Aliens Versus Zombies (9 page)

FronCar nodded in thought. “I know it’s too early for a firm estimate of when you might be able to perfect such a treatment, but can you give me a ballpark idea? Weeks, months, years?”

“As you say, it’s too early. I don’t yet know for certain if it’s even possible. However, if it is, I imagine we could have something ready to test in the wild, so to speak, in the weeks-to-months timeframe.”

“Excellent!” FronCar smiled. “Imagine that. Conquering a planet by allergy.” He laughed. “If you can accomplish that, Doctor, I suspect you’ll gain a spot in the medical history books.”

That idea brought a smile to Dr. ZemBleth’s face as well.

“Look out!” Jesse fired off a round past Chrissy’s shoulder and put a hole in the Zom’s face. The creature’s screech stopped instantly and he pitched forward onto the front of the car Chrissy had ducked behind. The Zom slid sideways down the car and hit the street with a thud.

“Thanks, Jesse,” she said with a grateful smile. Then, “Damn it! Here comes some more.”

She fired to her left and Jesse aimed right. It took Chrissy three shots to drop one of them. “Die, already, Damn you!”

Each picked off two more Zoms before they could get close enough to be dangerous. One wielded a brick and the other a knife.

“Shit!” Chrissy spotted the shadow of another one coming out of the doorway behind her just in time to turn, drop to her back, and fire upwards at it. Her shot penetrated the Zom’s jaw and blew off the top of his head. Blood and gray matter sprayed everywhere, including on the two humans.

Chrissy made a futile attempt to brush blood and brains out of her already filthy hair. “Yee-uck!” There hadn’t been any opportunities to bathe over the past three days, and she’d had just about enough her own stink. Having zombie pieces/parts sprayed all over her didn’t help her mood any.

“I think it’s time we headed back,” Jesse said. At this point, he didn’t even bother to wipe the gore off.

“Amen, brother.”

They had found no one even remotely recruitable in this neighborhood. Just Zom after hungry Zom. According to Daniels and Moose, it was just as bad in the adjacent neighborhood.

It was beginning to seem as if the Zoms and the aliens had gotten everyone else, or at least forced them out of town.

In fact, it appeared that the aliens were doing an effective job of driving many of the Zoms in this direction. Certainly, their numbers on the streets had increased from week to week. There was no telling how many Zoms the aliens had killed. Certainly, they were making the humans’ lives more difficult by sending the rest their way.

“Oh, goddamn it,” Chrissy said with a heavy sigh. “Here come some more. We’d better get a move on.”

Chrissy yanked out the expended magazine, slapped in a new one, and chambered a round. She fired two shots at the nearest Zoms and began walking backward+, shooting as she walked. Jesse led the way, firing ahead even as Chrissy fired behind. After felling nine Zoms between them, they had some clear space and the two took off at a trot.

* * * *

Geoff Meisner led Daniels and his team to a tall building standing between two short and wide buildings with many windows. Meisner had three of his people with him as a protection detail. One never knew when a pack of Zoms would appear out of nowhere. Still, the eight of them, armed with assault rifles and shotguns, would be able to hold off a sizable pack.

They stopped in front of a glass revolving door. The door, inside a circle of glass that was open on both ends, was segmented into three parts, each one large enough to hold a half-dozen or so people at once. People could enter, walk around the curve of glass, and then exit the far side into the building. There was no way to rush straight through, as a Zom might wish to do.

One of Meisner’s detail pulled out a key ring and unlocked the revolving door. They all walked through and he locked the door from the inside. The group stood in an immense six-story atrium with a front-desk area ahead of them and corridors leading to the left and right. The atrium was ringed with balconies. The lobby had assorted debris scattered about, as well as some dried bloodstains on the carpeting in a few places.

Meisner noticed Daniels looking at one of them.

“There were a few Zoms inside when we arrived, but I believe we’ve taken care of them all.”

“This is an awful lot of glass,” Daniels remarked, now looking out the front windows. “It seems like it would be hard to keep out a determined pack. One thrown rock, and…”

Meisner smiled. “Ah, but I know something y’all don’t know.” He paused, as if waiting for a response.

“All right, I’ll bite. What don’t I know?”

Meisner’s smile grew into a wide grin. “You don’t know that this convention center was built in the decade following 9/11. They were paranoid about terrorist attacks. So they took preventive measures. You noticed the pretty pillars between the street and the pillars?”

Daniels nodded.

They’re reinforced with steel posts inside, to keep suicide bombers from ramming the front door.”

Daniels frowned in confusion. “Yeah, so? Zoms don’t drive, last I heard.”

Meisner laughed. “True, true, but that’s just the first of many measures. All of this glass…” He paused to spread his arms to take in the immensity of the exterior view. “…is bulletproof. Johnny, if you would, please.”

One of his detail walked a few paces to the side and stepped back ten feet. He aimed at a window and fired just above his head. The bullet ricocheted upward and landed behind him. Aside from a small star pattern in the glass, it remained unmarked.

Daniels nodded. “Impressive.”

“And that ain’t all. The doors are all made of reinforced steel, with heavy-duty deadbolts. I can’t see any Zoms getting in here.”

“Even better.”

“But y’all don’t know the half of it. There are hundreds of hotel rooms above us, and plenty of large conference rooms that we can use for storage, or staging areas, or to plan missions. And there’s a huge kitchen, pantry, and food locker downstairs where we can store and prepare meals for hundreds of people. In fact, there’s quite a bit of dry goods and canned and bottled food and drink down there, all ready to cook and eat. The gas stoves are even still operational, although we don’t have electricity for the walk-in refrigerator and freezer. But there may be an emergency generator around here somewhere. We haven’t had enough time to do a thorough search yet.”

“Wow. It just keeps getting better and better.”

Meisner smiled again. “And now, for the pièce de résistance.” He gestured toward the back of the lobby and down a wide corridor and began walking.

In less than a minute, they reached a series of escalators heading downward. They were powered down, but easy enough to descend. At the bottom was another lobby with a front desk and another glass revolving door beyond.

That
wasn’t the surprise.

Daniels’ jaw dropped when he saw what was outside. “Are you serious?”

“You bet. We got us our very own subway station. That’s how they got conventioneers to and from the airport, bypassing the street traffic. The trains ain’t runnin’, but we can crisscross the city underground by way of the various train lines. This is the Blue line, and it splits off up ahead into the Red line, and so on.”

“Wow. We can move around without being seen by the aliens, and if there are any Zoms down here, there’s nowhere for them to hide and jump out at us. We can pick them off at a distance, like shooting targets in an arcade—except without the kewpie dolls as prizes.”

“Exactly. We got us a castle, son.”

“Hot damn.”

Chrissy spoke up for the first time since arriving at the building. “Geoff, is there running water upstairs in the rooms?”

Meisner nodded. “There is, missy, but no hot water; just cold.”

“I can live with cold water. With zombie brains in my hair, not so much.”

The others laughed.

“The locks are all electronic, so there’s no way to use the keycards without power. But Johnny has a hotel master key, for use in case of blackouts, so he can let y’all into any room you want.”

“Awesome. Follow me, Johnny. But don’t get any funny ideas, just because I’m taking you up to my hotel room.” She laughed and Johnny wore a bemused expression.

She called to the others over her shoulder as she led Johnny toward the nearest stairway. “I may just take a nap in one of those nice, soft, wonderful beds, while you boys explore. If you need me for anything, I have my walkie and Johnny will know where I am. Do me a favor and
don’t
need me for an hour or so, okay?”

That got more laughs.

* * * *

After mustering out of the Corps, ex-sergeant Chick Daniels spent the next two years drifting through life. No steady girlfriend, just dalliance after dalliance. No career, merely one short-term job after another.

He’d joined the Corps right out of high school. He had no work experience—unless you count killing insurgents in Afghanistan—and no college degree. That made finding meaningful employment tough. He worked as a shelf-stocker for a department store for a few months, and flipped burgers for a few more. He was a security guard at a 24-hour self-storage place when the plague hit.

Then the world went insane.

People killed one another for simply coughing or sneezing. It could have been hay fever or a simple cold, yet no one wanted to take the chance it might be “the Tibetan.” Daniels survived the best he could, looking for safe places to hole up and let the virus run its course. Being proficient with weapons kept him alive on numerous occasions.

He slept in vacant warehouses, abandoned boats, and once in an empty dumpster behind a night club. It reeked of old beer and cigarette butts. Still, he figured no Zom would be looking for prey in there.

After a few months of that, Daniels decided to skip town and head south. He recognized that by the time winter came, the city would be paralyzed by snow, with little or no heat or electricity. If he had to go without heat, he’d rather do it where the lows rarely dropped below freezing.

Five months into the Zompocalypse, he found himself in Tennessee.

He managed to lie low most of the time, hiding out in an old box factory; however, he did have to emerge for supplies every now and then.

One morning, he headed for the nearby grocery store that he’d been raiding since arriving.

Keeping his eyes and ears open, he went to the canned goods aisles and began looking for the chili he liked. Not ten seconds after he reached the right spot, he froze. A scuffling sound originated from somewhere near the entrance.

He pulled his pistol and inched closer to the end of his aisle to see if he could spot the intruder. Looter? Zom? A refugee like himself? It could be any of them, and more than one. Daniels could easily find himself cornered, and that he couldn’t allow. That’s how you got dead, and he didn’t plan to die that day.

He reached the end of the aisle and slowly peered around the corner. Nothing moved that he could see. He tiptoed to the next aisle and swung his gun around the corner.

There was someone there. A girl with a ponytail. Evidently sensing Daniels behind her, she spun around with her own pistol pointing at Daniels. She was pretty, in a filthy, ragged sort of way.

“Looks like we got us a Mexican standoff,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, I suppose. Looking for food. Are you gonna shoot me, or can we finish what we came for.”

“Are you with anyone else?”

She hesitated before answering, presumably deciding whether to lie or tell the truth.

“Just me. I don’t play well with others.”

He couldn’t assume this
wasn’t
a trap. Still, he saw no one else, and heard nothing. “I’ll put away my gun if you put away yours.”

“Fair enough. On three, we both lower our guns slowly and put them away together.”

“Agreed. One…two…three.”

As if in a choreographed ballet, they mirrored one another’s movements, first gradually lowering their arms, and then slipping the pistols into their holsters. As soon as that was done, the tension in the room dropped markedly.

“I suggest we stay together so we can keep an eye on each other,” he said.

“Works for me.”

“Good. Let’s get that food and be on our way.”

Each had picked up a few plastic grocery bags to put food in. Still moving with exaggerated slowness to keep from spooking the other, they gradually filled their bags with canned goods, vitamins, and soda bottles—the beer was long gone.

When they were done, they headed for the front door.

“When we get outside,” she said, “which way are you going from here?”

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why? Planning to follow me?”

She snorted with derision. “Full of yourself much? I just want to make sure we go in different directions, that’s all. How about if I go left and you go right?”

He nodded. “Sure.” He gestured. “Ladies first.”

“Ha! So you can get the drop on me from behind? No thanks.
You
first.”

He sighed. “There isn’t enough room for us to go through the door side by side.”

“Fine. Rock-paper-scissors, then.”

“Agreed.”

So, like a couple of grade-school kids they chanted, One…two…three, shoot!” Chrissy held out a rock and Daniels covered it with paper.

“As I said, ladies first.” Again he gestured toward the door.

She hesitated.

“Look, I promise I won’t shoot you—unless you give me reason to.”