More were coming, and again I had to think that there were more than five hundred people in this shitty town. The place was eerily silent as well, except for the moans of the things that had given a slow, plodding chase. Our hushed voices echoed between the houses a little when we dared communicate.
We made it through the residential area only killing one more of the things. A structure larger than a house loomed before us. It was a brick school with no front door. We could see shuffling forms through the broken windows on both floors. Deciding to skip school, Brick brought us past a drugstore and a hardware store into a small parking lot. We caught our breath next to a green dumpster once Kinga had cleared it. “They don’t give up,” Kinga said, pointing. We turned to look, and noticed that a smaller group of infected were closing from behind the school.
“Circle back through the neighborhood,” Brick told us between breaths. “Break into two teams, one to distract, and one to fuel up. Distraction team meets back up with the MRAP when it starts. One civvie with each group, my group gets to distract. You two, with me.” He looked at Ray and me. He shook Kinga’s hand and nodded to Remo. “C’mon,” Remo said, and he jogged off to the right of the way we had come with Tim and Kinga.
I remember thinking right then that I hoped I would be able to write about what happened to us later that evening. “Hey assholes!” I shouted. “Eat this!” I extended my middle finger as high as it would go. I totally pulled something in my shoulder when I did it too.
“Did it now.” Brick shook his head and we moved double-time in the opposite direction of Remo’s team. We took a right between two houses, one with aluminum siding, and the other a brick frontage. The houses were, maybe, fifteen feet apart, which didn’t make any sense to me as there was more land here than you could ever need. Why did these folks want to be on top of each other?
As I pondered the possible reasons for the proximity of the homes in this neighborhood, a mottled, filthy arm snaked slowly out from a broken window. Ray saw it and tried to juke around it, but we were moving quickly, and the thing latched on to his tac-webbing. The arm was attached to a dead teenager, and he came through the window without letting go of Ray. Ray-Ban gave the thing a side kick, but it didn’t concern itself with the trivialities of a broken collarbone, and threw its other arm around his leg. This was enough for him to stumble, and they both went down in a heap. The dead boy really wanted a piece of my buddy, and he was lazily snapping his jaws as Ray held his rotten head in check with a hand on the kid’s throat. I grabbed the kid’s hair and stabbed down with my SOG into air. The boy’s scalp peeled off like an orange skin. Tossing my nasty prize to the side, I stabbed a second time into bare skull, and my knife skidded off. The thing was still snapping as Ray jabbed his own blade into the right side eye socket. The dead teen stopped moving immediately.
I looked up and noticed that in the ten seconds the last paragraph took to transpire, fifty or so undead had shuffled close enough to the front of us that we wouldn’t be able to make it between the houses to safety before they got to us.
Ray pushed the kid off him and I reached down to help him up. “Back!” Brick hissed, and he meant we needed to retreat the way we had come. Ray stood and started yelling. The re-killed dead kid wasn’t re-killed and had latched on to Ray’s leg. The thing pulled its mouth to Ray’s calf and bit him. Ray kicked it off and stomped on its head. My knife had failed to penetrate the kid’s dome, but Ray’s size twelve made nasty black and gray shit spew out of three sides of a crushed skull. Brick began firing behind us, and right then I knew we were all dead. Ray wasn’t thinking that and he grabbed me, pointing to the window the kid had come out of. He gave me ten fingers, and yelled to Brick, “First Sergeant! Up!” I didn’t turn to see what was happening, or even think of what could be on the other side of that dark window. I accepted the ten fingers and pulled myself into the house cutting my shoulder on a shard of glass. I quickly cleared the room. It was a bathroom, small, maybe eight feet by twelve, and I was standing in a tub. The door was open, and I immediately closed it, spinning around to help Brick through the window. I got him in and reached out to help Ray. The dead had closed and they were reaching for him as he reached up to me. Ray climbed and I pulled like hell, but several hands began pulling him back. Ray didn’t look scared, but crazy-pissed off as he kicked for all he was worth. Brick leaned out and shot the two pus bags that had grabbed our pal, and we managed to yank him through the window, falling on shards of glass that were littering the floor.
The dead outside really wanted in, and the ones that weren’t fighting each other to futilely gain entrance through the window were beginning to bang on the side of the house. I didn’t bother putting my ear to the door to see what was on the other side, I just yanked it open. We didn’t have time to dick around; those infected bastards knew we were in here, which meant they would be in here in short order. I was really hoping the zombie teenager’s folks weren’t home. A quick pan right and left told me the hallway was clear. I took a step to the right, Ray limping out to the left. “This way!” I hissed, seeing the hallway in my direction open into a kitchen. The other way must lead to bedrooms and no door. I moved forward, trusting that my MARSOC buddies would cover my rear. The banging on the house was getting unnerving, but it didn’t mask the creak of a floorboard around the corner to my left. I held my left fist up as I had seen these military boys do countless times, and although I wasn’t looking at them, I’m sure they froze as I did.
I heard that odd rasping sound that the dead sometimes make just before a horror that used to be a younger woman stepped into view. She saw me at the same time, and lunged, grabbing me by the shirt, and my single-point sling before I could react even though I knew she had been there. I let go of the rifle and brought my right forearm crashing across my body into her forearms. There was an audible snap as her left ulna broke, and she let go with both hands. I brought my forearm up as her head came forward and I caught her perfectly under the chin. I gave her a right side kick to the knee and as she started to fall forward, I brought my left boot up catching her under her chin again. Her head snapped back, and her frail body followed. She ended up on her back. She tried to stand, and I kicked her as hard as I could in the forehead. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she stopped moving. I had just used some of Remo’s training and I felt great. So great that I didn’t see the second monster until he was pulling my face toward his.
The sound of Brick’s sidearm was deafening in the hallway, and it was a dinner bell for the critters outside not already aware of us, but if he hadn’t shot this thing, I would be missing a large chunk of face. Let’s not forget I’m pretty, and I would like to thank Brick right now for preserving my pretty. Destroyed, the thing’s legs just evaporated and it fell straight down. The bastard didn’t let go even in second death, and I went with him, landing chest first (technically weapon first, then chest) on his stink. Dead guy was big. I fought with his clenched fingers for a few seconds before I was able to pry them off. We all heard a window break in front of us and knew that we had issues there. Brick pushed past me and into the kitchen, taking a quick recon. He moved left and we followed. The side door, now behind us, was wide open, but we could see what was out there and opted for the front door. What was out there had seen us too and was now doing the moan-shuffle in our direction.
Brick made it to the front door, but looking through the two small front windows, I could tell it was a no go. The penguins were waddling fiercely out front.
“Shit, back!” Brick yelled. Ray sprinted to the side door and closed it in the face of a fat guy with one cowboy boot on, big belly all but eaten through on one side. The glass in the door was pushed in immediately, hands reaching for us. The left side front window gave way with a crash, and this one was lower, allowing access. The dead began to crawl in instantly. The window over the kitchen sink was full of dead faces, as were the three small, diagonal panes in the front door.
I moved back into the hall searching,
and just as the side door crashed in spilling infected on the shitty linoleum, I reached up and yanked on a string with one of those little cones on it hanging from a trapdoor in the ceiling. The door pulled down exposing a ladder-stair, and I yelled for the two jarheads to come quickly. Not waiting, I unfolded then climbed up the ladder thingie and panned my light around. A plywood floor covered the ceiling joists, and there was a cooler, camping light, and two sleeping bags in the corner. Trash littered the floor. I continued panning the light when Brick hit me in the ass.
“What the hell are you doing? MOVE!” I climbed the rest of the way up, Brick following. I stormed up onto the floor finishing my sweep of the attic. Six feet or so high, angled with roof joists and a plywood roof. Basic storage, not a lot, but decent room for stuff. Ray made it to the top of the slanting stairs, but had to kick off something that thought he would be tasty. It started to follow him up, but Brick drilled it with his pistol. It fell back into the crowd that had gathered, and we saw what deep shit we were in. “Here!” Ray almost yelled and passed Brick his multi tool with the Phillips head ready. Ray fired his M9 twice before I was able to join him. Brick got down on his stomach and began to unscrew the access ladder. There ended up being six screws on either side, and he was able to get four before one of the more industrious creatures luckily juked a shot from Both Ray-Ban and myself, pulled itself up and grabbed Brick’s arm. Brick looked into its face, and was rewarded with a close up of its head snapping back when I popped it in the melon.
“Fuck this, get back!” Ray shouted. Brick scrambled out of the way. Ray holstered his Sig and pulled his HK416 around to the front of him on his sling, switched to full auto and gave both the dead things and the stairway an extended burst on full auto. He fired into the spot where Brick had been attempting to pull the screws, turning the hinge and the wood around it into shredded aluminum and splinters. The thing crawling up the ladder twisted slightly, but remained on the ladder. I shot it in the face, and Brick fired full auto into the other hinge while Ray yelled, “Loading!” I don’t know how, but the stairs stayed attached. I got on my ass and began to kick, and on the second kick the right side came loose and the access fell away with two dead women on it. I looked into the sea of dead faces and they looked back, hungry.
Brick stared down too. “We’re in some pretty shit now.”
We heard something move behind us over the moans below. We all raised our weapons, aiming our tac-lights at two stacked steamer trunks. Something definitely had moved behind them. “Cover,” said Ray, and he took two steps on the plywood. He gripped the handle on the top trunk, looked at us, nodded, and yanked it away. Two sets of terrified eyes stared back at us as we stared disbelievingly at them.
A little girl and a little boy. Filthy, skinny, and scared, they held on to each other as they looked at us.
“Are they infected?”
I let my rifle dangle, then pushed it behind me so it was on my back. “No.” Both kids looked at me. “Hey, hey we’re not going to hurt you, we’re the good guys, OK?”
I pulled a granola bar out of a pouch on my belt. “You hungry?” The girl perked up and looked like she was about to stand, but the boy held her fast and narrowed his eyes. He had a ballpeen hammer in his left hand.
“Kids, it’s OK,” Ray said. “We won’t hurt you, and we aren’t infected.” I looked at Ray-Ban as he took a step forward. On the plywood where he had just been standing was a bloody boot-print illuminated by the side window.
Twins
“Roger that. Kids, two. Boy and a girl.” Ray looked over at Brick, who had just put away his small med kit and was checking the bandage he had put on the boy’s hand. “They’re getting checked now. Negative, they’d be dead or worse. ETA? First light confirmed. Rogue One Copies all, out.” Damn, he sounded like some dude from Star Wars. Ray sat on a steamer trunk and put the radio down. He rubbed his calf.
I pointed at it. “Want me to have a look?”
“Would it help?”
I looked at the floor.
“How long?” he asked.
“How long what?”
“You’ve been through this. How long until I’m useless?”
“I’m a different case…”
Ray froze me with a glare and I sighed. “You’ll start to get sick in about an hour. You should feel something is off sooner. In five hours, you’ll be wishing for death, but it won’t come for another three to five after that. You won’t be able to do much in about six hours.” I looked at the floor again. “Nobody makes a day.”
“Except you.”
“Except me.”
“What’s so special about you?”
I harrumphed. “Dunno. Been asking myself that since my night in an Airstream trailer a year ago. If there is a God, He sure as shit picked the wrong guy to make immune.” I pointed at his leg again. “Want me to have a look?”
Brick stood, ruffled the boy’s hair and smiled. He came over quickly. “SITREP?”
Ray started to stand, but Brick put his hand on his shoulder, forestalling him. Ray nodded, drawing his wrist across his forehead. “Kinga says they have the fuel. They took out several Tangos, but almost got overwhelmed at the pumps. That was the gunfire we heard earlier. They left the gas and bugged out to a house just like we did, but they lost the hostiles that were in pursuit. Most of them were on us. They can see the fuel cans from where they are, but they’re going to wait until twenty hundred before they go get it and fuel up. Should be dark enough by then. They’ll hole up in the MRAP until first light, then make some noise to draw the meatheads. Swing back, pick you all up and ride off into the sunset on some unicorns.”
Brick smiled, his hand still on his buddy’s shoulder. “Want me to do it?”
“Only if I puss out. He,” Ray thumbed at me, “says I have a few hours yet.”
Ray broke out in a smile that would have made a piranha proud and pointed behind us. The boy was standing in front of the open trap-door, pissing on the infected. His sister let loose with a giggle. “Richy, stand back from there, OK?” Brick asked him.
The boy nodded, shook off, and sat back down with his sister, who punched him in the arm. “Gross!” I heard her whisper.
The kids, Richy and Chloe Joseph, were eleven years old. Twins. Their story was the same as everybody else’s. Their older brother Tommy had come home from a night at the movies with some friends. He had gotten into an altercation with a drunk in the theater parking lot, and the drunk had scratched him on the neck. He and his friends had pushed the guy away, and run for the sheriff. They never did find the drunk, but that night, there was something terribly wrong with Tommy, and Tommy’s mom Lucy took him to the hospital in Paige, Arizona. The next morning, the neighbors were trying to break in the house. Their dad, a bit of a prepper, had gotten them upstairs and told them not to come down no matter what, until he came up into the attic for them. The poor kids had been up in this attic for almost a year. I admired their resolve not to go down and check things out. They wouldn’t have made it if they had.
The kids were pretty much through their food and drink. Three cases of bottled water and eighty-eight MREs were all that was left. They would have begun to get thirsty in a week. The boy was prepared to go for a supply run, but they kept hearing movement in the house below them. Two more days and Richy was planning on a run anyway.
One of the more interesting things about these kids was that they had two moms. Tommy’s mom was not their biological mother. All six people; the twins, Tommy, their dad, and their two moms lived in this house together. They didn’t seem to think anything was different about having two moms and a dad, and who am I to judge? This is Utah.
“The scariest part was that we could hear the zombies making noise all the time,” the little girl said. “That sound they make. And some of ‘em are fast too!”
“Zombies?” I asked.
“Yeah.” Richy said. “I seen Resident Evil. I know what a zombie is.” He pointed toward the open trap-door. “T
hose are zombies. I saw Mr. MacRuder from the garage shoot Steve Joseph in the stomach with his Mossberg, and Steve just got up and bit Mr. MacRuder when he was reloading. Only zombies can do that.”
“Saw it how?”
The kid pointed to the louvered vent in the side of the house. I moved toward it and the louvers were the type on little rods, and thus could rotate open and closed. I was able to peek outside. The dead were everywhere, spread out and searching. They usually grouped together, and what I didn’t understand was why they weren’t all in this house trying to get to us. Don’t get me wrong, there were a fair amount looking to eat us, but I would think that with the racket the dead beneath us were making, all the others in town would be trying to chew on us. I could see some of them walking in and out of houses all the way up the street, obviously searching. It didn’t make sense. Even if they were looking for Remo’s group, everything I knew about them told me that they should all be here where the noise was.
I sat back down on an overturned Home Depot bucket. “Do you guys want to come with us when we leave?”
“No!” Richy almost shouted.
Everybody was looking at us. “OK, OK, we won’t make you come. Just think about it, OK?”
“We’re waiting for someone to rescue us,” Chloe told me.
“Sweetie, that’s us. We’re here to rescue you.”
Chloe nudged her brother. “See?”
“Yeah, but they’re strangers. I need to protect you.”
The Zombie Theories (Book 2): Conspiracy Theory Page 20