Ranger Martin and the Zombie Apocalypse

by Jack Flacco

  “I can’t tell you. But you gotta trust me when I say you’re safe. There’s no fear here.”

  “Right. So the baton to my stomach earlier was supposed to instill trust?”

  “I can’t control everything that goes on around here. But you have my word. If you cooperate with us, we’ll look after you. We’ll feed, cloth and provide you safety. If you don’t,” Mr. Gray placed the clipboard on the table and crossed his legs. “God help you.”

  While Randy’s mind wandered, Wildside kept his eyes on the detonator the redhead placed on the table in the other room.

  “So,” Miss Sunshine took a moment, brushing her skirt with her hand of lint accumulated during the day. “What can you tell me about this?”

  His eyes didn’t deviate from the instrument.

  “Don’t worry, it’s disabled.” She smiled. “What did you think? I would bring it into this room armed so you could detonate the Christmas gift you have out there for us? C’mon, now. Tell me what you were going to do with the bomb.”

  Breaking from his spell, he threw her a stone gaze, cold and empty. “What would you do if the world as you knew it ceased to exist? Wouldn’t you try to make it right? Wouldn’t you want to take revenge on those who made the world the way it is now? Wouldn’t you have hate boil in your heart, flooding your soul and ripping your mind until peace resided on the earth, just as it had before this mess ever started? Or, would you be part of the problem, sucking the life out of everything holy so you can have this sense of control, which really is an illusion, in hopes you might get spared the same fate given to others?”

  “Kind of melodramatic, don’t you think?”

  “No. I don’t think. It’s the reality. Once you’re done your job, you’ll turn into one of them too.”

  “And what is that?”

  “The dead.” He sunk into his chair. “Or something like that. Who knows? Maybe I am being melodramatic.”

  “No.” She slipped her pen into the clipboard, removed the detonator from the table, and rose from her chair. “That’s a threat.”

  His eyes followed her and the detonator to the door.

  Miss Sunshine knocked, and while she left, an MP entered into the room. He pulled his automatic and aimed it at Wildside’s horror-stricken face.

  Back in his room, Randy said, “You talk to me about God as if you know him personally. You have this picture hanging on the wall as if it were to make a difference with my attitude, to soften it. In the meantime, you were the ones who created me, made me hardhearted, making me hate those who used to live.”

  Mr. Gray pursed his lips, and said. “Son—”

  “Don’t call me son. You’re not my father and I’m not your son.”

  “All right. Then what should I call you?”

  Randy stared at the table and made circling motions on the surface with his fingers. “You can call me boy.”

  “I’m not calling you boy.”

  “Good. At least I know you respect me enough to not want to call me a derogatory name. But I can’t tell you what my first name is.”

  “We’re back to the question. Then what do I call you?”

  At that point, Randy went back to crossing his arms.

  For a moment, Mr. Gray closed his eyes and ran his hand over his eyebrow. Once he allowed his gaze to settle on Randy again, he pressed his lips together. He glided his pen across the clipboard paper, making the ink express his thoughts. Then, without taking precautions, he said, “I have no choice but to recommend Phase Two of our administration process. You’re not going to like it. It will be painful. But I’m sure you have your reasons for not talking. Whatever they are, I hope your friends will be more reasonable as to reveal the nature of their visit to our fine establishment. Do you have anything to say?”

  Randy held firm.

  Matty smiled. Straightlaced threatened her with her friend’s lives, and she smiled.

  “Did you hear what I said?” he asked. “What are the lives of your friends worth to you?”

  “You don’t know, do you?” Matty drew him into her world. “Have you even seen them? What they smell like? What they eat?”

  “Your friends?”

  “No, you idiot.” She grabbed both sides of the table and pressed. “Do you know what rotten flesh smells like? When it hangs from the face and the worms are eating it from the bone? Although you can’t imagine smelling anything like it because there isn’t anything like it. Putrid. Rancid. Doesn’t even come close to the odor. Have you tried fighting one off with that smell soaking your nostrils, and all you could do is stop yourself from hurling? You have no idea. If you did, you wouldn’t have used the lives of my friends to bargain with. Instead, you’d help. Help me get out of here. And help save the lives of my friends.”

  No response.

  She eased back. “A human wouldn’t have said what you said.”

  “You’re saying I’m not human?”

  “I’m saying you better start acting like one if you want to survive.”

  Silence came between them. Neither one let go of their stares. The picture of the mountains hung there calmly. Had a pin dropped, they would have heard it.

  A sudden, furious explosion ripped through the back part of the building, taking out a good chunk of the north wing. Shrapnel flew from the fireball, tearing the landscape, destroying a parked car at the end of the drive. Trees sparked into flames.

  “What was that?” Straightlaced hopped to his feet, seeing debris fall from the ceiling to the table.

  Matty smirked. “That’s my ride.”

  Chapter 26

  Another explosion rocked the East wing of the Williams Auditorium, just south from the North Administration Building, across from the temple. Flames engulfed the lower half of the dome-shaped building, a former meeting place for nondenominational gatherings before the change. As plumes of black smoke seeped into the blue sky, military personnel stationed throughout Worship Square rallied by foot in formation to the site. Soldiers created blockades thirty feet from the opening of the explosion. Other soldiers added to the compliment with jeeps and artillery in support of the infantry.

  Inside the North Administration Building, the site of the first explosion, lab personnel scurried along the halls in a panic. Military Police assigned to monitor the prisoners had abandoned their posts to join forces with those waiting at the auditorium. The doors at the end of the hall where the blast took place opened with a cloud of smoke. The swelling mass filled the hall causing those remaining to flee.

  And that’s when he appeared. From the billows, his steps separated the curls. His Oklahoma City RedHawks cap materialized first then his shotgun holstered to his leg, right where it belonged. Like a Spartan, his gruff nature flooded the hall, dispensing those who dared mess with his fun.

  Ranger Martin.

  One by one, Ranger plowed his way from one end of the hall to the other, smashing open every door he encountered. But with every door he opened, he came upon an empty room. One after another, he searched until he stumbled on a room with a research worker in a lab coat. Ranger caught him reaching under the desk. With quick reflexes, he charged the worker grabbing him by the throat and smacking the gun from his hand. He noticed his nametag. “Where are they, Griffith?”

  “Where are who?” he gurgled.

  “The kids.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know.” Ranger held him by the throat and with the other hand grabbed the loose gun the worker had dropped on the desk and cocked it just above the worker’s knee.

  “All right, all right!” Griffith said. “Two doors down.”

  Ranger punched the worker in the face causing him to collapse in a daze on the floor. As he left the room, he took apart the gun dumping the pieces as went.

  When he reached the second door, he felt it with his hand and placed his ear on it. A glowering frown formed on his face. He backed away several feet, then rammed it, bursting the door almost off its hinges.


  Wildside held an automatic to Ranger’s face.

  “Easy now.” Ranger said with both hands open to the boy, surrendering. His eyes drifted to the soldier slumped over in the corner. He smirked. “Do I want to know?”

  “You don’t want to know.” Wildside holstered the automatic in his belt buckle.

  They left the room with sirens wailing in the background. Outside, soldiers formed a firing squad three lines deep in front of the burning cavity of the auditorium wall. The first line, soldiers lay on their bellies. The second line, soldiers sat bent on one knee. And the third, soldiers remained standing in the last row. All of them had their assault rifles pointed at the fire.

  Inside the building, Ranger and Wildside ran the corridors in search of the others.

  “Hold up. Randy should be in here.” Wildside pointed at the door.

  This time, Ranger didn’t bother winding up. One kick, he crashed the door. Randy jumped from his seat seeing the zombie butcher to his rescue. With him, Mr. Gray shook and trembled, chewing the inside of his cheek. Ranger provided him the same fate he had given another worker earlier. He punched him in the face, knocking him to the floor.

  “Where’s Matty and Jon?” Ranger asked.

  “They’re in the next two rooms—” Randy said.

  “Ranger.” Wildside jumped in. “The detonator’s gone.”

  “But there’s good news to this, right?”

  “I can still set the timer to detonate the bomb manually.”

  “Okay.” Ranger gazed at Mr. Gray spread on the floor waking up. He bent and punched him again and took his wristwatch, giving it to Wildside. “The hitch with the bomb is parked behind the gate at the South Administration Building on the other side of the square. I want you and Randy to set it to go off the amount of time it takes you to get there. Use the watch to time yourselves and synchronize it with the bomb. We can then steal one of the trucks across the street to fly on outta here.”

  “Ranger, I can look after this myself.” Wildside said. “I don’t need Randy.”

  “Get along.” Ranger pointed his finger at him. “What if something were to happen to you?”

  “Nothing’s going to happen. I got this.”

  “No. Randy, go with him.”

  Wildside let go of a loud sigh.

  “One thing, Ranger.” Randy said.

  “What’s that?”

  “What about all the soldiers.”

  Ranger smiled. “Oh, don’t you worry. I left them a gift that’ll keep ’em busy for a while.”

  * * *

  When the fire died in the Williams Auditorium, the soldiers in their battle array waited. The three lines they had formed hadn’t moved. Neither had they surrendered their posturing for the sun. Water droplets rolled off the cheeks of the men clad in armor still not dissuaded from their stance. Their eyes focused on the massive hole the fire had eaten from the building. Their guns remained aimed at the cavity. The soldiers in the jeeps kept their turrets at attention. Nothing would get past the area.

  A dark haze floated from the ashes. Pieces of char fell from the edges of the opening. The odor of the smoldering remains from the burnt plastic and electrical lines permeated in the air to cause some of the soldiers to wipe their nose.

  As the soldiers held their grip on their M16 assault rifles, keeping tightly in formation, a murmur began to drift into their ears. It floated like a soft rustling at first. As the minutes passed, the haunting sound grew louder. The soldiers, dressed in their desert uniforms, remained motionless, waiting. Then some of the soldiers flinched as the knocking began.

  Boom-boom-boom.

  Shivers ran along the back of the soldiers’ necks. Their trigger fingers trembled. One soldier blinked several times to remove the haze from the smoke. Another soldier’s grip loosened by the loss of muscle control. One of his buddies tapped him on the helmet to get him back in the game. He flexed his arms and shook his head to refocus.

  Boom-boom-boom. Boom-boom-boom.

  And then—silence.

  The soldiers dared not remove their stare from the gapping hole. The sound of the wind floated through the breach.

  Stillness. Quiet. Peace.

  That’s when one of them appeared. A bullet whizzed by striking it in the head. It collapsed like a rag doll. Two more strode from the same opening in the auditorium. Again, bullets took them out without effort. Then, more of them came. A crowd of eaters burst from the seam and ran rampant toward the firing line. Bullets zipped into the dead causing them to writhe in agony as they fell to their second death. Those that didn’t die when first struck, dragged closer to the line. Green spurts covered everywhere. Soldiers fired anything that moved. The air filled with an emerald green mist that rose from the bodies of those cut from a life of torment.

  Bullet casings flew from the guns. The hard pounding of metal on metal from the turrets caused soldiers to recoil, protecting their ears.

  As the bodies piled on each other, some of the soldiers began to lose the fight. They had a few more bullets left for the battle. And the dead would not stop coming. Tens turned into hundreds. The Williams Auditorium kept prisoner those who had changed. Perhaps the army held the evil for temporary measures. Perhaps they didn’t know what to do with them. Whatever the reason, they kept coming.

  * * *

  Halfway between the North and South Administration Buildings, Randy and Wildside had to cut through a fence, bushes, and trees to arrive at the Temple, a glorious site fashioned after Gothic Revival architecture. Its multiple towers scraped the sky. The soldiers fought on the west side. If the boys could make it through the east side, they could set the bomb to blow and still make it out in time. The problem with that idea, the whole east side sits open to capture. They could use the trees as cover, but a few of them rested on the opposite side of the temple behind a fence. For now, the boys stayed hidden under a tree at the northeast corner of the temple lot.

  “What do you think?” Wildside asked, checking the clip from the automatic he stole from the MP back in his room and slipping it into his belt buckle again.

  “Empty. This sun doesn’t help. We’ll cast a large shadow.”

  “The soldiers are on the other side of the temple. We should be fine.”

  “I’m worried about the helicopters. If any of them spot us, we’re good as gone.”

  “We could run along the wall of the temple. We’d at least be safe from one side.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t like this.”

  “I’ll tell you what, I’ll go first and if I make it, you can follow.”

  Randy didn’t say anything but only stared at the ground in front of him.

  “What’s the matter, are you thinking I’m going to get you killed? You’re crazy. Besides, I like surprises. Ranger still doesn’t know how I managed to knockout the soldier in my room.”

  “Wait, you knocked out a soldier?” Randy chuckled. “Sorry if I don’t believe you.”

  “I did.”

  “Yeah. Sure you did.”

  “He was holding the gun to my face, I was freaking out, and that’s when the sirens went off. He slipped the gun back in his holster, turned his back on me, and that’s when I kicked him.”

  “Kicked him?”

  “In the groin. He fell over backward, hitting his head on the table. He went out cold.”

  “Anyway,” Randy pointed, “what we could do is hop the fence and follow the arch of trees leading to that big, white building over there.”

  “It’ll take longer.”

  “We’ll be safe.”

  “We may not make it back alive.”

  “I didn’t hear a no.”

  “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  The fence stood six feet high and ran the length of the block. The boys didn’t have to go far to reach it—a few feet at the most. Once they finished scoping the area, they began to scale the barrier. Randy gave Wildside a boost. From the top, Wildside gave Randy a hand climbing. They hopped to the other side to
gether. Well, they thought, that was rather easy.

  They snuck from tree to tree. The trees formed an arch around a reflecting pool.

  So far, so good.

  When they arrived at the final tree, the lawn separated them from the final leg of their journey. They needed to make one last thirty-foot dash to the other side. They would worry about getting back later.

  For now, Randy pushed Wildside aside deciding he’d go first. Before Wildside could do anything, Randy quickly glanced around, set his posture at the ready mark, and took off. He ran as hard and as fast as his legs could take him. At the halfway mark, a spit hit the lawn in front of him propelling a clump of grass into the air. Randy didn’t have to think twice about what just happened. A sniper. He kept running not looking back, this time avoiding another spit from a bullet bursting into the grass behind him. With a few feet remaining, he leapt into the air and into the bushes below. He made it.

  Wildside’s turn. Under the tree he trembled. Wildside thought Randy had it easier. He went out there without the knowledge that some sniper had him in the scope. Instead, Wildside now had to take a chance, run, get to the other side, and stay alive in the process. His stomach squeezed his innards causing Wildside to puke behind the tree. After wiping his mouth, Wildside could see Randy waiting for him, yet he still wasn’t sure why they didn’t sprint to the other side together. He struck himself in the leg with his fist. Stupid. Okay, he needed to get on with it. He can’t stand there and do nothing while time ran out. He had to get to the other side. No more wasting time.

  Unlike Randy who took off without so much as a good-bye, he instead hopped around a few times, inhaled and exhaled rapidly, and when he was good and psyched he ran as fast as he could. He didn’t even make it halfway when a spit pounded the lawn in front of him to throw blades of grass everywhere. Missed. At least the sniper is a bad shot, Wildside thought. About three-quarters the way there, another spit exploded in front of Wildside causing him to trip and drop the gun. No time to look back, he had to press forward. He couldn’t believe the sniper missed again. A few more feet, that’s all he needed, a few more feet. And with that thought, Wildside pushed harder than ever, convinced he could beat the enemy. But when Wildside took his leap into the bushes, a bullet crashed into his heel, shattering the bones of his right foot. His dive ended with him sprawled in the bushes in agony.