Zoe, Undead

by J. R. Knoll

  The woman, the only female soldier, was staring down at the hat she held. Slowly, she looked to the other three, her mouth ajar and horror in her eyes as she offered the other soldier the hat.

  He took the hat with a hesitant hand and looked down at it, then inside it, and his face went ashen as he slowly drew his head back. Venting a shallow breath through his mouth, he looked to Zoe with hollow, haunted eyes.

  Her mouth curled downward and tears filled her eyes as she slowly shook her head.

  "I'm sorry, Princess," he offered in a slight voice.

  She turned her gaze down to the hat and her hand shook as she reached to it and grasped it tightly. Inside the hat there was a label sewn in at the back with the owner's name hand written in permanent marker: W. Morris.

  Tears streamed from her eyes as she just stared at the name, and all she could muster was a whisper. "It isn't fair."

  "They aren't going to get away with this," Zachary snarled.

  "Come on, guys," the soldier behind them ordered. "Let's finish our sweep and see if we can find survivors." He looked over to the panel. "Private Higgins. Cover the engineer and make sure they can restore power, and give a shout if you see any moaners."

  Higgins patted her M-4 and assured, "You'll hear this shout for me."

  Zoe's expression went blank as she stared down at the hat, then her jaw clenched, her brow tensed and her lip curled up. Absently, she handed her rifle back to Zachary, and when he took it from her, she took the brim of the hat in her other hand, and slowly raised it to her head. Settling it over her hair, she pulled it down, settled it into place, then she turned and took her rifle, fixing her eyes on it.

  Zachary stared down at her for long seconds, and he finally asked, "You okay, Zoe?"

  She did not respond at first, but finally she nodded, not taking her eyes from the M-4 she held. Finally, she looked up at him, and it was clear that she was barely able to maintain her composure. It was also clear that something had changed in her disposition, and what it was silently spoke volumes.

  It was payback time.

  They continued their sweep of the generator room, but this time Zoe did not walk so carefully. Her steps were heavier and more deliberate, her eyes more focused.

  Shining her light ahead of her, she saw a steel door that looked like it led into an office or a store room. It was painted tan and it appeared to have been clawed at by many hands, and much of the paint had been scraped away in the middle.

  A familiar shuffle drew her attention and she looked left in response to it, focusing her light that way, and her eyes narrowed as she saw the zombie in the blue mechanic's shirt staring back at her from only about ten feet away. The front of his shirt was stained black and dark red, as were the sides of his mouth, his chin and throat. This one had fed on someone, and with much of the blood still glossy, it was still wet. He had fed recently.

  Zoe's brow lowered further, her lip curling up as she stared back. Seeing the zombie and knowing what had happened to Sergeant Morris enraged her beyond her medication's ability to control her anger. Her mouth swung open and she yelled—and pulled the trigger on her weapon. Bullets ripped through the zombie's body, chest, shoulders… He staggered backward and as three rounds drove through his face and exploded out the back of his head he fell straight to his back. She did not stop firing until her magazine was empty, and for long seconds just stared down at the riddled body before her.

  Other lights found their way to it, peering through the smoke her weapon had belched out, and the other three approached slowly from behind.

  The magazine of Zoe's rifle hit the concrete floor with a loud, metallic clack and she reached behind her for another, her eyes still on the zombie she had just killed.

  One of the soldiers behind her assured, "I think you got him."

  "Okay," one of the men at the control panel announced. "I've switched over to natural gas. The boiler's heating up and the generator should restart in a few minutes."

  A moment passed and everyone waited silently.

  The generator clicked loudly, then there was something of a scrape from within it. It began to turn with a loud whine, faster and faster until its mechanical whines became a steady hum. The lights flickered, then slowly they began to come back on, one by one, and in another half a moment the entire room was illuminated.

  Looking around them with wide eyes, the team finally realized that every shadow and every open doorway, every gap between panels, everywhere there were zombies staring at them. Each team member turned a full circle, seeing that they were surrounded, and weapons were held ready as the zombies began to lumber forward.

  "Okay," the soldier beside Zoe started. "I think we could really have done without the lights."

  Zoe reached behind her and took another magazine from her back pocket, and as she slapped it into her weapon, she suggested, "Maybe you guys should find a safe place to shoot from. I'm going to see if I can find the other guys." Without waiting for anyone to respond to her, she pulled back the bolt on her M-4 and let it slam back into place with a loud clack, then she turned and strode right at a group of seven zombies that was advancing. As expected, they largely ignored her, but they appeared to be moving differently, more deliberately and their steps were less clumsy. She barely took a mental note when she raised her weapon to the closest one, about twenty feet away, and took careful aim. Pulling the trigger once, she sent her round perfectly into his forehead, and he fell just as she expected. Stopping her advance to steady her aim, she fired again and another fell, then another, and another. Her sixth shot missed, but her seventh connected. Turning to her right, she fired on others as they emerged from an open room, dropping three of them before they could make much progress toward their quarry.

  All knew that ammunition would be an issue and everyone took careful aim. Each shot had to count, and nearly every one did.

  The door that had been scratched up clicked and it was pushed open, and Zoe found her aim going that way, but she lowered her weapon as she saw four soldiers and Zachary's father emerge and assume defensive positions around the door, and they all took aim at the zombies that were advancing on the rescue team.

  With this part of the fight under control, Zoe turned and trotted around the big generator to find other zombies that were not being fired on already, and she would not be disappointed.

  Another door across the room led into a dark hallway and more were emerging. They were about fifty feet away, but Zoe wanted to be nice and close to them so she raised her weapon to her eye and advanced with steady steps, and at about fifteen feet she began to shoot. One after another fell and they seemed oblivious as to why. When her weapon made an empty click and her bolt locked open, she dropped the spent magazine and reached around her back for another, slapping it in place in a couple of seconds and releasing the bolt to allow it to slam back into place and chamber her next round.

  A growl and some maniacal cry sounded from her left and she looked to see one of them wearing a white tee shirt and blue jeans charging her at a fast run. He was forty feet away and advancing on her like some beast from her nightmares, and she backed away, raising her weapon to her eye. Too focused and excited to be afraid, she let the mad-dog zombie close to within about ten feet before she pulled the trigger, and she fired three times, hitting it twice in the head before it reached her. Moving aside, she watched as it fell to the floor right where she had been standing.

  This side of the room was suddenly clear and she glanced about to find any stragglers. Still hearing gunfire from the other side of the generator, she turned and ran that way, pausing as she came up on a group of zombies that was still on their slow, methodical advanced toward the people who fought desperately to defend themselves. Raising her weapon, Zoe picked them off one by one at close range, and when the last one fell, the gunfire from the other side ceased and only the loud hum of the generator could be heard.

  Over the generator, Zoe yelled, "Hey guys. I'm coming around, okay? Nobody shoot me
!"

  "Come on, Princess," one of the soldiers yelled back. "You're clear."

  Hesitantly, she strode around the generator, leaning forward to see that no one was aiming at her, and as she saw the first of the team, she strode faster toward them and reported, "I ran into one of those mad-dog ones over there and it tried to get me but I got it instead."

  The woman soldier nodded to her and confirmed, "We shot three of them."

  Alfred leaned his shotgun against the pipe rail that surrounded the generator and shook his head. "First time I seen them mad-dogs runnin' with the regulars."

  The engineer informed, "It sounds like they're evolving, much faster than anyone thought they would." He looked to the control panel and added, "We also need to get more generators on line and we should see about shutting down grids. The draw's too much with the current level of consumption."

  "Suddenly leave hundreds of survivors in the dark?" another soldier barked.

  "They're in the dark now," the engineer pointed out. "Look. We have limited resources here. I don't know how long the natural gas reserves will hold out, we got no way to get coal here and we've got to cut back usage somehow or we'll blow this thing up, and then we'll have real problems."

  "Bottom line is," the engineer started grimly, "someone's going to have to stay here and babysit this thing. We've been damn lucky the last month or so that it held out like it did. We're also going to have to go through the city and shut off everything in the hospital's grid that's running that we don't need running."

  "Gonna be dark, soon," Alfred observed.

  Silence gripped them, interrupted only by the hum of the generator.

  One of the soldiers removed a radio from his belt and headed toward the exit. "I'd better inform the Colonel that we'll be staying tonight. We should also take stock of what ammo we have left and what food and water we can find in this place."

  CHAPTER 10

  The night went without incident. Sentries were posted at the only ways in and relieved every two hours, but nothing more was seen and no more zombies approached. Few of them slept for more than an hour or so.

  A couple of hours before dawn, Zoe succumbed to fatigue and she found herself wandering toward the conference room that had been selected for their rally point. The room had a long, oval table in it, comfortable, deep cushioned leather chairs surrounding it, and two couches of the same leather on one wall. There was a refrigerator that still had food and cans of soda in it, a pantry on one end with a small sink and even a few bottles of liquor were found. It was a comfortable room and two members of the team were already there when Zoe arrived, her hat pulled down low over her eyes and her rifle slung clumsily over her shoulder.

  She stopped inside and looked to one of the couches, seeing Zachary was already there, sitting on one end of the closest couch with a blanket over him. His head was down and resting in his palm, his elbow was propped on the arm of the couch and held his head up and he appeared to be dozing.

  Drawing a deep breath, Zoe yawned and stretched, then she took her rifle and leaned it against the wall beside the couch, right beside Zachary's, and padded over to him. Lifting one side of the blanket, she slipped under it with him and snuggled up to him, drawing her legs up beside her as she laid her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. She felt him settle the blanket over her shoulder, felt his other arm slip around her and he shifted, laying his cheek on top of her head.

  Both of them drifted off to sleep in a couple of minutes.

  **

  "Zach," someone said in a low voice.

  Zachary and Zoe both awakened to find his arm laying over her. She had settled into his lap at some point and had curled her arm under her head as she slept soundly across his thighs. They both drew deep breaths and Zoe pushed herself up, sitting somewhat upright beside him as she rubbed her eyes and tried to awaken. When they both looked ahead of them, they found three of the soldiers, including Private Higgins, standing in front of them with their weapons in their hands, and they were all staring down at the two.

  One of them motioned toward the door with his head and said, "Okay, lovebirds. We need you out front. Sun's up and we have movement out there."

  They both nodded and Zachary pulled the blanket from them. Neither spoke as they stood and looked for their weapons.

  Once outside, they discovered everyone but the engineer was already out there and it was safe to reason that he was attending the generators. The door faced east, the sun was still low and seeing into the distance and what was going on out there against the early morning sunlight was difficult at best as everyone shielded their eyes against the sun to see what was moving.

  "See how those in front are moving?" Alfred asked. "Those are mad-dogs. I count at least eight of 'em and a whole crew of others behind 'em."

  One of the soldiers, a corporal who had been one of the survivors, shook his head and grimly informed, "We have thirty-two rounds of two two three apiece."

  Higgins vented frustration in a hard breath and observed, "And there are a lot more of them out there than that."

  "You guys should get back inside," Zoe insisted.

  Alfred's eyes slid to the girl and he said, "Those mad-dogs'll be on you directly, sweet thing. It's best you come in with us."

  Zoe looked down to her M-4, and she pulled the bolt back and allowed it to chamber the first round with a loud clack. "I'll shoot them first. When they're gone there won't be any left to bother me."

  The Corporal took her shoulder and demanded, "What happens when you're out of ammo?"

  Hesitantly, she shrugged, her gaze fixed on her weapon. "I still have my pistol. Maybe Colonel Halstead will come back by the time I'm completely out of bullets."

  "I'll stay with you," Zachary assured.

  Zoe shook her head. "Thanks, but they'll try to eat you. I'll be okay." She finally looked up from her weapon, toward the advancing zombie hoard that numbered in the hundreds, and the handful that charged ahead of them. "You guys have to keep the power going for the hospital and you have to keep them away from Edward while he works on it." She looked over her shoulder to the Corporal. "I have to do what I can to help. I don't want to see anyone else I like eaten by them."

  He met her eyes with hard eyes of his own, and he could tell she was frightened as she looked bravely up at him. With a nod, he ordered in a loud voice, "Everybody pick a target. We're taking out the mad-dogs before we fall back." With that he raised his weapon to his eye and took careful aim.

  The charging mad-dogs were less than fifty yards away and closing the gap rapidly.

  Ten people raised their weapons, and when half of that fifty yards was gone, they all fired almost at once.

  Six of the eight mad-dogs were dropped immediately with that first volley, and the last two advanced only another three or four steps before being cut down as well.

  "All right," the Corporal ordered. "That's them. We'll fall back to a choke point at the end of the hallway and hold 'em as long as we can." He looked to Zoe again and ordered, "If it gets too intense out here then I want you to fall back, too. Find a safe place and wait for Colonel Halstead and reinforcements. We'll take care of business in there."

  "Yes, Sir," she complied. Turning to the threat as the others retreated inside the building, she held her rifle with a tight grip as she watched the rest advance on her with a relentless purpose. There were hundreds and she stood no chance of stopping them all, and she did not know if there were more mad-dogs among them. She raised her weapon and took aim at the first she saw, one that was just over eighty yards away. Perhaps she could not stop them all, but maybe all she needed to do was buy time.

  She squeezed her trigger.

  The round hit one in the shoulder, spinning him almost halfway around, but he recovered and kept advancing.

  "I need to be closer," she said aloud to herself. Fearlessly, she strode toward them, keeping her weapon at the ready. About twenty steps later she stopped and looked around her. They were coming from b
oth sides as well, an undead hoard she could not hope to stop.

  That familiar growl sounded from the left and she looked that way, then swung around, planted her feet as she had been taught and took careful aim, waiting until the charging mad-dog was about ten yards away before she fired.

  Her round hit his cheek and spun him around. He collapsed, but scrambled back to his feet and charged again, this time with the side of his face and part of his head missing.

  Slightly panicked, she aimed quickly and fired two more shots, hitting his eye and forehead, and this time he went down and stayed there.

  Four precious bullets were now gone. The rest of her shots had to count!

  Aiming carefully for foreheads and noses, she fired and dropped one, then another, and another. Though some of them stumbled over the fallen, they just kept coming! She backed away and looked to her right, seeing one walking faster than the others and right toward that open doorway, and he was only a few yards from her. Raising the weapon to her eye, she shot him squarely in the forehead, then watched as he dropped to his knees and slumped forward to the ground. Killing them was easy, but she knew she was running out of time and bullets.

  Zoe retreated slowly, firing and felling zombie after zombie, and soon her rifle made a final empty click. Her last magazine dropped to the ground as she lowered her weapon, then she crouched down and laid it on the ground as she watched the horror continue to advance. Standing again, she pulled out her revolver and aimed carefully with both hands. Once again she fired with precision and at very close range, making every last bullet count, and slowly she found herself retreating toward that doorway. She reloaded and shot six more, reloaded and did it again, reloaded and turned to cut off those from the side that were almost at the door. Her pistol ammunition was going just as fast and soon she would be out of ways to fight them.

  Loading her last six rounds, she did not fire right away, instead backing up to the doorway and looking around her as the zombies closed in from all sides.