The Zombie Uprising Series: Books One Through Five

by M. A. Robbins

  The truck rumbled over fallen bodies, causing it to buck and more zombies to fall off. A half dozen zombies remained on the hood, the muscular one still slamming its ham-sized fists into the windshield.

  A crack appeared and spidered out.

  "We can't wait," Mark said. He aimed at the zombie.

  Jen glanced out her window. Only one remained on the running board. She brought the window down. "Don't shoot the glass. I've got this."

  A teenage girl in a midriff-baring crop top, her intestines hanging from a gaping hole in her belly, flailed her arms, trying to grasp Jen. Jen pulled the trigger and the zombie's head snapped back as it tumbled from the truck.

  Jen wriggled out the window.

  "What the hell are you doing?" Mark asked.

  She held her left arm out to him. "Hold on to me."

  He grasped her arm and she leaned back, her ass on the door, and aimed the gun at Muscle Man's forehead. She squeezed the trigger just as the truck bucked. Her round shredded his left shoulder and he lost use of that arm, but continued pounding with the other fist.

  Jen took a deep breath and lined up the sights on the creature's forehead. Sticking her tongue out of the side of her mouth, she squeezed the trigger. A hole appeared right where she'd aimed, and Muscle Man's yellow eyes rolled up into his head just before he took a swan dive off the hood. Jen took aim at each of the other zombies in turn and cleared the hood.

  Mark pulled her back into the cab. She fell into the seat and closed the window. "Take that, Clint Eastwood."

  "We're pulling away from them," Grant said. "Kicked their asses."

  Mark handed Jen a new magazine. "There weren't that many."

  Jen frowned. "There had to be a couple hundred, at least."

  "I figured four hundred, give or take," Mark said. "But there's almost half a million in the city. We could easily run into a swarm of thousands, and we barely escaped this bunch."

  Jen leaned forward and stared at the side view mirror. The remaining zombies had stopped chasing them. They were clear for the moment.

  The truck rumbled toward the intersection with International Airport Road. A mass of vehicles blocked the road, just past the intersection. Uneasiness crept into her gut.

  "Let's take this turn a little slower than the last," Jen said. "Just in case there's another horde waiting for us."

  Grant shot her a dirty look, but downshifted. He leaned forward. "Hey, this is where we crossed before, right?"

  Jen nodded. "We crossed this road to get to the highway where we picked up the Tundra."

  Grant slapped the dashboard. "That's it." He leaned forward. "But there's something different about it. Were those cars there before?"

  Mark pulled out his pistol. "Stop the truck!"

  A shot rang out and a muzzle flash came from the cars in the intersection. The truck's windshield shattered and fell in. Several more firearms blazed in front of them, rounds peppering the truck.

  Jen ducked, and a hole appeared in the back of her seat.

  Mark hit the floorboard. "Ambush."

  31

  Jen fell to the floor as Grant jammed the brake pedal. The truck's brakes squealed and it shuddered to a stop.

  Bullets flew through the glass and into the front of the truck, the sound of each round hitting causing her to flinch.

  Jen's mouth went dry and her heart hammered her chest. "I know what to do with zombies, but what the hell do we do with this?"

  Mark hunched over next to her. "Keep your head down for starters."

  Grant raised his pistol above the dashboard and fired a few rounds. Mark put a hand on Grant's wrist and lowered it. "You're just wasting ammo."

  This noise is going to bring a swarm and then we'll really be trapped. Images of the carnage at the convoy played unbidden in her mind.

  "Open your doors," Mark said. "Let's see what cover we may have."

  "What if they're on the side of us, too?" Grant asked.

  Mark shook his head. "They would've already attacked us from there. All the gunfire we're taking is from the front."

  Jen unlatched the door and pushed it open. It bounced back and she pushed it out again with her foot, using less force. It stayed open. The gunfire picked up and the door's window shattered. She pressed back against Mark.

  Grant got his door open. On his side was a car dealership with an open parking lot, but the damn building was too far away to make a run for it. On Jen's side stood a motorcycle shop much closer to the truck.

  Jen covered her head as chips of glass rained down. "What do we do?"

  Mark chewed his lip and peered out her door. "Grant, can you drive this thing over to the cycle shop without getting your head shot off?"

  Grant pulled his door shut. "Just watch me." He scooted up on the seat, but kept bent over, and put the truck into gear. It rumbled forward and he turned the wheel, keeping his hands below the dashboard. The firing stopped for a few seconds, then picked back up. Rounds tore into his door and hit the seat back. Grant hit the brakes. "If we turn any more, those bullets will be flying right into this cab."

  "What we need is a diversion," Mark said.

  The gunshots slowed down again. Are they reloading? Now would be the time to move.

  "Cover me." Jen jumped to the ground and scampered toward the motorcycle shop. She pumped off a few rounds from her pistol in the general direction of the shooters. Mark and Grant leaned out from the doors and laid down fire.

  Almost there. Bullets whizzed overhead and the glass windows of the cycle shop shattered. Jen dove for safety behind the outer wall. She pressed against the wall, panting.

  The shooting stopped.

  A syrupy voice called out from the intersection. "Well, darling. Looks like we do get to play again."

  Trip? Is this for real?

  "Don't be rude," Trip called out. "You can at least say hello back."

  Jen stood and edged to the corner of the building. Mark and Grant crouched behind the dashboard, shoving new magazines into their rifles. She looked at Mark, spread her hands, and shrugged. What do I do?

  Mark pointed toward the shooters and mimicked someone talking with his hand.

  Jen yelled. "What do you want?"

  Trip laughed. "You, baby."

  Bile backed up into Jen's throat. Freaking creep. "We don't want any trouble. Why don't you just let us go by?"

  "Not a chance. You still haven't paid your trespassing fine. And now you're trespassing on my intersection."

  A burst of gunfire punctuated his sentence, and the impact chipped the corner of the building, inches from Jen's face. She backpedaled and fell on her ass.

  Picking herself up, she turned to the truck. Mark had his rifle aimed at her. Before she could process it, the gun fired and something behind her hit the ground with a thud. She whirled, and a balding zombie that had to weigh three hundred pounds lay still a couple of feet away.

  Trip's gang started firing again. Probably think Mark shot at them.

  She gave Mark a thumbs-up and his eyes went wide. What the hell? She spun, and there stood Zeke in full ninja garb.

  "Hi, Jen," he said.

  She pulled him into a back-crushing hug. "I thought I'd never see you again. What the hell happened?"

  He pulled his hood off. "I took out two of them and they chased me all over, but never saw me. I followed them out here and stuck close. They'd given up on following you, but figured they could ambush anyone passing through the intersection. I was just leaving to go find you guys when they started shooting." He smiled. "Glad I came back to check it out."

  The gunfire slowed down. "I'll tell you what," Trip yelled. "You come over here, Girly, and the others can move on."

  Mark shook his head, his teeth gritted.

  Jen looked down at the fat zombie. "With all this gunfire, you'd think there'd be a ton of zombies swarming us."

  "They picked the right place for a firefight," Zeke said. "There are trees lining this whole intersection, and hundreds of cars i
n the lots that break up the sound and keep it from traveling too far. Any zombie more than a block or two away probably doesn't hear much, and Trip's gang cleared three blocks out before they settled in."

  Jen scratched her chin. "So we just need to draw a horde close enough for those assholes to attract them with their guns."

  "Yeah," Zeke said. "There are a ton of zombies not too far from here."

  "What direction?"

  He pointed toward the gunmen. "Past them."

  Jen smiled. "Perfect. You and I are going zombie wrangling."

  32

  Jen waved to Mark, then put up her hands, palms up, indicating for them to stay where they were. Mark's eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded.

  Jen holstered her pistol. "Take me to the horde."

  Zeke pulled his hood on and unsheathed his katana. Jen grabbed her axe and followed him to the back of the building.

  After looking both ways, Zeke sprinted across the back parking lot and into the brush. Jen followed him, glancing over her shoulder toward the intersection. The building concealed her from Trip's men until the last second. Hopefully, they were too busy with Mark and Grant, and hadn't noticed her streaking by.

  Zeke cut through the bushes and covered the rocky ground to a strip club without making a sound. Jen followed him and slipped on loose rocks, nearly taking a tumble. But she righted herself and joined Zeke on the back side of the building.

  They slipped around to the side of the building and stopped. International Airport Road lay in front of them. "We cross here," Zeke said. "Fast as you can. They probably won't see us, but if they do, they won't have time to get a good shot."

  Jen nodded. "Ready."

  Zeke peered around the corner toward the intersection. He raised his right hand, then dropped it. Jen took off and sprinted straight for a warehouse. The firefight continued unbroken at the intersection, and she pulled up at the warehouse, panting.

  This is the easy part and I'm already breathing heavy. Need to pace myself.

  "How much farther?" she asked.

  Zeke pointed ahead. "A couple of blocks that way."

  He threaded his way around shipping containers and abandoned vehicles. More industrial buildings appeared on their right, while a greenbelt, thick with fir and birch trees, lined their left. The greenbelt muffled the sounds of battle to almost nothing.

  Zeke stopped and put a finger to his mask where his lips were. "We're close," he whispered. "Some of them may have strayed since I was here a half hour ago."

  He pressed against a warehouse wall and crept to a set of metal stairs that ran to the roof. Rushing up the stairs, Zeke didn't make a sound. Jen took three steps up and stopped. She sounded like a freaking stampede.

  How the hell does he do it?

  She looked up and Zeke stepped onto the roof. She took the steps slow to keep the noise down, but took two at a time. The noon sun beat down as she stepped onto the roof and joined Zeke at the other end, where he lay on his stomach looking over the edge. Her breath hitched.

  Between the group of industrial buildings, thousands of zombies milled around, packed shoulder to shoulder in some places. A giant warehouse stood across the way, its huge double doors wide open and more of the zombies lumbering inside.

  The growling of so many undead had merged into a hum. "You weren't shitting," Jen whispered. "Trip will shit his pants and run when he sees this many coming."

  "The only way to lure them there is to use ourselves as bait," Zeke said.

  Jen swallowed. "Yeah. Let's figure out our route."

  She slipped to the back of the building and stood, looking out over the greenbelt. They'd need a route that they could easily run through, but one that would slow down such a big swarm. She turned to say something and found herself nose-to-nose with Zeke. Startled, she stepped back. He grabbed her arm. "Don't fall off the roof."

  Heart pounding, she took a deep breath. "I wish you'd quit doing that sneaky shit."

  Zeke shrugged. "Sorry."

  She pointed at the trees. "The trail we came through earlier runs right through this greenbelt. I say we go for it."

  Zeke pulled his hood off. "Good idea. If we can get through the trees and onto the path quickly, we'll be running the trail with no obstacles. Most of the zombies will have to run through the trees and brush since the trail won't hold them all."

  Kid is smarter than I thought. "Right. And we come onto the Old Seward behind Trip and his gang." Jen frowned. "But it won't be easy. We'll have to run straight at them in the open."

  Zeke smiled. "Once they see the horde, they'll stop shooting and take off. I think we'll be OK."

  Jen put her fist out and Zeke bumped it with his. "Let's get down there and stir up a hornet's nest," she said.

  She led him down the stairs and to the corner of the building. She pointed toward the trees. "See those two birch trees right past that old blue Dodge truck?"

  Zeke nodded.

  "That's where we head. I lined it up from the roof. If we go straight through there, we'll hit the trail several yards in. Follow it to the left and we'll end up on the Old Seward."

  "Got it," Zeke said. "How do you want to get them moving?"

  "All we've got to do is find one and make it screech." Jen crept out from the building, past a few cars. Zeke stayed by her side. She crouched by the car and scanned the area. A half dozen zombies staggered back and forth.

  She whispered to Zeke. "This is going to be easy." She stood and strode out from behind the car. The zombies wandered, not noticing her. Jumping up and down she yelled, "Hey, zombie assholes. Over here. Fresh brains."

  The six zombies spun toward her at exactly the same time. What the hell?

  They paused for a moment, then sprinted at her. Hundreds more zombies stampeded from behind the building.

  Holy shit. Jen streaked to the tree line. What the hell was that? No screeches and they all still knew to attack?

  Zeke darted ahead and she followed him into the trees, pushing past needled branches and underbrush. The sound of thousands of footsteps behind her.

  Her shoes hit asphalt and she turned left just as a ninja-shaped figure disappeared around a curve ahead of her. Already breathing heavy, she pressed on, a stitch stabbing her side. She reached the curve and glanced back. Zombies poured onto the trail, hot on her ass. Not one grunt, not one screech. It was creepy as shit.

  She caught a flash of Zeke ahead and pushed to keep up, the muscles in her thighs burning. She dared another glance behind her and was relieved to see the horde wasn't catching up. But it wasn't falling back, either. One stumble, one fall, and she'd be zombie chow.

  She zipped around another curve and Zeke stood several yards ahead. He pointed down the trail. "Old Seward."

  He joined her as she caught up. Freaking kid ran as if he'd just woken up from a nap. Didn't anything faze him?

  The sounds of gunfire smacked them in the face as they burst onto the road and turned left. Trip and five others with him crouched behind the blockading vehicles, their backs to Jen and Zeke.

  The shooting stopped and the thrum of thousands of feet pounding the asphalt had Trip and his gang turning around. Two of his men took off running toward a restaurant at the intersection. Trip stood, his mouth hanging open as if he couldn't comprehend the scene before him. But it lasted only a few seconds as he shouted orders. He and his remaining crew reloaded and fired in Jen's direction.

  Jen glanced back and was sorry she did. Zombies covered both lanes of the road and more poured out from the trail, the trees, and between buildings. It was a silent flood of undead that would tear apart anyone in its path.

  A bullet kicked up the asphalt a few feet in front of Jen and her attention went back to Trip. A muzzle flash flared from the crazy asshole's barrel and the sharp whine of a bullet zipped just above Jen's head.

  I'm so screwed.

  33

  Zeke yelled, "I'll go around them on the right. You go left."

  She nodded and angled left. The
thought of zigzagging to throw off Trip's aim flashed briefly in her mind, but that would slow her down and bring the swarm closer to her ass.

  The dump truck started up and rolled through the intersection toward the airport. Her breath coming in gasps, Jen changed direction and headed straight for the truck. Zeke raced ahead of her.

  Trip was now the only one of his gang not in flight. He gritted his teeth, took aim at Jen with his rifle, and fired. The bullet passed somewhere in front of her. She kicked it up a gear and sprinted around the truck. Zeke was already in the cab. She jumped on the running board and peered back at the intersection. Trip had abandoned his spot and was running toward the restaurant. His men stood at the entrance holding the door open.

  Jen braced her rifle against the shuddering dump truck door and took aim at Trip's back. Bastard won't get away.

  The truck bounced over something as she squeezed the trigger, and the shot went wild. She grabbed the door to keep from flying off, barely hanging onto the rifle with the other hand. Recovering, she took aim again. Trip was only a few yards from the restaurant. Most of the swarm was on his tail.

  She lined up the sights on his back, took a deep breath, and held it. A drop of sweat rolled down her nose as she squeezed the trigger and the rifle's butt recoiled into her shoulder. Trip fell, holding his leg. She'd missed his back, but he was screwed anyway. He rolled onto his back and emptied his rifle at the oncoming horde, which washed over him like a tidal wave and smashed into the restaurant's door, knocking it down. Scores of zombies flooded into the building.

  Jen opened the cab door and pushed in, jamming Zeke into Mark.

  Mark reached over and placed a hand on her arm. "I thought you were dead."

  Jen rolled her eyes. "Easy there, big guy. Let's not get emotional."

  "We're not out of the woods yet," Grant said.

  He worked the clutch and glanced at the side view mirror. Jen looked out her side. A good portion of the horde had turned and were pursuing them. They trailed the truck by a couple hundred feet at most.