Deadrise

by Steven R. Gardner

  A superzombie!

  There were no eyes, only rotten holes where the eyeballs had once been, but Ron still would have swore the thing looked straight at him. It took what little self-control he had remaining not to shit his pants right then and there. As it raised its rifle to aim at him a smile crossed its cracked, leathery lips. Ron barely pulled himself inside as bullets raked the ground in front of him.

  “It’s a superzombie!” Ron turned to look at Jenkins who was still behind cover. “It’s a superzombie!” he screamed again.

  Jenkins eyes went wide for a moment. He stood and peered over the boxes quickly, ducking as a burst blew the top crate apart. Jenkins quickly pulled a grenade from his web gear. He put the ring in his mouth, pulled it free and spit it out.

  “Fire in the hole!” he screamed and lobbed the grenade over his head. Almost at once they all put their hands over their ears. Seconds later there was a gut wrenching explosion which toppled several more stacks of freight. The debris hadn’t yet settled when Jenkins leapt from behind cover and saw the superzombie had been thrown nearly ten feet. Both its left arm and leg were meaty, bloodless stumps. Its helmet was missing, as was most of the left half of its skull. But it was not dead. Its right hand was missing a couple of fingers but it still clawed at the pistol holstered at its hip. Its right leg was trying to twist its body around so it could have a clean shot at Jenkins.

  “Die Motherfucker!” Jenkins screamed as he stepped over its body emptying his clip into its head and chest. By the time the others got there Jenkins was reloading. Ron, Rick, and Matt joined him in a semicircle around the downed zombie, shooting it repeatedly.

  “I think its dead.” Susan said but no one was able to hear her over the gunfire. “I think its dead!” she screamed near the top of her lungs. One at a time they lowered their guns. “I think its dead,” she said a third time. The zombie was little more than a headless, limbless torso, with large, gaping holes blown in the chest and stomach. Its right arm and leg lay a couple feet from its body. The leg still flexed at the knee, and the two fingers that still remained on the arm clawed at the air.

  “You can’t kill these fuckers.” Jenkins said. “You have to blow them to pieces.”

  “There’s got to be more of them.” Matt looked around.

  “I’ll take care of Wilson.” Jenkins said, walking back to where the Private’s body lay under a pile of cans. Jenkins cleared the mess away from Wilson’s head. His tongue protruded from his mouth, his eyes wide open, frosted in death. Jenkins bent down and collected Wilson’s M-16, pistol, walkie-talkie, and his ammo bag. He slung the M-16 over his shoulder and tucked the rest away on his web gear. Then without a single word Jenkins put a bullet through the center of his forehead.

  Susan turned away, shocked by the cold bloodedness of it. Just a minute before Wilson had been a living, breathing member of their party, a friend of both Jenkins and Ron. Neither one of them had even said a word over Pvt. Wilson’s death. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer for his soul. She felt a hand rest on her shoulder.

  “Are you all right?” Matt asked softly. Her face was pale, and he could feel her body trembling. But when she looked at him her jaw was set, her eyes hard as stone.

  “I’m fine,” she said coldly. “Lets just do this.”

  Jenkins walked up and gave Matt the 9 mm pistol and the ammo bag. He handed Ron the walkie-talkie. The M-16 he kept slung over his shoulder.

  “I’ll take point.” Jenkins said. “The rest of you fan out behind me in pairs. We sweep the rest of this warehouse.” To their relief the warehouse was empty of zombies. They did find half a dozen corpses near the far end of the warehouse. All were laid out side by side with their wrists bound behind their backs and their ankles tied. It appeared they had all been shot in the legs to cripple them before being tied. All six of them had their left eye missing and in its place a gaping hole leading into the skull. There were also wide trails of drying mucous around the bodies, as if something slimy had been dragged across the ground.

  “What happened here?” Matt asked no one in particular. Jenkins bent close to one of the bodies, peering into the ruined eye socket.

  “There’s more of that mucous here around the eye.” Jenkins said. He inserted his gloved index finger all the way into the corpses skull.

  “What are you doing?” Susan asked disgustedly. She hoped she never became as accustomed to death as Ron and Jenkins. Jenkins looked up at her with a small smile as he swirled his finger around the inside of the skull a few times before he retracted his hand. Aside from a few patches of coagulating blood and some thick streamers of mucous that stuck to his hand his glove was clean.

  “Empty.” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Ron asked.

  “I mean it’s empty. Whatever did this to these people sucked their brains out.” There was a grim look on Jenkins face.

  “Maybe that’s what those superzombies eat?” Matt said. “The regular deadfucks just eat the flesh. But the superzombies eat the brains.”

  “Maybe…” Jenkins said. “But What about this mucous?” he indicated to the trails on the floor around the bodies. “Those ones we fought yesterday at the perimeter didn’t secrete any mucous. Only thick, black blood. Neither did that one.” he used his head to point at the one they had just killed.

  “Well then what do you think did it?” Ron asked.

  “Maybe there’s some kind of zombie that we still haven’t seen yet.” Matt offered. The look Jenkins gave him said they we’re thinking the same thing.

  “I suddenly want to get out of here real bad.” Rick said.

  “We’re getting what we came for.” Ron said. “The warehouse is secure. Now lets see about that truck.” Ron walked over to the other bay door where the truck was parked, threw the floor latch he rolled the door up. The diesels trailer was backed flush against the dock, the rear doors closed.

  Rick stepped up beside him and twisted the latch on the back of the truck and began to swing the double doors out wide. A horde of zombies burst through, throwing the doors open. Rick stumbled back, trying to bring his M-16 to bear. But three of the zombies were right on him, clawing the barrel of the gun aside and grabbing hold of his jacket. Their moans were full of hunger.

  “Help me!” his voice was pure terror.

  Ron had been able to distance himself from the grasping zombies before they even emerged from the trailer and he raised hi rifle and began to blast them one at a time, silently and efficiently.

  For an instant Matt was sure they were superzombies, but their staggering, drunken gate was unmistakable. He brought his M-16 up and took aim as Rick screamed for help. All of the zombies were focused on Rick, swarming towards him like a pack of starving wolves. Before Matt could fire Susan’s weapon sounded beside him, exploding the skull of one of the creatures. Jenkins was also firing. Matt took aim and blasted another through the head. At least a dozen creatures had emerged from the back of the truck with more still coming. They had noticed Matt and Susan now and half of them turned and began to stagger towards them!

  Rick tried to run backwards but the three held tight to him. Their mouths were wide as they tried to bite him. He tried to push them away with his rifle but they were already pressed too close for him to gain any leverage. With another scream of terror he spun around and launched himself at one of the stacks of boxes. The four of them smashed into it and Rick screamed with pain as the heavy cans crashed down on him. He felt two of the creatures lose their grip as they smashed to the floor, but the third still held on and was close to biting his right arm. Rick had lost the M-16 in the fall, and with his left hand he pushed the zombies head back. Its groans were frantic and its fetid breath nearly caused him to retch. He rolled over on top of the zombie, pulling his right arm free. He scrabbled his pistol from its holster and shoved the barrel in the zombies gaping mouth.

  “Eat this!” he screamed and pulled the trigger. The top of the zombie’s head blew apart splattering chunks o
f brain across the floor. Rick quickly climbed to his feet stepping clear of the tumbled cans. The other two zombies were slowly climbing to their feet and more from the truck were advancing on him. He raised his pistol and began firing.

  There were at least twenty dead zombies laying about the bay door with another twenty still advancing. Susan, Matt, Ron and Jenkins had all been forced to retreat several steps or be attacked. They continued firing. When one fell dead the ones around it paid it no attention, only advancing with blank eyes and outstretched arms. They fell like ducks at the shooting gallery…

  “It set an ambush.” Ron said looking over the forty odd deadfucks that lay dead on the floor. “That stinking superzombie set a fucking ambush.” he was amazed.

  “They can’t be that smart.” Rick sounded the fool and he knew it.

  “They’re smart enough to put on combat gear and shoot a weapon.” Jenkins said.

  “They’re smart enough to tie up six people and let something suck out their brains.” Matt added.

  “Enough talk.” Ron said. “Lets get busy.”

  Rick hopped in the forklift while Ron and Jenkins laid out a large corrugated dock plate across the back of the truck and the bay. Ron and Jenkins stacked cases of food on wooden pallets and wrapped with cellophane which Rick then loaded into the back of the truck while Matt and Susan carried food onto the bus one box at a time. Ron dug into one large case and pulled out cartons of cigarettes. They had already loaded dozens of cases of soda and candy.

  “We’ve hit pay dirt.” Ron said.

  Matt noticed how they were more interested in luxury items like cigarettes, beer and candy than actual food. Items like those would be especially hard to come by later on down the line, as well as things like razors, deodorant, soap, toothpaste and toilet paper. All well worth their weight in gold up at the hospital, or anywhere else for that matter. Things they would need themselves. As he began hauling cases back to the bus he kept a special eye out for such items. Somewhere in the first hour Rick had cracked open a case of warm beer. They spent well over three hours loading the rig and bus. When finished Rick parked the forklift in what little space there was left on the trailer.

  “It can only be useful.” He said. He then went and rounded up the three spare propane fuel tanks for the lift. They were relaxing for a moment, winded from the work.

  “My take off of this will keep me in business quite awhile.” Jenkins said. He looked to Ron. “You too.” Ron slowly shook his head. “What do you mean?”

  “Once we get back me and my family is going to head out with Matt and Susan.”

  “You’re shitting me?” Jenkins sounded amazed.

  “I’ve seen enough death Jenkins. I’m tired. I know we have a good thing going there but this is a chance to get my brothers family to safety. I couldn’t do that for my own children.” he fell silent a moment. “I owe it to them.”

  “You should come too.” Matt told Jenkins. “If you have family bring them.”

  “I have no family.” Jenkins said. “What I have going at the hospital is all I have. I can’t walk away from that.”

  “You would rather stay here in this war zone than come with us to Rainbow Lake?” Susan looked at him as if he were an idiot.

  “You’ll be safe there.” Matt said. “There is only one road that leads up to the lake with mountains and forest all around. Nothing but private estates and cabins up there.”

  “We barricade the road half way up and set guards up and down the length of it. You couldn’t ask for a safer place.” Ron said. They could tell by the look on Jenkins face that he was tempted. “Think about it. Think about it real fucking hard.”

  “Base to Rover Three, come in?” His walkie-talkie squawked. He unclipped it from his belt and held it to his mouth.

  “Rover three copy. Go ahead base.”

  “We have an Alpha priority one. Repeat Alpha priority one. Return to base. Do you copy Rover Three?” Jenkins jumped to his feet, throwing his empty beer can aside. Ron also dropped his beer and quickly rose.

  “Copy, base. Orders acknowledged and understood. Rover Three out.” Jenkins clipped the talk box balk to his web gear.

  “What’s going on?” Matt asked. They had all risen to their feet now, sensing the urgency and concern radiating from both Ron and Jenkins.

  “The base is under attack.” Jenkins said. He handed the spare walkie-talkie to Ron. “I’m in the bus with them. You and your brother take the rig.” Ron nodded and Jenkins started for the bus. Rick and Ron ran out the will call door and climbed into the cab of the rig.

  “They haven’t been overrun have they?” Susan asked as they boarded the bus.

  “No.” Jenkins said. He was looking out the back window where he could see Ron and Rick scrambling into the cab of the rig.

  “How long is it going to take you to get that son of a bitch started?” Jenkins said into his talk box.

  “The keys are still in the ignition.” came Ron’s answer.

  The yellow school bus took the lead with the black rig close behind. Matt bowled through the zombies in the parking lot and exited onto the main street heading east, back to Fort Douglas once again…

  Chapter 12

  Saturday June 23, 2001

  Fort Douglas

  Salt Lake City, UT

  1:29 PM

  David spent most of the morning sitting outside the barracks watching the base activity go on around him and feeling both ashamed and sorry for himself. He had not wanted his father to die. The very thought of it was an aching, gaping wound in his chest. Yet somehow his sister managed to make him feel as if it were his fault their father was dead. He couldn’t talk to her. His gut only churned and his words mixed up and his mind filled with humiliated rage. No, he could not talk to her. And he couldn’t talk to his mother either. She was an emotional wreck. One minute sobbing with her face buried, the next minute talking to him as if she expected his father to come in any second. He found no comfort there either. At noon a jeep from the mess hall arrived with their food. David had always heard that army food tasted like shit but he thought it was delicious. Aside from the dinner he had last night it was the first decent meal he had eaten in days. His mother picked at hers. After David finished lunch he wandered back out into the hall. The guard sat behind a desk just inside the main entrance. David walked over to him.

  “Do you think it would be all right if I walked over to the hospital and visited my friend?” he asked the officer.

  “Not right now.” the guard said. He was a muscular, bearded man with hard gray eyes. Corporal McReedy was the name on his tag.

  “Why not? The hospital is just across the courtyard.” David pointed outside.

  “My orders.” Cpl. McReedy said. “You need an escort if you leave the barracks.”

  “Can’t somebody escort me?” David’s voice was cocky.

  “Everyone is busy.” McReedy said gruffly. David’s shoulder sagged and he turned towards the door. “But I’ll tell you what,” McReedy added. “Once I’m relieved I’ll take you over there to see him.”

  “How long will that be?” David asked.

  “Another couple hours. So just sit tight kid. All right?” A smile creased David’s face.

  He spent the next couple hours trying to identify all of the military vehicles he saw passing through the base: M1A1 Abrams tanks, Humvees and standard Army jeeps, and large transport trucks full of soldiers were constantly coming and going. Huey and Apache helicopters flew overhead. He saw a vehicle that had the front end of a transport truck and the back end of a tank. Some of the jeeps and trucks going by were towing large artillery Howitzers. Others drove by under their own power. But finally McReedy’s shift was over and he stepped outside the barracks to find David.

  “There sure is a lot of people coming and going.” David said.

  “There’s a war going on.” McReedy said.

  “It’s a war that we can’t win.” David replied softly. He saw McReedy give him a strange
look. “Humans I mean. In a war where dead people walk how can we win?”

  “Even the dead can be killed again.” McReedy said.

  “Ya, but eventually everybody is going to die. So in the end we lose anyway.”

  “Let’s go see your friend.” McReedy said, changing the subject. Mac led him across they courtyard and down a sidewalk between two large yellow buildings. The hospital was fifty yards ahead. As soon as they entered the hospital the smell of antiseptic hit David’s nose. The lobby was featureless white walls, white tiled floor with a large gray administration desk just inside the entrance. An elderly woman in nurses white sat behind the desk. She smiled at them as they walked up to the desk.

  “Good afternoon Corporal. What can I do for you?”

  “My friend was brought here yesterday. I want to see him.” David spoke before Mac could open his mouth. The Nurse gave him a cold stare before turning back to the Cpl.

  “And what is the patients name Corporal?”

  “Zack Thomas.” David blurted again. She ignored him and kept her eyes on Mac. Mac smiled and nodded in agreement. She typed some buttons on her computer.

  “213 west.” she said.

  “Thank you.” David said, heading for the elevators across the lobby.

  “I don’t think she liked me very much.” He said once they were in the elevator. The door opened onto the second floor. A nurse’s station was just ahead of them as they stepped into the hallway. White clad nurses bustled back and forth up the hallway, passing from room to room as they made their rounds. Patients in white gowns milled up and down the hallway, some pushing IV bags on metal stands. David spotted a sign on the wall with an arrow pointing towards Zack’s room. They walked down the hall until they came to the door marked W213. It was closed but David opened it up and walked in. There were four beds in the room. All of them occupied with seriously wounded men. Zack was in the far bed near the window. He wore a white patient’s gown and had an IV in his left hand. He sat upright in his bed looking gloomily out the window. When he saw David his face brightened.