Deadrise

by Steven R. Gardner

  “Mom I’m so-”

  “Get away from me!” Sharon screamed shoving Susan away violently before collapsing into a wracking heap.

  “I hope you’re fucking happy!” David screamed, himself breaking into tears.

  “I didn’t mean to d-” Susan was pleading, her emotions threatening to break free of her control once again.

  “Why did you have to throw dad in her face?” he seemed torn between running to hold him mother or punch his sister in the face. Susan opened her mouth to reply but he cut her off.

  “Get out of here you fucking bitch!” tears ran in rivulets down his face.

  Susan was shocked. She had never seen her brother this way before. “Davey I-”

  “Get out!” he took a step toward her fists clenched. Matt quickly stepped in front of him.

  “Easy now bud. She didn’t me-”

  “Fuck you!” David screamed, fists drawing back to strike Matt.

  “Don’t do it David.” Matt’s voice was icy calm. “Think about it for a minute.”

  “Davey I didn’t mean to hurt her.” Susan finally managed.

  “Why did you have to throw dad in her face like that?” his tears had slowed, but not stopped completely. “WHY?”

  “Because it’s the truth and you know it.” Susan had enough. There was no time for this bickering. They should be pulling together now instead of tearing at each other’s throats. “Dad knew it when he let you go with Matt and Zack in the school. He knew that if we were going to survive that we would have to learn to survive.” Her eyes were fire, her voice a razor sharp lance.

  “Don’t you be-”

  “I’m not finished!” It was David’s turn to be cut off. “Dad died protecting us. I AM NOT going to let his death be for nothing! And neither are you! Or her! I WILL NOT LET YOU make his death be in vain!” Everyone was silent. The only sound was Sharon’s sobs. Even David had stopped crying, and stood there silently wiping his eyes. Susan could be hard no longer. “Davey?” her voice was soft. “I miss dad as much as you. But right now I can’t let that distract me from doing whatever it takes to get us safely out of the city. We are going to need things to help us survive in the mountains. I need you to stay here and take care of mom. Ok?” David lowered his head and nodded. “Thank you Davey.” she put a hand on his shoulder and he leaned foreword and hugged her.

  “Sorry for calling you a bitch.” he said.

  “Don’t be.” she answered. “I Am.” they broke the embrace. “I’ll talk to mom when I get back.” she said.

  “Be careful.” David said as they left the room.

  The bus was still parked right in front of the barracks where Matt had left it. Milling about the front of the bus, smoking cigarettes and bullshitting were Ron, his brother Rick, Jenkins and one other soldier garbed in full combat body gear.

  “You remember my brother Rick?” Ron said. They were quickly reacquainted. “And Jenkins brought Pvt. Wilson.” The soldier was fresh into manhood, not a day over 20. But his brown eyes had the cold, lifeless stare of a hardened killer. Matt pulled the doors open and they all filed onto the bus. He started it while they took seats and slowly eased into the street…

  As they left the base through the main entrance two large troop transport trucks were just arriving. Instead of turning right at the four-way intersection and heading back to the college, Jenkins had instructed Matt to take the west road. The two Abrams tanks rolled back, widening the roadway enough for the bus to pass. Beyond the tanks Matt could see the heaps of dead bodies a hundred yards away. That was as close as the soldiers allowed them. Like the ones on Wasatch Boulevard these too had been bulldozed off the road. The cloud of flies feasting on the rotting corpses was visible from here and the stench was enough to churn his stomach. They drew nearer in silence until bloated, maggot infested piles of bodies passed by them on either side. By now the smell was almost unbearable.

  “Suck it up. You get used to it.” Jenkins growled from somewhere behind Matt.

  This area had been largely commercial. Sprawling parking lots were visible to either side. Abandoned vehicles strewn about like children’s toys. Unmoving bodies scattered about and staggering deadfucks dotting the landscape as well.

  “Jesus.” Susan said, wiping her mouth. “Why don’t you guys come out here and burn them or something?” her face held as much disgust as her voice.

  “It keeps most of them away.” Jenkins said.

  “What?” Matt and Susan asked simultaneously.

  “He’s right.” Ron jumped in. “We did burn them when it first started. But after the fires burned out more would keep coming.”

  “After a couple weeks it was just becoming too dangerous to go out there.” Jenkins was talking again. “So we just let them pile up. We would send the ‘dozer out every now and again to clear the road but other than that we just left ‘em. And wouldn’t you know it? Stupid deadfucks tapered off. Sure there were stragglers that wandered up but we rarely got packs of more than a half dozen.”

  “It’s almost as if seeing those piled corpses scared them away.” Rick said.

  “Out of sight out of mind.” Ron said. “Once the bodies were burned the deadfucks couldn’t see them and could only think of attacking the living. But the piles of bodies triggered some kind of memory or something.”

  “You think zombies can remember their lives?” Susan asked.

  “Look at them!” Ron pointed out the window. “They’re us, that’s all.”

  Out in one of the parking lots a female creature wearing a tattered blue dress pushed a shopping cart aimlessly about the parking lot. Just one hundred feet away a male creature sat behind the wheel of an abandon Mazda, its hands on the wheel. Susan also noticed how those that milled about stayed close to the sidewalk. Few were in the road. As they passed beyond the field of bodies into the open road a cool shiver of dread passed through Susan. They were beyond the so-called “safe zone” now. Back into the city and on their own. Zombies had begun staggering towards the slow moving bus, attracted by its noise and movement. Within a minute the visible numbers had doubled. Ahead they began stumbling into the street. Matt kept the bus at and even 10 mph and plowed through those in the street like bowling pins. Most were knocked aside by the huge front-end of the bus but a few were pulled underneath, the bus barely rocking as they were pulped beneath the wheels.

  “Stupid deadfucks.” chuckled Rick.

  “How did this happen?” Matt asked. Despite all of the contact he’d had with zombies the thought of the dead coming back to life and eating the living still was difficult for him to accept. He’d read the rumors about them on the Internet and seen a pirated webcast of several creatures from Africa weeks before he had actually seen his first zombie. But his rational mind, coupled with his Christian upbringing was having a hard time processing.

  “Maybe it’s Judgment Day.” Rick said.

  “Don’t you start talking that shit again.” Ron said.

  “Do you have a better explanation?” Matt asked.

  “I don’t know why it started. But I know it sure as hell isn’t Judgment Day. The bible don’t say jack shit about deadfucks eating people.” Ron almost sounded amused.

  “When the plague first broke out in Africa there were all kinds of websites on the net.” Matt said. “They had pictures from the plague areas, video footage, and live reports…all kinds of shit. From the start many of the websites claimed the dead were returning to life. But at the time I thought it was a hoax. There were too many wild stories about what was happening and why it was happening.”

  “There are doctors and scientists up at the hospital that are experimenting on deadfucks. Trying to find out what makes ‘em tick.” Jenkins said.

  “What have they learned so far?” Susan asked.

  “Not too much. Shoot them in the head to kill them.”

  “I think everybody figured that one out by now.” Ron said.

  “They’re afraid of fire.” Jenkins continued. “We learne
d that retaking the hospital. You can hold a horde of them off with a torch. Something else we also learned is they might be slow and clumsy but if they get their hands on you their as strong as you or I.”

  “There wasn’t anything slow or clumsy about those deadfucks we fought yesterday.” Ron said.

  “Don’t remind me.” Matt said.

  “And most importantly, do not get bit. You do, your ass is good as one of them.” Jenkins said.

  “Why?” Susan asked.

  “Their bite spreads the plague.” Ron said. “And there is no cure. One bite and within three days you’re nothing but a pus infested deadfuck.”

  “From just one bite?”

  Ron nodded. “More bites will turn you faster.”

  “You get bit and I’ll put a bullet in your head myself.” Jenkins said. “The same for me. I get bit you put one in my head.” he saw a look of revulsion in Susan’s eyes. “Do you want to walk around as one of those deadfucks?” he asked her. She shook her head silently. “Me either.”

  After they had went about a mile into the city Ron instructed Matt to turn north. The street was much narrower than the main road and only a few abandon cars were visible, most pulled to the side. They were still in the commercial area but the residential area was just beyond the 4-way intersection up ahead. To either side, large parking lots gave way to several office plazas; sprawling, two storied office buildings woven together by a series of curving sidewalks and rolling grassy hills. At least 100 zombies were in sight, wandering aimlessly.

  “Turn left at the intersection.” Ron instructed. As the bus moved ahead the zombies still made little effort to get out of the way. It was almost comical. Turning at the intersection led them to more of the same. Commercial lots to the left, residential neighborhoods to the right, zombies in between.

  “Where are we going?” Susan asked.

  “Up here about another quarter mile.” Jenkins said.

  “What’s there?” Susan hated the way Jenkins and Ron spoke to her indifferently, as if she were some stupid girl.

  “It’s one of those Instacare emergency rooms. Those places are stocked with medical supplies.”

  “I can’t believe the hospital hasn’t sent anyone else down here to raid this place.” Matt said.

  “Oh we’ve been down here a couple of times.” Ron said. “But we never had the space to carry it all before. Besides the hospital has enough to worry about. And the military has its own problems as well. That’s why they’ve began endorsing privateers such as ourselves to go out and do it for them.”

  Matt spotted the place as they approached. A blocky, three story, red brick building with a large East Valley Instacare sign hanging in front.

  “The main entrance is just inside the parking lot. So park as close to the building as possible.” Ron said. Matt swung the bus into the lot, stopping right beside the main doors.

  “Wilson you have point!” Jenkins barked.

  “Yes Sgt.!” the private replied. He had been so silent since leaving that Matt had all but forgotten he was there. Jenkins looked to Matt. “Ron and I go next. Matt and Susan follow behind with Rick bringing up the rear. Once we are inside, Wilson, Susan and Rick will guard the door while Ron, Matt and myself get what we came for. Do you got that?” Matt nodded. Jenkins looked to Susan who nodded. Matt opened the door. Private Wilson rushed out followed quickly by Jenkins and Ron. Their rifles were cracking before Matt exited the bus…

  The raid went smoothly. The three guarding the door allowed no zombie to get closer than fifty feet before putting a bullet through its head. Meanwhile Jenkins, Ron and Matt carted out cases of painkillers, antibiotics, salves, bandages, syringes as well as countless other medical supplies and instruments, not to mention sheets, gowns, pillowcases, rugs and floor mats. They cleaned the place out. It took them nearly an hour and when they were through they had filled the back two rows with supplies.

  “Not a bad haul.” Ron said appreciatively.

  “I can’t believe no one else has hit this place.” Matt said.

  “Who?” Ron asked. “Everyone around here has either split town, went to the hospital, or they’re one of these deadfucks out here.”

  “Who gives a fuck anyway?” Jenkins said. “We took it. Now its ours.”

  Matt shook his head and turned back to the wheel. The idea of wandering the city and taking whatever you wanted from whomever you wanted was still strange to him. He put the bus in gear and turned around in the clinics large parking lot. The thirty or so zombies that had made their way to the bus were tossed aside like toys only to slowly climb to their feet and stumble after the bus.”

  Where now?” Matt asked.

  “There is a grocery store not to far from here.” Ron said. “Most of the perishables have long since rotted, but there’s still plenty of canned and dry goods.”

  They continued west, heading downhill into the city. The further they went the thicker the zombies became. Far out across the city near Magna they could see a huge wildfire raging, another out towards South Jordan.

  Susan’s thoughts were still racing from the clinic. As she had stepped off the bus and took position near the clinic doorway, she had been more afraid than at any other time in her life. But once she raised the M-16 and began shooting zombies in the head her fear had melted away. It seemed as if she had become detached from her self and stood watching from the sidelines as her body acted of its own free will. She must have killed at least one hundred zombies, probably more. And now as she sat here thinking about it she realized that she felt nothing. Not afraid for her life or pity for those poor souls she had laid to rest with a bullet through the brain. She was emotionless except for a burning urge to do whatever was necessary to save her family…

  It was a Smiths grocery store that Jenkins directed Matt to next, and like everywhere else they had seen since leaving the base it was full of staggering zombies.

  “Around back.” Jenkins said. “We’ll enter through the loading docks.”

  Matt swung the wheel wide, bowling through a pack of half a dozen zombies. There were two loading bays spaced twenty feet apart. A flat-nosed delivery rig sat with the back of its trailer parked against one bay door. The door was closed and the cab of the diesel was empty. There were zombies scattered about, perhaps thirty in sight.

  “That rig is something new.” Ron said. “It wasn’t here last time.”

  “But that’s been three weeks.” Jenkins said. “There’s bound to be some people still holding up in the city.”

  “Regardless who put it here it’s got our names written all over it.”

  “But is whoever parked it still here?” Matt asked. He swung the bus wide and pulled the driver’s side of the bus parallel to the other bay door, leaving less than twelve inches between the bus and the wall. It would be near impossible for a zombie to squeeze through. The large bay door was built four feet off the ground for diesel access. Matt put the bus in park and pulled the lever to open the door. Jenkins stepped to the front.

  “Once we open this door Pvt. Wilson will take point. I will go second, Ron third. Just like at the clinic. The lights may be out. If so I know where the switch is and I will turn them on. Once we have secured the warehouse we can see about that rig.”

  The bay door was locked, but Ron, Rick and Jenkins pulled short crowbars from their packs. Ron stayed at the door while Rick and Jenkins spaced themselves down the length of the bus, the width of the door. Lowering the windows they leaned out to wedge their crowbars under the door, all heaving together and with the sound of wrenching metal the door locks broke and the bay door rolled up. The stench hit them first; that rotten, nauseating sweet smell of decay. Inside was a well-lighted warehouse, stacked from floor to ceiling with giant cases of food and other merchandise. A forklift was parked twenty feet from the door. Two bodies lay face down, limbs splayed in death, large gaping wounds in the back of their heads.

  “Wilson.” Jenkins said. Wilson hurried to the door. “I’m ri
ght behind you.” Jenkins patted him on the shoulder. Wilson leaned his head inside the bay and gave a quick peek before rolling into the room. He quickly took cover behind a stack of boxes and was on his feet in seconds, M-16 at the ready. Jenkins had rolled into the room as Wilson was climbing to his feet. He quickly rose, sweeping the room with his rifle as he took cover.

  A burst of gunfire erupted somewhere in the warehouse. Private Wilson let out a gurgling scream as several rounds tore into his legs and torso, knocking him against a stack of boxes, which collapsed and rained down upon him with a crash. Everyone froze. Jenkins eyes scanned frantically for the gunman. He dove for cover behind another large stack of boxes as a second burst rang out. He heard the bullets whiz behind him as he crashed to the hard floor.

  “Cover fire!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. Ron stuck the muzzle of his M-16 out the door, aimed blindly in the general direction the shots had originated and squeezed the trigger again and again, each one sending three rounds aimlessly into the interior of the warehouse.

  Susan poked her head up from one of the seats and peered out the window until her eyes were level with the floor of the warehouse. She could see Jenkins crouched low behind several cardboard boxes, rifle in hand. Beyond him she could see a pair of the large plastic double doors that opened into the main store. She tried peering further down into the warehouse, hoping to catch a glimpse of the gunman when several bullets ricocheted off the floor just outside the window. She threw herself back down for cover.

  Ron took a quick peek inside. About fifty feet deeper in the warehouse a large skeletal faced zombie was stepping from behind a stack of boxes. It wore Army issue combat boots, fatigues, flak jacket, and combat helmet. In its hands it held an M-16.