Primus Unleashed

by Amber Wyatt

  “Okay here we are,” Behnke pulled the truck to a stop at the corner of the field and turned to look directly into the camera, held dutifully by Tristan. “This has been the site of numerous zombie massacres since the start of the plague. From this moment on there could be zombies behind every corner.” Behnke lowered his voice and leaned right into the camera. “It’s time to break out the guns,” he intoned dramatically.

  “The last thing we want to use is guns,” Hugh was telling everyone in the other truck. “We are pretty much dead center of a large, uncleared suburb and the sound of any gunshots will bring zombies from miles around. For that matter we need to keep our voices as quiet as possible as well.” He pulled his truck past Behnke’s, and smoothly parked up next to a few abandoned cars. Varying layers of dust and rust on the other vehicles showed that they had been abandoned there over different periods of time. “Hana and I will creep forward step by step and take down any zombies we see with crossbows. Quietly.” He indicated a line of trees ahead of them. “The farm is about a hundred feet away, just up a slight rise beyond that stand of trees.”

  “You are familiar with this place, have you been here before?” Thomas asked, looking at Hugh curiously.

  Hugh’s eyes drifted unwillingly for a second to an old, red Ford at the far corner of the field. “Yeah, I have. Actually I was a driver for the very first group of hunters that came here to clear out the farm three years ago. There was a young family here that got infected and turned into zombies. There was only one survivor, the father. From what they told me it was… it just turned ugly. I don’t know how else to describe it. I stayed in the car the whole time.”

  He switched off the engine as Gina and Hana approached. They were both carrying some of the long gun cases which Behnke’s team had brought in with them, from outside the zone. Behnke and Tristan were still sitting inside the other truck, discussing something. Probably how and what to film as we move in, Hugh thought. “Okay let’s get out and gear up. We brought along bite-proof suits for everyone.”

  While Hugh went to the boot and dragged out the duffle bags containing the suits, Hana opened up the gun cases on the ground, and started to hand out weapons and magazines. Hugh, Hana and Thomas each got SCAR assault rifles. Rob opted for the one shotgun they had brought, a robust Mossberg. Hana eyed up Gina and Wilkins, wondering what level of expertise they might have with firearms, or whether if, as amateurs, they would be more of a danger to the other members of the group.

  Suddenly Behnke revved the engine of his truck and they all looked around in surprise. Then there was an audible clunk as he put it into gear, and gravel spurted as he floored the accelerator. The truck fishtailed until the tires got traction, and then he took off through the long grass towards the farm.

  Hana clapped her open mouth shut and sprang into action.

  “Quick! Get geared up!” She grabbed up handfuls of full magazines and shoved them at Thomas and Hugh, breaking the momentary spell that Behnke’s surprise exit had cast over them. Hugh and Hana were already wearing tactical vests and stuffed the magazines into their pouches. Thomas dropped his into the thigh pockets on his cargo pants.

  “What’s Behnke doing?” Wilkins asked, gaping like a fish, “Why are they going without us?”

  “Don’t know, don’t care,” Hana skinned out of her tactical vest and started to shrug on a bite proof jacket. Thoroughly alarmed, Gina and Rob each grabbed one too and quickly slipped them on. Hana reached into a separate bag and threw hard-backed gloves at them. Hugh and Thomas cocked their assault rifles and stood back to back, weapons ready, covering the others.

  “The original plan,” Hana panted as she zipped up the jacket and started putting the vest back on over the top, “was to sneak towards the farm and start taking out zombies discreetly, one by one. Nice and quiet. That plan is now fucked.” She snapped together the buckles on the vest and cocked her weapon, nodding at Hugh and Thomas. “I’ll cover, you two get ready.”

  They all jumped and looked around as shots boomed out from the direction of the farm. Whatever Behnke was doing was hidden behind the trees.

  “Shit!” Hugh cursed as he shrugged quickly into his own jacket. “That’s going to bring every zombie for miles.” He looked up and flashed a quick smile at Hana. “This is pretty memorable for our first date.”

  She laughed involuntarily and smiled back before scowling in annoyance and looking back over her sights for potential targets. Don’t laugh at his dumb jokes. It’s only going to encourage him. What was I thinking?

  Rob had slung his camera on his back, and was down on one knee, a bandolier of cartridges over his shoulder, at his feet a box of shells from which he was loading his shotgun. Wilkins wavered uncertainly, his bite proof jacket still clutched in one hand, as he looked desperately at the other equipment in the back of a truck. I need a weapon or something! He thought desperately. What the hell do I know about guns? I’m an accountant for god’s sake. He picked out a Perspex riot shield. At just over five-foot-long, and designed specifically to provide a protective barrier between a police officer and a rioting crowd, Wilkins decided that this would be the ideal tool with which to protect himself from any attacking zombies. It was heavier than he thought and he was busy tugging on it when his ears were blasted by a gunshot from just behind him.

  Everyone whirled around in amazement to look at Gina standing in a shooting stance with a pistol held out expertly in front of her. The zombie which had been silently approaching from behind one of the abandoned cars slumped to its knees, and then dropped on to its face. Wilkins flinched as she walked over and shot it twice more in the head.

  “What?” Gina turned and saw them all looking at her open-mouthed. “I’m from Miami.”

  “A Glock,” Hana noted, looking at Gina’s pistol. “That’s good, same as me. Nine-millimeter?”

  “Yeah,” Gina answered.

  “That bag,” Hana’s eyes quickly flickered through the boot of the truck, “over there, the blue one. It’s full of Glock magazines. Grab as many of them as you can.” Gina quickly reached over into the bag and started to fill her pockets with ammunition.

  From the direction of the farm there was almost continuous shooting. Some of the shots blasted through the trees directly back towards them, shredding branches and leaves, and they all dropped down behind the body of the truck for cover. Thomas’s mouth moved silently in either a curse or a prayer, and Hana felt a moment’s pity. It must be hard to be an intelligent professional, and have to work for an idiot like Behnke.

  “Okay listen up,” she said. “I had a long briefing ready to go, but we are about to be up to our asses in zombies, so here are the two most important points.” Hana looked around at all of them. Four taut and serious faces stared back. Hugh was facing away, covering their backs. He already knew what she was going to say.

  “Firstly. Don’t get bitten. That’s obvious. Secondly the only thing that will drop them is a shot to the head like Gina just did.” She nodded approvingly at Gina. Although of course Gina had already had the benefit of being able to hear Hana’s briefing on the drive up. Hana indicated Rob’s Mossberg. “That shotgun can knock them down if you shoot them in the body or legs. But you must follow up with a headshot, okay?”

  “Got it,” answered Rob.

  Hana looked at the shield which Wilkins had finally managed to drag out. “That’s a good idea. Keep that between you and any zombies, and let the rest of us do the shooting.” She looked around at the others again. “Are there any questions?” She never found out if there were any questions, because as soon as she finished speaking the first zombies swarmed out of the trees behind them. As one, the entire group turned and opened fire.

  Despite Hana’s instructions, under pressure Thomas’s and Gina’s initial instinct was to shoot at the zombies’ bodies. After their targets kept on coming though, they both remembered her advice and started to aim for their heads. Hana and Hugh had paired up to one side and were putting down an impressive
deluge of fire, but they too were finding it difficult to hit their attackers. The zombies sprinting towards them were either weaving through all the parked cars, or just vaulting over them. This unpredictable and random jinking left and right, was unintentionally making it almost impossible for the normally excellent shooters to track their targets accurately.

  Wilkins clutched his riot shield in front of him in a sweaty, death grip, his face sick with horror. They simply weren’t shooting enough of them. The charging zombies were getting closer and closer, until there was only one row of cars left between them and the group of adventurers. In only a few more seconds, they were going to be overrun.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Truth Shall Set You Free

  Behnke let out a whoop of joy as he spun the wheel with his left hand and fired his shotgun out of the window with his right. The zombie approaching the truck took two more steps after its head exploded, before collapsing like a puppet whose strings had been cut. From the front of the truck came two solid thuds as the bumper slammed into two more zombies, launching them backwards.

  “Did you get that? Did you get that?” Behnke roared. He could barely feel it as the wheels bumped over the zombie bodies. The suspension on this truck is amazing. I need to get one of these!

  “I got it, bro. You’re awesome, keep it up!” Tristan answered bracing the camera steady against the juddering motion of the truck as Behnke skidded to a dust-churning stop. “Wait a second, let me get these out of the window,” said Tristan. The two men had driven one circuit around the main farm building and there was a small break in the onslaught of zombies that had poured towards them from all around the property.

  Tristan took advantage of the lull to activate two drones. With the flick of a switch he set one drone to trail from behind and above, and set the other to film them from the side. Then he cracked his passenger window and threw them out, whereupon they both obediently flew off to take up their stations around the truck. Slaved to the bracelet on his wrist, the two drones would follow the truck and film it from above and from the side, giving him even more dramatic footage to edit into the documentary later.

  “Are we ready?” At Tristan’s thumbs up, Behnke waited until the camera was pointing at him before noisily loading another drum magazine on to his shotgun. “We’re going round again,” he growled into the camera, before gunning the accelerator. The truck took off like a hungry beast, and as soon as they turned around the corner of the main building, the first zombies hurled themselves at it. Bodies thudded off the front of the truck, and at the side Behnke’s shotgun thundered over and over, savagely hurling back the undead attackers with gaping wounds. Undeterred, the downed zombies struggled back up to their feet and trotted after the truck. Damn, there are a lot more of them than I thought. Where are they coming from? Behnke wondered. A hell of a lot more.

  “Go for the head, Philip! Shoot them in the head,” shouted Tristan. He at least, had listened to part of what Hana had been telling Gina in the back seat on their way to the farm.

  Behnke grunted in acknowledgement. He had been distracted by the spectacular carnage wrought by his ‘Devastator’ shotgun, as it threw the zombies backwards with a huge explosion of blood, but now he was surprised to look in his rear-view mirror and see most of them back up on their feet, still following the truck. As he rounded the next corner into the front yard he slammed on the brakes, equally shocked to see that the majority of the zombies he had shot on his first drive past, were also standing up again.

  The mutilated undead turned to face the idling vehicle and charged at the bonnet, just as the pursuing zombies from behind swarmed up and over the back of the truck. In a surreal daze the two men just gaped at the mostly nude bodies swarming over them. Most of their clothes had rotted away, but the zombies themselves looked as fresh as they had the day they had died. The majority of them were naked except for boots and belts. Behnke had never seen so many penises in his life.

  As the truck disappeared under the struggling mass of hissing zombies, the first thought in Tristan’s head was the footage of this from the drones is going to look fucking amazing. His second thought was one of horror as, instead of opening fire, Behnke had another panic attack. He struggled in vain to contract his huge bulk in on himself and hid his face in his hands.

  “Philip! Not now!” Tristan felt panic surge up in himself. “For God’s sake drive! Shoot!”

  Zombie hands and gaping faces covered the truck windows front and back. Behnke’s window was still half open and he let out a piercing shriek as a hand whipped in, grabbing his hair implants in a death grip. Tristan ducked down quick as lightning, scrabbling for the shotgun that Behnke had dropped to the floor.

  “Fuck you!” he roared as he brought the stumpy gun up to bear on the zombie and started pulling the trigger as fast as he could. The bangs of the shotgun firing inside the cab felt like nails being rammed through his eardrums, but Tristan did not care. He kept firing, blowing out the window and sending zombie body parts and fluids flying in all directions.

  Tristan dropped the shotgun and grabbed the steering wheel. Worming his leg over the gear stick, he stamped down on the accelerator and the truck lurched forward. He was practically deaf, but as a silver lining he could no longer hear Behnke’s high pitched wailing. After a few seconds to build up speed, he stamped on the brake, sending the zombies on the bonnet spilling off on to the ground. Then he switched back to the accelerator, bouncing over their bodies before they could stand up again.

  “Come on, Philip. Pull yourself together bro!” Tristan pummeled the big man’s shoulder, no easy feat as he was simultaneously having to straddle the central gear stick and hunch his head down to see through the windscreen. “Philip, I’m filming you!”

  That last comment had an immediate effect. Behnke stopped moaning and peeked out through his fingers. Upon seeing that there were no more zombies on the truck, he straightened up and grabbed the wheel from Tristan.

  “Thank fuck for that,” Tristan slumped back down back in his seat.

  Behnke looked in the rear-view mirror again. It was full of zombies chasing after them. Most of them were running. He had not realized that they could run so fast. Incipient panic started to creep up his spine again. Then he was distracted by the crackle of gunfire from back behind the tree line where all the other cars were parked up. The others! They seem to have their shit together. I’ll drive back to the car park and the rest of the team can take care of these zombies. Time they earned their pay.

  Back behind the trees, the group was surrounded by zombie corpses and were shooting steadily at the few zombies still approaching. Without needing to say anything, they had all realized that they were just wasting ammunition trying to hit the zombies as they zig-zagged through the cars. The best course of action was to calmly wait until they were clear of the surrounding vehicles and then gun them down at point blank range.

  “That’s it everyone. Keep it up,” Hana shouted over the gunfire, squeezing her trigger steadily and watching another zombie’s head explode in her sights. “Only a few more.” Then she turned around at the unexpected approaching roar of an engine. Oh shit!

  “Watch out!” She screamed, pushing Hugh to one side.

  Behnke’s truck slammed through the exact spot where they had all been standing, scattering the group, but at least it rammed the last three zombies and carried them off on its front grille.

  “He’s brought more of them with him,” Gina shouted, reloading her pistol. Everyone’s eardrums were numb and battered from the noise of the guns, and her throat ached from having to shout over their temporary deafness. Thomas stopped looking after Behnke’s speeding truck and immediately swiveled on the spot, looking alertly through his sights, the butt of the assault rifle tight against his shoulder. Almost instantly his weapon started spitting a continuous stream of bullets, knocking down zombie after zombie.

  Next to him, Rob racked and fired his shotgun, each shot blowing off gory segments of zombi
e heads. Hugh and Hana picked themselves up and started firing too, dropping body after body, but there were simply too many of them. As soon as one fell it was replaced by another. In a few seconds the horde of zombies that had followed Behnke, was within arm’s reach. They fired point blank into snarling faces, gun barrels only inches away from snapping teeth, and then they had to step backwards to avoid the falling corpses.

  Wilkins and his riot shield saved them in the last few seconds. They were forced back between two abandoned cars, and as the swarm pushed after them his shield became wedged sideways between the two bumpers, forming a temporary barrier. Unthinking and without understanding, the last dozen zombies pawed and grabbed at the shield while Wilkins screamed shrilly, trying to get his trapped wrist out from the handle.

  A huge zombie, clearly a former zombie hunter judging from his safari vest still festooned with shotgun shells, pushed hard up against the shield, holding it in place and scrabbled at Wilkins’s screaming head, trying to drag his face into reach of his chomping, salivating jaws. From behind Wilkins the other five shooters unleashed a deafening fusillade, the solid wall of bullets slamming into the heads of the last zombies. Their bodies crumpled to the dirt, the heavy thuds sounding like multiple sacks of flour being dropped to the ground.

  For a few seconds of ringing silence everyone wheeled left and right, adrenalin pumping, eyes looking through weapon sights, seeking out the next target, until they realized that it was over. There was nothing left to shoot.

  Nobody said anything. There was no need to. They slowly relaxed, chests heaving, gun barrels dipping down, everyone making sure that their weapon was pointing in a safe direction. The last thing they needed now was for somebody to get accidentally shot. Thomas automatically changed magazines, and a second later the others followed suit. If they were to be attacked again, having a full magazine ready to go could mean the difference between life and death.