Slow Burn: A Zombie Novel (12 page)

He painfully moved forward on his bad knee, trying to remember what officers he saw respond to the huge melee in the projects, wanting to figure out who might still be alive. He didn’t remember seeing Johnny and Ryan’s squad. Chris had been on an accident on the south side of the city, and Stephen seriously doubted that Chris had made it to his fight call. He went through his mental list, remembering that Mike had gotten called out early and had been dispatched to a domestic disturbance nearby. For the life of him, he could not remember where the hell he was sent. About the only officer that he knew exactly their location and most likely was still there was Mattie at the hospital. Luckily the long train yard ended literally across the street from the hospital. With a newfound purpose, he set out again at a pace that he hoped would keep him in front of his pursuers. Even though the train yard was mostly flat, it was at least a one mile chunk of yard that had tons of obstacles and hundreds of train cars sitting in it. It wasn’t going to be an easy stroll through the park to get there by any means. Stephen turned and dumped a couple dozen rounds into the approaching horde, and although he only dropped seven or eight zombies, it made him feel a little better and he set out.

Soon Stephen was again gasping for air and struggling to put one foot in front of the other. He had badly wrenched his left knee, and now it felt like some demented carpenter was shooting his knee with a nail gun every time he put some weight on it. Nonetheless, he had no choice but to man up and keep moving. He could hear gravel crunching and the howls of ravenous zombies dogging his steps as he ran through the train yard. The massive tanker and cargo cars on both sides of him restricted his vision while he ran. Glancing over his shoulder, it appeared clear, but the tracks had a gradual curve to them, so after fifty or so yards the parked train cars blocked his view. His bad knee buckled from the shift in weight and momentum and he went down. Skidding to a stop on his chest, Stephen grunted and gasped in pain when movement to his left grabbed his attention. Glancing over, he caught a glimpse of an infected man who abruptly leaped at him from the coupling hitch between two train cars.

Where did he come from?
Stephen wondered for an instant.
A hobo zombie!

Whipping over onto his back, Stephen raised the muzzle of his patrol rifle as the man’s head descended upon him, leaving only a second to react. The barrel of his carbine slammed into the man’s open mouth and removed the backside of his skull when he fired. The zombie immediately went limp, and its head slid grotesquely down the barrel through the gaping hole in its head, stopping when it reached the now empty magazine.

Yuck!

He carefully pushed the man to the side and off of him, being careful that the blood and gore did not get into the nice road rash on his arms and face.

“
Yep, a hobo from the looks of you,” Stephen muttered. “A bloody, smelly hobo.”

Despair hit him momentarily when he realized he was out of ammo for his AR-15 and couldn’t even use it as a club with it covered by the zombies’ brain matter.

Fuck it. He had three more at the house.

Leaving it embedded in the zombie’s skull, he wearily limped down the tracks towards the hospital, grimly determined to make it, save Mattie, and get back to his house to hunker down. Stephen knew his close friends had plans to make their way to his place in a bad situation like this and hoped they would make it if at all possible. Crawling under the train car on his left, Stephen gauged that he needed to keep heading east about one hundred yards, and then due south to the hospital. His spirits began to lift at the possibility of an end in sight.

Only a dozen or so train cars, it wasn’t too bad.

* * * * * * * *

Chris stood on the train tracks catching his breath from the run to the police station, staring helplessly at his destination. He was now aware why he was no longer getting an answer from dispatch over his radio. He counted well over two dozen zombies going in and out of the obviously unsecured structure. He checked, and only found around fifteen shotgun shells left on him after trying to thin the heard of zombies following him from below. It wasn’t tough to decide whether or not to try and enter the station. Scanning the building from this vantage point, the elevation of the tracks was enough to see into the dispatch center’s windows. The fact that blood splatter dripped from broken windows, and several women inside appeared to be infected, made it an easy decision not to try and make a rescue attempt. It looked as though one dispatcher had jumped out of the window and lay dead in the parking lot with a broken neck. Two others appeared to have made it out using a fire hose which was hanging out a window, and had made it to their cars, judging from the two empty parking spots. He passed the station and jogged the last one hundred yards down the tracks to the elevated parking lot and made it to his truck without further incident.

Hammering the diesel engine, the trip home was a blur. Driving around cars stuck in traffic by any means necessary, he managed to avoid clusters of vehicles stopped in and around unattended accidents. Driving through one yard, he watched a Hispanic landscaper attacking the little old lady homeowner who had brought him out a bottle of water. He was too late to help her when he pulled into her yard, destroying the landscaper’s hard work. Chris lowered his shotgun out the driver’s window and shot them both in the head at point blank range from his cab, not even coming to a complete stop. Back on course, he made several calls to his live-in girlfriend Megan, but received no response. Megan was a second grade teacher at Columbus Elementary and should have been home by now. Chris was becoming more and more worried as he neared his residence, a two-story house with the typical beige vinyl siding and cookie cutter landscaping. He noticed that Kelly from dispatch, who coincidently lived across the other side of the cul-de-sac, had made it home. Her car appeared to be still running in the driveway, and the garage door was left open. He then noticed the trail of blood leading from the car to inside the residence.

Chris lowered and shook his head and turned in his driveway, cutting the engine on the loud diesel. Megan’s car was still not parked in the driveway where it should have been. With a premonition of dread, he discovered a bloody smeared handprint on his open front door as well. He was greeted by more blood in the kitchen, dried on the hardwood floor, and followed the trail into the garage. Shotgun at the ready, Chris entered the still closed garage. He found that his girlfriend was not there either, but the blood trail ended. Kelly had ended up in his garage, and was lying in ambush. She lunged at him with a morbid determination just as he pulled the trigger. In an instant her head was gone. Chris wanted so badly to break down right then and there.

He had to let it go, however, knowing that he had other, more pressing concerns. Stopping to take a deep breath, he recalled the plan that was discussed again while talking over beers around the campfire. That standing plan was that if the shit ever hit the fan, he, along with Mike and a few others, would try to make it to Stephen’s house as a rendezvous point. Now with a goal in mind, Chris cleared his residence, making sure nobody was inside. Finding no one, he made sure that all entrances and windows were locked before backing his truck into the empty garage. Closing the garage door, he quietly and efficiently went about packing his essential belongings. Toiletries and clothing he loaded into two large suitcases and left behind what he couldn’t fit. He made sure to bring all the camping and police gear that he had as well, throwing it into garbage bags. Cleaning out his pantry of food staples, knowing he might never make it back, he loaded them into cardboard boxes and then into his truck. Green army duffel bags containing his uniforms and most of his gear from Afghanistan were still packed and an easy load. His cooler, still with Miller Lite on ice from the weekend camping trip, was also loaded. Chris quietly wondered if soon there would no longer be any cold beer left.

Now that would be sad.

Running downstairs, Chris pulled his S&W AR-15 rifle out of the large green gun safe in the basement. It was topped with an EoTech holographic sight and x3 magnifier, both of which had been on his rifle in Afghanistan. He had just mounted them back onto his personal rifle and checked the zero at Stephen’s range. Chris also grabbed his Beretta 92FS pistol, which was just like the M9 he carried as an MP in the army. The army had also generously supplied him with a dozen or so spare magazines for both firearms, which he kept loaded in separate ammo cans. Finally he came to the four cases of U.S. Army MREs which he had set aside after a training exercise. He had figured they would always be nice to have in the event of an emergency, and they were the last items in the truck. Chris took one last look around his house, and left a note for Megan just in case. Satisfied that he had everything, he changed into a clean uniform and got in his truck. With a sigh he hit the garage door button and headed out the driveway. First he needed to check Megan’s school, maybe she was still alive. From there it was on to Stephen's place, and Chris prayed that he would find him at home, maybe with a few reinforcements as well. They could then regroup and figure this mess out.

Running towards the school’s front entrance, I could not help but think how surreal this all was. Obviously this epidemic was just starting to break loose, as there were not yet thousands of zombies clogging the streets moaning for my brain. I cautiously opened the door and quickly stepped inside. According to the hot mama outside, I needed to go straight down this main corridor to a T-intersection, make a left, and then the first right, and the classroom should be the second door on the right. The main office looked deserted, with a bloody hand print on the glass that smeared downward to the floor. Leaning over to my left, I looked through the glass down at the floor. All I could see from where I stood was a pair of feet belonging to someone lying prone on the floor.

It sure as shit wasn’t Lucy, as confirmed by the large work boots. I stepped through the interior set of doors and found it was an older man, and he was most certainly dead. I took a quick scan of the hallways. In front of me, several bodies of adults and children littered the floor. All of them appeared to have been ravaged by a pack of dogs. My eyes squinted as my stomach tried to purge itself onto the tiled floor. I quietly stepped over and around the freshly mangled corpses and tried not to look at them, I didn’t think I could handle it.

My eyes never stopped scanning the hallway to the front as I ventured farther into the school. The sounds of something feeding hungrily began to overtake me, coming from the classrooms on both sides of the hallway. I tried to step past the rooms but still caught a glimpse of several people, adults and children alike, eating other corpses on the floor like wolves over a carcass. Unfortunately I could do nothing for those already wounded or dead. I needed to focus on the living. I knew that my current mission called for me to covertly locate Lucy, if she was still alive, and get her safely out if possible. Moving on, I could not help but notice the pictures taped on the walls of the hallways, drawn by the students. It made my anger soar thinking of the innocents maimed and killed from this virus or whatever was causing this nightmare.

I reached the T-intersection and when I stepped around the corner, I predictably stepped into a large pool of blood and slid right into the wall on the far side of the hallway. Naturally, I made a considerable amount of noise as I swore and crashed to the floor. Of course I then gained the attention of several zombies, and I could hear footsteps and slobbering moans headed my way.

Just fucking great!
My head started to pound. So much for my stealth abilities.

I clambered to my feet and moved with a purpose to the left, and then I made my first right. I could see the room in front of me now, and I swiftly moved into position with my rifle up and ready to unleash a rain of lead. Checking the room, I found it completely empty.

Fuck. No kid in sight, nobody to return to mom. Well, I gave it the old college try.

It was time to get my ass out of there before I got pinned down. Who knew how many of these zombies were around? The school was clearly infested with them. I exited the room, rifle up and ready. Hugging the right side of the hallway, I retraced my steps and passed a storage room. I froze in my tracks when I heard faint sounds of crying coming from the other side of the door. I entered hastily and closed the door behind me as the sounds of moaning and footsteps from my pursuers got closer. Inside I found two little girls, one of them matching Lucy’s description.

“
Is your name Lucy, sweetheart?” I softly asked.

She nodded her head yes as the two of them hugged each other, crying in fear.

Well what do you know? I was shocked. I actually found her!

I crouched down in front of them and put my hands on their little shoulders.

“
My name is Mike," I told them quietly. "I’m a police officer, and I promise I’ll get you two out of here. Can you be brave little girls for me?”

They both nodded their heads as tears trailed down their faces. I had no idea what kind of horror these little angels had seen, but I swore I would not let harm come to them while I drew breath. I looked around the storage room and located a small jump rope. Grabbing it, I tied it off on my belt and handed the other end to Lucy.

“
Okay honey," I said gently, "I’m going to open this door. Lucy you hang onto this rope real tight and hold onto your friend’s hand. No matter what do not let go of it. It’ll get really loud if I have to shoot these monsters. If I move, you move. If I stop, you stop, got it?”