Zombie Rush 2 (4 page)

“Then we have to tell everyone and give them some options in case they don’t want in and wish to go it alone.”

“Options? You’re either in or you’re out; those are your options.”

“Rather shortsighted on that one, Art, but we’ll discuss that at the meeting. You get five and I’ll get five and we’ll meet in one hour. Cat here is going to represent the youth faction for me.”

“Hi Cat, I didn’t see you there,” Benson said to his coworker’s daughter, who was well known around the shooting range. “Shortsighted? How?”

“To quote a long-dead king, ‘A kingdom with only internal eyes never will see what is coming.’ We need people on the outside too. To cast them out without a contingency for their well-being will only turn them into criminals. Also, after last night, they earned some consideration,” Lisa said, and reflected upon how desperate their situation had been up until the loaders and skiddies showed up. “Oh, and Cat is going to need a .308 and some good ammo; she is going to give some sniper support from the walls.”

“Not a problem. See you in an hour,” he said with a smirk as she walked away with Cat by her side.

“Did I come off as being in charge back there?” Lisa asked when they were far enough away.

“Uh … yeah; aren’t you?”

“No, we’re a team; equals … co-conspirators.”

“Right, except you have the balls.”

“Well, aren’t you just the little fucking shit?”

“You do have a potty mouth,” Cat said, and was suddenly interrupted by her cell phone ringing.

****

Charlie watched his dad as he slept with a mixture of emotions on his face. There was hate and loathing. There had always been loathing, as it is with most teenagers, dreading the next time they see a parent and hear their useless questions. The hate came from what his dad forced him to do at the house yesterday.

“It’s for your own good, Charlie,” his dad told him. “You have to learn to kill these things. Even if it’s me, you will have to be able to pull the trigger; your life depends on it.” Dean’s tone left no doubts as to how serious he was. He handed Charlie the knife, that had been reduced to scraper, from the tool drawer and pointed toward his mother still pinned to the floor with Shaaka through her foot.

Charlie shook his head back and forth, not believing he could do it, but his father insisted, saying it was the perfect opportunity for him to break the ice. That this one act would turn a switch inside his head that would enable him to survive. Even Lester, who had always liked Mom, was in on it and encouraged Charlie to do it. They kept saying
pull the trigger, you gotta pull the trigger
, but all they gave him was a knife. An old battered knife whose point had become more rounded with time than it was sharp.

Charlie had had enough; he couldn’t stand it anymore. It wasn’t like he would actually be killing his mother. She was already dead. He forced it into his own mind that he was releasing her, letting her actually die so that her soul could go to Heaven—if there was such a place. Charlie didn’t know, but his mom believed it, so that was what he clung to as he threw the piece of crap knife across the room and grabbed his dad’s spear.

The two men reacted as if they were going to stop him, but once he had the weapon in hand, all that they could do was back off as the boy pointed the spear at each man in turn. He lingered on his father for a little longer but knew that his mother, the zombie, was too close to take too long.

He brought the spear back and plunged it into the eye of his mother, his love and self-loathing flowing through the staff and into her brain as he directed her corpse to the floor.

Yeah, he now stared at his dad with hate and loathing, but there was something else there as well. It came when they went to the club to find a place to spend the night. The main room was filled with zombies, but they could hear cries from the living somewhere in the back, behind the stage.

Pushing Charlie and Lester behind a counter, his dad took over. He un-sheathed Shaaka and, with the heavy wooden buckler in his left hand and the spear in his right, he began to clear the room of infected. It was a physical display of the like that neither he nor Lester had seen before. If it wasn’t for the blood and death that it wrought, it would have been beautiful.

So yeah, he hated his dad and loathed every minute he had to spend with him simply because he was such a fucking asshole. But there was also awe.

He was overwhelmed with the sense of awe at what his father was capable of, both emotionally and physically, and he realized that if any of them were to survive, it was going to be due to this asshat and the capabilities that he possessed. Fucker.

***

Dean Solomon thought back to the events that brought him here. It was a sad day when he forced a sniveling wuss of a child to do the unspeakable so that he might survive this new world. The change that came over the boy was remarkable and turned him into a warrior twice his age, but was it right? Did he care if it was right or wrong? Should he care? Now Charlie was one of the first to step up and face the infected, and he seemed to be all right—for the most part. What could he expect from a fourteen-year-old kid? Charlie seemed all right to everyone except Solomon. He rarely spoke to his own dad, and the old man had even caught him glaring hatefully at him when he thought he wasn’t being watched.

He should care that it changed his son; he just didn’t know how or why. These dilemmas were much more intricate than he was ever cut out to deal with. He just figured that Charlie would come around. He knew his son hated him; every son hates his dad at some point or another. They grow out of it and bury their resentment until it dissipates or comes to fruition just like he did with his dad.

Charlie would come around; but understanding and forgiveness are two separate things.

They tried to hole up at the club, thinking that the lack of windows, because of the nude dancing, would make it a safe place to hang out with a stuffed larder and maybe some entertainment. It didn’t last but a day, and after several mad dashes, each one of which lost people and gained others, they found themselves behind the fenced-in area of the truck yard where he worked. The dispatcher was with him as well as his neighbor, Lester Johnson, and Charlie, of course, but many others had been killed—either turned or eaten. They had to find a place that they could secure, but those places in Benton were limited. There were no big chain stores or very many sporting goods stores where weapons were sold. They were in a void between two cities where everything would have been available. Someday, they could go to those cities and maybe find what they needed, but they had to survive until they got that opportunity.

Something was in the back of his mind since the beginning, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it until they got back to the truck yard—which was by no means secure enough with its falling down chain link and wire fence. All the Z’s had to do was find the openings on the backside and they were doomed. There was only one place in Benton where the fence was secure enough to provide safety for his group, which was now hovering around thirty club-swingers. He called them that because that is what most of them had: clubs. Clubs, bats, makeshift spears, shovels, and large knives. Axe and splitting maul handles were also put to good use. Solomon had Shaaka, of course, and his son used the over/under Benelli he had sawed off back in Lester’s shop.

There was one place secure enough, and it was off the beaten path—so far off the path that he had just discovered it himself the other day.

Chapter Three

Allegiance

Krupp hung his head in wonder at what had just happened.
Why did I … did I just …?
For the second time that day, Krupp wondered who he had become. He wasn’t a murderer, yet he had just gunned down a young woman in cold blood. But why?
Was it simply because I didn’t want to explain my actions? Who would I explain them to?

He shook it off and tried to focus on driving the boat, but the look of terror on her face when she saw the murder in his eyes haunted him. It was like she knew what he was going to do before he did. That in itself creeped him out.

They scanned the shoreline, surprised by how little movement there was. There were a few lights still on, including streetlights and a small fire here and there, but otherwise it was calm. The sky was lightening for the dawn of a new day—the dawning of the apocalypse. This was the first day where everyone wasn't waking up to the same job, the same life, the same obstacles, and they all knew it was shit.

Krupp took it for granted that the mayor’s boat slip in front of his mansion would be empty, and it was the safest landing place he could think of where he could privately stash his rig. The mansion was dark and the lawn zombie-free as the three of them made their way to shore. He took the time to secure the boat and stash the flat bottom they had started out in.

The mayor’s home was in a newer development on San Carlos Point. He figured the population would be limited—not like the masses that he had seen earlier—but he was surprised to see how clear the area was. There were some dead bodies and some reanimated which were too crippled to move or be a threat, however, there wasn’t one mobile Z anywhere for the first several blocks.

He took them north toward the highway where San Carlos’ main street soon turned into a path that was nothing more than a deer path. Krupp knew these woods and had busted many parties made up of under-aged drinkers and dopers. The trail followed behind another housing development before coming out on the interstate without going near any houses or other buildings.

A noise halfway through the woods distracted the group. Krupp knew the sound of meat on meat, the cop still trapped inside of him wouldn’t let him walk away. He crept toward the sound and heard talking. Unpleasant, lecherous … Krupp knew what was going on and he also knew that he was going to stop it.

Having heard rustling off to the sides of the trail, which he assumed was some lost undead trapped in the forest, he hung his M4 over his shoulder and gripped his Colt 40 semi-automatic in one hand and his nightstick in the other. He didn’t want to draw anything in with his gun, so he holstered it and pulled his Gerber before continuing on.

He came upon a scene right out of a horror novel. A father and husband forced to watch as … Krupp didn’t need to see more. All little girls reminded him of his own daughter. Many special moments were spent watching and helping her to grow. If he had done anything right, it was his relationship with Cat. They might be strained a little right now but that would pass. It always does. The thought that she might not be around anymore sickened him and he would have nothing left to live for.

To witness what these animals were doing sent him into a primal rage that went beyond being a cop or a soldier. He was no longer human when he flew into the backs of the men; he was an enraged yeti protecting the last of his kind.

He slammed the blade into the kidney of the first man he came to, allowing him to die with nothing more than a gasp. In one smooth motion, he brought it up and out to slide up under the chin of the next. It was when he hit the brain that the light behind the shock faded in his eyes. Krupp didn’t see that as he brought his baton down on the head of the next closest, and then into the side of the head of the third, popping his ear like it was a grape that spread its juice across the entire side of his face. He didn’t stop and ask questions when they held their hands up. Things weren’t like that anymore. The only rights these fuckers had was the right to die for their crimes and Krupp was their executioner. He stomped several times on the final guy’s head before he stopped and looked around.

Once Krupp gave him the nod, the father had the look of a lost soul when he scrambled to his wife and daughter. He then met eyes with Lu and Stanley. Stanley seemed to always have a look abject horror, whereas Lu seemed to be accepting of whatever had to be done.

“Do you see this? This shit?” Krupp spat as his adrenaline still rushed full bore. “This is what your fucking compound is going to be like; you know that, don’t you? People are dirty fucking animals and if you group them all together like that, it's going to be nothing but problems,” Krupp stated with such anger that Stanley took a step back.

“What would you have us do, Officer Krupp?” Lu asked. “Where else is there? I don’t know if you noticed, but I am not very well equipped to live off the land.”

“Yeah, I did pick up on that much,” Krupp replied, showing a little regret for his outburst. He slowly caught his breath and composed himself.

“All righty then, let’s get you to the compound.” The trees and brush rustled as zombies started to zero in on their location. “We'd better hurry though. We don’t want any of them to spot us.”

Much to Krupp’s and the others’ surprise, the family he had rescued moved off in the opposite direction, looking back at him with fear. He couldn’t blame them really; Krupp could imagine how brutal he must have appeared when he entered the clearing with his knife and baton.

They had almost a quarter mile of woods to cross before they would reach the highway and a large portion of that went behind a housing project. Rustling branches seemed to be honing in on their position. Krupp exchanged his knife for his Colt, knowing that if only one came through the trees his baton would be enough, but two or three … he prepared to have to shoot and run. They couldn’t afford to stay in one spot long enough to get swarmed.

A man in a wrinkled business suit appeared from nowhere in front of them on the trail. He looked so normal that Krupp almost spoke to him until he saw the expressionless face and milky eyes that never focused. It was a runner of the type which Krupp had seen before but was still caught by surprise at the speed in which he lunged. He didn’t have time to get his baton up and barely managed to push the zombie down and to the side, landing him by Stanley’s feet.

Stanley screamed when it latched its hands around his foot and started to pull his leg closer to its salivating mouth. Krupp unceremoniously brushed Lu to the side and put a .40 through its brain before looking at Stanley while shaking his head.

“Why did you have to scream?” Krupp said into the beatnik’s face. As if to emphasize Krupp’s concerns, walking dead began to appear on several portions of the path. He was sure that all of the zombies within the forest now had a bead on the threesome in the dawn’s light.

Krupp started them running toward the highway, shooting a couple Z’s in front before giving Lu the nod to use the 9mm he had handed to her earlier. She racked one into the chamber, almost excited to finally be delivering back. Krupp could tell she knew how to use it just by how she wrapped both hands around the butt and kept her fingers clear of the slide. Maybe somebody did finally have his back. Better than that fuck-up Traynor did after he split with Reynolds and Benson. Traynor wasn’t meant to survive this, just like Stanley.

He went to the rear and shuddered at the fifteen to twenty zombies on the trail. He emptied his magazine and shouted.

“On the right, about fifty feet is a hovel we can hunker down in and clear out these woods some,” he said.

He reloaded and holstered his sidearm then brought the Colt M4 around from his back without missing a step. He cursed himself for forgetting that he had a suppressor on it and could have cut down on the noise from the beginning. Not being legal meant that he never had the opportunity to use the black market acquisition before so now they had a forest full of zombies bearing down on them.

He saw Stanley limping as he followed him into the hovel and wondered how someone could be that much of a wuss. He unclipped a pack from his belt with 9mm mags and passed it to Lu. It was his daughter’s gun that she used in a lot of competitions, so he knew it was dead on. Lu noticed too and continued to fire as she grabbed the pouch and clipped it on the back of her skirt where she had the holster.

“The one day you wear a skirt to work …” Krupp said leaving the ending open.

“The fucking Z-poc arrives,” she finished for him with a smirk. “Lucky it’s not my fucking per— … forget it.”

“I got it.” He chuckled as he brought the iron sights up to his eye and started cleaning out the path. The trees and brush here were thick enough that they only had to be aware of the backside. The zombies would take the path of least resistance—which would be the trail … which also meant death, but that wasn’t something they noticed.

There was no reaction for their fallen comrades. Even as they walked into a kill zone, there were no evasive maneuvers or attempts to flee or duck. They came and died before Krupp was even through his first batch of thirty. “Stanley, are you bit?” he asked as they resumed down the trail, the woods quiet once again.

“No, I twisted it when that thing grabbed me,” he said, struggling to keep up.

Krupp let it go as he was cresting the first bank of the interstate. There were zombies, but there was also a naturally formed trail of stalled or wrecked cars to hide behind as he crept closer to see what exactly was happening down at the Sam’s Club. He didn’t know what to expect but it wasn’t what greeted him.

He saw a continuous row of semi-trailers angled side to side, completely encircling a large group of buildings, including stores and the hospital. Krupp was taken aback as he watched the trucks; they played loud music, leading smaller groups of zombies into kill zones. Meanwhile, slow earthmovers closed off other streets, making dead ends, where they isolated scores of zombies to come back and kill later. He saw the tunnel entrapments like one would see incorporated in a medieval setting along the makeshift wall. One was in the process of being overrun when they cut it off by pulling a cable with a bulldozer, leaving a lone trailer like an island filled with zombies waiting to be spun and rolled by large enclosed-cab front-end loaders, killing hundreds of zombies in one fell swoop. They then rolled fifteen thousand pounds of trailer over masses of undead, crushing and turning them to pulp.

Smaller skid loaders, looking like little ninjas, spun and twirled, killing five and six in one shot. Scraping, pushing, slamming, and spinning as if they were specifically designed for such gruesome activity. He saw one get swarmed with over a hundred zombies all at once and figured the guy was a goner.

Then the pile started to buck, a little at first, as though the under-layers were being cut away. A side of massed zombies seemed to stumble before the skid-steer broke free as if it had just gone through sand. More skid loaders joined the first, and they cleaned up on the undead that had attempted to overwhelm the first machine.

He then focused his high-end optics on the camp itself. The place look nothing like the massive parking lot it was two days ago. Arranged rows of tents filled a lot of the space along with tables, port-o-potties, barbecue grills, makeshift showers, and water stations. A steady line of cooks were preparing and serving food as people who manned the walls or machines ate before they headed off to whatever it was they were doing next.

A uniform caught his eye and he saw Benson outside one of the tents with both of his kids, actually smiling as if it were a normal day.

“Well, that snaky son of a bitch,” Krupp mumbled, which seemed to be a signal for Stanley to start whispering into Lu’s ear. He glanced toward them and Stanley looked like a kid who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar, while Lu looked like nothing but annoyed. He turned back to the scope and continued searching. He spotted another uniform, and he focused in. There she was; it appeared as if she was a little worse for wear by the bandage around her head, but she was still alive.

Maybe that was the problem; he didn’t know why she got under his skin so badly. Some of it was because of losing the job he had worked so hard for to her—a job that he would have had if Tanner was making the decisions like he should have been. But as always, the bad decisions came from a wannabe politician—in this case the mayor, whose slip he had parked his boat in. She also showed up with that cocky I-would-rather-kick-your-ass type of attitude that annoyed men like Krupp. Sizable men who could crush most assailants didn’t appreciate that from women or anyone smaller than them unless they wanted to …

Krupp never considered himself to be sexist, or racist for that matter, but there was a natural order to things and her being more than a little Hispanic. Latino, Hispanic—he never fucking knew what they wanted to be called from one week to the next—were a problem with this city. There were so damn many of them and more coming every day, taking up good-paying jobs and causing a lot of criminal issues. He could remove one of those right now and no one would be the wiser. Just a little pressure on the trigger and his world could be better.

He racked one into the chamber and flipped the safety to the off position as he lined up his sight, and there she was smiling as she waved at someone coming toward her.
Now, there it is … take the shot!
He pulled the rifle down for a second in a moment of reflection.
What am I thinking? I don’t hate Hispanics, or short people either for that matter; what is happening to me? Zombies … zombies are the problem with my city, not her or them.