"Mark," Jen yelled. "In the back."
Mark ran to the back of the truck and vaulted over the side. Jen dove into the bed headfirst, and Mark banged on the side of the truck. "Let's go."
The truck jerked forward, slamming Jen against the tailgate. Thank god that thing didn't fly open.
She tried to get to her hands and knees, but the truck made a sharp turn and threw her into the side of the bed. Mark grabbed her under her arms and pulled her up. "Stay away from the sides and be ready."
She got up on one knee, still holding the axe in a firm grip.
The cab's back window opened. "Grant needs to know which way to go," Doc said.
Jen stood and leaned on the top of the truck cab. Zombies flowed out from between buildings, and Grant ran the truck right through them. One grasped the grill and pulled itself to the hood. Jen pulled out her pistol and sent a bullet through its left eye. It disappeared under the truck.
Jen leaned down to the window. "Go straight until you hit the main street. That's Bragaw. Then turn right and don't let anything stop you. We don't have time to go another way."
"Jen!"
She spun. Mark knelt on both knees. A German Shepherd, its fur matted with blood and yellow hate in its eyes, crouched on the bed, ready to pounce. Mark swung at it, but it leapt over the mace and snapped at him, its teeth barely missing his face.
Damn, that thing's fast.
Mark backed against one side of the cab, and Jen knelt at the other. The dog sprung at Mark, avoided his mace, and dodged to Jen's side of the bed. She brought the axe down, and it leapt back barely in time.
The truck's speed had picked up. Jen glanced to see where they were. Twenty feet from the turn. She held the axe handle with both hands and cocked it back over her shoulder. Mark continued to battle the dog. It attacked, retreated, and attacked again in one fluid motion. Mark wouldn't be able to keep up with it for long.
Just a few more seconds.
The truck made a hard turn, catching the dog off guard. Knocked off its feet, it was flung into Jen's side of the bed. She brought the axe over her head as fast as she could and hit the dog in the forehead, cracking its skull. It fell to the bed, its legs splayed and tongue draped out of its mouth.
Mark lay back and blew out a breath while puffing his cheeks. "Holy shit. Nice shot. Can you imagine facing a whole pack of them?"
Jen looked behind them. The zombies, dogs and humans, fell farther behind. She leaned into the cab's back window. "Nice driving, Grant."
He beamed.
"The next major road is Debarr," she said. "Hang a left. We're almost there."
"You got it."
She sat down next to Mark. "You OK? No bites?"
He shook his head. "Damn good thing you were here. I never would've survived that thing."
"Just luck," she said.
Mark let out a short laugh. "I've noticed you tend to do things your own way. You were supposed to stay in the cab and drive, but you didn't and it worked out this time. But one of these times, it's going to bite you in the ass." He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. "Anyway, thanks."
The truck wound around a broken-down police cruiser. Its doors were open and dried blood and bits of flesh decorated its windshield. Mark was right. She'd grown up taking care of herself, and had a hard time trusting people she didn't know. But of everyone in their group, she trusted Mark the most, and that's why she'd jumped out to help him. She couldn't afford to lose him.
The truck slowed and Jen stood to look ahead over the cab. The Debarr intersection was littered with twisted metal and burned corpses. Grant picked his way between the wreckage, the truck jerking and bumping over charred flesh and bone. The smell of burnt meat hung heavy in the air.
The zombies chasing them seemed to have given up, but as they turned onto Debarr, several more wandered into the road in front of them. The truck cleared the wreckage and Grant gunned it, mowing down three of the zombies in mid-screech. Debarr was almost totally clear, and despite the responding screeches around them, the zombies that poured into the road were too far behind to catch up.
Jen knocked on the back window. "Keep going straight past the hospital—the road curves—then look for an access road to Merrill Field on your right at the stoplight."
"How much farther?" Mark asked.
"If the roads are open, a couple minutes," she said.
A pileup just past the hospital blocked their way. Grant slowed down and eased the truck over the sidewalk and onto the grass. They reached the access road to Merrill Field a few minutes later and followed the winding road up to the aircraft parking area. When they reached the top of the hill, Grant stopped.
Jen stood to take in the devastation. It looked like the place had been bombed. Of the few buildings still standing, they were mostly hollowed-out wrecks. The rest were nothing more than blackened ruins. The breeze washed the smell of burnt wood over her.
Jen's heart sank. "What the hell are we going to do now?"
26
A few zombies staggered through the distant charred ruins, but were far enough away that they took no notice of the truck and its occupants.
Doc shook his head. "The whole place? The whole damn place is gone?"
Grant got out of the truck and slammed his fist against the side. "I don't fucking believe this. We did everything. We never gave up. And what did we get for it?"
Doc looked at Jen. "Maybe we shouldn't give up now. Is this all of the field?"
Jen shaded her eyes and scanned the area. She'd passed Merrill Field a million times on the highway, but had never been on it.
She tried to find landmarks that were near the highway, but couldn't. The piles of debris were too high. Could there still be undamaged planes they couldn't see from their position?
"Grant," she said. "Take us around this mess."
"For what?"
"We're looking at the flight line, but there may have been some aircraft parked by the buildings near the highway."
Mark raised his head. "Hell, yeah. They could be parked for maintenance, or loading and unloading. Why didn't I think of that?"
Grant swung his door open and jumped into the truck. Doc hopped in the other side. "Never give up hope," he said.
God, I wish he'd quit that.
Grant put the truck in gear and steered it to the left, past the charred remains of several planes and a helicopter. A zombie ran at them from behind a pile of debris. When he grasped the tailgate, Jen knocked his head in with the axe.
They drove up a rise and around a collapsed building, and the rest of the airfield opened before them.
Most of it was in the same condition as what they'd already seen—destroyed buildings and planes. Burned bodies and vehicles.
"There," Mark yelled. He pointed to a small building near the highway. All that remained on one side of it was the foundation, but the other side of the building looked untouched.
In front of it stood five planes. The two nearest the wrecked side of the building were non-flying, with one missing a wing that looked like it had snapped off, and another that was missing a wheel and tilted to the side.
The other three looked untouched.
Grant jammed the gas pedal to the floor, and Jen fell on her ass in the bed. Mark thrust out a hand and pulled her back to her feet.
"I'm not even pissed," she said. "Things are finally going our way."
"Don't get your hopes up too far," Mark said. "We still have to find keys, and the engines have to turn over."
Jen nodded. "And in good repair, right?"
"We may have to accept some risk," he said. "We've got minutes to get up and fly to JBER. If there's a sticky control or something else I think I can handle for the short flight, I'll take her up."
The truck came to a stop several feet from the single-engine plane on the end. Mark jumped out of the bed and jogged to it.
He opened a door and leaned in. "Everything looks good so far."
"Not that I'm one to
worry," Doc said, "but aren't you supposed to do some type of preflight?"
"No time to do a detailed look," Mark said. "Besides, I don't want to take too long with each of them. I'd rather find the keys and see which one we're getting before I spend the time."
Mark checked out the next plane, another single-engine plane with the wings overhead. The door stood open and he poked his head in. "Same here."
He turned toward the last plane, an older looking two-engine model. He propped his hands on his hips. "Don't bother with that one."
Jen stepped next to him. "Why?"
He pointed to a puddle beneath it. "Oil. We don't have time to troubleshoot."
Grant had walked toward the building, rifle slung over his back and sword in hand. "Any keys should be in there, no? Let's hope they weren't all in that part that was blown away."
Jen squinted at the building. The side that still stood was dark and at an angle where the sun didn't penetrate very far. "I don't think Doc should be going anywhere near that."
Mark looked at the building, then Doc. "Agreed. Grant and I will go in. You stay here with Doc and keep him safe."
"Me? How about Grant sits this one out."
"I don't trust his judgment and abilities as much as I do yours."
Jen stood chest-to-chest with Mark. "All the more reason I should have your back."
Mark shook his head. "Getting Doc to the base is our mission. Besides, do you think the military will take us without him?"
Damn, if he doesn't make sense. I freaking hate it, but he's right.
Mark ran over to Grant and together they jogged to the building. Jen approached the truck where Doc waited. "You and I will hang out here. Watch their backs."
Doc leaned against the truck and laid his rifle in the bed. "We're not watching anything. Y'all are just trying to keep me bubble-wrapped."
"Does that bother you?"
Doc laughed. "Not a bit." His face got serious and he said, "Dammit, Jim. I'm a bio scientist, not a warrior."
Jen laughed. For the first time since all hell had broken loose, she thought about a future. She'd love to work with Doc once they got the hell out of there. And I'll bet he'd go for it, too.
Mark and Grant disappeared into the building, their flashlight beams playing on the walls.
Jen leaned against the side of the truck, crossed her arms on top of it, and laid her head down. When had she last slept? She'd been so hyped up, she hadn't felt tired. But the adrenaline level had to be dropping. Her eyelids grew heavy.
Someone shook her arm. Had she fallen asleep? She straightened. Doc pointed to the highway, not far from the building. A dozen zombies shambled down the road and were on track to pass right by the building. If Mark or Grant made too much noise, it would attract them. Maybe even their flashlight beams would do it.
They had to be warned. Jen spotted a door at the other end of the building. She could enter there unseen by the horde and warn Mark and Grant.
She bit her lip. But what would she do with Doc? She'd stayed back with him to keep him safe. None of the buildings were closer than thirty yards or so, and nothing stirred within or between them.
"Doc," she said, "I need you to get in the truck and wait for me."
"Where are y'all going?"
She pointed to the building door. "I'll slip in there, let the guys know what's coming, and be right back here before you know it."
"I'll come with you."
She shook her head. "No way. You're our ace in the hole for getting out of here. Plus, you have info that might help with a cure. You're too important."
Doc sighed. "OK. But take it easy and be careful. I was hoping when this is over that you might come work with me."
Jen's mouth opened, but she couldn't think of a thing to say. He wanted to work with her? She nodded and pointed to the truck. Doc smiled and climbed in the driver's side.
The zombies on the highway had staggered closer. Jen would have to take a wide angle to get to the door so they wouldn't detect her. She ran to the ruins of a firetruck ten yards away, then darted behind a bent and twisted pair of dumpsters. From that spot, she was blocked from the zombies' view.
She sprinted for the door and pressed her back to the wall beside it. Doc sat in the truck and gave her a wave. She waved back. She had her rifle slung across her back and the axe ready to swing. She twisted the knob.
Locked.
Shit.
The door had a window, but its blinds were down. She tried to peek through them, but saw nothing but darkness.
Smashing the window would make too much noise and probably alert the zombies she was trying to warn the others about.
Only one other choice.
She raised the axe overhead and brought it down on the door knob. It popped off and spun away on the asphalt. She pushed on the door, but it didn't budge. Damn dead bolt.
She cocked an ear. Shuffling, but no growls.
Time was running out fast. The zombies would be at the building any second, and the C-130 could take off any minute.
She reared her arm back and smashed the door's window. The sound echoed over the airfield. She whispered through the window. "Mark. Grant. You hear me?"
A growl answered her, and a woman in a print dress with an arm that dangled by a thread of flesh slammed into the door, knocking the blinds off. Her mouth snapped inches from Jen's face, her fetid breath causing Jen to gag.
Regaining her composure, Jen buried the axe into the woman's head. The creature collapsed.
A chorus of screeches rose from the other side of the building. She hadn't gotten to Mark and Grant in time. She flicked on her flashlight and raced through the room, catching glimpses of lockers and benches before bursting through an open doorway into a hall.
Light beams played over the walls and ceiling at the other end of the hallway. The zombie howls were louder in that direction.
"Mark. Grant."
"Jen, what are you doing here?"
They stood at a closed door. It shuddered with the force of several bodies.
"I came to warn you about the zombies coming up the highway," she said.
"Nice timing," Grant said.
Mark put up a hand. "Wait. What's that?"
Jen tilted her head, listening. Over the zombie noise, she heard the faint sounds of a car horn. Her eyes grew wide. Doc.
27
The horn blared again.
Mark craned his neck and peered past Jen. "Where's Doc?"
"He's in the truck." Jen sprinted for the door.
"You left him alone?" Grant yelled after her.
She looked out the broken window to make sure it was clear, then opened the door and stepped out. No zombies on that end of the building.
Weapons fire echoed down the hallway. The zombies were breaching the door. Jen hesitated. Who do I help?
A truck horn sounded. Jen's eyes snapped to their truck. Fifteen zombies surrounded it. Shit.
The zombies screeched, growled, and banged on the doors and windows. Another six rushed out from behind a pile of rubble and joined them.
Doc would be safe for a while if he kept his head. Jen slipped the rifle off her shoulder and took a firing position. If she could take them out from where she was, she'd still be close enough to help Mark and Grant. She aimed at a zombie that stood on the hood, stomping its feet on the windshield. It was only a matter of time before it caved in the glass.
She aimed for its ear, took a breath and held it, then squeezed the trigger. The light recoil pushed the butt into her shoulder, and the zombie's head split. It slid to the hood, and then onto the asphalt. The smell of spent powder stung her nostrils.
A screech to her left caused her to spin. Some of the highway zombies must've heard the commotion and abandoned the inside of the building. A half dozen of them sprinted for her.
Gunshots rang out from the truck. I'll get back to you as soon as I can, Doc.
She swung her rifle toward the highway zombies and shot two of them, b
ut only killed one. The creatures were too close for a rifle, so she pulled her axe and crushed the skull of the first zombie to reach her, while ducking out of the way of the second one. She spun and brought the axe down on the back of the second zombie's head after it passed her, and it sank to the ground.
Mark would be proud of that move.
The last three zombies were slower than the others. Jen risked a glance at the truck. Two more zombies lay dead next to it, but another one stood on the truck bed and reached in the broken back window, trying to grab Doc.
More gunfire came from inside the building, then stopped. "Could use some help out here," she screamed.
Jen kicked the chest of one zombie, knocking it to the ground. She brought the axe blade down on its neck, almost severing the head from the body. A second swing completed the job. The head continued to snap its jaws silently at her.
Doc screamed, "Jen!"
The zombie had Doc's head pulled out of the truck's back window. Jen picked up her rifle and aimed at the son of a bitch, a husky guy in a gore-soaked flannel shirt and jeans. Her finger went to the trigger. She took a deep breath and held it, then slowly squeezed the trigger.
Her head jerked back by her hair and her feet flew out from beneath her, sending her rifle shot into the sky. She slammed down on her back and the air rushed from her lungs.
A tall blonde woman with one side of her face de-skinned silently bent over Jen, her mouth wide open and heading for Jen's throat.
A shot sounded, and the top half of the zombie's head disintegrated. The lifeless hand lost its grip on Jen's hair and the zombie fell. Grant stood at the doorway, his rifle aimed her way.
"Doc," she croaked.
Jen pushed herself to her knees and pointed toward the truck. She looked back at Grant. "Doc."
Grant brought his rifle to his shoulder and shot. The zombie disappeared over the side of the truck, and Doc pulled himself back into the cab.
Jen caught her breath and stood. Another couple of zombies climbed into the truck bed and attacked the back window. Grant took out one, but the remaining one dove headfirst into the cab and had Doc in its grip. The other zombies roared as if being fed by bloodlust.
The Zombie Uprising Series: Books One Through Five Page 25