Zombie Rush 4

by Joseph Hansen

  The general entered the tent. Having been given the official okay, Benson went back to his current residence where Julie had been holding things down.

  “I am afraid that I have some bad news, Officer Benson.”

  “Is it Krupp?” Benson asked, having heard that he had been bitten by one of the new creatures.

  “Yes, I’m sorry, but he didn’t make it through the night.”

  “Did he turn into one of them, or did it just kill him?” Benson asked concerning his ex-coworker and friend.

  “No, as a matter of fact, he had made it through the critical incubation period and seemed to be unaffected by the bite. We’ll never know for certain, though, because he was shot in the head.”

  “Shot? Did they catch the person who did it?”

  “Yes, and a witness to boot—that would be the rest of the bad news. You see, it was Lieutenant Reynolds who shot him,” General Kyle replied

  “I don’t believe that. There has to be a mistake.”

  “I wish there was. The witness claimed that she walked in on Officer Krupp and her during an intimate moment and flew into a rage at seeing them together. She grabbed the gun on the nightstand and shot him. The woman barely just escaped with her life,” the general said, causing Benson to wonder.

  “That’s terrible. Do me a favor and don’t announce this for an hour or so? I need to talk to his daughter,” Benson pleaded.

  “Announce? We don’t announce things like that; it’s on a need-to-know basis.”

  “Need to know, huh? I guess I should have guessed that would be the case. So what are you going to do to her?”

  “That again, Officer Benson, is on a need-to-know basis,” General Kyle said without a hint of humor to his tone or features.

  “That’s cool, I get it. You guys are in charge now. But let me warn you; Lisa is a fan favorite around here and you’re going to have to deal with that if you don’t do things right.”

  “I appreciate it, Officer Benson. We’ll continue to try to do things right. Thank you for your input. Good day,” the general said as he left the tent.

  “Julie, would you mind pushing me around in the wheelchair today? There are some things that I have to take care of.”

  *

  Cat was asleep in the tent that she shared with her father and Lu when Benson’s deep, yet soft tone on the other side of the canvas woke her. She had been waiting on the news of her dad after having heard that he had been bitten. She knew what being bit meant with the zombies, but had no idea what that meant with these new creatures.

  It was almost an hour later when Benson left the tent. Cat tried to dry her eyes and stifle her rage; a part of her couldn’t believe it, while a larger part of her needed revenge. There was only one thing Benson said that prevented her from crawling up into a sniper’s nest and taking Lisa out as she came toward the compound. It was the same thing that had Benson agitated—Lu’s gun on the nightstand.

  Lisa was trained, some may even call her an expert when it came to dealing with situations, and she kept her cool even in the most dire of circumstances. So why would she fly into a rage at seeing her dad and Lu together when she knew all along they were an item of sorts? Also, why would she use an unfamiliar weapon when she was packing two of her own constantly? She and Benson talked about it and hadn’t come to a firm conclusion, but they had decided this case was not cut-and-dry. Yet Cat had so much rage and the only things she could focus her rage on were two women who were both on their way there to sort it out. Cat loaded the Colt Python that had been willed to her by the National Guardsman Tim … the same one used by Web to kill her friend Abby. The python was going to get a lot of work in the new world.

  Calm and cool. Stay calm and stay cool … until I need to be something else.

  It was later in the day that Cat was stripped of her weapons and allowed to see Lisa. She couldn’t keep the rage from her face when she saw the officer sitting in a locker room in the high school gymnasium. Cat didn’t want to talk to Lisa or have any type of interaction, so she stayed in the coach’s room and looked at her through a thick-glassed observation window with chicken wire imbedded in the pane, searching for any signs that Lisa might be guilty.

  Lisa saw Cat and wanted to reach out to her, but couldn’t get herself to move. They simply locked eyes, studying each other for what could have been a quarter of an hour. Neither gaze wavered; neither gaze revealed anything other than the short but powerful friendship they had shared. Cat remembered how Lisa had welcomed her into the compound and instantly trusted her with adult responsibilities. Lisa was a source of her pride, an enabler of her accomplishments … could she also be the murderer of her father? Cat just couldn’t bring herself to believe it completely.

  A slight shake of Lisa’s head as Cat stared at her sent the young woman over the edge. She wiped the tears from her eyes then stormed out the back of the coach’s room and out of the school building that the military had adopted as their own. She didn’t know what was worse, the pain over her father’s murder or the rage at knowing the person who committed the crime. Someone would pay; Cat would make sure of it.

  Chapter 17

  Big Sleep

  Dean snapped awake to see the empty furniture store where he had taken refuge. Nothing seemed changed from the night before. He wondered at the false security that enabled him to camp out on a couch right after being swarmed by a force he knew nothing about and the battle with the doctor. His only clue that Web was dead was based upon assumption.

  It was beyond careless; it was foolish and downright stupid. Then he noticed the rag he had tied around his shin and how the blood had soaked it completely. He reached for it and felt the twinge in his shoulder where the other bullet from Web’s rifle struck him. He didn’t see nearly as much blood on his chest as he felt on his back—so much blood that the bottom of his shirt felt saturated, causing the fabric to drag at his neck and restrict his breath. He leaned forward and pulled his shirt up and off his neck, only to be met with a soft voice from behind.

  “Please don’t move. I’m not ready to shoot you yet.”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t already,” Dean responded dryly.

  “I was going to carve you up while you slept, to be honest, but it seems we have visitors that might make this day a bit more interesting. Don’t worry about your little spear; I have that secured. Quite ingenious, I must say. An incredibly effective weapon and all made from yesterday’s scrap. Tell me, did you ever earn more than ten dollars in a single day? I mean seriously, you use a stolen shovel handle, a discarded file, and a useless chunk of hardwood that you spent hours on to make something of zero value in the old world.”

  “Shaaka will kill you, creep; that I guarantee,” Dean said, directing the anger he felt with himself at the doctor. It was easy; every breath he took since he saw the atrocity on that rooftop inspired more hatred for the doctor. So much so that it now felt as if he and Web could not live in the same world. One of them was going to die and, unfortunately, it looked as though Dean’s number was up.

  “Ha, ha … trust me, Deano, you’re not in a position to make any guarantees. I’m surprised you don’t want to know who our visitors are.”

  Dean froze, his blood chilling at the thought that he might know who Web was setting up now.

  “Ahh, I see. You thought they might be strangers. I did too, so I did a little reconnaissance last night while you got your beauty sleep. That’s one of the pluses of being a doctor; I can get some mild drugs that will literally keep you awake for days. Oh, they might make your hands a little shaky, but if you know it’s coming you can be prepared for it.”

  The doctor paused and looked at Dean for a long while as if he was wondering how much he wanted to tell this bruiser of a man. He was a big oaf; an uneducated boob who had nothing going for him, yet he had proven to be Web’s most skilled adversary. A part of him wanted to just kill him; that would be the sensible thing to do. Just put a bullet in his head and walk away, but he
couldn’t get himself to do it; it was just too easy. Someone who had been that much of a headache to the doctor had to have some very special treatment before his life ended; very special treatment indeed.

  “So I followed the flickering light behind the blinds on the top floor of the tenement building across the street. Unfortunately, it wasn’t one of mine so I had to follow their path in and out, but I won’t bother you with those trivial details, as I prefer to get right to the meat of a story, don’t you? So in the flickering light, I was able to see a beautiful girl with a fresh scar on her face sharing a camp with a young boy in his teens. Do you have any idea who they might be, Dean?”

  Dean bit his lip to keep from reacting to his game. He wasn’t going to fly into a rage and make all kinds of threats because that was what the doctor wanted. He recognized the description of the two he had found. It sent a surge of rage through him to think that Kodiak and Charlie had been exposed and vulnerable to this mad man.

  Why did they follow me? They knew better. Then he realized why they followed, they were partners in this mess, a team … family.

  “It was so easy, Deano. I thought that you, of all people, would have trained them better. They should be waking up soon. Stand up, Deano, I want to show you something.”

  Dean complied simply because he knew that he had more of a chance getting an upper hand on the doctor while on his feet as opposed to lying on the couch.

  “That’s a good boy. Now look out the front window. Across that intersection; you see where the residential houses start? Okay, behind that large white colonial, number 4616, is a pole shed. I have some very special tools in that shed as well as some very special people—people who are special, special to you, at least,” Web said.

  Dean repositioned his feet in hopes of getting a chance to lunge; Web’s rifle came up, forcing him to relax.

  “You are really some kind of special fool, aren’t you, Dean? Now I am going to go over there and have a little fun, maybe even get myself a bite to eat. While I am doing that, you might want to mosey on over there and see if you can help out your friends. Now make it good, Deano; I’ll be watching and recording as you struggle to drag your body across the street. By the time you’re halfway, you should be able to hear their screams.”

  “You are really a piece of work, aren’t you?” Dean said, lacking anything else to say.

  “Yes, I am. I want to make this as perfect as can be, Deano, because there’s no way to tell if I’ll have this opportunity again. I mean, if it’s worth it to you to help your people, then the struggle should be greater than anything you have faced ever before and that is going to be tough due to your destitute lifestyle and what has had to be endured over the last few days. But I have a plan that could add just the right amount of spice to prove that it’s worth it to you.” The rifle went off and Dean felt the bullet pass through his left thigh, making it so now both legs had gunshot wounds.

  Dean fell onto the floor and looked up at Web with hatred. Web smiled. “I can’t have you getting over there before I have them ready for viewing, now could I? Take your time now; I’ll make sure they survive until you get there,” he said as he sauntered out the door.

  Dean tore off his last shirt and wrapped it around the new wound in his thigh, grateful that it hadn’t hit his femoral artery. Of course it wouldn’t have; Web knew exactly where the femoral artery was and wanted him to get over there in one piece so he could witness the atrocity.

  He crawled out of the furniture store, noticing there wasn’t a zombie or piece of flesh left anywhere in view. The only humanoid thing he could see was Web’s back as he continued his way over to his … what? Was this the place where he had been doing his lecherous deeds all along? Was this his own personal slaughterhouse right in the center of Piney, Arkansas? It would make sense; it would make way too much sense.

  Dean’s newly shot leg wouldn’t support his weight and the other leg where his shin had been shot the day before wouldn’t allow him to hop. He was weak from blood loss caused by the bullet through his shoulder, and he began to wonder if he could even make it to the shack before he himself died. He saw Web look back and laugh at Dean’s crawling form. Dean’s rage spurred him on. He had just under a block and a half to go—all of it on his belly—and when he got there … what would he do? He had no strength, no weapons, or even enough blood left in him to fight. What could he do? Nothing, but he crawled on regardless. The choice to not continue on, to abandon the cause because he was helpless and weak, would leave him in a state that was worse than death. A state that would erase everything he had ever done that was true and pure in his life. Those were far and few but they were all he had, so to abandon them … would be to abandon himself and everything he ever stood for.

  The screams began almost as soon as Web went through the door, and the pitch was clearly male at first.

  “Charlie,” he moaned, clenching his eyes so tight they hurt as he tried keep the visions from his mind.

  Dean pushed himself harder, trying to move across the rough asphalt that hadn’t as of yet heated up for the day. He made it half a block and the screams intensified, taking on a high-pitched girlish quality. Urgency surged through the broken man on his scraped belly in the middle of the street; if he couldn’t save Charlie and Kodiak then he could at least die with them.

  He crawled another fifty feet and stopped to catch his breath, his head dizzy from exertion and blood loss. If he could just die now he would be okay, but he wanted to see his son one more time no matter what Web had done to him.

  A man shouldn’t have to see his own child die before him, so they would die together. He rolled down the curb and started to crawl across the intersection, leaving him half of a block to go.

  The front of his torso was a ragged, bleeding mess from being dragged across the street. His heart-rate was elevated and he was sweating profusely by the time he got to the door of the shop, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he would be bleeding more if he hadn’t already lost so much blood.

  He should wait until he had caught his breath before going in but he couldn’t. Charlie needed him. Another blood-curdling scream and Dean used the door handle to pull himself to his feet. He took a deep breath and prayed that he would be close enough to fall upon Web since he knew he wouldn’t be able to lunge, jump, or run.

  He didn’t know what to expect when he opened the door to Web’s torture den, but what he found was beyond belief and froze him in his tracks with a mixture of awe and horror.

  “Oh my God,” was all he could mutter through his dried and cracked lips.

  Chapter 18

  We Goin’ to Court

  It was Mayor Boweaver and his stoolie, Fenton, along with a small entourage that showed up at the front of the school, requesting an audience with the person in charge. They were brought up to the general’s office, where they were offered a cold bottle of water as they waited for the military official to arrive. It took almost a half hour and when he finally arrived, he acted as if he didn’t know that they had been waiting. He invited the two into his inner office—which was simply an old classroom—and offered them a couple of hard plastic chairs where they could sit.

  “So, what can I do for you gentlemen today?” General Kyle asked amiably.

  Boweaver looked uncomfortable and appeared to be sweating too much considering the temperature, but his right hand man, Fenton, was the epitome of calm. He looked at the mayor and then took it upon himself to start the conversation, knowing full well that the mayor would jump in as necessary.

  Fenton knew how important it was to start these types of conversations on the right level, or you might as well not even start. At times, he wondered how the mayor was able to run a campaign to get elected. The truth was, he wouldn’t have been elected without Fenton, and someday Fenton would come into his own with or without the mayor.

  “We’re here at the request of the three community councils that have been established, General Kyle,” he stated so that the gen
eral would know that it wasn’t just on a whim. “We are to collect Lieutenant Lisa Reynolds and escort her back to the councils for questioning so that we may prepare her tribunal.”

  “Tribunal? I’m sorry but this is now a military matter, and you won’t even have to dirty your hands with it,” General Kyle responded with the intent of shutting them down as quickly as possible.

  “I understand that the arrest of the colonel and requisitioning of some of your troops out in the field are military matters, but the death of Officer Krupp is a community matter and we intend to keep it as such,” Fenton replied, getting a kick out of having a hand to play against the general.

  “The colonel wasn’t actually arrested. He was never cuffed, detained, or read his rights—hell, there wasn’t even a lock on the door, so his captivity was voluntary and he is being disciplined for it. However, I have it in specific terms from the president herself that Lisa is to be prosecuted through our system.”

  “I’m sorry, General, but that is not a possibility. No civilian can be tried in a military court. Also, if you are planning upon using the executive branch, I would inform you that she has no education or experience in the judicial system and therefore is not eligible to try this case. The only option available is to have her turned over to us, where she can be held accountable through a tribunal of her peers.”

  “So you have this all figured out, don’t you? You do know we have a judge.”

  Fenton said nothing to the general’s comment and simply sat next to the mayor, who seemed pleased at having been left out of the whole deal until he realized that Fenton was waiting for him to respond, which was necessary in order to establish that this was actually his request and not Fenton’s.

  “Um, yes well … Why don’t you send her to me so we can check to see if her credentials are adequate.”

  “Her? So you do know. Well if you know that much then you probably know what her credentials are,” the general said, seeing through their bullshit.