by William Bebb
Shoemaker pumped the shotgun as he exited the van and ran toward the distant truck. He spotted the person creeping along the top of the wall a few minutes earlier and knew from the way they moved that they weren't crazy. When he saw whoever it was fall or jump from the roof he realized they'd be dead if he didn't try and help.
Agent Dudley, watching from the door of one of the trailers, only waited a second after he spotted Shoemaker running before he ran after him. I will not hide here like a coward. It's time to put an end to this nightmare, he thought while reaching up, patted his buttoned shirt pocket and confirmed the phone inside it, before sprinting harder.
Sweat poured into his eyes as Shoemaker ran. He swerved around a pile of rotten lumber and wished his uniform was a lighter color. It's fucking New Mexico! What moronic bureaucrat in Washington D.C. decided black was a good color to wear in this heat? He wondered while running.
Behind the pile of lumber, a bloody little boy who might have been five or six years old wearing a blood splattered yellow smiley face shirt trotted toward him with the remains of a dead bird in one hand and a knife raised in the other.
Oh God! Shoemaker thought and fired at the child's head.
It disintegrated and the small body swayed as the bird and knife fell in the dust and Shoemaker felt he was going to throw up. Seconds after he ran by, he clearly heard the boy's headless body fall with a thud. Trying not to cry he ran on. It was a kid! Just a damn kid! What the Hell is going on?
The world seemed to be spinning and he stumbled forward in shock. Tears were running down his cheeks as he neared the truck.
A movement coming up fast from the left caught his attention. He saw the black uniform and the figure running faster than him and realized whoever it was would reach the girl before he could. Not pausing to think, he took aim and fired the shotgun.
Dudley watched for crazy people as he ran to the girl. So he never even saw Shoemaker shoot him, but he damn well heard and felt it. Hundreds of shotgun pellets hit him along his back and he collapsed face first to the dusty ground. He was sprawled in the dust and through his confusion he knew one thing for certain. Shoemaker shot me! Motherfucker! Then he shuddered and felt his consciousness drifting away. He stared at the industriously crawling ants a few inches from his face then closed his eyes.
Maria was crying and shaking under the rear of the truck when Shoemaker arrived.
“It's okay. My name's Jerry, just relax,” he said, wiping his face and watching the smoke rising from the burning cars and bus.
“My ankle, I think it's broken,” she whispered, as he looked down at it.
“I think you might be right. Just stay calm,” Shoemaker said, slinging the shotgun's strap over his shoulder and picking her up. He carried her to the truck cab and gently got her in the passenger seat.
“They're heading this way,” she gasped, looking behind him.
He closed the passenger door turned and readied the shotgun.
“Yeah, I hear them. Get the truck started!” He shouted.
Damn they're close. Where did they all come from? He wondered, upon recognizing that the closest two were Crawford and Minarges.
They were screaming and moving very fast.
He started firing.
Inside the truck, Maria saw the keys weren’t in the ignition. As Shoemaker started firing, she flipped down the visors and then opened the glove box to search for the keys. She found a pack of cigarettes, a roll of antacids, dozens of receipts, some coins, and dozens of small plastic packets of hot sauce but no keys.
Josey heard the shotgun blast when Shoemaker shot Dudley, as did the group of Screamers and Dead Heads that had begun wandering aimlessly around near the burning cars.
A scream rose out of the crowd followed by others as they turned and ran after the man toting a shotgun. Several of them joined in a chorus of Hellish screams while running.
They're going to beat me to the truck. Damn knee, he thought while half limping and half running toward the truck. Trying to move a little faster, he reached down and patted his pants pocket. He felt the familiar bulge of the key ring.
Shoemaker blasted the charging group, but there were just too damn many. Plus, he hadn't taken into account Minarges and Crawford's bullet proof vests. After they both got back up after being shot, he aimed for their legs and they fell to the ground only yards away. Backing around to the front of the truck while continuing to fire, he felt something grab onto his boot. He looked down and saw a man missing one leg entirely the other one was a mangled bloody mess.
Clutching Shoemaker's boot, the one legged undead man pulled closer and bit into Shoemaker's shin. After hitting him with the barrel, he pointed the shotgun at the man's head and pulled the trigger. It made an anti climatic click sound. The shotgun was empty.
As he reached for his pistol a shadow fell on him. It was a big man and the sun was behind him making his face impossible to see. Shoemaker was still pulling his gun from the holster when there was a swishing sound and a long shiny blade of metal flashed by him and into the head of the man on the ground.
“You best aim behind you,” Josey said, limping over to stand beside him.
Shoemaker stared at the big man that was wearing a brown leather coat with a bright red swastika armband on the sleeve.
“Name's Josey!” the big, oddly attired, man yelled while stabbing the closest approaching screaming man in the head.
“Jerry! Nice coat, you got a key for this damn truck?!” he yelled back, while taking aim and firing at the approaching hoard of undead. The pistol fired fast, but the people crawling closer on the ground were only seconds away.
“Hell yes! Get your ass inside!” Josey shouted and limped around to the driver side door. He climbed up into the truck cab as Shoemaker backed around to the passenger side door.
A huge, bloody, wild eyed, Sazera ran through the crowd and tackled Shoemaker while he was trying to get into the truck.
Josey climbed in and noticed that the glove box had been opened and ransacked.
“I was looking for a key,” Maria explained, looking uneasily at Josey’s long bloody sword.
Josey slammed the key in the ignition and turned it savagely. The engine coughed as he pumped the gas pedal then roared to life. He yelled, “Jerry! Get in!” at the man he'd recently met.
Shoemaker wanted to get in. He truly did. But Sazera had slammed him against the passenger side door and now others were tearing at him. He felt a sharp pain and saw Crawford had managed to crawl over and was biting at one of his lower legs. Shoemaker continued to fire his gun as his screams joined Sazera's and the others while they dragged him to the ground. He kept pulling the trigger even after the gun was empty and he felt more teeth tearing into his flesh.
Maria clutched the knife she'd found in the Remlap attic and scooted against Josey as she screamed and watched Shoemaker fall.
Josey put the truck in first gear and stomped on the gas pedal. The truck moved a few inches then abruptly stopped. “The damn hose is still hooked up,” he muttered, pushing the gas pedal and releasing the clutch.
It will rip loose. It has got to rip loose. Rip, Damn it! Rip! He thought frantically.
He pushed the accelerator harder and let the clutch out all the way. The back tires of the truck spun in place sending up a great cloud of dust and the smell of burning rubber quickly filled the air.
Maria screamed while Josey kept his foot stamped down on the gas pedal as the crowd began to beat on the truck.
A brick hit the windshield. The impact made a crack appear that ran across its length. Several arms reached in through the broken passenger side window and the truck cab was being rocked side to side by the horde.
Maria scooted as close to Josey as she could without climbing into his lap.
CRAP! The stupid hose won't rip. We’re dead, he realized while keeping his foot pressed firmly on the gas pedal.
Dudley smelled burning rubber, heard an engine roaring, and a lot of screaming. It was all combining t
o give him a colossal headache. Slitting opening his eyes, he saw the truck's rear tires spinning and heard yells coming from inside the cab. He tried to stand but felt much too tired. Plus, his right leg wouldn't move very much. Closing his eyes, he thought, damn, can't they just let me die in peace and quiet?
The combined noises were like brilliant flashes of painful light going off in his head. He opened his eyes, spotted a long hose attached to the back of the truck and saw it was responsible for the spinning tires.
Like an anchor on a boat, he dimly thought. Dudley pulled his gun, almost dropped it, heard a woman screaming from inside the truck and took aim. He fired five times before again feeling himself losing consciousness.
The first two bullets missed the hose entirely. The last three hit it; shredding the thick material. Dudley heard the truck moving away as he once more collapsed face first in the dust.
The truck was finally free and sped across the dusty park.
A few zombies managed to hang on to it for awhile before they fell off.
Josey found second gear and turned for the exit. The police car had ruptured the fuel tanks under the bus when it hit. The inferno of burning cars filled the road and the fire had spread to the closest trailer.
He considered ramming the cars anyway and hoping for the best when the wrecked van flipped into the air as its gas tank exploded. The exit was hopelessly clogged by fire and Josey knew it.
Inside the van, gallons of paint thinner added to the bonfire and Josey pounded the steering wheel in frustration.
“What the hell am I supposed to do now?” Josey asked, as they stared at the blocked exit.
“Um... Who are you?” Maria asked.
“I’m Josey and we need to find another way out of this valley. Do you know of another road?” he asked, looking around while driving along the park’s main oval shaped road.
Maria shook her head and winced from the pain of her broken ankle. “I've lived here two years and the only way to drive out is that road. Besides you wouldn't really leave the others would you? There is a little boy and his grandfather who live over there,” she said, pointing at the colonel's trailer.
Josey looked uncomfortable as he said, “Of course not. And, yes, I've met the colonel and Billy. But I've been thinking a lot about how this whole situation reminds me of some movies and even a video game I used to play. The dead would start taking over the world and the government solution was always the same; Drop a nuclear bomb or just shoot everyone whether they were infected or not.”
“This is real life, not some dumb video game. The government would never do something as horrible as that,” she said... looked confused for a second and asked, “Would they?”
“I have no idea, but I do know I don't want to take that chance. Do you?”
“No, but what can we do?”
“Where does that road over there go?” he asked, driving around trying to think what to do next.
“It goes a mile or two to the trash dump and before you ask, there’s no way to drive out down there if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Josey looked at her and said, “I need to think of a plan. And I can't think straight with all these nuts running around screaming.”
Swerving around a trailer that was painted an odd bright neon purple color, he drove up the road to the trash dump. The road was bumpy and climbed slowly. As they went down the other side of the small hill he saw a huge ditch about three quarters of a mile ahead and a big circular turnaround area at the end of the road.
“See,” Maria said, sounding more than a little annoyed. “I told you the road doesn't go anywhere. Now what do we do?”
Josey looked intently around for any people, drove to the end of the road, and turned the truck so it was facing back toward the park. He shut off the engine and laid his forehead against the steering wheel. Still resting, he unrolled his window and sighed as a slight breeze blew through the truck cab.
“Do you hear that?” He asked after a few moments, with his forehead still against the wheel.
“I don't hear anything,” she said, looking outside nervously.
“I know. It's nice, isn't it? Could you reach down there by your foot and grab my lunchbox?” He asked, slowly leaning back in the seat.
“You want to eat, now? Are you serious?” She asked, without moving to get the lunchbox. Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed as she stared at the large and apparently crazy man.
“Don't worry. I'll share.” He held out one of the two bottles of water that he pulled out of a coat pocket and smiled at her. His eyes were bloodshot and his hand holding the bottle out to her shook slightly, but his small tired smile was somehow comforting.
Maria found herself inexplicably liking this strange man. She took the water bottle, picked up his dented lunch box from the floor of the truck, and gave it to him.
He opened it and handed her an apple. “I'll split the brownie with you for dessert,” he said, taking his sandwich out of the plastic bag and biting half of it. Closing his eyes, he chewed the day and a half old baloney, cheese and peanut butter sandwich and thought it tasted like the best thing he'd eaten in a long time. He heard Maria bite into the apple and opened an eye. Still slowly chewing, he thought about her. I wonder if she's got a boyfriend. What am I thinking? She's beautiful... of course she's got a boyfriend.
The apple was almost hot from being in the truck all day and it wasn't red like she usually ate, but it was perhaps the best tasting apple Maria had ever eaten. She ate it slowly and tried not to worry. Though it seemed probable this could be her last meal before dying, she also tried to keep from sneaking peeks at the big man sitting next to her.
He's so big. He looks like a wrestler or a football player. I wonder why he drives this stinky truck, she wondered, while subtly trying to see if he had a wedding ring on his finger.
They ate the rest of the lunch in silence. Both lost in their own thoughts as they stared down the dusty road that led back to the trailer park. They saw smoke rising into the flawlessly dark blue sky. A breeze came from the west cooling them as they rested and the same wind dissipated the smoke before it rose very high into the sky. No one outside the valley will see the smoke with the wind blowing it away. Crap! If someone saw the smoke and called for help at least somebody would know how screwed we are, Josey realized.
After he split the chocolate brownie with walnuts and gave her half, he finally broke the silence. “You keep your eyes on the road. If you should see any of them coming this way honk the horn. I’ll be back in just a few minutes,” he said, then shoved his half of the brownie into his mouth.
“What are you going to do? Where are you going?” she asked, grabbing his muscular arm nervously.
He felt an odd thrill run up his arm at her touch. Josey stopped, sipped some water and worked to swallow his dessert while raising a finger as if to say without words wait a second. He wasn't sure, but thought he got goose bumps when she touched his arm. Josey tried to speak, coughed then swallowed the rest of his dessert, took another sip of water, and tried again, “I think I have an idea. If I can find something to cover the windows... just remember to honk if you see any of them coming. I won't be long. I promise,” he said, wishing she'd grab his arm again.
Josey climbed out of the truck, held the sword and limped away in search of anything useful in the trash dump.