The Apocalypse Crusade 2 (20 page)

Chuck Singleton hadn’t been able to feel his hands for the last hour or so. He wasn’t really worried, however, at least not for himself. When Stephanie had rolled over and showed him her hands, he had to force a smile onto his lips. Her hands were black. He tried to tell himself that they were just a dark purple and that the unlit tent made them seem black, but he was afraid nonetheless.

“You’ll be fine, Darlin.” His reassurances had worked right up until the firing commenced. There had been shooting going on all day, however this was much, much closer. A few hundred yards at the most.

“We is fucked,” John Burke said. “Them fuck-all zombies are right on top of us.”

“Then maybe we should keep quiet,” Anna suggested. Both she and Eng hadn’t spoken much and every time they had, the others glared. They blamed Eng for starting the entire thing and they blamed her for the deaths of Deckard and Thuy. Anna couldn’t understand why they were mad at her. She had simply taken advantage of a situation that, in the end, had prolonged all their lives, except of course Dr. Lee’s and her goon of a boyfriend. But wasn’t that the way the cookie crumbled?

Burke wanted to ream her a good one, but she was right. Their chances were, as his daddy always said, of two varieties: slim and none. He bit his lip and listened as the sleepy camp came alive.

The officers who had been trying their damnedest to keep the perimeter secure, poured out of their tents to find that the section of the line closest to them had crumbled. Stouthearted, they put up what resistance they could, but the numbers facing them were too great and gradually they fell back to the line of Humvees.

It was too late for that, however. The undead were thick in the forest, going in every direction, some even curling around to come at the Command Post from behind. They were among the Humvees before anyone knew it. The officers fought their way back to the communication tent where they made a final stand.

All the movement outside the tent was confusing, and Stephanie, who thought the officers were leaving them behind whispered to the others: “We can’t let them go. We have to scream or something. If not it’ll just be us…alone.”

“They won’t save us,” Anna replied.

“Why not?” Stephanie asked. Her words came out with a begging quality that she didn’t notice. She knew if the soldiers left, the zombies would come for them, next. Tied up as they were the idea was literally painful to her. There was a pain in her gut like she was trying to digest glass.

“They just won’t,” Anna hissed. “I wouldn’t come back if I was them and neither would any of you.”

“Don’t believe that mess of a girl. I would come back for you,” Chuck said to Stephanie. “Zombies or no zombies.”

Everyone heard and no one doubted it, not even Anna. “Then you’d be the only one,” she said. “Now, everyone shut up! We can still get lucky so, unless you’ve thought up a plan, keep quiet.”

Chuck could think of nothing that could get them out of the cords binding them. Like Burke, he had never been one to consider himself a cut above the average where smarts were concerned, but he had a good deal of native wisdom. Enough to know that they were screwed, six ways from Sunday.

The battle outside was hot and the sounds of the guns were loud, and yet the presence of the zombies was greater and their moans and growls muted the gunshots. They were everywhere. Some tripped over the ropes holding up the quarantine tent and others fell into its side. Most picked themselves up and left. Some hung around, sniffing the air, certain, in the pea-sized portion of their brain that was still functioning, that there was clean blood nearby.

Inside the tent, the shadows cast by these strays made them seem monstrously large. The prisoners lay on their sides, not daring to talk or even to move. Except for Dr. Wilson who was praying with his eyes closed. Burke stared in a wide-eyed silence and only the binding kept his hands from shaking in fright. Even Chuck was starting to get nervous. Bound as he was, there was no way he could fight. He was hogtied and helpless; in his mind it was no way to die…but then again, wasting away to a weak little nothing as the cancer ate him up from the inside wasn’t all that much better.

So far no one had come up with an idea that was better than Anna’s “hope to get lucky” plan and for a while the firefight going on seventy yards away drew almost all the attention from the quarantine tent. It couldn’t last and it didn’t last. The fear was coming off oftheprisoners in waves. The scent of it was in their pores and in their sweat. It attracted the zombies with the keenest senses.

Chuck watched as the silhouette of a hand appeared; it fingers seemed extra-long as if they were seeing the shadow of a tremendous spider descending to touch the fabric of the tent. It started to scratch and paw at the wall of the tent near Burke. The man sat up on the nubs of his skinny ass and tried to inch away, quietly. It wasn’t possible. His foot scraped and that small sound caused the zombie to react. It clawed at the tent in a frenzy and when that proved useless, the shadow of its head appeared. Its teeth were sharp indentions as it tried to bite its way in.

“It w-won’t be able to get in, w-will it?” Stephanie asked, her normally pale face now so white it seemed to shine in the gloom of the tent. “A person can’t bite through a tent, right?”

Anna finally looked to be coming undone. Her lower lip quivered as she said: “That’s not a person anymore.”

The zombie’s teeth appeared through the tent linen just as a Humvee engine roared into life. It was a howling metallic sound that could be heard for miles. Whoever was in it had the RPM meter pegged in the red. Then there was a crash and the sound of tree branches snapping and the engine never quit its scream.

It was a bizarre sound as though someone was trying to make a high-speed getaway with the engine stuck in first gear. Burke turned to Chuck—one good ole boy to another—and gave him a shrug as if to suggest that the Yankees in these parts didn’t know their asses from holes in the ground.

Chuck was certain that was true enough, however he had more important things to worry about: the zombie had bitten a hole right through the tent and was pushing its head through the opening. He was growling and snapping his teeth. Chuck had a mind to take care of those teeth. The way he figured it, his size thirteen shit-kickers would de-fang the monster.

The only problem was getting himself over to the hole and aligned properly. It took a great deal of squirming and crawling.

“Wait! You’re going to get infected,” Stephanie said.

“Who cares?” Anna demanded. “Being infected is a whole lot better than the alternative, don’t you think?”

Chuck glanced back at Anna. “Why don’t y’all just shut your cake-hole? Everythin’ that comes out of your mouth is slime.” It didn’t matter that she was right, he just didn’t want to hear it. He turned back to the hideous face chewing at the tent and raised his boots, but something caught his eye and his strength left him. There were more of the disgusting half-men lurking so close that their shadows were painted on the wall of the tent, ranging all down its side.

“Get away from there, Chuck,” Stephanie whispered. The shadows advanced, growing to take up the entire wall and then, a second later, they attacked the heavy cloth. The wall bowed in and a pole snapped loudly to match the sound of the gunfire. Stephanie opened her mouth to scream, but her throat was locked shut as if a bear trap had just closed on her larynx.

Anna screamed loud enough for both of them; it shrilled along the highest octave like a broken reed. She wasn’t alone in crying out. Dr. Wilson shrieked: “Jesus Christ!” in something that was half prayer, half exclamation. He tried to roll away from the collapsing wall but was too slow and John Burke collided with him in his desperate need to get away. The two men mashed against each other until Burke steamrolled himself right over the top of the older man.

Chuck, realizing what a useless gesture it would be to kick the one zombie, scrambled back to huddle with the rest at the far end of the tent. He kept squirming until he was right next to Stephanie and then he wiggled on top of her. “Just close your eyes, Darlin’ and don’t listen to nothin’. Just play dead and y’all will be okay.”

“What about you?” she asked, quietly.

A smile cracked his weathered face; it was little more than a line with the edges canted up some. It was the best he could manage with the sound of ripping cloth and the weird snarls and the whimpering of Anna and the quick, mumbling of prayer coming from Dr. Wilson. “You know me,” Chuck told her. “I’ll be just fine.”

There was no way he would be. None of them would be fine; it would be impossible. Even if Chuck managed to shield her with his body, she would be infected. The truth was obvious, it showed in her eyes. They were huge and round, and so blue; the tears in them magnifying everything. “Shh,” Chuck said, kissing her. “Turn over and just don’t look. This is the way it has to be so…”

He was about to go on, reassuring her with the most ridiculous lies, but then the fabric of the tent right above them tore wide open. Cringing, he crushed himself on her, whispering: “Now! Don’t look.”

Everybody cringed in anticipation of what was to come. With the tent collapsing, there was nowhere left to go and they could only huddle against each other and pray.

Something grunted behind Chuck and he felt his arms pulled back and then there was a sharp pain in his wrist like glass slashing his flesh. He gritted his teeth against it, expecting more, but then his arms suddenly sprang apart and the fire in his shoulders flared…but he was free! Amazed, he looked up to see a woman standing over him sawing furiously at the bindings around his ankles. Her long black hair swung across her face and yet he still knew her by her slim form and soft golden tan: it was Dr. Lee.

“Much obliged, ma’am,” he said.

Chuck rolled off of Stephanie and tried to stand; his body rebelled. He was stiff and numb through the limbs. He ended up falling onto Eng, and after a brief struggle righted himself. “Where’s Deckard? Was he shot?”

Thuy grunted as she sawed at the cords holding Stephanie’s hands pinned behind her back. Chuck couldn’t tell what that meant and said as much. Stephanie’s hands sprang apart and Thuy went to her ankles next. “Now’s not the time,” she hissed, jutting her chin at the zombies clawing and biting their way through the tent. “Cover your face if you can,” Thuy suggested.

“Maybe y’all should take your own advice,” Chuck said. “Here. Lemme do that for you.”

He took the knife and with one strong pull, cut the cord. He then went to Dr. Wilson, who was the next closest…other than Eng, that is. Chuck wasn’t sure if he was going to cut the lying, murdering bastard free. In seconds, Wilson and John Burke joined Stephanie; they stood near Dr. Lee at the slit she had made in the tent, rubbing their arms and stamping their feet.

“Them too,” Thuy said. “We have time.” The mindless zombies were getting hung up in the fabric. They had time, but not a lot.

“That’s not really the question,” Stephanie said in a whisper. “The question is why we should bother. Those two deserve what’s coming to them.” Burke nodded in agreement, while Dr. Wilson only shrugged his heavy shoulders and looked away.

“You will do as I say or we’ll leave you behind as well,” Thuy snapped. “We don’t know what the future holds. They may come in handy. But if you wish, Mr. Singleton, you may leave their hands bound.”

With a look to Stephanie, who seemed confused, Chuck cut their feet free and hauled each to their feet. He didn’t like the idea of letting them live and yet he couldn’t stomach letting them get eaten alive. He agreed with Stephanie that Anna and Eng deserved whatever the zombies would do to them, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to look himself in the eye if he were to leave them as a snack for the zombies.

“Thank you, Dr. Lee,” Anna said. She cleared her throat as the others cast glares her way and said, “So what’s the plan?”

Thuy was staring out through the slit in the tent. “We wait until there are fewer zombies near the tent and then we make a break for the forest.” It was a terrible plan in Chuck’s ears, just one step up from staying there and being eaten. There seemed to be altogether too many zombies running around for it to be feasible.

“Fewer zombies?” Stephanie asked. “How is that going to be possible?”

“Do you hear that Humvee? Deckard is trying to get them to chase him.”

Chuck gave a gruff laugh and said: “I knew that boy was still kicking.”

“Yes,” Thuy said.

It had been very close. Deckard had laid Thuy down in the tall grass and she was still so overcome with guilt that she had found she hadn’t been able to move, or more aptly, she didn’t try to move. So many deaths, so many thousands of deaths could be traced to her hubris and her vanity. First, she had the temerity to play God and then she had been so in awe of her own intellect that she had discounted even the possibility of sabotage. She had reasoned she would see a plot coming a mile away.

Yet it had happened right under her nose.

And so she had given up and when Tyler was sent out to die—another death to be added to her total—she had been so apathetic she hadn’t run with the others. Deckard, who had so much life in him and so much vitality, who was fast and who could have escaped easily, stayed back—for her. Even knowing her guilt, he had stayed for her. He had picked her up, put her on his shoulder and ran after the others, and when he had been forced to put her down in the grass, he had done so with gentler hands. She had decided right then that she wouldn’t abandon him either.

She laid prostate between the two men and a few feet above her, Meeks had leveled his rifle at Deckard. Calmly, she had reached up and grabbed the barrel, knowing full well that due to the mask he wore, Meeks wouldn’t notice her hand until it was too late. Just as she pulled down on the barrel, Meeks fired and the bullet sped unseen right between Deckard’s legs to bury itself in the dirt. Thuy’s hand rang with a painful numbness and she let out a little yelp.

Above her, Deckard had launched himself at Meeks and with three heavy blows, knocked his mask off his face and laid him out unconscious with his eyes rolled up in his head and his nose gushing blood like a faucet.

Deckard gave her a grin as he helped her up. “Perfect timing,” he told her and then bent to relieve Meeks of everything he possessed of value: the mask, the gun, the extra magazines, a set of handcuffs, a two-way radio, and a six-inch jackknife.

Now, Chuck folded up the same jackknife and held it out to Thuy. “Keep it,” she said. The sound of the Humvee’s roaring engine was starting to fade in the slightest and so was the sounds of the firing from the other tents. In place of the shooting came screams; they sent a shiver up Thuy’s spine. “Is everyone ready?” she asked. They were at the point where it didn’t matter if the coast was clear. The zombies were squirming through the holes in the tent. They couldn’t stay. “Dr. Wilson keep watch over Eng. Mr. Burke you do the same for Anna. Mr. Singleton, take this.”

She reached outside the tent and picked up an M16A1. “I assume you know how this weapon operates?”

“Yes ma’am I do. And by the by, ma name’s Chuck.”

“Alright Chuck, lead the way. Our goal is to lose ourselves in the deep woods. Stephanie, you’ll buddy-up with me.”

Chuck stepped out and even his calm demeanor was shaken by what he saw. There was a flood of undead coming out of the woods to the west. A look behind showed a thousand or more tearing into the tents of the command post or ripping  soldiers to shreds as they screamed in a manner Chuck did not think possible for a grown man to scream. To the south there seemed to be a break between the first wave of undead and a new one surging forward.

He was pushed from behind by Thuy to get him going but the way wasn’t exactly clear. Within two steps, he was forced to fire the M16. A man with the shreds of his face hanging from his jawline came stumbling from around the side of the tent. Where his nose and lips and cheeks should’ve been was a horrible black mask of flies that hummed and buzzed, and when he opened his mouth, more flies flew out.

“Ma God!” Chuck cried, bringing the rifle up. He’d never fired an M16 before and still he put a hole smack dab in the thing’s forehead causing the flies to leap up and buzz angrily. He had no time to remark on the zombie’s passing, nor even time to watch it fall. There were more of the beasts attracted by the new smell of humans and the sound of the gun. He turned a quarter to his right, lined up the sights on another of “them” and caressed the trigger back. Another slight turn and another shot.

His was the only gun that could be heard now. Among the tents, there was only screams.

“Good enough,” Thuy said dragging Chuck by the arm as Stephanie hurried along in their wake and the other rushed out of the tent by twos. “We have to chance them getting close, there just isn’t enough ammunition left.”

They ran, taking a southern course, trying to cut between the two waves of zombies without drawing too much attention to themselves—which proved impossible. The woods hid them to a degree, but soon they were forced out into the open. They crossed a little field carpeted with bright yellow dandelions and suddenly there was a howl and Chuck expected to see a zombiefied wolf, however the sound was coming from human throats.

The waves of zombies coming from the west were moving in an unbroken line. They came on in a ragged formation: a dozen here, eighty there, a mob of thirty cutting across their front. Five zombies—two in ragged uniforms, a tall woman and two teenagers—were in the van, ahead of the rest by fifty yards. There was a reason they were in front of the others: they were whole. Not a single one had a bite mark anywhere visible. Other than the black dripping from their eyes and the unholy sound they were making, they seemed altogether human and they were almost as fast as normal humans, and indeed much faster than humans running with their hands tied behind their backs.

With Eng and Anna slowing the humans down, the five quickly began to catch up.

“Don’t go wastin’ no bullets,” Burke said, coming to a stop when it was obvious they were going to be caught. He was huffing and bent over at the waist from the run. They were all tired: three cancer patients, two trussed prisoners, a 56-year-old, and a woman who had spent way too much time with her nose in a book or her eyes glued to a microscope. “We should jes give em’ this here China-boy to eat. No offence Doc,” he added, suddenly remembering Dr. Lee was Chinese of some sort as well. “Y’all said they might come in handy and this here job is one he seems per-ticularly suited for.”

“No,” Thuy said. “We will not mistreat the prisoners. Mr. Singleton, if you’ll be so kind, please shoot the zombies.”

Chuck took a deep breathe, aimed and fired, taking off a good chunk of scalp from the nearest of them. It seemed surprised that it had been shot and fell face first with its eyes flung wide. The next shot was dead center and Burke grunted: “Nice.” Burke turned away from what looked like target practice for Chuck and said to Thuy: “I‘m a thinkin’ y’all be coming around right quick on the treatment of the prisoners. Look.”

The sound of the shooting had stopped the lead wave of zombies, who were even then turning slowly, realizing there were humans near. The little group was now surrounded on three sides. The zombies were arrayed around them in the shape of a bottle and it was clear the little group would be forced to sprint southward in the hope of making it out of the trap closing in on them. With the prisoners in tow, it didn’t look like they had much of a chance.

Thuy only raised an eyebrow at Burke, but did not answer him. “Keep shooting Mr. Singleton. Don’t let them get too close.”

There was a sparkle of sweat on Dr. Wilson’s brown forehead as he spun to see the hundreds of zombies closing in on them. The ones to the east were nearest, but the ones to the west were walking on a downward slope and coming on quicker. Wilson’s heart was pounding out a speedy rhythm and he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to make the run. “Dr. Lee…he may be right. It may be the only way we can get out of this. I know it’s horrible to consider, but we should think about the needs of the many and weigh them against the needs of the guilty.”

“Interesting choice of words,” Thuy said. “But I think we’ll be alright.”

“Oh my God!” Stephanie suddenly cried, pointing at a Humvee coming up through the tree line. Deckard danced the nimble machine between the trees and the groups of zombies. Everyone cheered, except Chuck who was too busy concentrating on his aim. His chest had accumulated a gob of phlegm from the run and it was making control of the rifle an uncertain thing. He was embarrassed that it took two bullets a piece to take down the last two zombies closing in on them. He coughed up a wad of grey gunk and spat it on the yellow dandelions just as the Humvee pulled up.

“The cavalry saves the day!” Stephanie gushed as Deckard slid out of the vehicle. Chuck coughed some more ugly out of his lungs but it was her words that sent a stab of jealous pain lance through him. It must have shone on his face because she gave him a quizzical look. “Come on. I’ll sit on your lap,” she said, banishing the pain from his cancer-riddled body.

“Lucky dog,” Burke griped. There wasn’t a lot of room in the four-seat Humvee. The two prisoners were crammed in the cargo area with a third a man: Special Agent Meeks. Deckard had been all for handcuffing him to a tree, but Thuy had thought that akin to murder and so Deckard had been forced to carry him three hundred yards to a little stand of birches that provided enough cover to hide them while they figured out what they were going to do. Their futures hadn’t really been up for discussion; Thuy wasn’t going to let her last three patients die from exposure to the Com-cells and so she and Deckard had waited, looking for an opportunity to rescue the group.

Now, with equal command, she went and sat in the front passenger seat, relegating John Burke to an uncomfortable position stuck on a lumpy console in the back. He was twisted like a gnome to keep his head from rattling off the roof.

“If you have seatbelts, buckle up,” Deckard suggested. He stomped the gas and the throaty roar of the engine accompanied a quicker than expected acceleration. Zombies surged at them from all sides but Deckard was a skilled driver and dodged the hummer left and right. The ride was far from smooth as they jounced over fallen trees and thumped into dry rain gullies. More than once Burke cracked his skull on the roof and the trio of prisoners cried out as they were flung about in the back.

Deckard did not slow. There was no telling what lay ahead and speed was his only ally. In minutes, they came on a dirt path that ran north to south. On a whim, he turned south and sped a course parallel to the one he wanted. East was the quickest way out of The Zone…if there was indeed a way out. For half a mile, the ride became smooth as behind them they left a plume of dust in the late afternoon sky.

Then they crested a hill and Deckard stopped the Humvee.

“Are we there yet?” Stephanie joked. She was feeling a sort of giddy relief at having cheated death once again, and then there was the straight-up fact that she was falling for Mr. Charles Singleton. A single thought struck her:
I want to be Mrs. Charles Singleton…before I die
. Her smile faded at the finality of the last three words.