The Rising Dead (26 page)

Damn thing didn’t even notice that I just ripped out his guts!
thought Holt.
They don’t feel pain. They don’t feel anything at all except hunger.

The second zombie squeezed around the torso of the first, its teeth snapping at the air wildly as it attempted to force its way inside the room. Gunner was ready. He'd run a length of extension cord from a plug near the counter and hooked it up with a Sawzall, attaching the biggest blade. The tool was meant to cut through Detroit steel like warm butter. Gunner leaned in and caught the zombie dead-on with a big swing from his cutter. The metal made a sick tearing sound as it collided with bone of the skull, easily passing through the brain and down part of the spinal column. The zombie's head twisted at a sickening angle to the left. The slicing blow had opened up the side of its head and the familiar black gunk oozed out. It still did not stop coming.

Holt put his foot on the groin of the man trying to kill him and yanked the crowbar free, nearly ripping him in half. Once it was free, he made short work of the pathetic creature. The fiend let out a grunt as he silenced it with a death blow to the head.

“Come on, you sick sonofabitch,” Gunner hollered, raising the Sawzall over his head and bringing it down again across the partially severed neck of the writhing corpse. Gemma screamed in terror and hugged herself close to Travis. The motion easily sliced through his neck like a Thanksgiving turkey. His head rolled forward and the body ceased it's incessant clawing. Its skull was now fully opened up and its brain splashed out with a gooey thump onto the store floor.

“Somebody give me a weapon,” Reggie shouted but they ignored him.

Johnnie noisily threw up, bringing his hands to his mouth to try to stop it. The fluid that came out of her was dark and oily, the same as Satoshi's in the video. Everyone knew at once exactly what it meant! It was too late! He was already
turning
.

“You're going to be fine son,” Dustin cooed to him but he was already gone. Johnnie snapped at him without warning, knocking his father onto his back. He crawled over him with lightning speed and, before anyone could stop him, Johnnie had torn through his father's neck, his bloody mouth chewing the fresh meat and swallowing it down in gut-turning gulps. Dustin made a whistling sound, unable to speak. His eyes glazed over and he twitched in shock and fear.

“Go to hell,” Max said in a low voice, stepping forward and bringing down her metal wrench into his skull as hard as she could. The wrench sunk deep into Johnnie's head. The boy tried to turn around but Max held him in place. Max put her foot on Johnnie's shoulder and pried the weapon loose from his indented brain. Johnnie reached up and wrapped his fingers around the wound trying to push his oozing brain back in. It was too late. Max gave it all she had, bringing the wrench down once more with a scream as she powered through Johnnie's fingers and drove it to the brain stem. Johnnie twitched then fell over and lay still.

Holt stepped over Dustin, who was already reanimating. He placed his foot on Dustin's shoulder, pinning him down, and then took the Sawzall from Gunner. Carefully he slotted the tip of the blade into the bloody wound in Dustin's throat.

“Sorry about this, buddy,” Holt said as he fired up the saw and sliced it clean through the man's neck. Immediately the light in Dustin's eyes went out and he stopped struggling.

They stood around the two fresh bodies not saying a word. Gemma cried loudly. Any hope they had of things being better in the morning was now thoroughly gone.

“You people are fucking crazy,” Reggie said, as they turned to him, realizing he was still there. “You know that?”

“Take off your clothes,” Holt said, almost as if to prove him right.

“What?”

“I said,” Holt repeated himself slowly. “Take off all your clothes. I want to make sure you're not infected either.”

“Do it,” Gunner joined in advancing from the other side.

Reggie shook his head.

“You gonna let them talk like this to me?” Reggie asked, looking at the others. “Is anyone going to jump in here and be the voice of reason?”

“You got something to hide?” Max asked stepping forward.

“Not a thing,” Reggie said. “I'd just feel a little more comfortable doing this one on one, preferably with a lady.”

“That ain't gonna happen,” Parker said. “Hurry up man. Quit stalling.”

“Have it your way,” Reggie said, taking off his shirt and putting it over the counter. He put his arms over his head and turned in a slow circle.

“The pants too, asshole,” Holt ordered.

Reggie smiled nervously and undid his belt, sliding his jeans down to reveal boxers. He stepped out of them and put them on the counter as well.

“You satisfied?”

“Take off the shorts,” Max said.

“You serious little girl?” Reggie looked offended. “You wanna see what I'm packing that bad?”

“Don't flatter yourself,” Max shot back. “We need to know for sure that you haven't been bitten.”

“Let's go buddy,” Holt said.

Reggie gave him a look, then pulled off his boxers exposing himself to them. He turned in another wide circle letting them see he was clean.

“Drink it in ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “because this is your last free show.”

“He's clean,” Gunner grunted. “Sorry pal we had to be sure. You saw what just happened.”

“I saw a bunch of paranoid freaks kill a man and his son,” Reggie said.

“In self-defense,” Travis argued. “They were turning.”

“Can I put my clothes back on now without one of you killing me now?” Reggie glared at them. “Or do you need me to bend over, spread my cheeks, and cough?”

“Keep acting like this,” Holt warned him, “and you're not gonna win any popularity contests with anyone here.”

Reggie chuckled to himself as he quickly redressed.

“We've all got to work together,” Travis said.

Parker walked over to the window where a new zombie arm was already trying to push through past the three dead bodies wedged into the hole.

“Guys,” he said. “A little help here?”

“What's the point?” Holt asked. “Obviously we can't stay here much longer.”

“Yeah?” Max said turning on him. “Just where are we supposed to go?”

“It's time we took a run at the base,” Gunner said. “I've been watching it all morning for signs of life but there are none. No movement, nothing. Better yet there aren't any zombies heading for it either. Something is up. I just can't figure out what it is.”

“I don't know,” Parker shouted. “Seems pretty risky. What if they've moved on? What if we get out there and they're locked down? We'll be trapped outside again. It's like starting over from scratch, just like after Thunderdome.”

“Where else do you expect us to go if we leave here?” Max asked. “You heard him,” she said pointing to Dustin's corpse. “This thing is everywhere. There isn't a safe place anymore.”

“Yeah, I do,” Parker said. “I say we reinforce this place to the best of our ability and give it a few more days. We've got hot water here. We've still got electricity.”

“Actually, we lost the hot water last night,” Holt said. “I damn near froze my balls off this trying to clean up. But go on.”

“This place is ruined,” Max said. “Sooner or later, they’re going to chew through the doors or come in through that wall. For all we know, it could collapse at any minute and a flood of these diseased fuckers could swarm all over us.”

“I'm not sure it's safe here anymore, either,” Travis said.

“Gunner is crazy,” Parker ranted. “You're going to trust our lives to a hunch? Listen to yourselves.”

“I am not crazy,” Gunner said.

“That's what crazy people always say,” Parker replied.

“Doesn't mean that sometimes it ain't true,” Gunner calmly replied.

“Don't know if I get a vote yet,” Reggie chimed in, “but I'm with sport over there. I'd be more than happy to help you all fix this place up and try to ride out the storm. We could work in shifts.”

“You don't get a vote,” Max said scathingly. “You're lucky to be here with us after the little show you just put on.”

“He gets a vote,” Parker said.

“What?” Max turned on him. “You're only saying that because he agrees with you.”

“Gentlemen,” Holt interrupted. “Maybe we can discuss voting rights and race relations at a later date? I'd like to figure out a plan before we all become a six course meal for the undead.”

“I'm with Gunner,” Travis yelled over them all. They turned in shock and stared at him. “Ever since he came and saved us back at Thunderdome, every single thing he’s said has checked out. Everything. If he thinks it's a good idea to try to get to that Air Force Base I think we should listen to him, not call him names. For whatever fucking reason Gunner has always been right.”

“Travis,” Parker said. “Come on.”

“No,” Travis said. “My mind is made up. I say we go.”

“I'm with Travis,” Gemma said.

“So what's your big plan for getting us out of here then?” Parker said, sounding annoyed.

“We could fight our way out to one of those cars,” Max offered. “One of them has to have some gas left in it. We'd be at the base in minutes if we had a car.”

“Do any of them look like they are still drivable to you?” Gunner asked with a cocky grin.

“No,” Max said sounding defeated.

“We'd never make it that far anyway,” Parker said. “We've got to think of something better than that.”

“Damn,” Holt said. “I say we go out swinging and just make a run for it.”

“Guy's,” Travis said, a smile spreading across his face. “I have an idea.”

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

As far as last ditch idea's went, Travis's plan wasn't actually all that bad. Then again, it wasn't all that far off from Holt's idea either. They gathered around him as he went over the rough details, letting them fill in places he hadn't come up with yet.

The idea had come to him the night before as he lay with Gemma in his arms, drifting off to sleep. He'd returned to his previous train of thought, considering what skills he possessed that would actually be of any value in this world as it was now. He thought about all the hours he’d wasted playing video games, hour after hour of campaigns in the worlds of
Zelda
,
Lords of War
, and
Skyrim
. His mind wandered to the events of the day, in particular the moment they'd been trapped in the middle of the street. He was almost positive that he was seconds away from death and there was nothing he could do about it. He wasn't calm--not exactly--not like he'd heard people say they felt under similar circumstances when they had no other option but to accept their inevitable demise. No, that wasn't it. He'd felt clear, his mind lucid and unobstructed, as if his emotions were taking a back seat to this omniscient third person perspective. Yeah, that was it. It was like he'd been watching the whole scene from somewhere outside of it, unaffected by the outcome.

The zombies had gathered around them, drawn in by the smell of fresh meat and the sounds of life and movement. They had gone right for them almost without thought or reason, only backing off cautiously when it looked like they might not be able to overtake their prey. The most they had in the way of strategy was to roam together in disorganized packs. They didn't feel pain or fear, but they couldn't think either--not in any way that suggested higher brain functioning like logic or reason. Instead, they seemed relegated to a kind of hive mind, loosely working together.

If we could learn to understand their innate patterns,
Travis thought last night as he drifted off to sleep,
we could exploit them to our advantage.

He'd forgotten all about it when he woke up, but somewhere in the back of his mind the two trains of thought were fusing together. The revelation came to him in a flash of inspiration as the rest argued. It was all there, right in front of him.

It’s just like a game,
Travis thought in a burst of inspiration.
If we draw them out into the open, distract them with a decoy, we can pick them off while safely leading them into our trap.

Maybe he hadn't wasted his life playing video games after all! He could use the knowledge he'd learned from those gaming hours to help develop a real world strategy that would save them. He wasn't worthless! He felt like he was going to burst with excitement. He had to remind himself to speak slowly and not lose control.

Be cool,
he thought.
This is your moment to shine.

Travis explained that if they made a straight run for the base that the zombies would come at them from all sides, surrounding them and pushing in until they overwhelmed them. But if they lured the creatures into one spot away from the direction of the base, they could create a killing zone in the opposite direction of where they intended to flee.

“Everything about it is a huge risk,” Gunner said, shaking his head. “First we'd have to fight our way out the front doors. Then you'd have to send out a decoy to lure them in and pray that they fell for it.”

“Exactly,” Travis said. “The decoy is essential to the plan, but we don't send out one . . . we send out two.”

“I can't wait to hear this one,” Holt said, sounding sarcastic, when really it was obvious to anyone with eyes that he yearned to be the one sent out into the fray, to feel the blood pumping in his face as he killed as many of them as possible.

“Here's how it works,” Travis said calmly, then he laid out the plan he'd been toying with.

Travis explained that they would arm Holt and send him out first, once they'd cleared the front door. Parker would follow behind him with as much flammable liquid as he could carry. Holt would drive forward through the ranks like a bulldozer, knocking down the undead berserker style with his crowbar like he had the day before. Parker would douse the walking dead as they passed, moving in a half circle back toward the right side of the building where the garbage truck was smashed into the hardware store window. From there, Travis and Gemma would hurl handmade Molotov cocktails at the advancing hordes. If all went according to plan, the zombies would follow Holt and Parker in a spiral that allowed for Max and Gunner to literally come up behind them and chop their heads clean off. Travis would fire the flare gun they had at the truck after Holt and Parker had lured them to the mark. Any zombies not torn to shreds or incinerated by the blast would surely be lit by the accompanying explosion. With a little luck they might light others on fire as well.