Clickers vs Zombies (37 page)

The zombie shark continued whipping itself around, trying to secure better leverage on the sinking yacht. Its jaws clashed together—its mouth was a good four feet across in diameter.

Dave felt his grip loosening even more. The pain in his left arm started to radiate outward now from the fracture and then…

His sweat-slicked fingers lost their grip and Dave plunged down the deck right into the zombie shark’s massive jaws.

“
Aaaaughhh!
” Dave screamed once before being killed immediately as the zombie shark’s teeth cut Dave in two at the torso. Dave’s legs and hips disappeared down the zombie shark’s throat and then the rest of him slid down into its waiting jaws.

And then once Dave Thomas was completely swallowed by the massive zombie shark, it scuttled back and slammed its bulk into the waters of the South Atlantic and continued on in search of prey. Two hours later, it was sliced in half by a monstrous Clicker three times its size. The reanimated corpse of Dave Thomas spilled from the wound in a cloud of blood and innards.

Mount Shasta, California

“This is insane,” Michele grumbled as she squeezed off another shot. “This is like every bad B-movie, cheesy 80’s horror paperback, and old pulp magazine all rolled into one.”

If Clark responded, she didn’t hear him over the thunder erupting from his 16 gauge shotgun. She turned in time to see another zombie—a small child—fly backward. It slammed into a tree and slumped to the ground, minus most of it’s head.

“Eyes front,” Clark snapped. “Don’t let them flank us. Keep moving.”

They struggled onward up the steep, winding trail, slipping on the rocky terrain, stumbling as the thick vegetation deepened the gloom around them, hounded by an army of the dead. The creatures laughed at them, cursing and jeering in a multitude of languages, screeching foul promises of the crude, evil things they’d do to them once they’d been caught.

The zombies had set upon them just a few hundred yards north of the Buddhist monastery. Until that point, their progress had been relatively easy. After Clark had procured the things he needed for the spell from the New Age bookstore, they’d found a hardware store and a sporting good store on the same block. They’d encountered a few zombies in each building, as well as out on the street, but nothing they couldn’t handle. Clark had wondered aloud to Michele if perhaps the rest of the dead had wandered off, maybe heading to the next town to slaughter the citizens there. In the sporting goods store, they’d armed themselves with an assortment of rifles, shotguns, handguns, and knives. Each had taken a backpack, as well. Michele’s was full of extra ammunition. Clark’s held more ammunition, as well as the stuff from the New Age shop. He had cautioned her not to weigh herself down too heavily, but to have plenty of extra weapons on hand. Before packing everything, Clark said some charms and blessing over the ammunition. Then, armed and equipped, they began the long hike up the dormant volcano.

At first, the mountainside had seemed deserted, but just after creeping past the monastery, they’d been attacked by a group of undead birds—everything from large, fat crows to tiny starlings. They’d managed to destroy the attackers with their shotguns, but the noise of the battle had attracted the attention of a group of dead Buddhist monks. The zombies had streamed out of the monastery, screeching and howling, armed with clubs and knives. Soon, the pursuit was joined by an array of other dead creatures—deer, squirrels, skunks, raccoons, and even a pack of coyotes.

Michele’s .45 clicked empty. In one fluid movement, she tossed the weapon aside and drew a second .45 from one of the many holsters around her hips. Sweat stung her eyes, and her face bled from a number of scratches and cut the birds had inflicted.

“How much further?” she gasped.

Clark didn’t answer. Not wanting to risk taking her eyes off their rear, she shuffled backward, and uttered a surprised cry when she bumped into him. Her supervisor had come to an abrupt stop in the middle of the trail.

“About five hundred yards,” he panted. “But I don’t think we’re going to make it. They’re all around us now. Keep your back to me. I’ll take twelve o’clock to seven. You cover six o’clock to one. Don’t stop shooting until we run out of bullets or run out of zombies.”

“Oh fuck…”

“Michele,” Clark said, keeping his gaze fixed ahead of them, “you’re a damn good agent. It has been an honor to serve with you.”

“Thank you, sir. The honor has been mine.”

The dead emerged from the forest, encircling them. The stench of decay and putrefaction was overwhelming, and it grew stronger as the creatures drew nearer. Michele’s eyes watered. Her stomach roiled.

“You fucks need a bath,” Clark muttered. “Or maybe a couple gallons of Old Spice.”

The creatures didn’t respond to the taunt. They crept forward in silence, leering, teeth bared, knives and claws flashing in the shadows. Then, as one, they surged forward with a horrible cry. Michele and Clark stood back to back and reigned bullets down upon them. The guns grew hot in their hands. The air filled with smoke. Empty brass casings littered the ground at their feet. And still the dead kept coming.

TWELVE

San Pedro, California

“But I don’t want you to go outside, Daddy.”

Jim glanced up at Tammy as Danny clung tighter to his leg, pulling at his hand. She didn’t have to speak. He’d been married to her long enough that he knew the expression on her face all too well. Sighing, he pried Danny loose and knelt beside him, looking the boy in the eye. When he spoke, he kept his attention fixed on Danny, but talked to them both.

“Listen, squirt. We’re going to be safe here in the house. Mommy and I barricaded all the windows and doors—that means we blocked them off. The monster people can’t see us. They don’t know we’re in here, so they’ll leave us alone, as long as we’re quiet. We can stay in here a long, long time. But to do that, we need some things—food, water, medicine—stuff like that. I’m just going out to get some. I promise you I’ll come back.”

“Like Anthony did?”

“No, Danny…” Jim struggled to speak around the lump in his throat. “Not like Anthony or Samhain. It will be me. I promise. And besides, I bet you’d like a few new comic books, right?”

Danny’s eyes widened. “Yeah!”

“Well, I’ll bring back some of those, too. And Butterfinger ice cream for Mommy.” He glanced up at Tammy. “If that’s still your favorite?”

Despite her misgivings, she smiled. “I’m surprised you remember.”

Jim shrugged, grinning slyly. “I bet I remember more than you think.”

Tammy blushed as her smile grew broader. Danny stood between them, staring up at them both. Then he grinned.

Jim reloaded his handgun, and grabbed a butcher knife from the block on Tammy’s kitchen counter. He stuck the knife through his belt, letting the blade rest against the back of his thigh.

“You’re going to cut yourself,” Tammy cautioned. “Hang on a second.”

She disappeared into the hall closet, rummaged around inside, and came out holding a small hatchet.

“Where’d that come from?” Jim asked.

“Anthony picked it up at a yard sale a few weeks ago, but he keeps…I mean he kept forgetting to take it home. I put it in there so Danny wouldn’t play with it.”

Jim removed the knife and hung the hatchet in its place instead. “Much better.”

“Be careful,” Tammy said.

“You, too.” He gave Danny a hug. “You be brave, and take care of Mommy until I get back, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy. You promise you’ll come back?”

“I promise. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Jim moved the furniture away from the front door, sliding it slowly so it wouldn’t squeak. When the door was free, he peeked outside. Verifying that the street was clear, he opened the door and hurried outside. After a moment, he heard Tammy locking it behind him. Too late, he realized that he’d forgotten to bring anything to carry supplies in. Glancing around in frustration, he scanned the street and nearby homes, and spotted a wheelbarrow several houses away, laying on its side in someone’s yard. A dead Clicker lay close by. Even from this distance, Jim could see the dark cloud of flies hovering over it. A pick-axe jutted from the creature’s head.

That’s why it isn’t up and moving around,
Jim thought.
Destroy the brain, destroy the zombie.

Stepping onto the driveway, he wondered if the head was a particular weak spot for the Clickers. Obviously, destroying the brain was the only way to stop the zombies, but what about the Clickers? Their shells seemed so tough—virtually impenetrable. Was there less of a carapace around their heads? Was the shell thinner there, perhaps? He hoped he wouldn’t encounter any more of them, but if he did, he intended to find out.

Cautiously, he stepped out into the street and headed for the wheelbarrow. The neighborhood was quiet. Gone were the screams and gunshots, the sirens and shouts, and the incessant sound the Clickers’ claws made as they clacked together. The wind shifted, and Jim became aware of the smell—a putrid, road kill stench, like spoiled meat left sitting out too long in the sun. Beneath it was a briny, pungent odor that reminded him of dead fish rotting on the beach. Jim assumed that must be what it was. Tammy’s home was very close to the cliffs—what the locals referred to as Sunken City. The Clickers had undoubtedly come ashore there, and the beach was almost certainly covered in the carcasses of whatever sea creatures or sunbathers they’d slaughtered as they came ashore.

Unless of course those victims had reanimated as zombies…

Jim stopped in the middle of the street, listening. Just where were the zombies? It seemed strange that the entire neighborhood was vacant of them now.

As he edged closer to the wheelbarrow, his tension mounted. Tightening his grip on the pistol, Jim reached for the hatchet with his free hand. He could hear the flies and other insects now, buzzing madly as they busied themselves with the Clicker’s corpse. The smell wafting off the dead sea creature was intense, but not strong enough to account for the more overpowering stench that seemed to hover over the neighborhood like a cloud.

“What the hell is that?” he whispered.

A loud, electronic chirp answered him. Shouting in surprise, Jim swept the pistol up and turned in a frantic circle. Further down the street, he saw several figures standing next to an SUV. One of them was a man about his age. The rest were kids. A dog was inside the vehicle, and one of the teenaged boys had just shut the door. The dog barked, the sound muffled inside the closed vehicle. The group stared at him, seemingly just as surprised as he was. Slowly, almost as an afterthought, the man pointed a rifle at him.

“Drop it,” Jim yelled.

“You drop it first!”

“Dad!” A tall teenaged boy ran over to the man with the rifle. “If he was one of them, wouldn’t he have shot us already?”

Shit,
Jim thought.
They think I’m a zombie.

“I’m not dead,” he called, pointing the gun up into the air. “I’m not one of them.”

The man motioned with the rifle. “Come closer. Slowly. I want to make sure. And put that pistol on the ground.”

“I can’t do that,” Jim said. “How about I holster it and keep my hands in the air?”

The man frowned, considering the request. Then he shrugged. “Fair enough. But so help me God, if you try anything, I’ll drop you quicker than a sack of wet cement.”

Jim shuffled toward them, making an exaggerated effort to show that he meant no harm. When he reached the side of the street directly across from the SUV, he stopped and slowly turned in a full circle. Then he looked at the man and smiled.

“Can I take my hands down now?”

Nodding, the man lowered the rifle.

“Thanks. Name’s Jim Thurmond.”

“Rick Sycheck. These are my kids, Richard and Melody, and their friends, Paul and Mary. And that’s Princess inside the SUV there.”

The kids nodded. Jim waved in return.

“I take it you’ve been hiding out?” he asked Rick.

“The kids were. Down in the ruins on the shoreline. I came here to rescue them. You?”

“The same. My ex-wife and my son live nearby. I came here to rescue them. Instead, it looks like the best I can offer is for us to hunker down inside. I came out here to find some supplies quick.”

“Yeah, I guess we shouldn’t stand out here talking too long,” Rick agreed. “No telling when those things will show up again.”

“Plus, it stinks,” Richard said. “No offense, Mr. Thurmond.”

“None taken. I noticed the smell, too. Not sure what it is.”

Then, two thing happened simultaneously.

Behind them, they heard a voice say,
“It’s me and my friends. That’s what you’re smelling, Jim.”

And down the street, Tammy screamed.

To Jim, it seemed as if time suddenly slowed to a crawl. He noticed the shocked expressions on Rick and the kids’ faces as they stared at something behind him. The rotten stench grew more powerful. He turned toward his house and saw a group of zombies coming toward them, carrying Tammy and Danny in their clutches. And behind him stood Anthony, Samhain, several other dead neighbors, a few dead animals—and a horde of zombie Clickers. Then time snapped back to normal, and Jim screamed. Hands on his hips, Anthony threw back his head and laughed.