D-Day braced himself against the dresser. “Don’t worry about this. Just take care of business over there as fast as you can.”
The old lady’s body convulsed and settled on the bed, the air leaving her body like a leaky tire. The monitor’s red light flashed quicker, then went solid as the EKG displayed a straight line.
“She’s dead,” Jen said. She grasped the old lady’s wrinkled hand tighter. And waited.
The frenzied banging at the door slowed and then something big hit. It rattled, but held. “They’re getting serious,” D-Day said. He pulled his pistol and checked the load. “You just concentrate on what you’re doing.”
Jen placed her free hand on top of the old lady’s. “Come on. What’s taking so long?”
The old lady’s eyes sprung open, her yellow irises glistening in the sunlight. Jen tore her sunglasses off and the zombie’s gaze turned to her.
“Butler,” Jen said. “Do you hear me?”
The old lady’s mouth opened and closed like a fish pulled from the water. A low moan came from its lips.
A shock shot down Jen’s spine. Things went dark. Silent. Butler?
She stood on a city street, throngs of undead flowing past her as if she were a rock in the middle of a raging river.
You’ve got to stop. Too many innocent lives are being taken.
The scene switched to a rural area with sweeping fields. A black cloud spread over it, pushing farther across the land like a locust plague in the Old Testament.
I understand what’s happened and that the shadow government needs to be stopped. But you have to stop taking innocent lives.
Everything went dark. A pinpoint of light appeared in the distance and grew closer. A figure stepped into the light.
Butler.
Butler as he was as a human.
In a flash, Jen stood next to him. He had his arms behind his back and a scowl on his face.
“I can’t stop it,” he said.
“But I thought you were controlling them.”
“I am.” He closed his eyes. “I was. There are too many now. I control the millions that are with me, but there are many more I don’t.”
“Then we’re screwed because I don’t think the military can stop them.”
Butler opened his eyes. They glowed yellow. “We can. You and me.”
“Me? I can barely control a half dozen of them.”
“Come to me,” Butler said. “I’ll show you how. You’re stronger than me. You’re special.”
A chill came over Jen. “Where are you?”
“Marching down Interstate 70 with my troops. Heading to Kansas City.” Butler and the light floated away. “Meet me there. Kansas City.”
Jen’s eyes popped open. Chest heaving, she released the old woman’s hand. “D-Day, we’ve got to go.”
D-Day strained against the dresser. The doorframe had cracked and the door pushed in a quarter inch. “Where?” he asked. “We’re fucking trapped.”
The old woman sprang from the bed and landed on all fours. She eyed D-Day.
Get in the corner and stay there.
The woman skittered to the corner.
Jen rushed to the window. “They don’t open. Maybe we can shoot them out and jump onto the roof.”
“You think you’re in a movie?” D-Day gasped. “It’ll leave big pieces of jagged glass. Look for a red dot.”
“A what?”
“A red dot at the bottom of one of the windows.”
Jen scanned the bottom of the window in front of her. Nothing. She pulled up the drapes from the one on the left. Same.
Ripping the drapes away from the right window, she yelled, “Here.”
“Shoot that one. It’s safety glass.”
The door slid another quarter inch. An eye appeared in the opening. “Open the damn door!”
Jen pulled her pistol and fired a round into the wall a foot away from the eye. The eye vanished and D-Day shoved the door back into place. She then stepped back from the window and swung the gun around. Three rapid shots and the window spidered into tiny pieces. She kicked at it, knocking the glass from the bottom part of the window. “We’ve got our exit.”
“You go first,” D-Day said. “I’ll be right behind.”
Jen hesitated.
“Now!” D-Day screamed.
Jen holstered her pistol and grasped the bottom of the window, lowering herself her full arms’ length. Letting go, she dropped to the roof and rolled.
Reaching out with her mind to the old lady, she watched D-Day struggle with the door. The cops were pushing again, and D-Day would have little time to get through the window once he let up on the dresser.
You will attack the men who come through that door. Do not bite or harm them, but knock them over and go through the door. Do not bite anyone, but make them think you will.
She broke contact and ran across the roof before taking cover behind a ventilator cap. “Come on, D-Day.”
A bang came from the window and D-Day swung his body out, letting go as soon as he was stretched out. Shouting and gun fire came from the inside the room. D-Day raced across the roof.
“Over here.” Jen waved and drew her pistol. A cop appeared at the window, aiming his rifle out of it. Jen fired, and the cop jumped out of sight.
D-Day passed her, heading for a set of stairs. Jen sprinted down the stairs behind him to the back parking lot. Still running, an ambulance was parked at the emergency room entrance.
“Get in,” D-Day said.
Jen jumped in the back and closed the door. “Let’s go.”
D-Day spun the ambulance around and it careened onto Silver Springs Road. D-Day accelerated and took a right on Williams Street. “Where are we going?”
“Kansas City.”
D-Day laughed. “Kansas City, here I come.”
Straight into hell, here I come.
8
Wayne stepped out of the men’s room and let out a huge sigh. “Much better.”
“Now you’re all pretty again,” Zeke said. “Give me your phone. Time to call Sergeant Howell.”
Wayne reached into his back pocket and pulled the cell phone out. “It’d be nice to get some answers.” He handed it to Zeke. “Still remember his number?”
Zeke tapped a finger to his temple. “High-capacity memory.” He flipped the phone open, punched the number keys, and set it to speaker.
The ringback tone played once then the phone clicked. “Yes,” Howell said.
“It’s Zeke and Wayne,” Zeke said.
“I’d nearly written you off.”
“So did we,” Wayne said. “What the hell’s going on? Why’d those Homeland Security agents try to kill us?”
“Are you alone?”
“Yup.”
Howell’s voice lowered. “Shit’s hit the fan. There was an outbreak at CDC.”
“Is Jen OK?” Zeke asked.
“She’s alive, but Dr. Cartwright didn’t make it.”
“Where’s Jen?” Wayne asked.
“I’ll brief you on that when I see you. Can you get back to CDC?”
Zeke put the phone on mute. “I don’t like this. We’ve got Homeland Security agents trying to kill us, Cartwright’s dead, and on top of that we don’t know where Jen is.”
“You think we should go after her on our own?”
Zeke frowned. Got to get to Jen. We can worry about everything else later.
He pushed the mute button.
“We’re in Pittsburgh,” he said. “And their militia’s hunting for us.”
“Hang on,” Howell said. There was murmuring on the other end, then Howell came back on. “Are you near the train station?”
“We are,” Zeke said.
“Find Liberty Avenue and take it west,” Howell said. “Just before you get to the river, Point State Park will be on your right. A Blackhawk will pick you up there in an hour and bring you here.”
“What about all the people trying to kill us?” Zeke asked.
“Can’t discuss it on the phone,” Howell said. “I’ve got CDC Headquarters vetted and we’re safe here. So until the helicopter picks you up, be careful and don’t trust anyone.”
“Got it. See you then.” Zeke hung up.
He handed the phone to Wayne and drew his pistol.
“What’re you doing?” Wayne asked.
Zeke ejected the magazine and pulled the action back to reveal a round in the chamber. “Better be ready. We’ve got another hour of survival in Pittsburgh.”
9
A highway interchange a half-mile ahead was jammed with motionless vehicles. Jen stopped her motorcycle on the side of the road and D-Day pulled up next to her.
“Looks like they’re evacuating St. Louis,” he yelled over the engine.
Jen shaded her eyes. People with backpacks and rolling luggage walked alongside the cars and trucks.
“It looks like something from a World War II film,” she said. “Like a bunch of refugees.”
A massive line of cars ahead led to the on-ramp. People stood outside their vehicles, talking.
“Let’s get some info.” Jen let out the clutch and eased the accelerator. D-Day had been right. While it wasn’t quite the same as a four-wheeler, especially when it came to balance, the bike wasn’t that hard for her to pick up.
She parked the bike behind an SUV and walked up to a group of four men gesturing and talking. One of them turned her way, his eyes admiring her, then darting to her side, where D-Day gave him a scowl.
She raised a hand. “How’s it going?”
The other men stopped talking and turned. The first man to notice them, a beefy guy with curly hair around his head, but none on top, spoke.
“Just waiting,” he said. “You taking the Poplar Street Bridge out of the city?”
Jen shook her head. “Trying to get through the city.”
Another man laughed. “Good luck. All roads have been changed to one way, and if they’re not packed with cars, they are with people.”
D-Day folded his arms. “What’s the best way to get to Kansas City?”
Curly Bald Guy chuckled. “Not the way you’re heading. Ain’t nobody going to KC. They’re all jumping ship and getting the hell out of there.”
“Yeah,” said a beady-eyed young guy. “Why the hell do you want to go there? Not even the military guys are keen on heading that way. It’ll be zombie central within a couple of days.”
D-Day took a step toward the beady-eyed guy. “That’s our business.”
The young guy shrank back.
“Whoa, there,” said Curly Hair. “We’re all friends here. We’re just trying to get out.”
Jen peered down the road they way they’d come. “Why not head south, then head east? Doesn’t seem like many people are going that way.”
“Need to get over the river,” Beady-Eyes said. “The military announcements said that the zombies don’t cross wide bodies of water.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Not many wider than the Mississippi.”
Jen exchanged a glance with D-Day. That’s interesting.
“I guess we can go around,” she said.
D-Day shook his head. “We’ve got bikes. We can ride on the sidewalks if we need to.”
Beady-Eyes pointed to the ramp. “Look. Line’s moving.”
The men scattered and jumped into their vehicles. The line moved up two car lengths and stopped again.
Jen strode to her bike. “Come on. Wasting our time here.”
She started it and followed D-Day as he wove between cars and followed the road north.
An hour later they cruised down Tucker Boulevard into downtown. The number of refugees had slowly diminished the farther downtown they went. D-Day stopped at a red light. “Looks like we don’t have to worry about traffic for a while.”
A Humvee screamed down Olive Street. It slowed two blocks away and took a right, disappearing behind a tall brick-faced building.
“Just the Army,” Jen said. “We should avoid them.”
The light turned green and they continued down the road, passing the occasional pedestrian for the next few blocks. D-Day slowed and pulled off to the side.
“We should stop and eat,” he said. “Who knows what’s available on the way to Kansas City?”
“I’d rather get to Butler as soon as possible.” Jen’s stomach rumbled.
D-Day chuckled. “Looks like your gut doesn’t agree.”
“Guess you’re right. Is there anything still open here?”
D-Day pointed to a small diner across Washington Avenue. The Open light was blinking and the door propped open.
They rode to the diner and walked in. A half dozen empty booths that had seen better days lined the front windows, while a couple of rickety tables sat beneath the harsh overhead lights. Salsa music came from the kitchen, but the dining area was empty.
“Anyone here?” Jen yelled.
No answer.
“I don’t sense any zombies nearby,” she said, “but the virus in me could still be mutating, so no use taking a chance.”
She pulled her pistol and moved away from D-Day. The big biker whipped the shotgun from over his shoulder.
He pointed to himself and then to the left. She nodded and crept to the right.
The kitchen door opened. Jen swung her pistol around and pointed it at a short older woman carrying a stack of dishes. She let out an eep and froze.
Jen lowered the gun. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. We’re just looking for something to eat.”
D-Day lowered his shotgun. “We’re pretty starving.”
The woman put the plates on the counter and pressed a hand to her chest, next to a name tag that said Donna. “You scared the life out of me.”
D-Day stepped forward. “I’m sorry. We’re just very hungry and would be grateful for anything we can get.”
“I guess we’re all jumpy right now.” Donna wiped her hands on her apron then fixed her gaze on D-Day. “Eggs and toast. All I got left.”
Jen’s stomach rumbled again. “We’ll take anything you can rustle up.”
“Good.” Donna handed her a remote control from her apron pocket. “In the meantime, you two can rest a bit. Scrambled eggs OK?”
D-Day sat on a stool at the counter. “Good by me.”’
Jen nodded.
Donna pointed to the coffee pots. “Help yourself.” She disappeared into the kitchen.
Jen stepped behind the counter, filled a couple of cups from a steaming coffee pot, and placed them on the counter. “We should ask her what she thinks the best route out of town would be.”
D-Day poured a mountain of sugar into his coffee and took a sip. “Maybe the TV could help.”
“Right.” Jen pointed the remote at the TV on the wall and hit the power button. It jumped to life. A reporter stood in front of a line of cars. Baby-faced and with long dark hair, she stared into the camera.
“Motorists have become frustrated outside of Kansas City,” she said, “and fistfights have broken out along the massive lines of vehicles heading east. There have been reports of at least two shootings, and what remains of local law enforcement is stretched thin.”
“Freaking people,” Jen said.
D-Day refilled his cup and grabbed the sugar dispenser. “Assholes.”
The TV switched to a male anchor in the studio. “Thank you, Mercy. That’s Mercy Davis on location.”
The picture zoomed in on him. “We will sign off in thirty minutes and close down the station. Most of our team will relocate east to our affiliate in Louisville, Kentucky. But one team will remain behind to continue reporting on the war. Mercy Davis, who you just saw, and Josh Newman, her cameraman, will stay in Kansas City to keep you up to date with the latest developments in the military’s fight against the invading horde.”
He stared into the camera. “From all of us in the newsroom, good luck and God bless.”
The screen went dark.
Donna pushed backwards through th
e door and slipped two plates in front of Jen and D-Day. “Order up.”
The aroma of the eggs had Jen’s mouth watering. Donna dropped a set of utensils rolled in a paper napkin in front of each of them. “Enjoy.”
Jen inhaled the eggs. “Didn’t realize I was so hungry.”
D-Day’s plate was cleaned in minutes, too.
Donna beamed. “Nice to see such good appetites. Want more? Got to use up my eggs.”
“You bet.” Jen slid her plate over.
D-Day followed suit. “We need to get on the road after this.”
Donna stopped halfway through the kitchen door. “You folks heading west?”
“Yup,” D-Day said.
Don’t want to bring attention to ourselves. “Not far west. I have an elderly aunt who’s not too mobile.”
D-Day glanced at her, then back at the TV screen. “Yeah. Aunt Betty.”
A vehicle stopped outside the door and four soldiers entered the restaurant, laughing and joking.
Donna smiled at them. “Hi, boys. I suppose you’ll take your normal spot?”
The lone corporal stood next to the last booth and gestured for the other soldiers to take a seat. “Thanks, Donna.”
“I’ll be back to take your orders in a second.” Donna disappeared into the kitchen.
Jen kept her head down. “Maybe we should go,” she whispered.
“It’ll look suspicious if we just get up and leave,” D-Day said.
“You folks heading out of town?”
Jen glanced at the soldiers. The corporal sat at the end of the booth, his attention on Jen and D-Day.
“Just grabbing a bite before we go,” Jen said.
“Smart idea,” the corporal said. “It’s taking a lot of time to get over the river.”
Jen nodded, but kept her eyes ahead.
The corporal shushed his companions then whispered something to them. They all went quiet. There was a rustle of paper.
Jen swallowed. Please, please, please.
Donna pushed through the door. “Ready to take your order.”
“Just a second,” the corporal said. “Maybe you should see if Jen wants something else first.”
Fuck.
The Zombie Uprising Series: Books One Through Five Page 62