The Zombie Road Omnibus

by David A. Simpson

  Daniel had taken gallons of camp stove fuel from the store and filled Snapple bottles with it, shoving soaked strips of designer t-shirts in the top as wicks. They had the canisters of butane, but unless they could shoot them in the air, they’d never see them once they were lost in the shuffling feet of the horde. It’d make a nice little boom if they could, though. Set a few heads on fire.

  Within minutes, the exit crew were making their way to the doors while the civilians and the presidential guard lined the storefronts and watched. It was a weird procession. Daniel had tried to get to know those people a little. They all seemed to fear the Marines, but were fawningly polite to them. It was like they knew they needed them but they distrusted them. It was almost as if they didn’t like them. Maybe all high up muckity muck politicians and wealthy foreigners were like that. He hadn’t been around such people before so he didn’t have anything to compare them to. Maybe it was just his imagination. Maybe all rich people looked on soldiers like they were the hired help, who were needed, but a nuisance nonetheless. Only the little kids gave them smiles and waves.

  The rest of his men were climbing up to the roof with their firebombs and extra cans of ammo. As soon as they got the diversion going, hopefully leading most of the undead away from the front doors, Daniel and his men would make a break for the Hummer.

  They stood waiting behind the dressing room panels they had put in front of the glass doors. When they heard the crack of the rifles and the quiet whoomph of the Molotov cocktails exploding, they quickly pulled the doors open and started attacking the snarling monsters remaining in front of them. They used their K-bars to sink into the spongy faces. The screeching horde running for the fireballs and bullets didn’t hear the squelching of seven-inch blades being punched into brains and quickly withdrawn. Daniel and the boys stabbed straight and true. Quick punches aimed for the eyes and pull back fast before they fell. The walking horrors were reeking of decay and many of them were crawling with maggots feasting on slowly rotting flesh. Their screams of rage and desire were husky, almost like a hiss, as dried and brittle vocal cords rattled in mindless fury. There were only about twenty of them, half with a useless arm or broken leg, and the six Marines left them in crumpled heaps as they swung steel and ran for the Hummer. They leaped over grasping things with trampled bodies and torn skin. By the time the hundreds of milling shufflers, too addled to know which way to go, sensed them, they were slamming the heavily armored doors and wiping blood splatter from their faces. The thumping of impotent fists on the bulletproof glass started almost immediately as the tail end of the horde turned toward them. Bonds hit the starter switch and watched, all of them impatient for the WAIT light to go out. It only took a few seconds, but like looking at the pot and waiting for it to boil, it seemed like an age. Filthy hands were slapping windows, faces were smearing yellowish liquids across the glass, and that otherworldly keen of hunger was coming from all of them. More and more were making their way over and although the big diesel had plenty of power and torque, nobody wanted to test it against five hundred bodies. The red WAIT light was just fading out when Bonds cranked it over to START and it thundered to life. With a practiced move, the emergency brake went down, the transfer case locked into high, the transmission was in drive and his foot was to the floor. The V-8 spun up quickly and all four wheels launched three tons of angry American iron into a crowd of hungry dead. Broken bodies flipped boneless over the roof and heavy treads ground undead flesh into the asphalt.

  “Get out on the road, get ahead of them before you circle around to the bay,” Daniel said, as Bonds tried to see past the bouncing bodies and gore-smeared windshield.

  “Working on it, sir,” he replied almost nonchalantly, bouncing a group of women wearing tattered yoga pants off the grill guard. Month old blood covering the front of their shirts was freshened with the black sludge splashing out of their own bodies as bones splintered through sagging skin and soccer mom flesh was shredded.

  He led the runners, the shamblers, the speed shufflers, and the crawlers out of the front entrance and kept the Hummer floored as he broke away from them and turned back toward the other entrance of the mall. They could see the bay door start to glide up and dozens of men on the roof aimed their weapons at anything undead shambling around in that area of the building. They could see the far end, where thousands had clustered around the explosions and gunshots. Dozens of burning bodies were still running in different directions, chasing the unnatural noises that something in their shriveled brains told them would lead to fresh blood.

  The snipers on the roof wouldn’t let them get too close to the building, it was brick and block, but they weren’t taking any chances. The only water they had was just a few cases from the food court shops, they didn’t have any to spare to put out fires if one happened to find purchase and start the building burning. Their numbers were unnerving, it must have been half the town. The gunshots would draw more, but if she were right, if there were an Army base of soldiers close by, that would work to their advantage. They could come in and mop up with their unlimited ammo supply.

  Daniel tugged at the collar of his flak vest and double checked the mirror on his side. The runners were darting after them as fast as they could, and the thousands at the edge of the crowd at the end of the building were turning to investigate the new noises. Hundreds broke loose from the herd and started after the Hummer, but they’d never cover the distance before the Hummer was safe inside and the garage door firmly locked in place behind it.

  There was applause when they came out of the maintenance area and back to the food court. Most of the civilians seemed genuinely happy, but the elite guard appeared put off. Like they were hoping for at least some casualties among them.

  The Marines kept themselves to themselves when they weren’t standing watch on the roof. Daniel set up a rotating guard detail with four of his men topside, always in full battle rattle. It seemed like they were safe, but danger could come from anywhere, at any time. They had liberated two-way radios and solar chargers from the sporting goods store and the Sears store that anchored one end of the mall. They could now communicate, but they still didn’t mingle with the others. Once, they’d seen a little boy get chastised because he’d talked to them. It was just a whole weird situation and they felt uncomfortable around the civilians. Stiff silences would fall if they came into the dining area to get something to eat, and even though what little food they were given was doled out with smiles, there seemed to be a mistrust just below the surface. All the guys felt it and would be glad when the other soldiers showed up. Their communications guy had told the crowd that he’d fixed the antenna and help would be here in a few days. Daniel had asked to talk to the officer in charge of the rescue so he could brief him on what to expect, but was curtly told that it was already taken care of.

  That’s what I’m afraid of, he thought, but kept his tongue. He was a junior officer, basically fresh out of training, and wasn’t sure of himself enough to push boundaries. The Corp instilled discipline deep so he kept his men busy with rotating guard shifts, weapons cleaning, and adapting techniques they already knew into zombie killing drills.

  18

  Daniel

  Daniel and the rest of the marines that weren’t patrolling the roof, sat in the break room of the t-shirt shop, drinking coffee cooked over a camp stove and eating knock-off MREs from the All-In-One sports store. Any of the places that had couches or beds, or any kind of comfort, had been claimed by the civilians. The soldiers were left with the trophy shop, the jewelry store, or the Tee-Shirt Shop. At least they could make the floors a little softer by layering them with overpriced designer Ts.

  They had been here a few days and the more they interacted with the other people, the less they liked them. Most of them were guarded around the marines, and all of them were vocal about their unacceptable situation. They complained constantly and the soldiers didn’t have to try very hard to overhear. Bonds had taken one of the walkie-talkies and broke
the push-to-talk button so it was always transmitting and placed it in a planter near where the civilians sat. Daniel wished they could have gotten one in the mall manager’s office, where the president had her meetings, but it was guarded by her black-clad elite guard. She didn’t need the marines anymore for that duty. They were required to patrol the roof.

  The picture that came together for them wasn’t pretty. The men and women had expected to ride out the apocalypse in comfort and luxury. Not sleeping in a mall, and surely not eating food unfit for their hired help, and most certainly not trapped by a horde of the undead. This was NOT supposed to have happened and the president needed to fix it, right now! They had been promised leadership roles in the new government. They had done things to ensure their place in the underground Ark to ride out the storm, and then come out when things were safe. Something had gone wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be this bad. They’d been told there was a civil war coming and it would all be over in a year. They would emerge and take over the remnants of the government and lead the world into an enlightened age after all the riffraff had been eliminated. But the event was triggered years earlier than it was supposed to be. The Ark wasn’t ready, and somehow a rogue government was trying to take over and they were going to nuke the bunker. They were going to kill the president, and all of them, too.

  “If these assholes are the new America, I might just go to the other side,” Jimenez said as they discussed what they’d learned over the past couple of days.

  “Yeah,” Bonds agreed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say these people helped this virus along. It seems like they were planning on maybe infecting half the people and letting the other half battle it out. Then, when the war was over, they’d step out of their bunkers and take over.”

  “The only problem is, we ain’t that dumb,” Davis said, nibbling on his freeze-dried ice cream. “If we figured it out, everybody else will, too. They may have got a few scumbag generals to go along with the plan, but not every grunt. Me, I’d put a bullet in anybody and everybody I found who knew about it.”

  There was a quiet acknowledgment from the Marines gathered.

  “We’ve got to keep this quiet for now, boys,” Daniel said “We could take out those clowns she has for guards, but we’re outnumbered and outgunned. We’d lose some guys. We need to wait for the cavalry to come and get us out of here, and we can let them know what’s going on. We need to get in contact with that other government, that general with the nukes. For all we know, they’re legit and we’re running with the enemy.”

  “I bet you’re right,” Baker said. “I bet we’re on the wrong team.”

  One of the black-clad men barged into the shop and yelled for them to hurry and gear up, the rescue soldiers were only a few miles out. Before he could storm back out, one of the guys on the roof radioed in, saying he could hear a lot of vehicles coming. The marines sprang to their feet, uneaten meals tossed aside. It only took seconds for them to grab their gear and Daniel asked for the hundredth time, what the plan was.

  “We’re going to need the bus, it still has enough fuel to get away. When our men clear a path, take all of your soldiers and get to it. You’ll fall in line with the convoy, don’t worry about picking up any of the civilians.”

  That was the stupidest thing Daniel had heard all day and started to refuse, but then they heard the big .50s open up and a deafening roar from the gathered thousands outside. The cavalry was here. Daniel signaled his men and they ran out, armored with the sporting gear. First things first, he thought. They would get out of this mall and at the earliest opportunity, he’d find out who was in charge of the rescue company. He didn’t care if it was the Army Reserves or National Guard, they had the vehicles and the firepower to wade through a few thousand dead. He’d find out where they stood with this whole struggle for control of the country before he made his next move. By now, he felt certain he was on the wrong team. If the rescuers were all-in supporting her, he and his men would slip away and find out where the other side was. Find out if it was legit, or if the whole world was filled with power-mad despots with an unquenchable desire to destroy. If they didn’t have idiots ordering them around, they would do just fine by themselves. Daniel had never considered treason before, but this sure didn’t feel like it. It felt like it would be treasonous to stay.

  They lined up at the front doors closest to the gas station and waited while the teeming undead ran after the MRAPs spitting lead at them. Thousands of them chased the heavily armored trucks and the men in the turrets aimed at the masses, the .50 caliber bullets tearing through them and blowing chunks of meat out of bodies twenty deep. They raked the hordes mercilessly, ripping the closest ones nearly in half with the impact. Blood and organs and bones splashed and splintered, and the swarm kept chasing them, stumbling over the fallen body parts.

  There were only fifteen or twenty of the diehard undead left pawing at the entrance, excited by the movement inside as the marines pulled down the panels and got ready to open the doors. As the heavily armored trucks turned out of the parking lot, a spray of bullets peppered the front of the mall and raked across the top of the doors, shattering them. The marines dove to the floor in a clash of plastic armor and padded flak vests, cursing the idiots manning the turrets.

  “Gotta be POGs,” Daniel heard before the deafening sound of a half dozen M-4s opened up on the undead clawing their way through the broken glass. Reaching hands and keening faces shattered and fell to the ground.

  “Let’s go!” Daniel shouted and his team of nearly twenty men sprang to their feet and darted for the bus a quarter mile away. The MRAPs were leading most of the horde off, spraying back and forth into them and leaving broken and trampled bodies in their wake. The slowest ones at the back of the pack and the crawlers turned to the sound of small arms fire and running feet, but they were quickly peppered with bullets as the Marines dashed by. Coming from the other end of the parking lot, Daniel saw a small contingent of Humvees and hastily armored tour buses pulling up to the mall doors.

  He didn’t understand why they needed the crappy school bus if they had those, but it was too late to change plans now. Maybe all the guards and Marines were supposed to ride on the school bus. Figures, he thought. The high and mighty don’t want to get too close to the hired help.

  Bonds was in the lead, running and gunning his way to the bus, with twenty men trailing behind him. Daniel was bringing up the rear and saw the elite guard spread out along the entrance. They started shooting at anything heading toward them as the civilians all ran for the buses.

  The MRAPs had circled the block and were coming right back toward them. Too soon, Daniel raged, Too soon! They should have gone another half mile, at least. They were destroying hundreds of them, the big bullets ripping bodies to bits but they weren’t killing many of them. Broken bodies with missing limbs and blown open bellies were trailing their innards, but they were still coming, still following. The rear of the crowd hadn’t even disappeared from sight and they were turning to run directly at the MRAPs. Daniel was breathing heavily, the weight of the vest and the extra magazines of ammo adding thirty pounds to his quarter mile sprint. He faced to the rear as Jimenez started up the bus and the last of his men clambered aboard, double tapping the closest runners. All three of the MRAPs were headed right for them, right back into the gas station.

  He barely had time to register their dumbass maneuver when the first one opened up with the .50 caliber, the gunner aiming right for him. Daniel dove for the ground again, the second time these shitheads had sent lead his way but this time there was no mistaking it, they were aiming to kill.

  The heavy bullets punched right through the vests of his men caught running down the aisles of the bus, windows shattering, red tracer rounds walking in to find their targets. Daniel rolled under the rocking chassis of the bus and scrabbled across the blacktop for one of the Hummers, throwing himself behind a wheel. The next MRAP in line followed the first, his .50 chewing up the bullet-riddled b
us even more. Water spurted from the radiator, diesel fuel splashed and mingled with the blood pouring out of the holes in the floor as he raked the tin coffin, trying to walk the tracers along the aisle to kill anyone still moving. Daniel stared in rage as the third came by, following the same pattern of walking the bullets in, utterly destroying anything left alive, all of his men punctured dozens of times, the flak vests doing nothing to slow the rounds. He caught a glimpse of the man in the turret as he swung the .50. Dark skinned, big bearded and a broad, happy, snaggletooth smile as he yelled Allahu Akbar over the thunder of the gun. Daniel couldn’t deal with it. They’d been double-crossed and he screamed in rage. He rolled out from the under the Humvee and shouldered his rifle, flipping the selector to full auto, aiming for the bearded bastard’s smiling face. He started low, let the gun climb on its own and was pleased to see the face turn from glee to surprise to pain as the bullets tore through his body. He fell back down inside the fast departing vehicle, then Daniel was up and running away from the screaming horde that was tearing into the little gas station. He ran for the farthest Hummer and ripped open the door as the filthy undead hands grasped for him. He had to go, and fast. The MRAPs were already circling around for the next pass, the lumbering trucks turning in wide arcs. Daniel fired it up and floored it. He didn’t want them making another pass at the bus. There was the slightest chance the thousands of rounds they sent into it may have missed someone. One of his soldiers might still be alive. He raced out of the parking lot, watching the tour buses take off in the other direction. He hoped the MRAPs would forget him, go protect that traitorous slag. Two of them did, but the third took the time to make another pass at the gas station, this time not shooting at the bus at the back of the line, but directly at the pumps. The tracer rounds found their mark and within seconds, an explosion rocked the buildings, blowing out windows and doors. A fireball mushroomed high in the sky and flames shot from the underground tanks. The undead were blown off their feet and instantly incinerated for hundreds of yards in all directions. The rest of the mob found themselves doused in flames and month-old clothes caught immediately. They didn’t seem to notice until their eyes were melting from their heads and they were reduced to stumbling in circles until they finally collapsed.