Ranger Martin and the Zombie Apocalypse

by Jack Flacco

  “Listen, all I’m saying is don’t shoot first. If you’re in a situation, use a knife. That’s all.”

  Jon rubbed his chin with the back of his fingers and lifted an eyebrow in thought. “Ranger, is this plan really going to work? So far we’ve been lucky. This part of the garage doesn’t have cameras, but what are we going to do with the rest?”

  “As long as we look after each other, we’ll be okay. We’re planting this bomb under the temple and coming back out alive. We’re not dying in the middle of a hive filled with zombies wanting to take a bite. Not if I can help it.”

  Matty noticed her reflection on her blade. “What if there’s nothing you can do?”

  “There’s always something I can do.” Ranger grabbed his shotgun. “Let’s bring ‘em hell.”

  * * *

  They encountered the first sentry after having arrived fifteen feet from the delivery entrance of the complex in the parking garage. They hadn’t traveled far from where they’d parked overnight, so this came as no surprise to anyone. Three cameras guarded the unmanned underground gate. One per side and one in the middle above the archway. A guard box appeared deserted even though the monitors still collected images of anyone or anything coming near the area.

  Ranger nodded at Wildside who then sprung into his role as Mr. Fix It, exiting the front passenger door and scooting against the wall approaching the sentry. Crawling on his belly, Wildside slithered his way into the guard box. First thing, he scanned the three monitors to ensure the Rover didn’t show up anywhere. They were safe. He then wiggled under the console to find the wiring for the cameras. From his front pocket, he fished three USB sticks fashioned with two protruding wires each. From his other pocket, he retrieved his Swiss Army Knife.

  In the backseat, Matty and Jon held their stare on Wildside through the windshield.

  As he rewired the console, one at a time the monitors flashed a brief moment to produce snow, returning to normal soon afterward. When he finished, he tackled the gate door. A bit trickier, he had to punch in a valid code for the door to open. He didn’t have the code, but he knew the escape sequence that would bypass the security protection on the system—a skill he acquired having days upon days of doing nothing in the silo other than read user manuals to most if not all the military’s equipment.

  Once he punched the proper bypass code, the door opened. Easy, he thought. He waved the others through.

  Shifting into gear, Ranger drove the vehicle at the same slow pace he had driven earlier.

  As the Rover passed the sentry, the monitors showed no movement. Wildside had discovered the secret to invisibility.

  The truck stopped and Wildside hopped back into the passenger side. As it was leaving, it tripped a sensor mounted in the corner above the entry.

  * * *

  The entrance led to a long, well-lit tunnel wide enough for two vehicles.

  “That was too easy.” Jon said.

  “I know.” Matty nodded. “It’s like they knew we were coming.”

  Wildside shook his head, “You guys are something else. How about it was easy because I know what I’m doing?”

  Jon answered, “It’s not that—”

  “We had our truck parked overnight. Are we sure no one’s fooled around with the payload?” Matty asked.

  “I checked it.” Ranger said.

  “Yeah, but did you check it, Wildside?” Jon asked.

  Silence gripped the inside of the vehicle. It was as if the thought of a setup crossed their minds at the same time. Ranger could swear he checked the hitch, but now he wasn’t sure. Matty and Jon had a point. How does anyone know if a trap waited for them at the end of the tunnel? They drove until they reached halfway between the first sentry from where they began their journey to the complex entrance under the street. An otherwise confident Ranger couldn’t shake what the kids had said and it stayed with him. He spat his matchstick on the dashboard, ran his palm up and down the steering wheel, and readjusted his hat several times. The idea pressed on him too much to ignore.

  Ranger stopped the vehicle. He sat fixed debating within himself. If this was a setup then why didn’t those responsible search Green Grove the night before and get rid of them right from the beginning? Why make them go through the trouble of delivering the bomb? Unless, unless the bomb didn’t work. Then the threat of destroying everything didn’t exist. This didn’t settle right with Ranger. He needed to find out himself.

  Out of the vehicle he went. “Wildside, come with me.”

  Wildside followed him to the back.

  Matty and Jon looked at each other and followed, too.

  Unlatching the tarp covering the hitch, Ranger revealed the instrument of destruction. “Check it.” He said to Wildside pointing at the thing.

  Wildside checked the lines from the gasoline barrels, pulling each one to ensure he had secured them. He inspected each wire, switch, button and light. Nothing out of the ordinary came from his scrutiny. As a final test, he turned it on. The digital readout set to blinking zeroes. “We’re good. We can set the timer, detonate it remotely via the switch I have in my backpack or set it off manually. I built in a failsafe that would measure the gas levels, ingredient mix and report the info back to the unit. It would beep and all sorts of gnarly things would go off. None of that is happening. We’re good.”

  Squinting, Ranger shuffled his feet and stared at the bomb. “Something’s not right.”

  “I can feel it too.” Matty said.

  “I would listen to my sister. She’s usually pretty accurate with these things.”

  “Shh.” Matty covered Jon’s mouth with her hand. “Listen.”

  Everyone propped their ears and spun in the direction of the complex entrance.

  “I don’t hear anything.” Wildside raised his hands in frustration.

  “Shut up.” Ranger growled. “I hear it, too.”

  The sound grew louder and closer, filling the entire tunnel, forcing Jon to cover his ears.

  Chick-chick-chick-chick-chick-chick-chick.

  One at a time the lights shut from one end of the passage to other. In their place, dim greenish-yellow auxiliary lights flickered from the ceiling above.

  Ranger tore his gaze from the bowels of the tunnel, “Everyone in the truck, now!”

  Like a brilliant team of dancers, Wildside shut the bomb down then helped Ranger pull the tarp over the hitch while Matty and Jon hopped into the backseat of the vehicle. Once Ranger and Wildside made it back safely into the truck, everyone sat in silence for what seemed an eternity.

  Chick-chick-chick-chick-chick-chick-chick.

  “What is that?” Jon whispered to Matty.

  “I don’t know.”

  It sounded as a wind of debris smacking against the walls of the passage.

  “Look.” Wildside pointed at the windshield.

  Out of the darkness a cloud appeared gray and ominous. It twirled, enveloping the tunnel an inch at a time. Swirling around, hitting the walls, bursting forth, pushing forward. Moving as fog, it grew as a storm, devouring everything in its path. Shaping itself to a full mass, it spun like an inverted cyclone ready to consume.

  “We have to get out of here.” Wildside said. “We have to get out of here!”

  “What is it?” Matty lurched from her seat grabbing Ranger’s shoulder.

  “I’m not about to find out.” Ranger turned over the engine for a getaway.

  Chick-chick-chick-chick-chick-chick-chick.

  That instant, the tunnel turned sinister. The cloud attacked the truck. Into the engine the cloud went, crippling the vehicle in its place. Around the vehicle it whirled, obscuring the windows, pattering on the roof, smashing against the windshield.

  “I can’t see, Ranger. I can’t see.” Jon said.

  The cloud continued to pound on the truck, getting into the wheel wells, flooding the exhaust, covering the hitch’s tarp. For a brief moment, a tinge of light fell through the upper-right corner of the windshield. The pale glow r
eflected on their faces. Soon enough, hope disappeared as even then it became dim again.

  Jon threw his arms around Matty, not to protect her but to comfort himself. He held her head in one hand as he pulled her to his shoulder. He closed his eyes, attempting to drown away the sound of the smattering over the truck.

  Like a thousand rustling leaves, the cloud’s minions followed the wind, dissipating to nothingness. Then there was silence. Inside the vehicle, the darkness hung. For a long time it stayed that way.

  “Ranger?” Matty had pulled her head from Jon’s grip. “Why is the windshield moving?”

  Ranger’s eyes narrowed focusing on the sight. The slow downward movement revealed light, as if a crane was pulling the truck out of water.

  “It is moving!” Jon bounced in his seat.

  Wildside looked at his passenger side window while the light in the truck grew stronger. The more light poured into the vehicle, the more visible the sight became. He tapped at it, and then drew closer. He recognized what they were. “Locusts.”

  “Grasshoppers?” Jon asked.

  “Thousands of them.” Wildside grew pale.

  Outside the vehicle, the insects crawled everywhere. As they fell from the roof, they took flight, following the rest of them outside through the tunnel past the sentry into the parking garage. Layers and layers of the bugs flew away from the windows, hopping into the air for escape and disappearing.

  “Enough of this.” Ranger said, turning off the now-dead engine and grabbing the handle to the door.

  “Wait.” Wildside said, “You’re not going out there, are you?”

  “I am.”

  “Stay here for a minute.”

  “Wildside’s scared.” Jon coughed through his words then patted his chest.

  “I am not. I—I don’t like bugs.”

  Ranger stayed put for a second. “We can’t sit here all day.”

  “Let more of them fly away.” Wildside shooed his hand.

  “You know that locusts are good to eat, right?” Jon said with a big smirk on his face.

  “You’re so gross, you know that?” Matty said, leaning her head on the back of her seat.

  “They are. In China, they’re dipped in chocolate and served on a stick.”

  “I think I’m going to puke.”

  Wildside shook his head.

  “All right, are we done here?” Ranger asked, glaring at the three.

  Everyone clammed up. Rocking from his seat, Ranger opened the door to have some of the remaining locusts drop to the bottom of the vehicle. He paid no mind. He brushed them off with his hand propelling them outside where they belonged. His first step outside produced a definite crunch under his heal. His feet left grease spots wherever he stepped. Entrails of the devouring insects splattered everywhere.

  Jon opened his door having one of the locusts fly into the front passenger seat where Wildside sat. Terror filled Wildside’s eyes. He shook the thing from his hair. It never went in his hair. It rested on the dashboard instead. He batted around, and flung his door to propel himself on the pavement in utter horror. Matty popped from her seat, following the boy and his antics. He couldn’t seem to shake it from his hair. He didn’t realize he went from no locusts to having them surround his feet.

  Ranger tipped his cap and rubbed his forehead, quelling the tension ripping through his head from Wildside’s shooing.

  “If this is what you call a covert operation,” Matty crunched her way to Ranger, “we failed miserably. We might as well have rung the doorbell to let them know we were coming.”

  “Wildside.” Jon said. “Wildside.” He paused once more. “Wildside!”

  Wildside stopped.

  “Look around you. They’re all over the place. They’re flying away.”

  He stared into the distance, panting and rubbing his cheeks. His eyes fell to the scattering of insects on the road. He closed his eyes and held his knees, exhaling every ounce of breath from his lungs.

  Jon, Matty, and Ranger stood motionless gazing at Wildside with blank faces. Not saying a single word. Mouths gapped open. Like their world had stopped while observing his lunatic behavior. A few seconds later, Jon waved his hand discarding Wildside’s craziness and turned to Ranger, “He’ll be okay.”

  Snapping from her trance, Matty glanced at the remaining locusts on the truck. She picked one by its wings and gave it a glare. Her eyebrows rose, causing her to draw the bug closer for a better look. The bug squirmed and sprung its hind legs, but Matty’s grip kept it firm in place between her two fingers. Her meticulous eye remained fixed on the locust. “Hey, Ranger. I don’t think these are ours.”

  Messaging the back of his neck, Ranger shot his gaze at Matty. Now what?

  Matty raised the hopper at Ranger’s eye level. She then grazed the locust’s antenna with her finger. See it?

  Ranger pulled Matty by the wrist as if the locust and the girl were one. Upon closer examination, he sees it. The locust had two sets of antenna. On any other planet, this would not stand out. On earth however, this came right from a bad dream. What brought on the attack? Does this happen often? How is it they stand at the precipice of human annihilation and they now have a plague of locusts to contend with? Ranger let go his grip on Matty, Matty let go of the insect. It flew away along with the remnant in the wake of the swarming.

  Walking to the truck, Ranger flipped the hood and grimaced at the mess in the engine. Dead locusts covered the top of the wires, tubes, and crevices. Some still swam in the windshield washer fluid. He jiggled the tubes and wires, then smacked his hand on the side of the truck while cursing under his breath.

  Having checked her gun and holstering it between her back and her pants, one step at a time, Matty crunched her way to Ranger. “What are we going to do?”

  No one said another word. Their plan, what remained of it, no longer existed. They can’t bring the bomb into the temple on their own. They couldn’t do it. It’s too big, and they’ll still need a vehicle to race from the scene once they plant the bomb. Let’s not forget the security they’ll encounter, the zombies—no way. They didn’t even have a clue as to what the entrance looked like when they reach the Worship Square catacombs.

  That’s when Ranger lifted his head over the hood of the broken vehicle to gawk beyond the hitch at the sound coming from the darkness. In the midst of the last locust flying to catch up with the swarm, the spill of headlights grew warmer on the roadway.

  The look of amazement caught Matty, Jon and Wildside by surprise.

  The heavy truck, a strong two-by-four with a cold, steel frame mounted on the front, and a winch nestled underneath near the bumper, appeared to the crew in distress. The driver parked the vehicle next to theirs and asked, “Anybody need a lift?”

  Randy.

  Nobody answered him. They stood stunned as if lightening had struck them twice and they were recovering from the wounds.

  “Well…you can gawk at me all day wondering why I came back or we can go ahead and blow the hell out of those damn death-walkers who dare stake a piece of our land.”

  Whatever happened to the Randy who cowered in a corner in defeat? Had he disappeared and a double came to take his place?

  Chapter 24

  They had secured the hitch to the new truck. Now, with a few provisions left, and an attitude to boot, the fearsome five set ablaze for the illustrious prize, Worship Square.

  As the vehicle’s headlights poured into the access tunnel heading to the entrance of the catacombs, Ranger’s cold stare beyond his steering wheel iced the inside of the truck. If vengeance had a name for everything that had happened, it would be Ranger. Beside him, Wildside culled the passing road signs attached to the walls with razor-sharp eyes. Not much to see, not after having fought alien locusts swarming the last Range Rover they drove in. Sitting next to each other in the back seat, Matty and Randy had partial smiles dancing across their face. Who could argue they weren’t the happiest kids in the world? Together at last is what went th
rough their mind. And Jon, stationed to Matty’s right, kept his gaze fixed on the road ahead. Some of his innocence had disappeared. It could have been the locusts or the myriad of attacks they have had to fight off over the course of a week. He wasn’t the same Jon.

  The cautious vehicle slowed to a creep as the next protective sentry came into view. Ranger stopped the truck. Lit by the flicker of the jade auxiliary lighting, the unmanned sentry stood unblemished, protecting the entrance to the demonic resting place of the chest rippers. A lone camera stationed in the corner of the guard box kept vigil on the gate leading to the innards of the complex. Orange, construction pylons funneled to the empty guard box.

  Turning his head to the right, impatience in his voice, Ranger asked, “Ideas?”

  “I’ll go check.” Wildside pressed his right hand on the door and with his left gave it a gentle nudge. Caution slithered into his stomach as his senses burned with activity. Where are the guards?

  Stealth carried the boy the fifteen feet from the truck to the guard box. Fear crawled through his skin preventing him from turning back. The gate, a series of iron bars held by supporting rods, had rust caked along its edges. Inside the outpost, the monitor lacked an image. Bending to his knees, below the console he reached for the wiring panel. Searching, hunting, exploring with his hands as his second pair of eyes, he sees a possible cause to the power failure. He yanked the offender from the console—a dead locust. They must have flown through everything and blown the transformer. They did a number on the security panel, for sure. Rising to his feet, he pressed the gates’ lock mechanism release latch, of course it didn’t work. Turning his attention again to the tarnished gate, he approached it. It swung open with a slight shove from his elbow. He imagined the auxiliary power protocol had an automatic release in the event of emergencies. A slight grin gathered on his face. He didn’t have to work at opening it himself.

  Suddenly, as Wildside had spun his attention to waving the truck through the gate, a drop of gelatin-like liquid descended from the darkness above, striking him on the neck. The warm juice surged the length of his spine, causing panic to seize his bones in a chill. Frozen, his head slowly tipped back. He saw them. Yellow eyes. They stared at him through the darkness from the ceiling. A tremor from the bottom of Wildside’s heels surged through every crevice of his body. Those weren’t zombie eyes. They had life in them. No zombie had that kind of life.