Deadrise

by Steven R. Gardner

  “I’m thinking maybe we should try and get the hell out of here before its too late. Maybe try and head up to the cabin with Adam and Kelly.” Matt said.

  “The time to leave was six months ago, before they started this bullshit curfew. We try to leave now and we’ll be arrested and relocated somewhere else.” Martial law had been in full effect for over six months, but up until two weeks ago you could still go to military checkpoints and get rations of food. Now if you wanted food you had to stay at a rescue station.

  “Well, we better think of something. After what happened across the street, they might just start expecting hostility when they try to relocate people. Maybe they won’t hesitate to shoot first and ask no questions.”

  “And you call me paranoid.” Matt said. But he couldn’t disagree. Once the shooting had started across the street, the gunners didn’t even bother to see if there were innocent people in the house. They had just opened up with their machineguns.

  “Besides, we’re just about out of ramen noodles.” That’s all they had eaten for nearly three weeks…Noodles.

  “We’re fucked.” Matt sat heavily on the couch, morally deflated…

  They sat there the remainder of the day, waiting for the soldiers to return to their street and finish relocating the remaining citizens. By nightfall, they still hadn’t come. Later that night, two of the neighborhood families on the block slipped away in their vehicles. They just piled into their vehicle and left.

  The FEMA broadcast continued looping a recorded message detailing safety and relief shelters at the University of Utah Hospital, the Salt Lake City International Airport, The South City Campus down town, as well as a few other places in the outlying suburbs of the city. But there was no mention of walking dead…

  Chapter 2

  Saturday, June 16, 2001

  South Salt Lake City

  8:24 AM

  Zack Thomas’ house was a comfortable one, built of red brick in a once quiet neighborhood. But during the mid eighties a lot of the older residents began to retire and sell their houses to move down to sunny St. George in southern Utah. At the same time families began fleeing the urban sprawls of the west coast, and many came to Utah, most to Salt Lake City. The population swelled, as did the number of cultural and ethnic neighborhoods that stuck primarily to themselves, bringing the hate and prejudice they had fled with them. Gang violence in the city had increased to the point where the police were no longer able to deal with it. They could just clean up the mess the gangs left in their turf wars. Zack’s neighborhood wasn’t exactly a war zone, but then again they weren’t the safest streets to walk at night. That was how it had been up until the shit hit the fan last year. The martial law had changed everything.

  “I think we can make it.” Zack said as he looked out the window that morning. For getting less that six hours sleep in three days he felt surprisingly full of energy. Probably just adrenaline from the anticipation of what he was planning. He had proposed they leave the city and head into the Uinta Mountains. Adam & Kelly Prescott, friends of theirs, owned a cabin beside a lake. They had fled the city several weeks ago and had invited Matt and Zack to come with them. Both of them had declined, figuring the government would handle the problem in short order and everything would be back to normal. How wrong they had been.

  “You’re kidding right.” Matt said. It wasn’t a question.

  “I’m serious. The Army’s pulled out of this area. I’m betting the highways will be fairly clear. A few stragglers here and there not withstanding, anyone who was going to leave town did it months ago. If we get on the nearest highway entrance and hit I-80 east, we could be out of the city twenty minutes. With a bit of luck, we can be up at the cabin inside a few hours.” Zack also had his reservations about leaving, but he knew staying was also a worse idea. They didn’t have any food left.

  “If we run across troops we tell them we’re headed for the relief station at the University. They shouldn’t give us any shit. And if they search for guns, we’ll give them up. There’s some hunting rifles up at the cabin.”

  “Let’s do it.” Matt said.

  Without much fuss they packed a few changes of clothes into a knapsack and piled into Matt’s 1994 Eddy Bauer Ford 4x4. They were just backing out of the driveway when the neighbor, Frank Young, stepped out onto his front porch and flagged them down. Matt stopped the truck as Mr. Young approached.

  Frank Young was in his early forties, with thick salt and pepper hair, and a bushy mustache. A diesel mechanic by trade, he was a hard working, average American guy. Zack liked him and his wife. They were quiet and friendly. Zack and Matt especially liked Frank’s twenty-year-old daughter, Susan. She had long blond hair, emerald green eyes, and the type of body that had all the right curves in all the right places. Zack heard her coming and going at all hour’s of the night before the curfew, a real party girl.

  “Heading out?” Frank asked, stating the obvious.

  Zack nodded. “It’s getting too dangerous. You saw what happened to the Clancy’s didn’t you?”

  Frank’s face soured as he nodded his head. “I saw what happened afterward as well.”

  “Its hard to believe.” Matt said. “But its true. Dead people are coming back to life.”

  “And them reports of cannibalism from California? It wasn’t cannibals, it was those dead things. And not one goddamned mention of it on the news.” Frank snorted bitterly.

  “You might want to think about getting out of the city while you can.” Matt said. “It appears the Army has pulled out and there’s nobody to stop you from leaving.”

  “I got nowhere to go.” Frank said. “Besides, I got my family to think about.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Most likely go to one of the rescue stations.”

  Matt and Zack gave each other a long look, an unspoken agreement passing between them.

  “You could come with us.” Zack said. “We’re heading up to the Uinta Mountains. Friend of ours has a cabin up there. He’s waiting for us.” In the distance, sporadic gunfire could be heard. “The city is going to get a hell of a lot worse before things get better. Looter’s, riots. Just like in L.A. Pretty soon, this whole city’s going to be crawling with zombies.”

  It was all the convincing Frank needed.

  “Why don’t you two come inside while I get everybody ready.” Frank turned and went into his house. Matt followed. Zack looked up and down the street before he went in…

  Frank’s family consisted of his wife Sharon, a thin, blond, nervous wreck of a woman, their daughter Susan, and their son, David. David was fifteen years old, tall and lanky and fair-haired like his mother. They each packed two suitcases full of clothes and filled another with plastic wrapped packages of ramen noodles before loading them in the back of their family station wagon.

  Even in a crisis like this, both Matt and Zack couldn’t help but notice how attractive Susan Young was. She was wearing Levi cutoffs, and a white T-shirt. As usual, her body strained against her skintight clothes. Matt felt a stirring in his groin. It had been awhile since he had been with a woman. But now was not the time to think about sex.

  With some effort, he turned his attention to keeping watch down the street. To his dismay he saw three walking dead at the east intersection of the street. He pointed them out to Zack and the Young family. Sharon Young began reciting scriptures, a frantic look about her. Susan looked indifferent and David actually seemed excited.

  “You saw how the soldiers kill those things?” Frank asked.

  “Yeah.” answered Matt. “They shot them in the head.”

  “This is almost too much to believe. If I weren’t seeing it with my own eyes I wouldn’t, I couldn’t believe it.”

  “I know what you mean.” Zack said.

  “Do you have a gun?” Matt asked.

  “You’re damn right I own a gun… More than one.” He and David disappeared back into the bedroom and a few moments later they came out, each carry
ing a rifle case and a holster buckled around his waist. Frank opened his case and pulled out a beautiful Winchester lever action 30.06 deer rifle. David’s was a 30.30 lever action rifle.

  “We go hunting every fall,” said Frank, as if proud of the fact. “At least we used to.” There was a hint of regret in Frank’s voice.

  “What kind of side arm are you packing?” Matt asked. Frank pulled a beautifully oiled .357 magnum from his hip.

  “For home defense.” he said.

  Before the curfew, drive-by shootings and gang violence were on the rise in the neighborhood.

  They were just getting ready to pile into the vehicles and leave when trouble came. A large white Grand Prix turned onto the street from the east end, stereo bumping with bass heavy rap music. Two of the zombie’s had started down the street and the, POP, POP, POP of a small caliber handgun came from the car. One of the zombies crumbled to the road, the other staggered on behind the car.

  “Oh shit!” burst Susan from the front porch.

  “What’s wrong?” Matt asked. He had seen the car at the Young’s house before so he assumed they were friends.

  “It’s Benny.” She said acidly.

  Zack hurried over to the truck in his driveway as the Grand Prix came to a halt in front of the Young house. There were at least four people in the car. The passenger was holding what appeared to be a 9mm automatic. The driver’s door opened and a skinny Hispanic stepped out, a similar 9mm auto in his right hand.

  “Hey baby.” he said, smiling widely at Susan. “What’s happening?” the sarcasm in his voice cut like a knife. Benny was a local gang member who considered Susan his woman. There was only one thing wrong with that picture; Susan didn’t consider him her man. The day before the curfew had been set Frank beat the hell out of him when he came over drunk, screaming for Susan to get out there. As he limped back to his car, beaten to a pulp, he had told Frank that he would kill him. The curfew had put a stop to that. Now with the Army gone, it seemed that he was coming to fulfill his promise.

  “Fuck you Benny!” Susan’s tone was venomous.

  Zack couldn’t understand why she stood there arguing. Why didn’t she go back in the house? He slowly walked around to the driver’s side of the truck. The passenger of the car looked at him and spoke something in Spanish to Benny. Benny looked over at him then back to Susan. The passenger door on the Grand Prix opened and four more gangbangers climbed out. They all wore the baggy clothes and colored bandannas that signified their gang.

  “Who’s that? Your new boyfriend?” Benny asked, indicating towards Zack. Before Susan could answer Benny’s question, Frank came out on the porch, carrying his rifle. At the sight of Frank the four other gang members began to spread out across the yard.

  Down the street, the lone zombie drew nearer.

  “I thought I told you to stay the hell away from here.” Frank’s rifle wasn’t quite pointed at Benny.

  “And I told you that you were a dead man! Remember?” Benny blurted, full of swagger.

  “I don’t want any trouble.” said Frank.

  Matt stood behind him on the porch. He was unarmed, but he hoped the gangbangers wouldn’t be able to tell.

  “Just send Susan out here, and we’ll be gone.” said Benny, a large smile still across his face. The gang members on the lawn spread a little further and edged a step closer. Zack was on the driver’s side of the truck and slowly reached his hand in through the open window and wrapped his fingers around the handgrip of the AR-15 lying there.

  “She isn’t going anywhere with you.” Frank said. Without taking his eyes off Benny he spoke to his daughter. “Get in the house.” Susan started in the house.

  “Listen motherfucker!” screamed Benny, stepping around from behind the car, the gun in his hand raised. Frank pointed straight at Benny. Benny halted in his tracks.

  The gangbanger holding the 9mm raised it towards Frank but Zack stepped around to the bed of the truck, AR-15 sighted on the other gunman.

  “Hold it!” Zack called. The gang member turned to him, gun pointed. “Drop it!” Zack ordered him. His adrenaline was pumping causing his ear’s to ring.

  “Get back in your car and get the fuck out of here.” The barrel of Frank’s rifle was steady as could be. Benny smiled, lowered his gun, and turned to leave. Then without warning, he spun and fired at Frank. The bullet was wide, smashing into the porch with a splinter of brick. Matt ducked, reaching for the magnum on Frank’s hip.

  The gang member facing Zack stiffened to fire, but Zack’s trigger finger was quicker. His bullet tore through the guys left shoulder, spinning him around and dropping him to the ground. Zack had never shot anyone before, but he was to worked-up for it to even register.

  Frank returned fire at Benny, missing as the punk sprinted for the safety of his car.

  The other gang member’s rushed the porch, bloodlust in their eyes.

  Frank cocked the lever action and fired again at Benny, blowing out the rear passenger window of the Grand Prix. Benny squeezed two more wild shots back at him before he ducked behind his car.

  Matt pulled the Magnum free and fired wildly at the nearest enemy, putting the round through the punks kneecap. He fell screaming. The other two were up on the porch in a rush. One tackled Frank while he cocked the rifle, the other smashed into Matt.

  Benny popped his head up but two quick shots into the hood from Zack caused him to duck for cover again. Zack ducked and moved around the front of the truck for better cover. The first one he had shot was climbing to his feet, the 9mm still in his right hand. His left arm hung like meat.

  “Drop it!” screamed Zack. But the punk had a psychotic look in his eye. He gritted his teeth, screaming something in Spanish and raised the gun. Without thinking Zack squeezed off one more round, puncturing the punks sternum and exiting his back. His arms flew wide and he fell flat on his back in the crucifix position, gasping for his final breath.

  On the porch the gang members wrestled with Frank and Matt, trying to take hold of their guns. Matt fired a quick right jab into the jaw of the one he fought, and got one back in return and they both tumbled to the floor. Frank and the other punk fell through the open front door and into the house, where David began pummeling the gangbanger with his rifle butt.

  Matt got his foot under the chest of his opponent, and pushed with all his might. The punk flew across the porch, smashing into the wall at the far end. His head made a dull thunk as he hit and his hand went to the back of his head as he crumpled to the porch.

  Zack squeezed off two more rounds in Benny’s direction, shattering his windshield. Benny’s hand came into view, holding the pistol. He emptied his clip wildly, hitting nothing.

  In the house Frank pulled himself away from the gang member who had been clubbed senseless by his boy. Grabbing up his rifle, he cocked it and in a rage shot the downed gang member right between the shoulder blades. Sharon was screaming incoherently while Susan watched with eyes wide.

  On the porch Matt pulled himself to his feet as the injured gang member scrambled off the porch, blood spurting from the back of his broken skull. On the lawn, the punk Matt had kneecapped screamed in agony. Frank stepped out onto the porch, cocking his rifle. He fired into the back of bloody skull as he fled for the shelter of the car. He fell to the lawn, face first, and lay unmoving. Matt looked at Frank, whose face was a mask of hatred. He cocked the rifle again, walked out into the front yard and shot kneecap right in the chest. He cocked the rifle and walked toward the car.

  “Frank! Get back here!” Matt hollered to him with no avail. Biting back his fear, Matt followed him. Zack saw them and backed their play, keeping the rifle trained on the car incase Benny should pop out firing. But he didn’t. When Frank walked around the other side of the car, Benny lay against the driver’s door, shivering with fear.

  “Please don’t kill me.” he broke into sobs. He held his empty hands out in front of him. “Please! I’m sorry!” Frank just raised his rifle. “NO! PLE-” Fran
k fired before Benny could finish his plea. The bullet took off the better part of his face.

  By this time the lone zombie had made it halfway up the street and was just a few houses away. Zack put a bullet right through the zombie’s forehead. It fell to the ground.

  For a few moment’s they all stood there looking at each other. Their ears rang from the gunshots. Zack suddenly weakened in the knees, and he fell to the ground vomiting.

  Matt went to the truck and grabbed the other AR-15. He would not be caught unprepared again.

  Frank walked slowly back into his house and dragged the dead gang member from his front room and deposited him next to his partner on the lawn. He then called his family to him and held them all tight.

  Matt walked over to Zack and helped him to his feet. “I’ve never shot anybody before.” he said weakly, “I’ve never been shot at either.” He looked up at Matt with tears in his eyes. “How can you be so calm?”

  “I think I’m in shock.” Matt said. “Give me a little while.”

  “Frank went crazy.” Zack said as they passed the dead bodies on the lawn.

  “What would you have done? They were going to take his daughter and kill him. He didn’t have much choice. If he would have let Benny go, he would have only come back later with more goon’s and more guns.”

  “I guess your right.”

  “Lets get the hell out of here.” Frank said. His eyes were red from crying.

  “What about those bodies?” Matt nodded to the three dead gangbangers piled in the front yard. “If we don’t put a bullet through their brains they will reanimate as zombies.”

  “Fuck ‘em.” Frank said and spit in the nearest ones direction. He and his family piled into the station wagon while Matt and Zack climbed into the truck. They backed out into the street, and drove east, into the unknown. Just as the two vehicles turned south onto another street, the bodies of the three dead gangbangers began to stir…