Beyond the Barriers (Novella): Ghouls (20 page)

A soldier rolled out of a rear door and fell onto the ground. He didn’t move for a few seconds. We stared at each other and then back at him. From the angle he lay in, it seemed obvious that his hips had to be broken. Legs just couldn’t be in that position. He twitched and I was afraid he was one of them, but he got one hand under his body and lifted himself up a few inches so he could look at us. Joel moved in, gun trained on the guy.

“Help,” the man said. He was dressed in camo and had a host of magazines and bulging pockets on his upper body.

“Damn. What happened, brother?” Joel moved in and helped the guy roll over.

“Everything. I’m hurt bad. Can you get someone to help? Please? Take me to medical or get a chopper.”

“Hold on. We’ll do our best. I promise,” Reynolds said. He dropped beside Joel Kelly and me and took the hurt man’s hand in his.

Blood spread across the fallen Marine’s tactical vest. Reynolds leaned over and opened it to reveal that something had penetrated his chest. He took a gurgling breath and then sighed.

“This is not good,” Reynolds said.

“It’s bad, man. I can’t even feel my legs.”

“Help’s on the way,” Joel said.

Was it? I didn't hear the sound of sirens or see the flash of red lights.

“It’s worse than that. Ah, shit. Just gimme a gun and one shot, then go. Get the fuck out of here and don’t look back.”

That’s when I saw it. The sleeve of his other arm was ripped open and blood, fresh and crimson, coated the fabric. He’d removed his belt and cinched it just below his elbow. The man had been bitten, and assuming that what had happened on the ship was “the new normal,” this guy was so screwed.

“What happened?”

“It’s all messed up. So royally messed up. Were you here when it started?”

“No brother. We were on a ship. Just got here.”

“Shit. Lucky you. It’s a virus of some kind. Whole city’s gone crazy. We heard the same stuff hit other bases.”

“What’s your name?”

“Norvell, Mike Norvell. Guys used to call me Big Papa.” Mike choked on a glob of blood and spat it out.

“Tell me about the base, Norvell.”

“You guys need to go,” Norvell gasped and then frowned. His body stiffened and he looked about as miserable as anyone I'd ever seen in my life.

“You’re going to be alright.”

“The tourniquet slows it down but I can feel it. It’s like my blood’s filled with sand.”

“Sorry we can’t do better by you, man. But please. What happened?”

“It happened so fast. Something docked that wasn’t supposed to, some ship from overseas. They quarantined it, but something happened. A few days later the first cases showed up. Then rumors. Rumors of the virus at other seaports and military bases.”

“What? Like an attack?”

I unholstered the gun at Norvell’s side, held it up and ejected the magazine. I took out all but one bullet, pocketed what I was pretty sure were 9 mm rounds, put the magazine back in and racked a shell into the chamber. I held the gun out to Reynolds. He took it, stared at it for a few seconds and then put it in the guy’s hand.

Norvell coughed up another blast of blood and that seemed to be enough for Reynolds. The Marine got to his feet and moved back. Mike “Big Papa” Norvell thrashed on the ground. His eyes bulged so much I thought they were going to explode. He shook as he lifted his hand and just barely managed to put the barrel of the gun under his chin.

We all looked away when the shot snapped across the area.

Joel got up and went to the vehicle. He rummaged around and then came out with a rifle and a small backpack. He put the items on the ground and hunted around again. He came out with a pair of handguns, then placed four magazines on the ground.

Joel had a crap load of gear laid out. The guys, still soaking wet from the dip in the ocean, strapped on as much as they could, to a soundtrack of squishing noises. Reynolds slung his little machine gun behind his back, picked up one of the rifles and checked it. They tossed me a handgun. I did as I’d done with Norvell’s gun because I wasn’t a complete idiot when it came to weapons. I did a quick inspection, counted how many rounds I had in the Smith and Wesson, then added a pair of magazines to my pockets.

We moved out toward the center of base. Why? I had no idea; I was just along for the walk in hell. Before we departed, Joel looked over the HUMVEE just to make sure it was toast. Didn’t take a fucking mechanic to see the damage was beyond any of us or a shop, a week, and a hell of a repair bill. The front end was completely destroyed from hitting the corner of the building, but the seats were also covered in blood, and that was reason enough for me to stay out.

Two buildings later, we ran into a shit storm.

Someone had set up a barricade of cars, trucks, and fences to block at least one cross-street. Joel jogged the perimeter and then dashed back a minute later. He shook his head, so we looked back the way we’d come.

Joel was in the process of hauling ass around the corner of a barracks when he ran smack into one of the creatures. It was missing part of a foot and toppled over when Joel struck him. The Marine didn’t hesitate; he splattered its brains all over the road with two quick shots.

“Oh, fuck me running!” Reynolds said.

I echoed his sentiment in my head.

There had to be fifty of them massed around the remains of the barricade. Bodies were pressing against the corners and they weren’t interested in the fence, because they were eating – Fucking eating – the soldiers.

“Oh no you don’t!” Reynolds yelled.

He started shooting. The booming of his assault rifle was ridiculously loud. Joel Kelly took a wide stance and also started popping guys in the head, neck, and body. He practically ripped a guy’s arm off with a couple of shots, then a beauty of a blast took the guy right through the temple as he tried to turn on us.

I raised my own gun to take aim, and then I couldn’t pull the trigger. The uniformed person that fell under my aim was a woman about my age. She was slight and had a head of blonde hair. I would have given her a second and third look if we passed each other on the street.

Now she was covered in her own blood—or someone else’s. Her shirt was ripped away, revealing lots of pale flesh, but I was not interested in the slightest. One of her breasts was practically torn away. Talk about the opposite of a little blue pill.

I turned to gag. Kelly, seeing me in distress, shot her twice. The first shot was off to her shoulder but he snapped the gun up and put one through her nose. She collapsed without a sound.

“Fuck this!” That was it for me. I shuddered in revulsion and considered jumping back into the ocean.

“Get it together, man!” Joel Kelly said, and I thought he was going to hit me.

Reynolds stayed in the fight and fired as quickly as he could focus in on targets. Joel moved to assist, so I decided it was time to man the fuck up.

I put an advancing soldier that slobbered and drooled blood between my cross hairs and shot him three times. The first two went to his chest; those just backed him up. I knew how this shit worked, so I shot him in the head as my brain caught up with the rest of my body.

Then a tide of them came at us. It was like the flood gates had opened. Holy shit, there were a lot of the undead bastards. They poured out of buildings, side roads, out of stopped vehicles, and God knew where else. I said a prayer, but Joel had a better idea.

“Fall back. Let’s head for the barracks.”

Reynolds followed him but I took a few seconds to shoot the lead Z a couple of times, and then my gun ran empty. I pulled the trigger on the Smith and Wesson but it just clicked. Kelly was the one to break me out of my daze by smacking me upside the head.

“Don’t touch me!” I screamed.

“Get your head in the game, man. Let’s go!”

He was right. There were ten or fifteen of them for each one of us and more coming. The only thing stopping them from overrunning our position were the remains of the barricade. We could make a valiant stand and take a shit load of them with us.

Or we could do something else. We could haul ass.

We did the latter.

* * *

I
t’s been
a week since that day, and I still think about it maybe more than everything else that’s happened since. But I’ll have to get to that later.

Joel’s back from his little trip to Fortress and he isn’t alone. He brought a couple of teenagers with him. Were these the little shits that broke into our house?

Joel had knocked on the door three times and then once. He’d paused and done it again, so Roz opened the door. She took one look at him and at the two dirty faced behind him, and she didn’t seem annoyed or put out at all. She just motioned for them to come inside.

Roz took one look at them and motioned for them to join us.

“Fortress?” I asked.

“Gone, but we got bigger problems.”

“Bigger? What’s bigger than losing our home?”

“Losing everything. That’s a hell of a lot bigger.”

“What do you mean?”

Joel turned to the kids – a boy and girl – and nodded. The girl was fifteen at the most. She tried to look brave but she was a mess. Her hair was a pale bird’s nest that pointed in every direction. The boy was older by a few years and he was well armed. He had a small bat slung over his back. The strap was a piece of rope but I noticed right away it would be easy to swing it under his arm and have it at the ready.

He had a pair of knives tucked into his belt and a snub nose revolver in a holster at his waist. Call this kid Dirty Harry.

“I’m Christie and this is Craig.”

“Hey.” Craig nodded.

He had a deep voice for such a skinny kid. If he weighed a buck ten I’d be surprised. But he was gangly and I bet he could swing that little baseball bat with devastating force. They were both dressed in clothes that had seen better days a week ago. Now they were practically rags and covered in dirt. Neither one smelled all that great, but who was I to judge? Joel and I had lived in our own sweat for ten or eleven days now.

“So you took over our home?”

“Wasn’t us. Someone came before and searched it. We just moved in after they left. Thought you guys were gone.”

“Was that you I heard rummaging around the night before?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. We were so hungry but we waited until you were gone. We were just going to eat some food and leave, but the other guys got there first. Not us. We went in later. Got a few scraps.”

Roz went to the kitchen and cracked open some packages. She brought them both bottled water and a “meal ready to eat” apiece. They tore into it like it was a number 3 at McDonalds.

“So who took our shit?”

“Some dudes that looked like they were ready for war. Looked tougher than you guys.”

Joel burst into laughter.

“We do alright,” I protested.

Craig looked us over but clearly wasn’t impressed.

I stared at the kid for a minute while that processed. A helicopter overhead rattled the windows, giving me a scare and a half.

Joel moved to the window and cracked open the blinds to look up. He craned his neck around but shook his head after a few seconds.

“We're saved?” I asked Joel.

“Can't tell, man, but it can’t be worse than a city full of fucking zombies.”

Roz ‘hmphed’ and looked toward the kids.

“Sorry. Gosh darned zombies.”

Both of the young ones snickered.

“What else could it be?” I asked.

The answer to that question would come soon because Joel was gearing up, and that meant we were going to reconnoiter. I thought about my swollen ankle and decided that if he was going out, I was going along as well. Enough of this sitting around.

I'd have to wrap it tight and take my chances, because I was not letting the Marine go out there without me. I'll finish up the story of how we got off the base and founded Fortress later.

S
upplies

• Food: a few protein bars
  
• Weapons: almost zip
  
• Worst. Day. Ever.
  

My dad was a big guy who didn’t talk much. He was in the Army and told me that the military wasn’t the best place for a kid like me. He said I’d be better suited for a blue-collar job like construction or sanitation where I didn’t have someone constantly telling me when to wipe my ass. I said that would be funny if I was in sanitation. He smacked me upside the head.

Why didn’t I listen to him? He was a goddamn genius.

Don’t get me wrong, I got nothing against blue-collar workers or the job I ended up with in the Navy. Someone’s gotta keep the fires on a ship lit. Gotta keep that engine turning. I just wanted to do something different, like get into journalism, but that required money. I joined the Navy so I could see the world, fuck a lot of girls, and then have my college paid for.

I got one of those wishes.

One wish I didn’t make was for my very own Marine Sergeant Joel “Cruze” Kelly. One night I asked Joel what the “Cruze” was all about. He smiled and deflected the question. Jerk. I kept bugging him about it, because what the hell else did we have to talk about? I asked if it was some kind of Marine secret handshake. After a few minutes of my good-natured ribbing, he finally told me it was something his Mom had called him as a kid and it just stuck around. I didn’t bother him about it after that.

My own mother didn’t have an opinion either way about me joining up. On one hand, I’m sure she didn’t want her youngest son leaving the house. On the other hand, it was probably a relief. My three older bothers weren’t amounting to much and continued to mooch off our folks while I had dreams of going to college. Money I wasn’t going to make working at Burger King.

I was going to join the Army, like Dad, but then I watched some videos of boot camp and decided a ship would be a much more interesting place to hang out instead of in the sand while some asshole shot at me.

Joel did not have a similar story. His dad was in the Marines, and his dad’s dad was in the Corps, so that meant that Joel Kelly was destined to hold an assault rifle and shoot at people. Hoo-ah – oh yeah, they don’t say that in the Marines anymore. If Joel reminded me of that one more time I was going to strangle him with his own gun strap.

Roz didn’t tell us much more of her story but she listened to us talk about our pasts and asked questions when it seemed like there was a break in the flow. She said it would be a way for all of us to break the ice and get to know each other. Now that we had a couple of kids with us, I guess it made sense.

I know it sounds like I’m planning for the future, but I’m not really. When you get right down to it, our life expectancy is next to nil. When you really think about what we are facing, you’ll understand that it’s not a good idea to make long term plans.

Especially now.

Especially. Now!

* * *

J
oel snoozed
in my chair for an hour. I took the time to eat and drink as much as my gut could handle.

It was glorious.

Roz was busy pacing the living room. She walked to the front door and then back to the windows that faced the yard. I took the opportunity to check out her ass in a pair of grey sweat pants that seemed molded to her body. I’m glad she didn’t catch me. I’m pretty sure she’d have no issue with sticking her shotgun up my ass. Roz peeked out every few minutes. After a while she must have made up her mind to do whatever she needed to do, because she woke Joel up and asked for cover.

Joel popped up like a Marine Jack-in-the-Box, snapped up his assault rifle, and did a quick ammo check. He nodded at Roz and followed her to the door.

“What’s she doing?” I asked Joel.

“Her father.”

“Oh,” I said, and lost whatever little bit of a good mood I’d had a few minutes ago. No kid should have to bury their own parent.

“Should I help?”

“I don’t think so. She looks determined to do it herself. Why don’t you keep watch out the back.”

Roz went into the open garage and dragged out an old carpet. She took the piece to her Dad's body and rolled him onto it. Smart. That way she could drag him easier, and it also created a sort of burial cover.

I went to the back of the house and peeked through a window. This was Roz’s room and we’d been forbidden from entering it. I had a feeling she wouldn’t mind since we were protecting her.

She wasn’t the neatest girl. There were clothes in piles all around the room. Shirts and dresses hung from a homemade wire rack that ran the length of the room. Dresses? That was the last thing I expected to see Roz in. After a few minutes it hit me. What else was she supposed to do with her clothes? There sure as hell wasn’t any way to wash them in our new world.

The back room’s windows were boarded up but a couple of spy holes offered me a limited view of the world outside the house. Dried up shrubs, a road littered with discarded crap. Broken furniture and empty suitcases. Someone’s sports jacket baked in the sun next to a pair of white broken white sunglasses. The only things missing were a few shamblers.

In salute to the dead world I lifted a plastic wrapper, tore it open, and munched on a protein bar. Then I sipped a bottle of water. The only thing that would make this better was an ice-cold beer, but the lone brew we’d saved from our beer-run a few days ago was probably in the coffers of whoever the fuck ransacked our place.

It was early but already hot inside the little brick house. It may be seventy five at the hottest out there, but once the place gets warm it stays that way.

Sound to the west. I was on the east-facing side of the house and couldn’t see a damn thing until the helicopter thundered overhead. It hovered for a few seconds over a building and then passed over the house. Did they see Roz? Did she signal to them? Were they going to come back and rescue us?

Over a week in this city and I was sick of being cut off. I was sick of living day to day, meal to meal. I wanted out of San Diego and I wanted to know, more than anything, what in the hell was happening in the good ol’ U S of A, because the way we were living could not be the new normal.

I pulled my handgun before I’d even had the chance to think about it. If I could just signal the chopper

I popped the magazine out of habit and checked the load. Full. I lined it up and then fumble fingered the mag. It hit the ground and bounced under Roz's bed. I followed it and dropped to all fours to get it. I got a handful of panties and stockings and stared at them dumbly. I bet Roz would rock this stuff.

I carefully put the naughty clothes back, picked up the heavy magazine, and slammed it home.

The sound of the chopper was long gone. I stared up but they didn't materialize again. Then I looked down.

“Oh. Fuck. Me.” I holstered my pistol.

A horde was headed our way. I don’t mean ten Z’s or fifty of the dead fuckers. It was even worse than the day we almost got stuck in Ty’s apartment when Joel’s little fuck up seemed to bring the whole city our way. Only speed and luck had saved our ass that time.

There had to be several thousands. Thousands!

“Uhh,” I said. Real smart, right?

I was so scared I considered just crapping my pants. Then Joel’s voice in my head told me to man up or he’d find an adult diaper and make me wear it. Here we were in a nice safe house where we could silently wait for them to pass us by, and Roz was out on the front yard. There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation, no thought of leaving her out there.

I stared and tried to get a count but after a few seconds I dashed out of the room.

I ran at a gimpy pace on my twisted ankle through the hallway. I passed a room where the two kids, Christy and Craig, slept. I made it to the living room and almost crashed into the recliner I’d called home the night before.

“Joel!” I called as loudly as I dared.

He had the door propped open, one foot inside the threshold, the other on the porch. The assault rifle was slung across his chest with his finger poised right over the trigger. Joel wore his New York Fire Department ball cap backwards and the pilfered shades over his eyes.

“Joel!” I yelled louder this time.

“What? I’m keeping watch. Why aren’t you doing the same?”

“Dude. We got trouble. Big fucking trouble.”

“What?”

“Come look.”

“I can’t leave Roz out there.”

“Roz. Shit.”

I didn’t have to think about the stupid shit I was about to do.

I tried to brush past Joel but he stopped me with a meaty Marine hand. I towered over him and could have knocked him aside, but for all the shit we give each other, I’d never had a better friend.

“What're you doing?”

“It’s bad. There’re so many of them I couldn’t count the first wave. It’s an army and they’re all headed in this direction. We need to get Roz back in here now.” I looked around the yard. “Where is she?”

“In the garage. Please tell me you’re exaggerating a little bit.”

“I wish, man. I wish. Did she flag down that chopper?”

“They took off when they saw her.”

“Damn.”

“You go get her. I’ll cover. No, wait. You cover and I’ll go. You and your busted leg.”

“You’re ten times the shot I am. I’ll go.” And this time I did take his hand, but with more of a handshake grip as I pushed it down. “It’s the right thing to do. Stay here and pop anything that gets close.”

Joel nodded and clapped me on the shoulder.

I did the stupid thing and took a step outside the house.

* * *

T
he garage wasn’t attached
to the house. If it was, this might have had a different ending. As it was, the little building was only thirty or forty feet away from the door and only a few feet from the side of the house, but it might as well have been a mile with me naked and armed with a toothbrush.

I swear I could hear them already, even though they had to be at least a hundred yards away.

The morning sun was nice and high in the sky. I shaded my eyes and crunched across the short concrete patio, down the couple of stairs, and onto the sidewalk. Dead grass in all of its yellow and brown glory spread around me. A lone water sprinkler sat next to a dried blood stain which roughly resembled the shape of a man.

The corner of the house erupted in noise. The moans of the dead had reached us much quicker than I thought and that meant one thing.

Shufflers.

A group came into view from the side of the garage. They were a motley assortment of dead, cobbled together by their need for fresh meat. Men and women, boys and girls. The virus had taken everyone in its path.

“Ugly bastards, all of you!” I yelled.

I hoped Roz heard me. I was already headed toward her, so I drew and shot on the move. I missed. My second shot missed as well, so I stopped, took a breath, aimed down the sights and then dropped the Z that was about to enter the garage.

I spun but more of the Z’s were rounding the other side of the house. I was trapped.

Hobbling on my bum ankle, I got to the walkway. Joel swung into his super Marine mode by moving onto the porch and dropping the first of the dead. His second shot spun another one around but it completed a halfway decent dance move by turning three hundred and sixty degrees. Joel hit it between the eyes with the second shot.

Another pair right behind the first. I gasped and took a shot. Missed. God I sucked. My hand was shaking like a leaf but I didn’t stop firing.

A couple of former soldiers, from the look of their rotted and hanging uniforms. I took out one and hit the other in the chest. He dropped but got a hand out and hauled himself to his knees. I kicked the rotter in the face and dove into the garage.

The bodies from the night before lay in a pile. Roz had executed one at point blank range and most of his head was just gone. Joel's shots had been neater but the bodies were still that—bodies.