Books of the Dead (Book 1): Sanctuary From The Dead (16 page)

“I don’t like those odds.”

“It’s that, or turn around and head back.”

We liked that prospect even less.  A plan was devised and, in retrospect, I’m not sure how good it was.  When you’re out in the field, sometimes the mission seems like the most important thing.  As you get caught up in the moment, backing down or turning back is total failure.  Getting locked into the “this plan must succeed” mentality is too hard to ignore.

Logan, Kara, and I got out just in case things went very badly.  The three of us took up a vantage point about thirty feet from the back of the pickup.

Mike backed the SUV up, trying to get the best angle. Behind the wheel of that beast-of-a-vehicle, he looked small and vulnerable, but he steeled himself for the run and gave us an exaggerated double barrel thumbs-up.  He approached the it slowly, the road grit making a crunching noise beneath his tires.  He engaged the pickup on its back fender and revved his engine in an attempt to dislodge the pickup from the Nissan.  He dropped the transmission into a lower gear and jammed the accelerator down.  The engine protested, growling like an injured animal, but he pressed on.

The pickup moved a few inches and there was a slight sepa
ration.  Mike backed the SUV off and repositioned it again.  The engine roared and this time he got a few more inches.  It wasn’t nearly enough for us to get through. 

He rolled down his window and looked our way, “These little pushes aren’t doing it.  I’m going to try to ram it.”

Logan exhaled loudly and stepped back, motioning for us to do the same.  Mike moved the SUV back about fifteen feet.  He rolled up the window and sat behind the wheel for moment, his eyes closed.  At first, I couldn’t figure out what he was waiting for and then it clicked.

I leaned towards Kara and whispered, “See, even the warriors pray.”  She punched me in the arm and Logan shot us a glance of disapproval.

Mike revved the engine twice, getting our full attention again.  Kara’s face set into a dreadful grimace as she covered her ears expecting something loud.  Although, I’m sure he’d deny it, Logan looked excited, like a kid watching some sort of daredevil stunt.  My stomach churned. 

The engine revved a final time and the
n he popped the SUV into gear.  Upon impact the back of the SUV lifted about two feet off the ground.  The pickup lurched forward, breaking completely away from the Nissan, and smacking through the guard rail.  It teetered on the edge of the bridge for about a second, dangling into the chasm of open air.  Finally, it fell back onto the road and ended up righting itself. 

With Logan in the lead, all three of us sprinted down to the
SUV to see how Mike was doing.  Within a few seconds Mike appeared in the window.  He shook his head from side-to-side slowly, trying to clear away the effects of the collision.  He looked past the steering wheel and took an appraisal.

“It’s close,” he said.  “Step back a little.  I think one little push will do it.”

This time he gently nudged the front of the SUV against the back of the pick-up, applying only the smallest amount of force.  The front of the pickup moved off the edge of the bridge.  It rocked back and forth for about a second, before gravity did its job, pulling the front of the truck downward.  The crashing resounded off the concrete buttresses below. 

We ran to the guard rail and peered over the side. 

“What’s it look like?”  Mike asked from the SUV.

“It’s on its top, pretty smashe
d up,” Logan shouted back.  He turned and walked back towards Mike.  Kara and I remained at the edge, looking down at the wrecked pickup. 

I looked back to Mike and asked, “How
’s the SUV?”

“Banged up, but she still runs,” he said patting the door with his hand.

I felt Kara grab my wrist and pull me back to the guard rail.

“There’s someone moving down there,” she said.

“What?”  I asked.

“I don’t know, but it was someone.  Maybe two people.  They were in the shadows, plus they were in all black.”

“What do you mean, all black?”

“They must have been wearing all black clothes.  I only got a glimpse.”

Logan was now at our side looking down, too.

“Where’d they go?”
he asked, bringing his gun up, ready to fire.

“Back past those pillars,” she said pointing at some of the support pillars for the bridge.

“Do you think it was zombies?”  Logan asked.

“I don’t know,” she responded.

“It could be marauders,” he said.

“Hey, whoever it is, we still have to get the Nissan out of the way,” Mike shout
ed. 

We left the side of the bridge and went back over to stand a few feet away from the SUV.   Mike maneuvered it so that he could give the Nissan a decent push
while Logan watched the road both ways.  With very little effort Mike moved the Nissan, giving us a clear path to proceed.

Everything looked like smooth sailing until Mike put the SUV into rever
se and the Nissan came with it.  The back bumper of the Nissan locked on the front bumper of the SUV.  Mike goosed the gas pedal twice trying to extricate the SUV, but the Nissan’s bumper held fast.

“Hey Logan, can you take a look up there and see how bad this is?”  Mike asked. 

Logan complied and moved to the front of the SUV telling us to keep an eye out.  Kara and I watched as he first examined the locked bumpers.  After a minute he took the butt of his rifle and tried to pound the bumpers apart.

“Want me to get the tire iron from the back?” I asked.

He nodded.  He worked the tire iron on the two bumpers for at least five minutes before he made any progress.

In my head, some sort of internal clock was tick
ing away.  We were spending way too much time on this.  We should get free, head back to church, and come at this tomorrow.  We had time and lots of it, but when you’re caught up on a mission, things seem more imperative to solve right.  Besides, who really listens to that clock?  Not me, but I should have.

My attention came away from the ticking and back to the situation when Mike revved the engine and the SUV jumped back
a few inches.  Logan let out a yelp of pain, the tire iron clanging like a bell against the ground.  Mike slammed the brakes.  Logan jumped around, holding his hand tightly against his abdomen, obviously in a great deal of pain.  Mike jumped out, heading towards him with Kara and I close behind.

No one wanted to interrupt Logan’s dance of pain.

“What is it?” Mike asked.

Logan just shook his head and refused to answer, his face pinched in agony as he angled his right hand away from our view, holding it tightly against his body.

“Come on, Logan, let us take a look.” Mike said reaching towards him.

Logan slappe
d Mike’s hand away with his free hand and stepped back.

Kara moved towards Logan.  “Logan, let me see what’s wrong.”

At first Logan refused to meet Kara’s eyes, but finally conceded and slowly unfolded his hand from his stomach.

I wanted to vomit.  The ring and pinkie finger dangled from the hand at an unnatural angle. A gaping tear between the fingers dripped blood.

While I stood ready to puke, Kara sprung into action. 

“Mike, get the first aid kit,” she said.

Mike was back with the kit in seconds.  I felt woozy and had to sit down, avoiding Mike’s disapproving stare. 

Kara worked on Logan’s hand for at least twenty minutes.  Logan yelled out a couple times in pain while she wrapped it first in gauze and then tightly in a bandage, but none of us held his yelps against him.  She directed Mike to get so
me water for Logan to take pain pills.

“No.  No pain pills,” Logan said, protesting.  “We’re on a mission.  I need to be fully here.”

“But the pain --,” Kara said, but Logan cut her off.

“No.  End of story.”

By this time I was leaning against the back of the SUV, my head down trying to fight off my lurching stomach. As bad as I felt, the worst was yet to come.

CHAPTER 22

Remnants of the Fire

Logan was still speaking when I heard the first moans.  When I looked up, I wasn’t sure what I was seeing.  Coming up the slow rise were people wearing black, shambling along.   At least that’s what my mind told me.  The shocked jumble of signals and information bounced around inside my brain, my mind trying to make something work in some sort of twisted pretzel logic. 
People in black
.  People in black is what my rational mind wanted to see, but these people weren’t wearing black at all, they were black.  Their skin was charred from head to toe and what wasn’t charred was covered in thick black soot.  They were the people burned alive in the Sciotoville fire, but they were no longer people.

“Guys!” I shouted
as I stood.  Mike and Kara were still totally focused on Logan.  “Guys!  We have company.”

That got their attention.  Mike was the first
respond.  “How many?”

“I don’t know.  The cars are blocking the way.  Ten maybe
twenty.”  I thought I was right, but the next few seconds told the true tale: there were at least forty zombies.  They must have moved under us and up the exit ramp while we were trying to dislodge the pick-up. 

“Give me your pistol,” Mike said.

I gave him a puzzled look.

“That was Logan’s shooting hand.  You’ll need to take his M-16.”

“Can’t we just drive away?”

“We’re still stuck to that damn Nissan,” he said snatching my pistol and jogging back to Logan and Kara.  I went around to the front of the SUV and retrieved Logan’s M-16.    

Mike and Kara tried to get Logan to sit this one out in the SUV but he would have none of it.  Kara devised a makeshift sling for him out of the gun sling for Mike’s M-16.  His face was drawn and pale and he looked considerably less formidable than he had less than an hour ago. 

The creatures plodded along, weaving in and out of the cars on the bridge.  As they got closer I noticed that many of the charred ones had no fingers on their hands, only blackened nubs protruding off their forearms.  The most horrifically burned ones shamble
d slowly on feet charred down to clubs without toes.  While the fire had been a horror show for them, it had been a blessing to us because its after effects made these poor creatures slower than most of their kind.

Mike rummaged in the back of the SUV and came up with an armload of items.  He hand
ed me two magazines.

“Start with s
ingle shots” he said.  “We have a limited amount of ammo.  Go to auto only if you need to.”  He reminded me how to switch to automatic.

I saw three grenades in his hand. “What are you going to do with those?”  I asked.

“Use them only as a last resort,” he said then moved off to Kara and Logan. 

The plan was simple - Mike would take point down the center of the bridge taking cover behind the car closest to the approaching zombies.  Kara and I would coordinate our fire from behind a minivan just a few cars back from Mike, working different sides of the van.  Logan would hang back by the
SUV and bring whatever he could to the party.  If the zombies grouped on Mike, he would give us a signal and use a grenade.  Once he did this, he’d fall back to us.   

Mike held the center of our defense and took out the two lead zo
mbies.  The ones behind them hastened their pace, undaunted.  Unlike living humans they were undeterred by the guns and the loss of members of their undead clan.  In fact, I had witnessed urgency in them when we killed one of their own.  An urgency to get to us -- to get to their next human smorgasbord. 

I used the hood of the van to brace myself to take aim on the ones coming up the right lane of the bridge. 
Kara was a crack shot with a rifle.  Her assignment was the left lane.

I heard a shot from her
side of the van and a zombie seventy feet down the left lane staggered backwards and over the guardrail -- sans the top of his head.  If this had been some sort of shooting game, I would have given her a blue ribbon.

My first few shots met with limited success.  I missed completely with two shots and only hit torsos with the next three.  Those three kept coming.  I finally drew a bead on the sixth shot,
blowing the brains out of one.  I hit home with the next two, but my aim went awry for the next three shots, missing entirely, killing nothing but air.

Kara on the other hand took fewer shots but made them count.  She was
knocking out a zombie with each pull of the trigger.  Mike was doing just as well and while their marksmanship was making a difference, it wasn’t turning the tide as the zombies surged up the bridge.

A group of
ten made their way around the cars closest to Mike, and he gave us the signal.  We stopped shooting.  He slung his M-16 over his shoulder, pulled a hand grenade out and waited. 

There was a natural choke point among the cars.  Three cars
sat angled in such a way that it would funnel the creatures down into a small space for a few seconds. 

Just as the zombies enter
ed the kill zone, he signaled for us to find cover.  Kara and I slid behind the shelter of the van.

The next thing I heard was Mike shouting, “Fire in the hole
!”  The grenade exploded about three seconds later, the sound reverberating in the air.  

I gave it a two count and took a quick peek seeing
only thick smoke swirling in the place Mike had tossed the grenade.  When it cleared some, I saw several blackened limbs scattered about on the ground. 

Mike sprinted away from his original position to a car thirty feet back.  I waited and watched.  The smoke cleared
some more, and I could see at least eight zombies were totally out of commission.  A legless zombie pulled itself along on stumps of arms, insistent to make it up the bridge toward us.  A couple more lay unable to move from the damage done by the grenade, large hunks of their bodies missing or mangled.  They were beyond operation, but still they flailed about, wanting something they could never have.

Kara took out the crawling zombie with a single shot.  Mike started firing again and zombies started dropping like flies.  We were turning the tide.  At least we were until I heard a shot come from behind us. 

I was the first to turn.  Logan was moving around to the back of the SUV firing at something out of view.  I ran in that direction and saw a dozen or so zombies coming up the rise on the east side of the bridge. 

Even though they were winning their war, Kara and Mike had their hands full.  It was up to
Logan and me to fend off this group.

I got
alongside Logan when he said, “I can’t shoot for shit left handed.”

“Let me take the lead then,” I said. 

My bravado got the best of me and I missed with my first couple shots.  I felt Logan’s hand on my shoulder.  “Take a breath, brother.  Take a breath.  You’re too excited.”  This is how the warriors saved our asses.  When all others are losing their heads, they kept their shit locked down.  “Go to one knee and brace yourself against the vehicle.  Steady and shoot, okay?”

I felt embarrassed that a man who had a ruined hand was calmer than me in a firefight, but he had the background and pedigree.

I took his advice and lowered myself down, taking careful aim.  My first shot caught the shoulder of one about twenty feet away, spinning it around and knocking it off its feet.  Still, it got back up and two more joined it, coming at us with increased speed.  My next shot turned the lights out on the zombie.

“Atta boy, Joel.  Good shootin’.  Now breathe and aim.”

The next two zombies went down and didn’t get back up.   A single zombie came around a car in the right lane, and I took it out with a single shot, my confidence growing.  That surge in confidence was short lived as I looked down the bridge and saw a small herd of them start up the rise.

“There’
s too many for the two of us,” Logan said leaning over me.

“What do we do now?”  I asked.

“We’ve got to get the SUV freed.  It’s our only chance.  Get Mike.” 

I sprinted up the bridge as fast my feet could carry me.  I heard Logan taking shots behind me. 

Mike still held the front with Kara in the back.  “There’s another group coming up the other side,” I shouted.  Kara turned first as I sped past her toward Mike.  As I ran I saw there were still about eight zombies moving around.  I made it to Mike and said, “We’ve got a small herd of them -- thirty or so, coming up the other side.  Logan says we need to get the SUV free and get the hell out of here.”

Mike took a final look at the zombies bearing down on him and said, “Follow m
e back.”  We were on the move to Kara.

“Kara, can you take out the ones behind us?”  Mike asked pointing over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I think so,” she said but I could see some fear in her eyes.

“Good, come with me, Joel,” he said, and we were running again. 

As we got past a couple cars, we saw Logan backing up alongside the SUV firing at two zombies bearing down on him.  The space between us was too great to get to him in time.  He took one of them out with a clean head shot, but his slide locked back.  He was empty, and with his bad hand he had no chance of reloading.

“GET DOWN!” Mike shouted to Logan while going to one knee. 

Logan hit the deck and Mike switched to automatic, spraying the air above him.  One zombie looked as if it were dancing from the bullets pounding into its body.  Its left arm flew off and it toppled backwards.  While head shots were the best way to make sure you put them down and out, if you got enough shots to the body you were bound to take out enough vital bodily structures including the spine.  Take out the spine and they no longer walk which is another way to put a zombie out of commission.  It’s just a lot trickier to do.  Plus it used more ammo. 

Before Mike could rise, I was running for Logan.  Two zombies shambled around the back of the SUV intent on getting to him.  Like Mike, I switched my weapon to
auto and let loose with a hail of bullets. I couldn’t help but hit with the majority of shots. 

I got lucky, hitting one of things directly in the face and
obliterating it.  I blew the legs out from under the next one, severing its right leg completely.  Logan rolled away from the creature, and got to his feet quickly, and made his way back to me.  By this time, Mike was at Logan’s side. 

Logan held his gun out to Mike, “Reload me.  I’m totally defenseless with this damn hand.”

Mike reloaded the gun and handed it back to Logan.  I looked back at Kara and she was holding her own, taking measured aim and firing. 

“There’s more coming up the rise,” Mike said. 

“We’ve got to get the SUV free,” Logan said.  “It’s the only way out of this mess.”

Mike agreed and gave Logan a grenade just in case he needed it.  Mike looked ragged when he yelled for Kara to fall back to us.  Logan jogged in Kara’s direction.

“Joel, you’ve got to keep them off me while I try to dislodge the SUV from that damn car.  Can you do it?”

I nodded
, and Mike hopped into the SUV while I made my way out front.  There were around ten of the things ambling up through the cars towards us, but I saw a larger group start onto the road at the base of the bridge. 

I had been in some very sticky situations with these things before
, but I was feeling panic starting to work its way into me.  Sweat was running down my back, and I had to force my hands to go still.

I lowered myself to one knee while Logan’s words sounded in my head -- breath, aim, fire.  Breath, aim, fire.  I said a quick prayer asking God to not allow me to screw this up.

A blackened zombie stutter-stepped around the front of a car and my first shot cut through its neck.  Its head lolled off to the side and it went down.  Two more moved around the car, and I got one in the head with a single shot.  Woot for me, I guess.

The next one took four shots, wisps of smoke drifted off its burnt body with each hit.  My final shot blasted off the side of its head.  I wondered how many bullets I had left.

Off to my left, Mike had the SUV in reverse and pounded on the gas pedal.  The Nissan protested, its tires shaking from the effort.  The SUV’s engine roared. 

I took out another one but they were starting to stream around
the cars in several different spots.  I had no way to cover all these points.  Some were going to get through, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

A gun fired off to my left and a zombie
fifty feet down the bridge had lost most of its head in a bloody explosion.  I took a quick look and saw Kara bracing herself against a car readying herself for her next shot.  It hit home, knocking another creature to the ground.  I went back to shooting and dropped two of them. 

I heard shooting from behind me and guessed it was Logan, trusting he would let us know when he was out of ammo.  Despite our effort
s, some were closing the gap quickly.  I loaded up my last magazine, and knew Kara’s supply had to be running low.