Convoy 19: A Zombie Novel (5 page)

Chapter 6

“I didn’t finish the flame on the side of ‘The Beast.’” Jenny sat cross-legged in the passenger seat of the large powerful pickup truck. She was in her early twenties, and flaunted an unbelievable body with short skirts, midriffs, and low-cut tops, but her mannerisms were those of a child. Her blonde pigtails and pouty lips only accentuated a girlish demeanor.

Billy sighed. “That’s fine. We don’t need flames on the sides.” His one true love, his pickup truck, with over-sized tires, raised suspension, and a ‘The Beast’ decal on the back window had gotten him laid more times than he could count in the past couple of years. Jenny was among the hottest he could remember, but easily the most stupid, and that was saying a lot. She was the kind of drama magnet you kept around to let everyone know who you were. Nothing too long term, just fun, but she happened to be the chick he was nailing when the dead started rising from the grave.

“But it doesn’t look cool!” Jenny sulked.

Billy and all his friends were truck guys who worked dead-end day jobs so they could pour every dime they earned into their beloved vehicles. They spent their nights trolling the streets, picking up girls who wanted a ride in a monster truck. Billy would have traded anything to be stuck in this undead hell with any one of his buddies instead of this simpleton, but they were all dead now. She had been nothing but a burden, a food-eating, water-drinking chatterbox, who simply could not stay quiet for more than thirty seconds at a time. As he hatched his survival plan, he had been obligated to include her, choosing bad company over no company in this endless nightmare. He often wondered if he had made the right choice.

“Speed bumps don’t care about cool, sweetheart.” Billy began piling pillows on top of Jenny. The term ‘speed bump’ had risen from his friend’s first encounter with the undead. It was something of a sick rush to run the undead down, and they had delighted in gruesome demolition derbies on the streets of San Diego. He had heard lots of terms for the undead in the last year, but he preferred ‘speed bump’ because it reminded him that, behind the wheel of The Beast, he was the powerful one. Outside that steel monstrosity, he was just as weak and pathetic as all the people he had seen get torn to shreds.

“But what if someone sees us?” Jenny replied. Even with the apocalypse swallowing the entire globe, Jenny simply lacked the capacity to think outside her very small world. She still read trashy celebrity gossip magazines that were months old, and flipped through style magazines commenting on how fat the stick-thin models were, and how awful their hair or makeup was. Normally accustomed to holding a dozen or more conversations on her cellular phone via text message and social networking, she had arrived at the conclusion that her friends were not talking to her out of jealousy. She was oblivious to the fact that digital communications had diminished and then stopped before the cellular networks went completely offline. Billy wondered if she could even comprehend that most of the people she knew were now dead and wandering about as animated corpses.

Billy stuffed the last pillow on top of Jenny, and slammed the passenger side door in her face a bit harder than he had intended. The unfinished flame she had painted with acrylic matte paint on the side of his truck stared back at him. While he designed and built a steel battering ram from an old snow plow that had been sitting in his garage, he needed to keep Jenny occupied long enough for him to zone out and focus on his work. She mentioned that she enjoyed art, so he had tasked her with the
very
important job of painting flames on this side of his vehicle. It killed him to watch her deface his gorgeous blue chrome paintjob with her crude painting skills, but it had worked. He had hatched and executed the first step in his master plan superbly without her disruption. A large ram now sat mounted on the front of his vehicle.

Without Jenny’s constant chattering, the moans and wails of the dead outside pierced the garage walls. For months, he and Jenny had slept on a grease-stained mattress in the corner, their personal effects scattered about haphazardly. There had been more than enough gasoline to power the generator during that time, but it had still been important to ration. Food was scarce, but he had gathered what he could before barricading himself within his workshop.

About two months ago, he had come to the conclusion that self-reliance was no longer an option. It was time to move to one of the Defensive Detention Centers that the government had set up. Supplies were running low, so he drove his monster truck through the ghoul-infested streets of San Diego to the nearest center.

That is where he met Queen Bitch. He glanced over to his workbench where the pamphlets she had given him lay. “Your Home is Your Castle” – a how-to on constructing barricades and obstacles to the undead, and “Meals for a King” – essentially a guide on rationing and water purification. At first glance, they contained the basic information anyone would need to survive on their own. In reality, their language and content had been carefully crafted to appeal to anyone with an independent streak. They did their intended job well, and placated an irate public turned away by the DDC doctors. His blood boiled. Billy knew when he had been played.

He remembered sitting in a waiting room after he had been inspected for bites, Dr. Kelly Damico across from him. She wore that smug superior look every smart bitch did when they saw a chance to screw over a guy like Billy.

“Your skills as a mechanic would be extremely valuable…” She had said raising his hopes for DDC access before dropping the hammer “but your background check indicates you have some sexual assault charges and… a couple DUIs… and drugs?”

“That’s bullshit!” he had screamed. It enraged him that he should be condemned to die outside a DDC for some pot, some beer, and some dumb bitches who didn’t know the price of a ride in his Beast.

Things escalated from there and armed guards had to escort him out. Jenny was already waiting for him, sucking on a lollipop that doctors would normally have given a child.

“Where are we supposed to go? What are we supposed to do?” Billy had screamed in anger as they left.

As they drove away, he had made a point to drive down every ghoul that he could. That was when his plan was born – if the DDC wouldn’t open its doors, he’d just drive them down.

He climbed into the driver’s side of his truck and began layering pillows on top of himself in a way that balanced safety against his ability to drive. Smashing through a brick wall at forty miles an hour would be no picnic, but—with a little luck—the staff would be too preoccupied with the huge hole in the wall and hungry ghouls to notice he and Jenny simply blending away into the crowd of refugees. Every plan required a little luck to work, but—other than that—it was perfect.

“I’m hot!” Jenny whined.

“Here,” Billy handed her a small purple stuffed dog filled with beans.

“Yay!” She hugged the animal.

Billy looked over and a laugh burst from his lungs. Next to him sat a twenty-something woman, makeup caked on with an airbrush, press-on nails like purple sabers, covered in pillows with her face and arms peeking out, playing with a stuffed dog. The absurdity was too much.

“Don’t laugh at me!” Jenny scowled.

“You look so fucking stupid.” Billy continued laughing.

“Fuck you! Don’t call me stupid. See if you get any later.” Jenny threw the stuffed dog back at Billy and her arms disappeared into the mass of pillows.

Although he couldn’t see her, he knew she had her arms and legs crossed in anger. He had seen this look a number of times, particularly when she wanted to flaunt her most powerful weapon over him – denial of sex. The thought of her glowering made him laugh harder.

“I mean it! Your boy, Eddie, never laughed at me or called me stupid. Maybe I’ll go see what he’s up to,” Jenny threatened.

Billy closed his driver’s side door and started his truck. The rumble of the engine filled the garage with a satisfying fullness that drowned out the howls from outside. “Eddie’s dead, you retard,” he mumbled beneath his breath.

Billy pressed on the gas and plowed through the garage door. Splintered wood and metal exploded in every direction, and the zombies on the other side were run down beneath his enormous tires. The battering ram had passed its first test superbly.

The night was dark, and the roads were dense with abandoned cars and debris. Automatic streetlights illuminated the streets with a dull yellow glow that cast the lurking forms in silhouettes. Dozens of undead leered at the titanic metal Beast that rampaged through their ranks. They moaned and staggered in pursuit, but just as they had become aware of the thing in their midst, its tail lights had disappeared up the street.

A few moments passed, and Billy’s guilt got the better of him. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean to laugh at you. You’re gonna make lots of friends at the DDC.”

“I’m gonna be the hottest chick there,” Jenny stated confidently. She was always concerned with whatever was the coolest or hottest. All other women, even friends, were mere rivals.

“You sure will be!” Billy encouraged her. He had to admit, she was pretty hot, but being hot in this new world wasn’t exactly an asset. With any luck, she’d find some refugee or guard to climb on top of and then she’d be that poor schmuck’s problem. Right now, he’d be happy to trade a year’s worth of screwing Jenny for a full stomach and someone to talk to with half a brain.

Billy continued to plow through the zombie-infested streets in his unstoppable truck. The gas-guzzler had just enough fuel to get them to their destination. After that, it would be a shame, but she wouldn’t be worth the rubber in her tires. She’d be dead, but she’d have given her life for his.

“So remember, once we’re there, just get out of the truck and blend into the crowd. There will be lots of people so it shouldn’t be hard. Do you understand?” Billy asked.

“Let’s hit that base!” Jenny pressed play on the truck’s sound system and began dancing in her seat. Rap music rumbled through the vehicle and the powerful speakers drowned out the sound of ghouls banging against the truck. In the silent city streets, the commotion would carry for miles.

“You are so fucking stupid.” Billy whispered beneath his breath. It wouldn’t matter if she understood the plan or not. Once they were in the DDC, he would find somewhere to hide and lay low. Whatever notice this moron brought onto herself through her own attention-needing stupidity, would be her own problem.

Billy looked ahead, and the DDC loomed in front of him atop a hill. With a confident nod, he pressed on the gas and began to accelerate toward the side of the building – a brick wall of the attached record store. This was going to be all too easy.

Billy imagined himself one day—maybe a couple months from now—after he had integrated himself into the refugee population, cornering Dr. Damico some place private…some place quiet. Then she’d learn who was really in charge.

“Try to keep me out? You don’t know who you’re messin’ with.” Billy sneered. He focused on the music store wall before him and pressed the accelerator.

A strange rattling sound barely audible above the rap music caught his attention.

“Pretty!” Jenny pointed out the window and smiled back at him. Billy glanced over to see what she was looking at.

From atop a fenced off guard tower at the front of the DDC, a rhythmic series of yellow flashes streaked through the parking lot toward them. The truck’s line of approach and the tracer’s line of fire converged a few yards from the wall Billy was speeding toward.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good plan,” Billy thought. In a heartbeat, the sounds of bullets puncturing his truck cut his music off, and the inside of the cab erupted into a torrent of red gore and screams.

Chapter 7

The streetlight shining through the window illuminated the clock on the wall across from the cot where Dr. Kelly Damico lay. Unable to sleep as usual, she watched the minutes tick by while listening to the sounds of a San Diego overrun by ghouls. Distant gunfire, explosions, the occasional scream, and the ever-present moan of the undead sang through the night. The clock read 11:00 pm, then 12:00, now 1:00, and she was no closer to being able to sleep than she was the hour before. Her mind drifted between the patients here at the Tierrasanta DDC and the husband that she missed with all her heart.

Months ago, when the city wasn’t completely overrun, the DDC guards would open fire on dense packs of undead to thin their numbers. Now, it was best to avoid shooting at all, remain as quiet as possible, and hope the hordes of ghouls outside would ignore activity within the building. So when shouting and the thunder of gunfire from outside shattered the relative quiet, Kelly sat bolt upright in bed.

A loud crash shook the building and Kelly gasped. Was there an explosion? Had someone set off a grenade? She hurried to the window and peered through the blinds into the fortified lot below. Rifles in hand, guards were running from their posts toward the DDC entrance.

Kelly looked over to Dr. Thomson’s cot. He wasn’t there, but that was hardly unusual. While
Kelly’s
insomnia kept her lying awake in her cot staring at the clock,
Dr. Thomson’s
insomnia motivated him to wander about the DDC.

She slipped on her shoes and rushed through the clinic’s upper level. The area designated for the youngest children and their families was lit by dim blue nightlights. She felt the eyes of terrified mothers and fathers on her as she moved through a back hallway that led to the roof of the music store. “Stay here!” She whispered. “Stay quiet!”

The sound of gunfire outside was joined by gunfire from the ground floor.

A shaft of blue moonlight cast through a crack in the door at the end of the hallway. The roof of the music store provided an excellent vantage point from which to observe the area around the clinic. Kelly shoved open the push plate of the door and slipped outside.

The humid night air had been cooled by the recent rain, and reflective puddles collected on the gravel roof. The DDC commanded an impressive view of the city: moonlight, streetlights, and fire light, cast San Diego in a bizarrely beautiful twilight apocalypse. The rank putrescence of the city’s dead wafted on the breeze, mixed with the stench of rotting trash that had collected for months.

Dr. Thomson and Sergeant Adams – head of security – stood on the edge of the rooftop. Dr. Thomson paced back and forth nervously, while the Sergeant popped off shots at the ground below and growled into his radio. “There’s a shit ton of them! Lot guards! Drop what you’re doing and join me on the roof. Grab all the ammo you can on the way up. We’ll establish a firing position.”

Kelly rushed to join her coworker, her heart thumping in her ribcage. As the parking lot below came into view, she could see it was occupied by a thick stream of walking dead wandering funnel-like toward the building. Directly below her, the red taillights of a truck poked out from a gaping hole in the side of the music store. The dead were streaming in one by one, two by two – manageable for the moment, but endless.

Minutes passed, and for every ghoul that Sergeant Adams shot in the head, one slipped into the DDC. Kelly looked on helplessly as screams, shouting, and gunfire from the ground floor painted a horrifying mental picture of what was happening below.

“Shit!” Sergeant Adams growled. His rifle had run dry, and he slung it around his shoulder as he drew his sidearm. He broke into a sprint towards the door, and shouted into his radio, “Where is my ammo?”

He swung the door open to see a thin man in a hospital gown hunched over another soldier. The “man” shoved gore into his maw and turned toward Sergeant Adams. With an insane look in its black eyes, the monster sprang to its feet and lunged toward the Sergeant with two outstretched hands.

Sergeant Adams got his arms up in time to block the monster from sinking its teeth into his face, but he was knocked onto his back. The ghoul flailed on top of him, screeching and growling as it fought to make a meal out of its new victim. While the military man was larger and more muscular than the zombie was, bloodlust had given the beast an overwhelming strength.

Dr. Thomson kicked and punched the undead creature in an impotent attempt to help the Sergeant, but the monster felt no pain.

Kelly’s heart thumped in her chest as she took a step towards the melee. If this monster overcame the chief of security, there would be nothing between her and it. She paused in her tracks and turned back to the corpse lying in the hallway. In the soldier’s lifeless hand was a rifle, and Kelly reached down to grab it. As her fingers gripped the metal, the soldier’s eyes jolted opened and locked on her with a cold hungry stare. A moan bubbled with red gore as it rose from the ghoul’s throat, and it reached for Kelly with one stiff arm.

Kelly screamed. She pulled and kicked violently in an attempt to pry the weapon from the monster’s grip. The dead soldier leered at her hungrily and released the weapon. The force of their separation thrust the beast back onto the hallway floor and Kelly back onto the gravel roof. The door between them swung closed with a slam.

“AHHHH!” Sergeant Adams screamed. His adrenaline-fueled struggle against his attacker had lost out against the fury of the hungry dead. Blood spurted from a severed artery in his neck, and the monster’s head swung back with a hunk of red flesh in its teeth. As it gulped down the rag of meat, the ghoul turned its eyes on Dr. Thomson and reached toward a new victim.

Kelly turned, took aim, and fired. Shooting felt clumsy to her, but at her range, it was nearly impossible to miss. The impact of the bullet sent a thin spray of blood from a red quarter-sized hole in the undead man’s back, but there was no effect.

Sergeant Adams lay on the ground. His blood oozed from a horrific wound in his shoulder. Despite his desperate attempts to stop the bleeding, blood gushed through his fingers. “He… heellllp… meeeeee.”

Dr. Thomson backed toward the ledge of the roof. There was no escape. The ghoul, eyes locked on Dr. Thomson, rose to its feet, stepped over the dying Sergeant Adams, and lumbered toward him.

Kelly fired again, and more red erupted from the monster’s back… but it did not stop.

She fired a third time and then a fourth, and finally the zombie stopped moving toward the doctor.  Its shoulders were slouched, and the life had seemed to drain from its body, until it turned to look over its shoulder at Kelly. A hollow moan issued through its bloodstained jaws.

“The head!” Dr. Thomson yelled. “Shoot it in the head!”

The monster turned toward her and took one step followed by another in a relentless quest for its new victim. Kelly took aim. “How could something so fundamental be so easily forgotten?” Kelly wondered as she pulled the trigger.

The rifle bucked in her grip, and the beast dropped to its knees before thudding face-first into the ground.

“He…lp…meeeee!” Sergeant Adams whimpered. A dark red puddle of blood had formed in the gravel beneath him, and his arms were stained red to the elbows.

Kelly and Dr. Thomson rushed to the dying man with a sense of utter helplessness. Even if they could stop the bleeding, the creature’s bite condemned him to join the ranks of the undead.

“Heeelp me!” Sergeant Adams groaned again as he looked into Kelly’s eyes. He gasped for breath like a fish out of water. His strength was draining from his body.  His arms became too heavy to place pressure on his wound and fell limply to the ground. The blood pumped from his wound to the rhythm of his weakening heartbeat.

“I’m sorry!” Tears welled up in Kelly’s eyes, as she took aim at the Sergeant’s head. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Do… It…” The Sergeant nodded back at her in understanding.

Kelly pulled the trigger.

Dr. Thomson put his hand on Kelly’s shoulder, offering some small comfort. They had both seen plenty of terminally ill patients pass, but this was something else entirely. Being the hand of mercy was a scarring task.  The moment was short lived.

Kelly turned, gun first, towards the rooftop exit. The metal door stood between them and the horrible sounds of screaming and gunshots that came from within the DDC. Kelly wondered why the guard she had taken the gun from had not come through to attack them. She gave Dr. Thomson an apprehensive look. Dr. Thomson cautiously inched toward the door before pulling it open. The only evidence of the soldier who had been killed in the hallway was a gruesome bloodstain that ran down the wall and onto the floor. A crimson smear trailed off into the darkness of the hall. Bloody red footprints told the story simply enough. The reanimated guard had gone to hunt for prey inside the DDC.

“What do we do?” Kelly whispered.

Dr. Thomson had no answer. His body shook with fear. He poked his head inside the hallway and peered into the clinic.

Kelly slid into the corridor as quietly as she could.

A rapid popping of gunfire from the ground floor prompted a wave of screams and gasps from the families huddled together in the second story living area. Kelly inched her way down to the end of the hallway, stairwell on her right, living area on her left. There were perhaps a dozen families huddled under cots staring back at her with wide-eyed terror.

Movement in Dr. Thomson’s office caught her attention. There, on the floor, huddled a shadow hunched over a body. The disgusting sound of wet chewing sickened Kelly as she drew closer.

Dr. Thomson slid in behind Kelly. “That’s…”

“Shhh!” Kelly ordered.

“Shoot it!” Dr. Thomson whispered.

“Shhh!” Kelly repeated.

Kelly arrived at the stairwell to the ground floor. She chanced a glance as she slid past. A body lay halfway down the stairs, but it was otherwise vacant. She took one step, then another toward Dr. Thomson’s office.

Yet another chorus of screaming from the living area followed another series of pops from downstairs. Kelly turned to the hiding families and placed her finger over her lips.

When she turned back toward the office, the ghoul was gone. Kelly froze with dread. Had it slipped out of the office? Was it hiding in wait for her, ready to attack?

Kelly forced herself against petrifying terror to take another step forward, until she could reach the office door. Slowly, she stretched her trembling arm out and gripped the door handle.

More gunfire and yelling from downstairs broke the tension, and Kelly slammed the office door closed. She released the breath she had been holding and scurried back toward Dr. Thomson.

“What now?” Dr. Thomson asked quietly.

“Stay here. Watch the stairwell door,” Kelly answered back.

Dr. Thomson nodded.

Summoning her courage again, Kelly forced herself onto the first step of the stairway. She took one step after another, slowly descending to the ground floor. She held the rifle as she had seen soldiers hold their weapons, but her discomfort and lack of training only enhanced her fear.

She stepped over the dead body. Kelly knew the man, a father of two young children. He had always been among the first to offer help whenever an opportunity came up. He had been appreciative of the DDC staff and did whatever he could to lighten the burden on them. No doubt, he had heard the commotion, and his willingness to help had cost him his life.

When Kelly arrived at the foot of the stairs, she looked out into the darkness of the ground floor. The gunfire had stopped, and she had hoped to see guards in charge of an unfortunate but resolved situation. Instead, she was confronted by blackness. Two flashlights lay on the ground, casting small pools of light onto the clinic floor. Curtains were drawn over the front windows, and the faint yellow street light was not enough to illuminate the large room.

Kelly felt around for the light switch just outside the stairwell wall. A shadow passed over one of the flashlights on the ground, and Kelly froze. Her heart hammered in her chest, and her breath sounded like a roar in her ears.

With a flick, the room burst into white fluorescent light. Cots, blankets, pillows, and sheets, were strewn about with the day-to-day possessions of the people who had called the DDC home. Overturned tables and chairs lay on the ground. Clothes, backpacks, and suitcases littered the floor. Among all the clutter, there lay over a dozen bodies.

Snarls rumbled through the room. Ghouls from every nook and cranny lurched away from consuming the freshly dead to lock their eyes onto Kelly. Other newly dead stirred with unlife and rose with a groan to make their way toward the promise of fresh meat. Kelly was suddenly thrust into her worst nightmare. People she had tried to help, friends, colleagues, and security guards – everyone she had known for the past few months fixated on her with an animalistic hunger.

“Shit!” Kelly dashed up the stairs. Behind her were the inhuman howls of the undead.

Dr. Thomson extended his hand to Kelly and she saw his eyes grow wide as he looked past her.

“Oh… my… God…” he whispered. His face was a mask of horror.

“Close the door!” She screamed.