by Doug Ward
It was hard to make headway. The undead poured from the labs into the cramped hallway. We actually had to walk over the dead we shot.
Seven minutes until emergency fail-safe detonation. The mechanical voice warned.
"Time's running out!" I yelled. "We got to make it to the elevators."
"We're almost there!" Dean said, encouraged. "I can see them about ten feet to the right."
We pushed on ahead, gaining precious inches but using too much ammunition.
"I'm almost out of bullets," Drew informed. "What are we going to do?"
"Keep going," I encouraged. "We'll fight hand to hand if we have to. Just keep moving!"
We sped up recklessly, risking a misstep or just closing the distance too quickly. We were putting everything into merely reaching the elevators. There was a finite amount of these undead workers, but I also realized that we had a finite amount of ammunition.
My slide locked back and I knew I had few bullets left, so I pulled my revolver to keep up as much firepower as possible. We made the elevators as I fired my last shot.
I could hear Amber from the rear. "I'm empty!"
As we waited for the doors to open, it came down to hand-to-hand combat. We instinctively formed a protective, clear area around the doors. The doors would need to have time to close. I bashed the zombies nearest with my revolver’s handgrip, swinging it about and catching my assailants on the side of the head. I never tried punching them in the face for risk of cutting my knuckles on their teeth and getting infected.
As the doors opened, followed by the chime, we maintained our positions, waiting for the last moment to dart through the closing doors and into safety.
Six minutes until emergency fail-safe detonation.
As one, we retreated through the doors, which closed just before cold, undead hands met the solid metal outside of our escape vehicle. The small room filled with the sound of heavy breathing as it lifted upward. Blood coated our clothes from our close quarters battle. We had a little reprieve as we passed the second floor and closed on the first.
A Muzak version of “Stairway to Heaven” began to play over the elevator’s speaker system.
"They shouldn't do that to rock classics," Dean remarked disgustedly.
"It is appropriate, though," I answered.
"I have a shot or two left," offered my friend, sounding exhausted.
"Me, too," added Drew who sounded worse.
The rest remained silent, obviously out of bullets.
The doors rolled open, revealing three zombies drawn by the sound of the bell. They turned toward us, extending their arms and moaning. I knew this was it. We had too little stamina left and even fewer bullets.
A burst from an automatic weapon ripped through the air. It knocked two down, dropping them to the floor with their heads nearly torn off. Another weapon fired rapidly, destroying the third and clearing the way.
"You’re all clear, kid!" Ben yelled, leveling another undead walker we couldn't see. "Now let's blow this thing and go home!"
Five minutes until emergency fail-safe detonation.
The floor was littered with dead zombies. Ben and Frank had been busy. As I passed each of them, I thanked them, in turn. If they hadn't come out of hiding, we would have died a short hallway’s distance from the exit.
We fled, Amber helping Melissa as the rest of us cleared the way. Mel must have twisted her ankle, because she hopped along with Amber's help, favoring one leg. As we entered the receptionist area, another burst from one of the automatic weapons roared, dropping another animated corpse at the door.
Four minutes until emergency fail-safe detonation.
"We aren't going to make it!" Amber cried in despair.
"Just keep going!" I yelled, pushing everyone beyond his or her limits of endurance.
The machine guns belched out more rounds outside, joined by the last of the handgun rounds. We piled into the Humvees as more of the living dead shambled into view. They came because of the loud sounds, shuffling towards what they hoped would be dinner.
Two engines came to life; and in seconds, we were careening down the drive toward the gates, unfortunate zombies bouncing off or under the powerful vehicles as we raced to gain a safe distance from the imminent explosion.
Tense moments ticked by as we flew at breakneck speed, tearing onto the old road and heading downhill. The anticipation was maddening. I took turns at speeds far exceeding what would normally be safe.
A loud boom erupted from behind. Seconds later, the blast radius reached our position, blowing vegetation almost horizontal. Loose branches and other debris joined us in being thrown outward from ground zero. I could feel the heavy vehicle being tossed out of my control, the contents and passengers thrown about, spilling in all directions.
Spinning the wheel, I compensated for the blast wave and brought the Humvee to a halt. The other skidded to a stop behind us. I exited the driver's seat and joined by most of the others outside.
Immediately, I looked for Melissa. She wasn't in my Humvee, so I was on my way toward the one driven by Drew. Amber leapt out of an open doorway and met me a few steps away. Placing a hand on my chest, she ended my progress.
"Melissa needs to talk to you," she said to me quietly.
I looked about, not seeing her. "Where is she?"
The woman just pointed, head lowered. A tear rolled down her cheek.
My heart was in my throat as I hurried to where she sat. The door was now closed.
Through the open window, I gently prodded, "Honey?"
"I'm so sorry," she said between sobs.
"It's ok," I assured her, not understanding. "We made it. It's going to be alright."
The door opened and Melissa extended her wounded leg. "It happened downstairs. I am so sorry."
I haven't cried since the first grade. I wept as I took her in my arms, shushing like I would a child. "You have nothing to be sorry for," I answered.
"You risked so much for me," she breathed.
"And I would do it again," I soothed. "I love you and-"
"Outta my way!" Dean commanded, roughly throwing me to the pavement.
I jerked around, recovering, only to see him climbing across Mel's wounded form. Rage erupted in me. He was going to kill her. This was wrong. She was no danger yet. I had so much I wanted to tell her, so much I needed to say. He wasn't going to take that from me.
Scrambling to my feet, I grabbed double handfuls of his shirt and hauled him out. He staggered backward, staying upright but propelled away from the vehicle and my injured wife. I balled up both fists and approached him in rage.
"Hold it, Hank!" he said, extending both hands forward. Still snarling, I noticed that he held two bottles of whiskey. "If we get her drunk, won’t that slow down the effects of the bite?"
My hands dropped to my sides, understanding slowly. I snatched a bottle from his outstretched hand. Twisting the cap and breaking the seal, I offered the alcohol to my wife. "Drink this!" I demanded.
She looked at me like I was crazy.
"Remember? It will do something to your blood vessels! It will keep you from turning!" Dean added, explaining what we had talked about in the Humvee earlier.
Mel immediately lifted the bottle to her lips and drank deeply.
Chapter 37
Melissa