Zombie Battle (Books 1-3): Trinity (13 page)

He told Juan to ‘stay put and down’. No one else was using the small station. The owner was inside playing with his phone and a golden retriever was chained next to the garage. ‘Stay put, stay down’, there was no reason for Juan not to listen. After all, he didn’t display any signs of trying to escape at the CDC, nor did he even attempt to leave the room. Steve left him in the back of the car. After swiping his credit car, locking the gas pump, Steve waved to the owner, a big thick man, and darted to the side rest room for a quick leak.

When he returned all was quiet, and the gas pump was still going. Safe.

No worries.

Until he heard the cry of the owner. “Oh, God, what happened to my dog?”

Hand removing the nozzle, Steve jolted. The dog, still on the chain convulsed in a pool of blood. Juan covered in blood and fur, looking like a demented pet himself, stood a few feet from the car. The owner was so engrossed in his dog’s demise, that he didn’t see Juan.

He cried out, unchaining the dog.

With wide eyes, Steve flew to Juan, grabbed the boy, swept him up and raced to the car, tossing him inside.

Ignoring the shouts from the owner, Steve started the car. “No,” he scolded Juan. “We don’t eat people’s pets.” With that parental warning, and just wanting to get out of there, Steve sped away.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Atlanta, GA

Sara Klein was a young mother. She had little Jerry when she was merely twenty years old. Jerry’s father was in the Marines and stationed in the Middle East. Both Sara and her husband were so young, that was one of the excuses Irma used for being over protective of little Jerry. But truth be known, Irma adored that little boy and her ho hum life lit up with meaning the day he was born.

The longest she went without seeing Jerry was two days, never longer.

There were no arguments from Sara when her mother showed up to get her and the baby. Irma rarely over reacted to news, and when Sara was told that her father said to leave and go north, there was no hesitation.

That’s why she didn’t understand why her mother was driving the opposite direction.

“I need to see your father. I just need to see him, just in case this thing gets out of control,” Irma told her. “We’ll only stay a moment.”

Thinking about it, Sara could only agree. If her father, the head of the CDC, was warning them, then it was big. Sara, like her mother needed to see her father.

It would only take a few moments. What would it hurt?

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“Aim for the head. Save bullets,” Saul instructed over the radio.

Jack knew this from Peru.

He also knew he didn’t have enough ammo for what he had to face. Not that there were hundreds, but the virus certainly took hold of dozens. All of which were on the second floor, surrounding and blocking the door to the office, as if the petite, older secretary were a free buffet.

The adrenaline tremors he felt rush through his body were similar to those he felt while serving in the war.

And Jack took that same mindset.

It was war. But instead of a battlefield in the Middle East, he was in an office building.

Getting off the elevator on the second floor was not an option. Jack didn’t know for sure whether the undead heard, saw, smelled . . . he just knew he couldn’t take a chance.

Knowing the first floor was clear, Jack stepped off of the elevator there and sneakily made his way up the stairs.

Just before entering the floor, he grabbed the fire ax that hung on the wall just inside the stairwell. It was in the more-than-likely event he ran out of ammunition.

A revolver and brad power gun tucked in the waistband of his pants, a gun in his hand, ax behind his back, Jack radioed. “Heading onto the floor. How’s it looking? Over.”

“Good. They’re all still gathered at the records’ office.”

Jack opened the door just an inch and peeked out. He could see them about fifty feet away, down the hall. Focused. Relentless.

Foot holding open the door, Jack braced his revolver. With a purchased stance in that doorframe, precision aim, he fired. A simple crack and one went down.

The others didn’t seem to notice.

Jack was an expert shot. A marksman and picking them off, one by one wasn’t even a challenge.

As they dropped unaware of what was happening around them, Jack wondered how it even got to that point. How did it slightly get out of control at Fort Bragg? There was no way. Not when Jack, by himself, was taking out two dozen.

He kept telling himself, one person could bite ten people before they were stopped. If any of those in the CDC building escaped, how many did they bite? Jack had them contained. Like mice in a maze. The cheese was behind that records’ office door.

With only four remaining, Jack ran out of ammunition in both clips. He secured his weapons in his belt, took a deep breath and charged forward.

He was within a few feet when one of them finally saw him. Wielding the ax, Jack hit the first one. It didn’t cut through, it jammed in the head and the zombie went down. Through his peripheral vision he caught another one coming. Fast, he grabbed the brad gun with his left hand, extended it out, popped a brad, and it sailed directly into the temple of the undead.

She, too, dropped to the floor.

Not letting go of the ax, Jack’s arm followed the weight of the zombie to the floor. Using his foot, he braced the zombie, lifted the ax from the skull, and tossed it hard. It sailed handle over blade, hitting the face of a charging undead, sinking straight through the flesh and bone.

One more came at him, and with ease, using the power tool, Jack dropped him.

Situation was secure. Bodies of the undead sprawled about the hallway, overlapping.

The one with the facial ax still twitched. Jack removed the ax, put the brad gun flush against the flesh of the temple, and pulled the trigger.

That did the trick.

Jack grabbed the radio. “All clear, I’m going in. Watch the elevator for me and keep me posted of anything else. Over.”

Saul released a brief sigh of relief when he saw Jack, via the security monitors; emerge from the office with the secretary. He nodded in gratefulness. Preparing to tell Jack that the elevator was clear, Saul felt his world sink as he watched monitor two. He had to tell Jack something else. The elevator was indeed clear, but he had to get to the lobby. Saul’s family was walking in the door.

After radioing Jack, there wasn’t any hesitation in Saul. He grabbed one of the power tools and headed toward the security office door.

“Where are you going?” Powers asked.

“Up there.”

“But Sgt. Edwards is there.”

“Yes, well, as much as I trust him. My family’s fate has to be in my hands as well. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Knowing he didn’t have much time, and even though things looked free and clear of the undead, Saul couldn’t take that chance. He rushed from the security of the basement.

“Mom?” Sara whispered with question, holding Jerry on her hip as they entered the silent CDC building.

“I know.”

“Something is not right.”

“I know.” Irma repeated, leading them to the security desk.” Where’s the guard?”

The desk was tall, mid chest, and as Irma reached for the phone that sat on top, she saw the security guard, head down on the desk, surrounded by a pool of blood. “Oh, dear God.”

Sara shrieked, just slightly, shielding the baby from the vision. “Mom? You think Dad is. ..”

“Daddy’s fine, I feel it.” Irma again reached to lift the reviewer, doing so, over Sara’s should, she spotted her. “Oh, there’s Ashley. We’ll ask her if . . .” Irma noticed. Something was wrong.

Barely did Sara have time to make a quizzical face at the lack of Irma’s finished question, that Ashley bolted over pummeling into Sara’s back and sinking her teeth into her shoulder.

Had she not jolted Sara, Ashley would have gotten two for one and bitten Jerry as well. But the toddler toppled from Sara’s grip.

It seemed in slow motion to Irma, she screamed out, hands extended, catching Jerry before he hit the ground. Fumbling with the toddler who began to scream in fear as well, Irma cried out.

She didn’t know what to do.

Sara calling, ‘Mom! Help me!’, the baby in her arms. Ashley attacking her own flesh and blood. Quickly, she darted around to the back of Sara, trying to block out the agonizing cries. Clutching Jerry, Irma reached with her other hand and pulled Ashley’s hair.

Ashley wouldn’t budge.

Irma tried as hard as she could, pulling and pulling, then through the corner of her eye, she caught Jack racing her way.

“Step back!” he yelled.

Irma did.

He was there in three steps, power tool extended and when close enough for a safe shot, he plunged a brad into Ashley’s skull.

Ashley fell and Sara’s leg’s buckled.

Jack caught her before she hit the ground.

“Oh my God, Oh my God, my baby. My baby,” Irma cried out, backing up. “Help her.”

“I got her, I got her.” Jack said, holding his hand against the gash. “See if there’s anything on the desk for the bleeding.”

Irma turned. When she did, up from behind the desk stood the guard. With a growl he reached out, grabbing for Jerry.

With a gut wrenching scream, Irma pulled back, reached for the phone on the desk and, holding it tight, hit the guard. “Get . . . off!” She hit again. “My bubby!” on her final, emotional filled hit, she slammed the phone into his head and down he went.

“Irma!” Saul cried out, running to her.

“Saul. Saul.” Irma shook, her heart raced. “What’s happening? What’s going on?” Her words were tear-filled, frightened. She held on to Jerry for dear life.

Saul laid his hand on her face. “I can’t explain it all.” His eyes shifted to Sara. "Jack?”

Jack looked up. “She needs help.”

“Saul, we have to get her to a hospital.” Irma cried.

“Listen to me.” Saul said. “Are you hurt? Bit?”

Irma shook her head.

“Jerry? Is he bit or scratched?”

“No, we’re fine, but Sara . . .”

“I’ll take care of Sara. Take the baby and go. Jack.” He shot a look to Jack. “I’ll get my daughter. Take my wife and grandson to the car. Get them out of here. Please.”

Jack nodded, as he stood, he lifted Sara into his arms and carried her to Saul.

Sara’s eyes fluttered. “Daddy?”

“I got you, baby.” Saul slipped his arms under Sara and took her from Jack. Sara’s head fell into his chest. “I got you.”

“Saul.” Irma whimpered out, stepping to him.

“Irma go. Go now. Just get as far north as you can. Got it. Please. I’ll call.”

Sniffing, Irma nodded fast and leaned into Sarah. She kissed her daughter, running her hand over her face. “I love you.”

“ I love you, mommy. Protect my baby.”

“With my life.” Irma kissed her again, and with Jack’s strong hand pulling backed up.

Sara tried to reach, but her arm weakly fell.

Irma stooped just before walking out the door; she glanced back watching Saul carry Sara to the back.

“He’ll help her," Jack said assuredly. “But you need to go.”

He led her to the van which sat out front and he opened the door.

“What’s happening?” Irma asked. “Why did they attack?”

“It’s the virus,” Jack answered. “It’s bad. It’s already out of control at the hospital and soon it will spread. You need to go. Don’t stop unless you have to for gas, but go. Ok?”

Irma nodded and opened the driver’s door.

Jack reached for the baby. “I’ll put him in the seat.”

“No!” Irma shook her head. “Law or no law. He will not be out of my reach. Ever again.”

With a look and a nod that said he understood, Jack fastened them both in. “Be careful. Good luck.”

“Get him out of there as soon as you can, please.”

“I will… I promise, Ma’am.” Jack shut the van door.

Irma looked at him once more, then she started the van. Jerry’s chest was to her chest, his legs to her sides as he grabbed on to her and cried. As best as she could and safely as she could, Irma drive off.

Because Jack knew if it were him, he’d want to know, he stood there watching as Irma drove from his sight. Hopefully not much longer she’d be on the highway.

Going back inside, he saw the blood slicked floor. Hating to admit it, even to himself, Jack was scared. Not so much for his own safety but the helpless, like that baby and, even though she wasn’t all that helpless. Jack was scared for Lil.

As soon as he checked on Saul and his daughter, Jack was going to try again, to get in touch with Lil.

Saul placed the last bit of adhesive on the bandage, and then checked the intravenous flowing into Sara. He had sutured her as best as he could and was pumping her with high doses of antibiotics. But he knew, even without a blood test, it was futile. Her fever was already raging and she groaned even through her sedation.

He kept the phone gripped in his hand, he had just given a progress call to Irma, but he was worried. She said the temperature gauge was reading above normal. The van always ran hot, and usually Saul didn’t think twice about it. But this time, he did. He told Irma since she was already out of the state, to put some more coolant in when she stopped for gas.

It was just a matter of waiting to hear back.

He took a deep breath and lifted his eyes to the sound of the door opening.

It was Jack.

“Sergeant, thank you so much for sticking around. Especially when everyone else booked.”

“It’s no problem. Building is secure, and I um, promised your wife I’d get you out of here.”

“I can’t go yet. You know that.”

“I do.” Jack nodded.

“You can leave, I’d understand.”

“No, I’ll stay. Plus, like I said, I promised your wife I’d get you out of here safe.”

“Where is safe?”

“I know of a place. Maybe we can get your wife there.”

Saul gripped his daughters hand and rubbed his eyes. “Speaking of which. Have you called yours?”

“Gonna try again. It rings once and goes to voice mail.” Jack pulled out the phone and dialed. “Here goes nothing.” After a second his eyes widened. “Lil?”