Ranger Martin and the Zombie Apocalypse

by Jack Flacco

  “Thanks.” Ranger said, smiled and turned an awful red color.

  “No need to look away all bashful-like, Ranger.” Matty hid her weapon, “Even the best of us makes mistakes.”

  “Who said I made a mistake? I was only seeing if y’all would participate in the party.”

  “He missed.” Randy nodded.

  “Totally missed.” Matty agreed.

  Ranger shook his head, revealing a grin from the corner of his mouth.

  * * *

  That same evening, the group headed back to retrieve the second truck, then scooted east across I-80 to the Nevada/Utah border, and crashed a hotel with a working indoor pool in the small town of Wallenberg, Nevada, one hundred and twenty miles west of Temple City, Utah. They stayed until late in the afternoon the next day where they rested and prepared for the final leg of their destination: Worship Square. They won’t know what they’d find, but they knew their purpose. Destroy anything that crawled in search of human flesh.

  Chapter 16

  When the last sliver of orange light disappeared over the horizon, they arrived at the outskirts of Temple City. Bodies in various states of decomposition lay strewn on Maple Road traveling into the suburbs. The rancid odor of death floated thick in the air, penetrating a crack in the window of the first Rover with Ranger, Wildside and Jon. Ranger covered his nose and mouth with his hand, and rolled up the window. Many of the bodies had parts missing. Partial legs torn from the hips, broken arms thrown in ditches, torsos and heads separated from one another. The zombies had eaten through anything human. The head of one victim remained impaled on a tree branch, while the crows fed on the sunken eyes.

  Through the passenger window of the second truck, Matty gawked at the horrid sight. At one point she closed her eyes, pressed her head against the glass, and held her stomach tight as the vehicle cruised slowly through the city limits entering the neighborhoods. She didn’t know what was worse, the images she tried desperately to remove from her eyes or knowing how the victims must have suffered at the hands of the changed. When she regained her focus, it didn’t get any better. The homes had partially broken glass hanging from the windowpanes. Dry spray patterns of blood covered doorposts and porches. In one front yard, what at first appeared as a garden hose, under closer examination she realized it did not have a nozzle. The brownish beige look sent shivers running along her spine. As he drove, Randy gently rested his hand on her shoulder for comfort. She knew then it was not a garden hose at all, but entrails that led to the torso of a man in his mid fifties, propped on a picket fence, as if an eater had placed it there on purpose for the very act of disemboweling him. This time, Matty turned away, unable to look at the evil deeds of the creatures that had no humanity left in them.

  Ranger maintained a slow pace to his vehicle, staring at the devastation the eaters had left behind from their rampage of the once-bustling neighborhood. The worst had yet to come. As the vehicles approached an ordinary house, Ranger spotted them first. Out in front of the sidewalk, a family of five lay. Maggots had already begun to feast. The little girl had nothing left of her abdomen but a hole. The little boy’s eyes had left him, and the baby’s head rested in the severed arms of its mother. It lay there in an apparent state without anything else to it. The mother’s clothes, torn to shreds, could not cover her inner thighs spread on the sidewalk, chewed to the bone. Her uterus, ripped from her. The eater that had consumed her did so with the specific purpose to inflict the most dehumanizing damage. A few feet away, Ranger then saw the father. His head, jammed in the body’s cavity, left behind as a warning to others that their fate would be the same if they attempted to end the feasting. Even Ranger could not believe the zombies that had committed such atrocities could have possessed a conscience. Strong stomach or not, he, too, turned his attention away from the bloodletting.

  As the vehicles drifted from the suburban neighborhoods, they passed homes, gardens, buildings, and alleys where nothing moved, crawled or slithered in the night. Before leaving Wallenberg, Ranger had said he didn’t think their commute to the city would have yielded evidence of life, but he didn’t think the devastation they encountered would have spanned this far from the city’s center as it did either.

  When the vehicles came upon the industrial areas, the factory lights operated as usual. The fires from the steel mills continued to burn. And the skies remained darkened by the billows of smoke. Although the streets lay bare, the group sensed a presence they had yet to discover. The sounds of machinery spilled into the distance where the Range Rovers trekked. Careful not to call attention, the vehicles rode without lights. The street lamps illuminated the way.

  Rubbing his stomach, a loud rumble consumed Jon. Wildside’s stomach wouldn’t keep quiet either. Hearing the commotion, Ranger stopped the vehicle behind Douglas Cartage’s warehouse parking lot, popped the trunk, and distributed a few cans of food to everyone. They ate in the trucks, throwing away the extra portions in a dumpster by the side of the building. Once they gathered their belongings to leave, it happened. Randy noticed it first, thinking it as an illusion. But then Matty saw it too. A shadow had passed a dingy window on the second floor of the warehouse. When it happened again, it looked too tall and quick for it to have gone unnoticed as one of the undead. Jon began to shake. He tugged at Ranger’s shirtsleeve, pointing his trembling finger at the vehicle in silence. Under no circumstances did he want to know who or what roamed in that place. Ranger seized his shotgun and eased Jon into the Rover. With a decided step, he then slipped to the back seat, grabbed a military rifle from the storage compartment, and tossed it to Wildside. Lastly, without a word, he motioned to Randy and Matty to stay with Jon. Ranger wanted Wildside with him.

  * * *

  Unsure what they’d find, Ranger led the way for Wildside through a rusty door by the side of Douglas Cartage. A greenish-brown light lit the entrance for the pair investigating the mysterious shadow. Inside the warehouse, they saw crates and boxes on skids ready for shipping. Somebody ought to have said something to the shipper because it appeared no trucks had picked up anything for a while. A fan rotated on the corner of one of the desks of the Shipping/Receiving area.

  A few steps behind, sticking close to the wall on the right, Wildside monitored their flanks through the corridor and maze of offices on the right from the door. Cradling his assault rifle in both hands, not a thing would threaten their security. He would make sure of that. It didn’t take long for something to grab his attention, though. On the left, a pile of scattered papers stretched from one side of an office floor to the other. The filing cabinets had broken locks and files thrown askew. Someone wanted something. Either they found it or they made a mess of everything for the fun of it.

  The eagle eye Ranger sported whenever something was not right suddenly appeared. A weight pressed against his chest, freezing him mid-breath. He couldn’t miss it, a green stain on the doorpost of one of the offices. Wildside’s blood drained from his face seeing it too. The kid needed more time to process the new find. He didn’t feel ready for a firefight. Even though he knew he could take the zombies having only their hands and teeth as weapons, he shook at imagining such a scenario.

  It didn’t faze Ranger. He looked forward to blowing away another villain. His eyes filled with lust and his step bounced with desire. He would do anything to protect Wildside from the zombies’ evil clutches and meat-eating ways. He wanted to get into a fight with them, he looked forward to it. And he knew he would win.

  As Ranger continued forward through the corridors, Wildside ducked into the office with the paper-laden floor. Whatever fear he had felt, had all but disappeared. The curiosity flooding his face needed satisfying. Who made this mess? What were they after? Was it the undead? Did the military have anything to do with it? Where did everyone go?

  Trusting Wildside would make his way back to him, Ranger drifted from one room to another. Each office had equipment similar to the other, a phone, a desk, and some filing cabinets. Some offices h
ad windows, while others not. Ranger’s interest seized him to want to find what the filing cabinets contained. He didn’t have to try. At random, with a tug from his forefinger he opened one of them with ease. Placing his weapon on the top of the cabinet, he perused the files, much as he did when he found the map at Matthew Airbase.

  In the other office, Wildside kept his weapon close while he scanned the floor of the large space. Nothing popped into view to make him want to stop and stare. Why should there be? They happened to have entered into the warehouse by chance, without reason or design.

  But for Ranger, his focus fell on the shipping documents. Flipping through them, a reoccurring item kept appearing. Vast shipments of Demerol, a drug to ease pain after surgery, had shipped at a hospital in the downtown core at two-to-three day intervals. Why would anyone need so much Demerol? Those victims changed by the alien craft didn’t look like they had any pain killers when lifted into the sky.

  At that point, Wildside snuck to Ranger’s side, nudged him and gave him a nod. Retrieving his weapon, Ranger followed him into the next room where the kid gave him a file and waited for his reaction. Ranger’s eyes burst in surprise. This filled Wildside’s mouth with a gleaming grin. Without a word, Ranger bent the file in half and slipped it into his pants. No sooner had he covered the find with his shirt that a thump echoed from the top of the stairs. The sound alerted them to arm their weapons. Ranger had no qualms engaging with anything non-human. His blood coursed vengeance, and in his off-hours, he had gone looking for beasts to kill. Wildside, however, needed some time to consider his fate.

  No time to ponder, another thump rattled from overhead. At the end of the corridor, Ranger and Wildside scurried in a silent run to the top of the stairs. They then rested for a time in silence to listen for more sounds, but the darkness didn’t surrender its prey.

  Another long corridor stretched before them. Doors on either side, Ranger noticed light coming from the cracks under the two doors on his right. All three doors remained shut. He signaled Wildside to creep to the other side of the first door on the right. Ranger’s plan involved taking the first door, the second, then the one on the left. Ranger gripped the doorknob.

  On three. One. Two. Three.

  With a slow push, he entered first. Wildside followed soon after. A light hanging from the ceiling lit the bare room. A desk stood to the side. There was nothing else of interest. Another signal to Wildside, and they left. On they went to the next room on the right. Again, Ranger stood to one side of the door while Wildside on the other.

  On three. One. Two. Three.

  Ranger eased the door open to find a plastic bag dancing in the center of the room with a fan giving it life. As it floated to and fro, it cast a larger shadow the further from the light it went. From the outside, the floating bag looked alive. They smiled, dropping their guns, relieved. If they could have taken back the next few moments, they would have in an instant. They would have gone further by taking back the idea of even going into the warehouse. They would have driven away, ignoring the shadow at the window of Douglas Cartage.

  They didn’t have a chance when the creature showed up at the door in full compliment of scabs, rotting flesh and tattered clothes. Ranger’s reflexes jumped for his weapon, but the eater jumped Wildside from behind and tore into his neck. Before it made permanent damage, Ranger cracked the butt of his shotgun into the zombie’s face. Once stunned, he then pointed his muzzle into the beast’s mouth and wiped out everything from the neck up, scattering its skull over the adjacent wall. Green covered everything, from the wall to the floor where the body dropped leaving a flood of goo behind.

  Pulling a bandana from his pocket, Ranger threw it at Wildside to wrap the back of his neck to stop the bleeding. Once he had it on, they ran from the room into a trap of flesh-huggers, alerted by the shotgun blast Ranger had let loose. Wildside sneered at the evil spawns. The pain in the neck made him do weird and wonderful things. He dropped the first with a volley to the face. While Ranger stood behind merrily waiting his turn, Wildside let the second one have it once in the chest, prompting the zombie to squeal in agony. He meant to deliver the first blow that way in order to inflict as much pain as he possibly could, his choice of justified vengeance for the bite burning the back of his neck. He waited until the zombie came after him again before he pulled the trigger on its rancid face.

  When the pair came to the top of the stairs, five undead blocked the exit below. Like a ballet, they veered right, sprinting on the balcony adjacent to the wall. It took thirty-five feet before they encountered ten of the belly-suckers. Too many. They darted back, but instead of the five at the foot of the stairs, another three joined the climb. More walked the floor below. The zombie killers had no choice. They had to shoot their way out.

  With guns in hand, they checked their ammo. They were good. They patted each other on the back and began their descent into the abyss of death. But before Ranger even let off a shot, Wildside pushed the shotgun aside and pointed at a water hose embedded into the wall next to Ranger. Meant for fires, they smiled at each other thinking the same thing. Let’s have some fun.

  Ranger holstered his weapon while Wildside ran to prepare the hose. He unraveled it, passing the access to Ranger. Meanwhile, the living corpses had made it halfway up the stairs, pressing forward, unrelenting, with dead eyes and a steady pace.

  When Ranger had a firm hold of the hose, he gave the signal to Wildside to run water. Wildside placed both hands on the wheel and turned. It didn’t move. Great. He tried again, this time leaning his weight against the wheel for the turns. No luck, it still didn’t budge. The belly-rippers kept marching upward. A few feet remained between them and their dinner.

  Wildside noticed a crowbar in the casing where the water hose had rested. One last try. He grabbed the tool, slipped it in between the rungs of the wheel and cranked it hard. It squeaked. He remained focused, putting more force to the edge of the bar, again using his body as leverage. It began to move. Wildside’s eyes popped in delight. The zombies had almost reached the top when they began swiping at Ranger as he walked backward.

  Soon enough, the water flowed. Wildside jumped in excitement, turning the wheel more and more with ease, releasing a deluge on the rotting corpses. Ranger’s laughter sounded like that of a madman missing none of them with his newfound canon. Overwhelmed by the power of the current, the zombies tumbled the stairs. One after another, they collapsed like dominoes. How water, an element so relieving in a warm bath, can drown and kill still remains as one of nature’s true paradoxes.

  Ranger made it halfway down the stairs as Wildside held a section of the hose steady. No way could anything escape the onslaught of the pounding waves. But a problem remained. Although they laughed and snickered with the water clearing the way to office area, the undead still remained undead. If they needed to get out of there alive, they had to put away their fun and use their guns.

  About three-quarters the way down the stairs, the water pressure waned, a trickle of water dribbled from the end of their hose before altogether stopping. The zombies slowly rose, their clothes drenched, streams pouring from their soaked hair, they roamed again to the foot of the stairs. The larger horde that had appeared earlier on the balcony blocked the way to the top. Ranger and Wildside stood in the middle, trapped in both directions.

  * * *

  “I think we should go in there.” Jon said, sitting and staring in the backseat of the Rover. “I think we should help out.” He kept his eyes fixed at the entryway to Douglas Cartage.

  “Ranger said for us to stay put.” Randy said, also staring at the door to the warehouse.

  “When have we ever listened to Ranger?” Matty asked.

  A few seconds later, shots rang out starling the kids from their seats. With every blast, white flashes illuminated the windows of the warehouse. One after another, each discharge echoed louder than the last.

  “I’m going in there.” Matty opened the door to the vehicle.

&nbs
p; “No.” Randy pulled her back in by the arm, and lied. “Jon needs you here.”

  “No I don’t.”

  Matty glanced at his grip then settled her eyes on his.

  “Stay here.” Randy whispered. “Don’t.” His voice trailed off. Somehow he knew if she left, she wouldn’t come back alive. It wasn’t a sixth sense at all. More like a hunch he couldn’t shake. He let go of her arm knowing she had to make her own decision.

  She thought he had never made himself so vulnerable to her. Why now? She blushed and felt flustered. Had he just said he liked her? Is that what he did? Gunshots rang throughout the warehouse. No matter what she felt, Ranger and Wildside had gone through it all before. This wasn’t new to them. What Randy did was different. Special. She enjoyed his friendship, and wanted to make him happy.

  Flashing a warm smile, he wanted her to know he’ll protect her no matter what. Above all else, he wanted her to know he cared for her. He enjoyed her friendship, and didn’t want to lose her to some stupid zombie with a grudge to eat her whole if it had its way.

  Just then when Matty was about to give her answer, Ranger and Wildside smashed through the door. A group of cadavers followed. Ranger let off a blast and helped Wildside into the car. Blood spurted from the bite on the back of the kid’s neck. He began to wobble. Ranger gave the signal for the others to follow with their vehicle. Pronto!

  As fast as he could, Randy hopped into the driver’s side, turned over the engine, and followed Ranger to safety, leaving the zombies to feed off the dust from their disappearance.