Zombie Anthology (3 page)

    
"You ready, sir? It could get a bit hairy out there."

    
"I am as ready as I will ever be General."

    
"Then let's get the show on the road,” Wiggins laughed and walked towards the lead truck.

    
As Clark watched Wiggins walk away he couldn't help but recall his last discussion with Dr. Buchanan. What he'd learned from it was as bad, maybe worse, than what the convoy was sure to face on the road ahead if they made it out of the city.

    
Buchanan claimed the energy field trapped in the Earth's atmosphere was changing. Soon he claimed the aspects of the energy, which acted like some kind of giant dampening field crippling humanity's technology, would pass. “Two to four days, tops,” Buchanan assured him. It meant humanity still stood a chance and that was the only good news. The energy field while relenting in that regard was showing no others signs of decay. Buchanan's guess of the energy being permanent or close enough not to matter was correct. The scientist's new data showed it likely that only eight percent of the world population was immune to the biological effects of the field. When Clark asked why most of those here at the White House were as yet unaffected, Buchanan merely answered by saying that some people possessed a greater tolerance than others and the bulk of the White House personal had been inside and sheltered as the energy wave had collided with the Earth. For a time at least, Buchanan guessed, they would be normal until they were outside long enough to absorb enough of the energy's radiation into their bodies to cause the breakdown that those who had been openly exposed to the light that night suffered within hours.

    
Buchanan himself and most of the civilian staff were staying behind. The convoy could only hold so many people and Wiggins had allotted most the convoy's space to military and security personal for Clark's own protection. Clark almost thought that Buchanan preferred being left behind. The man seldom came out the underground bunker and he knew why. The good doctor didn't want to find out whether or not he himself was immune. He just wanted to stay sane for as long as he possibly could.

    
Clark gritted his teeth in anger at Wiggins jeopardizing so many lives just to protect him but he understood Wiggins reasoning. To Wiggins and his men, it was their duty. The United States lived on as long as the president was alive and in a way, Clark was forced to admit that they were right.

    
Clark watched from inside the second truck of the convoy as Wiggins’ men who still manned the walls opened fire into the creature below, outside the southern gate. The things outside dropped in waves but others moved up to take their places. Wiggins men were to sure to run out of ammo before the city ran out of creatures but Wiggins would've known this too and planned for it. Surely enough, within seconds, Clark heard the thumping sound of grenade launchers being fired from the lawn. Explosions sounded from outside the gate as the lead truck shot forward and crashed its way outside into the mob,
ploughing
through the crowd. It tore through the creatures’ ranks crunching some under its wheels and flinging others aside as they bounced off its
armoured
plating.

    
Then the whole convoy was moving outside the gates. The M-60s mounted in the open cars blazed and the chatter of small arms fire crackled over the cacophony of the howling creatures. He felt his own truck bounce as the driver turned out of the yard too quickly, hitting the curb, as the truck swung around to follow the vehicles leading it.

    
Inside the cab of the lead truck, Wiggins smiled with satisfaction. Everything was going just as he had planned it. The convoy cleared the mass of the horde and the open road lay before them.

    
"Sir, what's that?” his driver asked nervously.

    
Wiggins squinted into the distant street. A lone creature had walked out of a building and into the road ahead of them. It seemed to crouch in the middle of the road as if waiting on them to get closer. Then Wiggins saw it clearer as the truck roared towards it. His skin went cold as he stared in disbelief. The damn thing had a rocket launcher held firmly against its shoulder. “Oh Shit!” Wiggins screamed reaching over to claw at the wheel as the driver saw the weapon too and was stunned beyond the ability to react in time. Light flashed from the launcher's barrel and the rocket streaked into the cab of the truck where Wiggins sat.

    
Clark heard the explosion as he watched the lead truck erupt into a ball of fire. Adrenaline surged through Clark's body and his knuckles went white from his grip on the truck's armrest. The first of the cars following Wiggins’ truck crashed into the flaming wreckage at far too high a speed and overturned. Like a chain of falling dominos the convoy grinded to a halt. The creatures behind them were catching up and more poured out to overrun the convoy from the side streets and alleys. The things were everywhere.

    
The chattering weapons of the convoy had already grown fewer in number. One solider manning an M-60 in the car behind Clark's truck was torn in half as a dozen of those things attempted to pull him from the vehicle. His intestines dangled loosely leaving a trail of red on the car's paint as the upper half of his torso was yanked free. Quickly, he disappeared into the angry horde.

    
"Mr. President!” the solider beside him shouted as a grotesque, drooling face pressed itself against the window by Clark's seat. “Jesus!” Clark wailed and threw his arm against the inside of the glass to lend it extra support and hoping it would hold. “Take us back! Take us back now!” Clark ordered.

    
The driver threw the truck into reverse and gunned the engine. The large vehicle shot backwards straight into the brick wall of an apartment building. Clark was thrown forward from the impact as his window shattered. Hands pulled him roughly through the small opening into the street, dirty, bloody hands with jagged fingernails. He swam in a sea of biting teeth as his flesh was ripped and shred. In the distance, black smoke rose from behind the White House's open gates.

    
As Jeremy drove through the streets of Canton, he looked around in shock at what he say. The whole town looked as if a war had been fought here. The Pigeon
Centre
Market was a mess. Its doors were broken open and glass shards lay all over the place in front of the building. Others places were burnt to heaps of black rumble. Here and there, were cars left stranded in the road, some wrecked, others abandoned with their doors left open as people had fled from them in terror as if trying to get away from something since the cars no longer worked. The worst though was the bodies. There weren't many of them. Jeremy could go for minutes at a time without spotting one, but when he did, he always looked away. The bodies were all horribly mutilated, torn or hacked to pieces. Some even appeared as if they were partially eaten by some pack of animals.

    
Jeremy had only seen three people since he'd made it into to town. Two of those had been crazy like old Luke and he'd avoided them as best he could. The third, he thought, may have been normal as he was but as his truck had approached the man ran, and disappeared into the depths of the town's paper mill. Jeremy had gotten out and called after him but hadn't dared to go into the plant's dark and winding corridors alone even with the rifle and handgun.

    
The Ford's radio was broken and the power remained off everywhere Jeremy reached so far. He knew little more about what was going on than he had when left Luke's.

    
Jeremy pulled the truck to a stop beside the pumps of the Exxon station on the edge of town and killed the engine. The sun was setting and long shadows stretched across the pavement from the pumps. He climbed out of the Ford, leaving the.30-.06 in the seat but he pulled out the.38 and held it openly and ready. He knew better than to try the pumps themselves and walked towards the station. The place was eerily silent. Like the Center Pigeon Market, its doors were shattered and Jeremy's boots crunched on glass as he entered. The smell of rotten meat was strong here and made him gag. The cashier lay in front of the first isle with a gaping hole in her chest that looked as if someone had shot her point blank with a shotgun. Red tinted urine pooled in the floor around her corpse and the summer insects buzzed about her, laying their eggs in her gray flesh.

    
Jeremy's left hand covered his mouth as he moved deeper inside the station. Displays were overturned, coolers left open or shattered, the isles ransacked, and about the only thing left untouched was the cash register. Money had became just green paper again and useless. From what he'd seen in town so far, people took what they wanted now or died trying.

    
Jeremy searched the store and loaded a bag with everything useful he could find. He walked away with a sack containing a jar of peanut butter, a lighter, a few warm beers and some bottled water, and a crushed loaf of bread. There wasn't much left in the store and it took a lot of effort to even find those few things. He also had managed to find the store's first aid kit that had lain buried under a pile of junk behind the main checkout counter. Overall, he considered himself very blessed. He unloaded his treasure into the truck and went back to the storage shed behind the station. He shot the lock off the door and took a jug and a siphon cable from the sheds dark confines. Maybe he couldn't get gas from the pumps but there were more than enough vehicles waiting out there that for now, it wouldn't be a problem.

    
As he returned to the truck this time, he saw them coming down the road; five men and three women in tattered and torn clothing. Their eyes seemed to glow yellow in the fading light of the sun. Jeremy threw the siphon, jug into the truck's bed, and leapt inside. As he locked his door and cranked the engine, they broke into a run towards him. He floored the gas and squealed out of the parking lot without looking back. He drove for over ten miles before he stopped to get the gas he needed so badly from a Buick that lay stuck in a ditch by the roadside.

    
As he waited for the jug to fill with gas he wondered where he would go. If Canton was like this, he couldn't imagine what Sylva must be like, much less Asheville. He thought hard about where he might be able to find help. Where the Hell was a place close enough for him to reach that might still be normal? He slumped against the side of the Buick in defeat, watching the road and tree line both for any sign of movement. It popped into his then like a bomb going off. All his life in Canton, he heard stories about a military base up in the mountains. For the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was called. Hell, he didn't even know if it was real but he knew roughly where it was supposed to be and if anyone could get through this mess okay it would be the army.

    
He snatched up the jug and yanked the siphon cable free of the Buick, running for the truck.

    
New York was a distance memory as if it was something from a previous lifetime. Amy shook her head attempting to clear her thoughts. She clutched a M-16 rifle stolen she's taken what seemed like forever a go from a long dead looter in her sweaty palms and hid behind a stack of crates on the dock.

    
Dan, God rest his soul, drove them through the worst of it before he had finally flipped out and Katherine put a bullet in his skull. The boy, Jake, had died too. Apparently, he suffered from some kind of asthma and without his meds; neither she nor Katherine was able to help him. Nevertheless, all of that was the past now, clouded and murky like a fading dream.

    
Right this second, she had other things to worry about. Amy glance over at Katherine, crouched several feet away. There was no question of who led their unlikely pair. Katherine, Amy had discovered, was an ex-cop and she was good at what she did.

    
On the other side of the docks from them, a pack of
human-
creatures
milled about, sniffing at the air, occasionally turning on each other even as they stalked their prey.

    
Coming to the docks had been Katherine's idea when they noticed them from the interstate. Katherine suggested that they could find a boat and set out to sea, maybe find an island free of the “things” and start over, just the two of them. Even with their limited supplies, it sounded like a great idea.
Travelling
by sea was much safer than
travelling
any road on the mainland in the van. Out there, there was no way the creatures could reach them.

    
Of course, neither of them planned on running into the creatures they faced. Their race towards their new hope had blinded them and made them careless. They were trapped now, cut off from both the van and the boats alike by the pack of creatures that apparently called these docks home.

    
She and Katherine would have just killed them and been done with it. They were both well armed with gear they'd found or lucked into along the way to this place but the pack was over two dozen strong and this was their hunting their hunting grounds. Lord only knew how many still lurked in the surrounding buildings. Hiding had became their only option and even that had made things worse, giving time for even more of the creatures to show up as the pair had waited on the first ones to leave or wander off.

    
Amy could see the strain on Katherine's face. She couldn't recall when either of them had last slept. Sweat glistened on Katherine's tanned skin and Katherine's glance told her that was it. It was all over for both of them. All that remained was deciding how they would die, hiding here and praying or going out fighting trying to reach the van. Amy already knew how Katherine would chose even as the ex-cop stood up showing herself to the pack of creatures and blowing a hole in the nearest one's chest with her shotgun.