
Tank scoffed, and then left with the other two.
Below, the others had reached the access door, and were disappointed to find it locked. After a minute of trying to force it, and regarding the number of horrid zombies closing in around them, Bulldog waved everyone away from the door and leveled the SAW on it. The weapon went off in a loud chatter, and the locked handle was destroyed. Quickly, the group filed in, and once in, looked around the bay with its remaining fire truck inside.
Jake was quick to find a cord nearby, and he hurriedly tied the door shut as hands outside began to pull on it. He looked over the others as zombies were also beginning to crowd the station’s overhead doors again. Just as quickly as it could have happened, the situation was completely dire again.
“This isn’t gonna hold very long,” Jake said.
“Let’s hope it holds long enough,” Bulldog added.
“That isn’t going to hold five of them, let alone five hundred,” Jake said. “Let’s find her and get the hell out of here.”
They spread out to find a way upstairs, which was where they had guessed she was, along with whoever this was Ash had warned them of. As they were running out of places to look, Jon had discovered a once-barricaded door, and he moved the tool box aside that was blocking it, to look in with his flashlight and see stairs. He turned back to the others searching the bay.
“Hey guys! Stairs!” he called, just as there was a snapping sound, and a heavy thud as the metal access door banged open. A stream of the gray-faced, moaning things began to pour in, and the entire group of humans fell back to where Jon was. With little hesitation, they moved through the door, which Jon pulled shut, and cursed for not having a lock. They then ascended the stairs, and made it to the door at the top, which would take them to the living quarters.
Slowly, they opened the door to see that no one was immediately visible, and Jake began to regard that they had been lured to the middle of nowhere simply to get them killed. Bulldog readied the SAW, and started into the room, noting that there was a door on the opposite side of the room open, numerous bunks, a closet, a skylight, and-
The pistol began to go off in rapid blasts, and Bulldog dove for cover, as did Jake, while Jon shoved Ash behind him, and Mick took up a position on the other side of the door frame. Ash cried out, throwing her hands over her ears as the guns went off around her, tearing up the walls on both sides of the room as the firefight began. But as quickly as it had begun, there was a round from someone’s weapon that struck Clyde, ripping a hole in his left forearm.
His pistol tumbled away as he fell heavily against the doorframe of the closet, into view of the others, and then collapsed to his hands and knees. The others peered into the room, looking for anyone else, as on the roof, Tank had moved them all away from the skylight to avoid stray bullets. Mick looked over his shoulder as the door at the bottom of the stairs began to be pawed at, and pulled at.
The group made their way into the room while Jake, behind a flipped up bunk, looked over at Bulldog and heaved a sigh.
“Close,” he uttered.
“Too close,” Bulldog grunted, holding up a hand coated in his own blood.
“Shit,” Jake hissed, and looked out at the others. “Bulldog’s hit!”
Jon rushed back to help Jake with Bulldog, and Ash looked across the room, and then glared across the room at Clyde as he whimpered at the pain surging through him from the bullet wound. Passing Mick, she crossed the room in three quick steps, just as Clyde had recovered enough to look for his pistol, and scrambled for it. Ash’s fingers had it first, and before Clyde could lament that fact, a wet, slushy boot crashed upward into his face, and he staggered back, getting back to his feet only to strike the wall, hard.
“Where are the others? Where’s Dana!?” Ash demanded as Mick was fast approaching with his rifle raised.
“There ain’t no others,” Clyde lied. “It’s just me.”
“What?” Ash asked, horrified.
“He’s full of it,” Mick said, staring down his rifle at Clyde.
“Oh, go fuck yourself, cowboy,” Clyde drawled.
But the tip of the barrel ground into Clyde’s left cheekbone, and then pressed harder as Mick scowled.
“Well if they’re all dead, I guess it won’t wreck the world if I splatter you all over that wall, now, will it?”
“Well ain’t you just smarter than you look?” Clyde sneered.
“I sure don’t have any reservations about putting more holes in you, motherfucker,” Mick snarled. Ash had had enough, and her face reflected her anger as she leaned forward at Clyde.
Her hand grasped his arm, but her thumb drilled into the bullet hole already there, and he howled in agony as she squeezed harder, and Mick backed off. His rifle stayed aimed at Clyde, but the one-eyed redneck shook free of Ash, covering the wound with his free hand, and his face was red with rage.
“You fucking poison-snatch whore!” he roared at her.
“Don’t fuck with me!” she leveled Clyde’s own pistol on him. “Where’s my sister?”
“What are you going to do if I don’t tell you where your precious little flower of a sister is?” he taunted.
“Don’t do this!” she cried at him. “Don’t you have any-”
“What? Decency?” he asked almost hysterically. “You’re a fine one to talk about decency, or maybe these guys don�
�t know the real you.”
The rifle’s barrel returned to Clyde’s head, and Mick seriously considered pulling the trigger.
“Maybe you didn’t hear her,” Mick said, as Jon turned at the sound of groans from below, and looked to see the zombies coming up. He slammed the door to the living quarters shut, glad this time to find that the door could be locked.
“Oh my lord, girl!” Clyde had a laugh. “You sure got them fooled. Boy? You can’t believe a single word this dumb slut says.”
As Jake and Jon were helping Bulldog up to his feet, Ash glared at Clyde.
“Just give me Dana,” she said.
“Oh, no no,” Clyde wagged a finger. “You don’t get something for nothing. I’ll tell you where she is, but I want something too.”
His eyes traveled down her, and then back up.
“You fucking pig,” she growled.
“See? That’s what I always liked about you, girl,” he said. “You sure know how to use that wicked tongue.”
He began to flick his own tongue at her, but she began to raise his own pistol at his face. Mick was the one to stop her.
“Don’t waste a bullet on this greasy piece of shit,” Mick said.
“We don’t have time for this,” Jake snarled from across the room.
Ash turned her attention back to Clyde, who merely smiled.
Holcomb had pressed on through the town, keeping out of the way of the zombies until he found himself faced with three of them. In a moment, he had brought up the rifle, and let loose a barrage of bullets that took down the three zombies before he set out again, hearing another howl from R.T.
Brock had been half dragging R.T. through the town, fighting their way back to the west, and the truck. But as they were making their way through a playground, a pair of zombies had recklessly crashed into them from behind a car that had plowed through the playground. Brock was quick to recover his senses, but scooted back toward the car as he heard another yelp from R.T. He turned to go for his rifle, but found that it had been overrun, several feet away by many zombies.
R.T. had been covered by the zombies, and was screaming loudly as the first of them tore away a big bite from the back of his neck. Another bit into the fingers of his left hand, while more and more were closing in to bite and chomp at the unfortunate man. R.T. was fumbling in his bag as he realized the end was upon him. The sons of bitches were going to get him, but it was going to end his way.
Escape from the Dead Page 20