Retribution: Operation Z Book 2

by G. D. Szepanski

  “Donald discovered a bunker his father built under his childhood home in Virginia. He told Natasha and I about it in case of disaster. Today is defiantly a disaster.” Betty said.

  “Why didn’t we know ‘bout this place?” Helen asked while she shook her head with drooped shoulders.

  “You were involved with Tom, and Donald sensed he’d grown unstable. I guess he was right.” Betty sighed because she was thankful Natasha spoke the words, and she didn’t have to. She liked Helen and didn’t want to hurt her any more than Tom already had. Helen flinched when Natasha finished speaking before closing her eyes and catching her head in her trembling hands.

  “Anyone have directions for driving to Virginia?” Natasha asked from the driver’s seat of the old VW Bus.

  “Besides heading south, no. We need to find a map somewhere.” Bobby said.

  “Look! There’s a gas station up ahead. Maybe they’ll have a map we can use.” Betty pointed to the sign with the big red K on it.

  “We’re going to stop and look for a map. We’ll grab any other supplies we find.” Natasha applied the brakes and took the right-hand turn into the gas station’s empty parking lot. Four sets of pump islands and a general store building sat on the property. She parked the van near the building but pointed the nose toward the road for a quick getaway.

  “Here’s the plan. Bobby, you’ll accompany me inside of the store to search for the maps. Betty and Helen, you’ll both hang back and watch our backs. Guns only if we’re overrun. We don’t have a lot of ammo, so we can’t waste it. Plus, there’s no sense attracting any unwanted attention.”

  Betty caught the wink and smile Natasha flashed at her before she climbed out of the van. Natasha was the closest thing to a mother Betty had since she watched zombies subdue her real mom. Her mom Pamela lived on in her heart after sacrificing herself, so Betty could escape the car dealership and go on living. Betty hoped the day wouldn’t come where Natasha performed the same sacrifice to save her life. Losing Natasha might finally break her completely.

  Before they entered the store, Natasha banged on the door frame with the machete she liberated from the cannibals. You may not like their methods, but they maintained a razor-sharp blade on their edged weapons. It drew two zombies toward the clanging at the front of the store. Natasha used the blade to dispatch them with two swift strikes. Bobby and Natasha headed inside while Betty and Helen kept one eye on the store and one on the parking lot to monitor for any incoming threats.

  After about five minutes, Bobby and Natasha emerged, carrying all their loot. They carried a road atlas for the United States, two empty Jerry cans, a gas siphon hose, and an assortment of snacks. The wrecker and two cars parked around back of the store provided enough fuel to fill the VW Bus and the two Jerry cans. Now only 900 miles separated them from reaching the safety of Donald’s bunker in Virginia. What could go wrong on a road trip during the zombie apocalypse?

  ###

  They spent the first night in a Cape Cod styled house somewhere in New Hampshire. No one wanted to travel in the dark, since it would be too dangerous. Without streetlights lighting the way, they had no visibility. Wrecked and abandoned cars lined the roads, while zombies and other human threats could materialize out of the gloom. Plus, their headlights and the constant rattle of the old VW engine would announce their presence to anyone along the route miles before they actually arrived.

  Home improvement shows called this type of house cozy, but Betty called it dirty, musty, and cramped. They slept together in shifts in the first floor living room. Before dark, they scavenged the house and came up with an older pump shotgun, shells for the gun, a pantry full of dry and canned goods, and a Jerry can half filled with gas. These limited supplies established them as paupers compared to what they had in the camp, but Betty was grateful for each item they found.

  After the sun rose, they headed out for day two of their road trip. Even with their roundabout route on back roads, they hoped to make it to either Connecticut or New York before night fall. If everything stayed on schedule, they’d make the bunker in another day or two of travel.

  Caution was the theme of the day. Every time their route crossed over the southbound highway, they would stop short and check the highway below before proceeding. During one of these crossings, a large group of armed travelers passed on the highway underneath them. No one took the time to count, but the assorted group of vehicles they traveled in put their numbers around a hundred strong. Natasha reminded them to remain vigilant during their travels, so they wouldn’t become victims of a crowd like this one. Their band of only four stood no chance against them, even with Natasha on their side.

  Without running into any trouble, they made their way south through Massachusetts. It surprised Betty when they came across the same Gun Shop Donald stopped at over a year ago during their escape from Boston. Natasha made a quick stop, but the building was wrecked and nothing of value remained left inside it. If only things had been simple, like they were on TV. Then they would have found a cache of assault rifles with unlimited ammo.

  Natasha found them a one-story home to spend the night in. A home improvement show would call it mid-century modern, and Betty liked this place. The sheen on the wood trim and the shine of the chrome fixtures showed the love the owners had put into their home, but they were long gone now. After they cleared the house, but before the sun went down, they scavenged the home for anything useful. Here they hit the jackpot. The garage held a shiny Toyota Highlander Hybrid SUV. No more rattling VW engine, giving Betty a constant headache. In the bedroom they found a matching pair of Glock nine millimeter pistols and Bobby discovered two unopened boxes of ammunition holding 500 rounds each in the basement. More canned food and dry goods filled the home’s pantry. This still wouldn’t make them a match for the army they saw earlier in the day, but they were better equipped for their journey now.

  ###

  The Toyota Highlander rode smooth and quiet when compared to the rattle trap VW Bus they left behind. With the increased mileage from the hybrid drivetrain and all the fuel they still had, they might make it all the way to Virginia today. Their route would take them through areas of the state with high populations before the rise of the dead. All four passengers were on high alert for any trouble from either the living or the dead. Avoidance of the major highways would continue to be their goal. Things looked good for the first part of the journey on this third day.

  As they approached an area in Connecticut with shopping areas, the sounds of small arms fire came from ahead of them. At one time, the town had been a shopping mecca with multiple malls and several individual warehouse stores. Signs lined the sides of the road as they drove, advertising the different merchants’ stores.

  One group of survivors wanted to keep all the stuff for themselves and the army, Betty saw the day before interfered with their goals. She would never know if the armed engagement had been intentional or if the traveling army triggered a trap. If it had been a trap, then this had been good luck for Betty and her friends because they avoided it. The four of them wouldn’t have survived the onslaught from this attacking force.

  They needed to find a route around the skirmish, so neither side would engage them in battle. None of the four had ever been to this town and they couldn’t take the time to consult the maps, so Natasha picked a direction and drove. The road appeared to lead them away from the battle, and they thought it might lead them to safety. It almost worked.

  Natasha drove the Toyota at a speed exceeding the posted speed limits, away from the sound of the small arms fire. Whoever occupied this area cleared the road because the telltale abandoned cars they had become used to seeing didn’t litter the road. This should have given them pause, but they drove on, seeking safety from the firefight. As they passed by a small strip mall, an older pickup truck fell in behind them. Two men stood in the truck's bed and fired over the cab at them. Bullets clunked off of the Toyota’s sheetmetal and shattered the back window on the lif
tgate. When the first bullets flew, Natasha upped the speed from fast to Mario Andretti. The road curved through the landscape and the Toyota practically leaned over onto two tires as she took each corner. But somehow the pickup truck kept pace, and the bullets continued to impact the sheetmetal of the SUV.

  A long blind corner lay ahead of them, and Natasha pushed the gas pedal to the floor. “Hang on!” She yelled. Halfway through the curve, they discovered the first broken down vehicle for miles. It was a tractor trailer with a home improvement box store name on its side. Natasha’s reflexes were like lightning, and she jerked the wheel away from the stopped trailer. The nimble Toyota SUV responded with squealing tires, but it made the turn Natasha asked from it. Betty’s stomach felt like it wanted to expel everything she had eaten all over the vehicle, but she swallowed it all back down when they didn’t crash.

  Those riding in the pickup truck weren’t as lucky as those in the SUV. Their tires squealed, and they crashed straight into the parked tractor trailer. The truck compressed from the impact and the gas tank tore open, igniting the remains of the vehicle into a fireball.

  “Yes!” Betty couldn’t help shouting after they almost died. A sputter from under the Toyota’s hood interrupted her glee. All at once, the engine quit, and Natasha smashed her fists on the steering wheel while she cursed in Russian. At the same moment, Helen cried out. “Bobby! Oh, no!”

  ###

  A firefight was a strange thing to experience. Hundreds of bullets fly through the air, and nothing of any value may get hit. This time, several bullets found their mark. Toyota builds a tough truck, but it wasn’t bulletproof. Bullets tore through the skin of the Highlander and punctured the gas tank and the Jerry cans they had stored in the back. The lack of fuel killed the engine, causing the SUV to stall in the middle of the road. Unless they found a replacement gas tank and installed it, the Highlander had driven its last mile.

  Helen had cried out because bullets tore through Bobby’s neck and midsection. He had bled out before the engine even stopped, and Helen could do nothing to save him. Their group of four had become three. Natasha made sure he wouldn’t reanimate, and they buried him on the side of the road, near the dead SUV.

  The place they came to a stop had a Mexican restaurant, a gas station, an ice cream shop, a car wash, and a small strip mall surrounding it. Too bad there wasn’t a car dealer on the corner. A side street contained homes, so they would look there for a place to spend the night. They needed to regroup, find transportation, and grieve their loss. So much loss in only a few short days. How would they survive?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  GWEN QUINN

  Gwen didn’t know what to make of Diana and Michael since they just met them while they refueled the Suburban. Donald wanted to follow them to their place to find out if they were potential friends, but she wasn’t keen on this plan. True, they had met any allies the past year, but these two were over the top. Diana’s powerful build made her appear as a competent warrior, but her vulgar mouth and bright blue hair made her appear ridiculous. Michael’s demeanor, as a weak little weeny, presented a complete opposite to Diana. How had he survived for so long? They were an odd couple for sure, put together in the madness the world had become.

  “Are you sure following them is a smart move?” Gwen said. Donald drove the Suburban behind the Humvee, following it down an airport access road toward the terminal buildings.

  “Considering we may be the only three still alive from our camp in Maine, we could use all the friends we can find. We’ll feel them out over a meal and decide afterward. Worse comes to worse, we part ways. No loss either way.”

  “I guess you’re right. Let’s stay alert, though. This could be a trap.”

  “I like her blue hair. Have you ever seen muscles like hers on a woman before?” Matthew said from the back seat.

  “Yes, her hair is something alright. Maybe you’ll consider some color, Gwen?” All three chuckled at Donald’s joke.

  “Did anyone ever tell you two that you’re hilarious? Let’s keep the hair and muscle comments to ourselves. I wouldn’t want to get on her nasty side.”

  Donald followed the Humvee through a hole cut into the airport’s perimeter fence, and they drove around the terminal building. Airplanes loaded and disembarked their passengers on this far side of the building. Three airplanes sat parked on the tarmac in front of the gates, as they awaited passengers and crew who would never come. The Humvee stopped in front of an empty gate, and they both climbed out. Diana didn’t wait for anyone, but stormed up a set of steps and disappeared inside the building. Michael stood alone and waved, with a stupid grin on his face, as the Suburban approached him.

  “I’m not sure that guy is all there, either. He appears to have a screw lose.” Donald said as he parked the Suburban nose out, allowing them to make a quick getaway if things went south.

  “I’d keep those comments to yourself too, since he might just be the saner of the two.” Gwen said before getting out of their truck.

  “Hi, welcome to Bradley International Airport. We have a few gates blocked off where we stay. The nice thing is, there are still lights and running water inside. At least they work during the daytime when the sun shines bright. Come on in and check out our home.”

  They walked up a set of steps and entered through the back of one of the jet bridges that provided a walkway from the gate to the parked airplane. Once inside, they found the place, just as Michael described it to them. A large open area barricaded from the rest of the airport by a combination of furniture, gift shop displays, and assorted airport equipment. Along the far side of the room sat a set of bathrooms and a long-closed snack bar. Their former camp in Maine had power, so working lights didn’t impress Gwen. Based upon Michael’s comments, she assumed solar panels sat on top of the building, keeping the power on. Diana slumped on a stool in the snack bar area with her back to the entrance.

  “I’d show you around, but all you can see is all we have. The rest rooms work, but they are just public bathrooms with no showers or tubs. Feel free to use them if you wish and then we can sit down at the snack bar and eat some food.” Michael pointed toward the rest room signs on the wall across from the entrance.

  Gwen followed the Donald and Matthew into the Men’s Room. It made no difference to her which they used, but she thought Matthew might balk about entering the Women’s Room. He was still a young boy, even if the apocalypse required him to grow up too quickly. Matthew disappeared into a stall at the end of the row, and Gwen leaned over to whisper in Donald’s ear. “What do you think?”

  “They’ve done alright for themselves. I’m surprised all the utility systems are still working. There must be some type of solar panel system on top of the building, but that doesn’t explain the working water supply. Let’s eat something with them and then decide what’s next for us.”

  “Too bad you didn’t know how to fly a plane. There are three lined up for departure.”

  “They didn’t teach flying at MIT. Chances are good those planes aren’t even flyable after sitting for the past year. Fuel goes bad quickly, and no one has maintained them. You can’t pull over onto a cloud and call road side assistance if the engines shut down while flying.”

  The flush of the toilet ended their conversation. Gwen didn’t want to worry Matthew, but she wanted to equip him with the skills to take care of himself, since no one knew what tomorrow held. It had been tough fulfilling her role as a substitute mother during the apocalypse, but she loved Matthew all the same. She had no previous experience as a mother, and her mom hadn’t provided a good example.

  As they returned to the gate area, the smell of cooking meat wafted from the snack bar. Michael saw the three walking in and called them over to join him. He cooked chunks of meat and vegetables covered with cheese on the flat top grill behind the counter.

  “Don’t get excited about the meat because it’s Spam. I’ve gotten good at hiding the awful taste with grilled veggies and processed chee
se food. We’re reaching the end of our food stores, though. Then we’ll only have the MREs we recovered from the National Guard Base left to eat and who knows how bad they taste.”

  “Compared to the food we’ve had the last few days, it sounds wonderful.” Donald said as they all sat down on the bar stools in front of the snack bar. This meal would be a step down from the fresh food the camp in Maine provided, but since its destruction, they couldn’t be picky.

  “So, where are the three of you headed to?”

  “We lived in a camp in Maine, and raiders destroyed it a few days ago. As far as we know, we’re the only survivors from our original group. We have no destination in mind but figured we’d head south to avoid the harsh winter.” Donald lied to the two strangers and winked at Gwen behind their backs.

  “Maybe you could stay here with us a few days before you move on?”

  “Shit, Mikey, do you hear yourself? We aren’t here to fucking play house like the fucking Brady Bunch. We need to get your ass to the CDC.”

  “What makes you think the CDC still exists, and why would you want to go there even if it did?” Gwen would let Donald handle this conversation and only jump in if she felt he needed her help. This wasn’t a garden club society party. These answers might mean life or death to the three of them.

  “Where have you been, dumbass? The fucking CDC is operating at a location between Atlanta and Tennessee. Those brainiacs are looking for a cure, and Mikey here is the fucking key. He could end all this fucking shit.”

  “How’s Michael the key to a cure? Is he a virologist?”

  Diana cackled before responding. “Shit, no. Mickey be a dumbass and got himself bit. Show him your fucking arm, dumbass.”

  Michael pulled up his sleeve, and Gwen could see a nasty scare made by human teeth. It had healed, and he hadn’t become a member of the walking dead. How could this be? Anyone who got bit or scratched by a zombie turned into a flesh-eating monster.