Convoy 19: A Zombie Novel (10 page)

Chapter 15

Suffocating blackness filled the soundproof room. The night’s havoc had knocked out power to the music store. Twice, Private Stenson had cracked the door for a little light and the undead had come. Each time he had been forced to close the door and thrust the room back into darkness. He dared not crack the door again. The studio was nigh impenetrable, but the area around the door would need to be relatively clear if they were going to escape.

When the truck had smashed through the music store wall, zombies had poured through the hole, and guards from every corner of the DDC converged to hold them back. Private Stenson had tried to help the situation initially, but he had been forced to retreat when his ammunition ran low. In the darkness, soldiers could not tell the undead from civilian or fellow soldier from flesh-hungry ghoul. The confusion was lethal, and it took less than fifteen minutes for chaos to deliver the DDC into the hungry jaws of the undead.

“Is he dead?” Vanessa asked. The teenage girl had reacted quickly when the dead began to pour into the DDC. Unlike the many civilians who woke in a confusion that cost them their lives, Vanessa’s sense of self-preservation was in control the second she awoke. She had bolted directly toward the back offices.

“No, he’s sleeping,” Private Stenson answered. It had been his duty to ensure that the terminally ill Liam would not rise as a ghoul, but Liam had not yet passed. His breathing was shallow, his pulse was weak, but he was alive. The prospect of being trapped in pitch blackness with someone who was certain to transform into a flesh-eating monster was unsettling, and Private Stenson had been tempted to take matters into his own hands. However, he had thus far decided against it. Doomed as Liam was, he was still alive.

“Private?” Kelly Damico’s voice came over his radio.

“I’m here, Dr. D. What’s up?” Stenson answered.

“It’s morning. Are you ready?” Kelly asked.

There was no sense of time within the soundproof studio. Mere minutes felt like hours. Other senses began to compensate for the lack of vision, and the mind began to play tricks. Was that Liam’s pulse or his own? Was there a fourth person breathing somewhere in the small room? Was that Vanessa moving or something else?

“I don’t think I can do this,” Vanessa confessed nervously.

“You can. Come here, I’ll show you one more time.” Vanessa had never shot a gun, but Stenson had tried to teach her through touch. He was not confident in her ability by any stretch of the imagination, but he had chosen to keep his doubts to himself. With any luck, she wouldn’t have to fire the pistol at all, and he would be able to keep the undead at bay long enough to cover their escape.

“Give us a minute, Dr. D,” Stenson answered back over the radio. “Here, give me your hands…”

Over the course of the evening, he had given Vanessa six identical lessons in how to shoot a pistol by guiding her hands along its contours. It had amazed him that, in the midst of an undead apocalypse, he had managed to become trapped with the one person on earth who still had no idea how to use a firearm. She was terrified of guns, and her fear had not diminished with his lessons.

When the training was complete, Private Stenson left the pistol in Vanessa’s hands to reinforce the idea that, in the coming minutes, she might have to use the weapon to protect herself.

Private Stenson shook Liam until he awoke.

“Wa… what? What is it?” Liam asked, as unconsciousness threatened to retake him.

“Do you know what’s happening?” Private Stenson asked. “Do you know where we are?”

Liam paused for a second, sifting through his thoughts. His mind swam through mud, and it took him a moment to arrive at an answer. “We’re trapped. We’re going to try to escape.”

“That’s right. Vanessa and I can’t carry you in your cot, so you’re going to have to hold onto my back. Are you ready?” Private Stenson crouched down to hoist the feeble man onto his shoulders, but Liam did not move.

“No, I don’t think so,” Liam replied weakly.

Stenson sighed. He had been through this three times already, and he had hoped he wouldn’t have to go through it again. “Listen, Liam…”

“I have a better idea.” Liam interrupted in a surprisingly strong tone. “Leave me here with your pistol and I’ll draw them to me. You take Vanessa with you and get to the roof.”

“You want me to leave you here?” Private Stenson asked, dumbstruck. Stenson had hidden his doubts about their chances, but had remained outwardly positive for the sake of Liam and Vanessa. He would have to carry Liam while holding off an onslaught of undead, defend Vanessa while she checked the other rooms for survivors, and finally climb through the window in the back office with the undead nipping at their heels. None of this would be easy. With Liam over one shoulder, it had seemed hopeless. Private Stenson had nearly written off their chances, but he was determined not to give up without a fight.

“You can’t carry me. Who are you kidding?” Liam sat up in bed. He took a moment to get his bearings, and Stenson could tell it was a struggle for the dying man even to move. “I’m fucked, but you two can make it out.”

“You know they’re going to rip you apart. It won’t be this quiet peaceful death in your sleep.” Stenson didn’t mean to be so blunt, but he figured the man ought to be fully aware of what he was facing.

“How many bullets in that pistol?” Liam asked.

“Fifteen.”

“Then I’ll count to fourteen,” Liam replied. “I’ve spent this entire disaster on the sidelines, Private. Guys like you have been giving up their lives for months now, and I’ve been lying in bed waiting to die. I’m going to die today, or if you make it to the roof with me, I’ll die tomorrow or the next day, and all I will have done will have been to screw over your chances. Let me die, Private. Let me die for something good.”

Stenson hit the talk button on his radio. “Dr. Damico?”

“What’s up?” Kelly’s voice came back.

“We have a change of plans.”

It took a few minutes of convincing and double-checking to know that Liam knew what he was getting into, but in the end, everyone agreed. Liam would stay behind while Private Stenson and Vanessa made their escape. Liam was weak, and Private Stenson still had his doubts… but once Liam’s adrenaline hit his system, Stenson imagined Liam would be able to function long enough to do what he had to.

Private Stenson dragged Liam’s cot next to the door and angled him so he’d be able to fire at anything coming down the hallway toward him. “Are you guys ready?”

“Yeah.” Vanessa answered.

“Let’s rock.” Liam replied, the weakness in his voice betraying the confidence in his words.

“Liam…” Stenson was hit by an intense wave of gratitude. “I’m counting to fourteen too… Thank you.”

“Good luck!” Liam replied.

Private Stenson swung the office door open. A corpse instantly whirled on them, and Stenson drove the butt of his rifle into the creature’s skull. The ghoul’s head snapped backward, and a gout of thick black blood oozed from a shattered face. It groaned in hunger and continued reaching for prey. Stenson kicked it away and smashed his rifle into the zombie a second time. The damage had already been done, though. A chorus of wails rose up behind them. Every ghoul in the DDC was now after them.

Private Stenson and Vanessa hurried to the opposite office door and banged on it. “Anyone alive in there? Open up!”

Vanessa looked behind them and screamed. A densely packed mass of ghouls was pressing toward them through the narrow hallway. Their silhouettes were outlined by the morning sun, which shone through the huge hole in the music store wall.

Liam’s first pistol shot echoed through the building, and Private Stenson was struck by the image of every walking corpse in a mile radius being drawn toward the noise. “Open up if you want to live! We’re going to the roof…”

The door flung open, and a woman made eye contact with Private Stenson before looking down the hallway toward the oncoming ghouls.

Another three shots rang out from the soundproof room.

“Come on!” Private Stenson took the woman’s hand. A pre-teen girl and a teenage boy followed as he led them down the hallway toward the back office.

Two more pistol shots thundered down the hallway, and Stenson pounded on the back office door. “Open up! Now!”

Five more shots rang out from Liam’s position, and the Private turned and aimed his rifle down the hall. The press was moving towards them, some breaking off into the soundproof room. He took careful aim at the lead ghoul before firing and sighting the second. “Open up!”

“Oh, my God!” The woman screamed. Her eyes wide with panic. “We’re trapped! We have to go back!”

Three more pistol shots came from the soundproof room and three walking corpses tumbled to the ground.

“No! Stay with me!” Private Stenson turned, took aim at the lock, and fired twice before kicking the door open. A ravenous ghoul on the other side was knocked back against the opposite wall, as it was snarling back at the intruders.

Stenson pulled the trigger of his rifle again, and a crimson spray exploded from the zombie’s skull. He quickly went to a window where a white bed sheet dangled from the roof. He slammed the butt of his rifle through the windowpane, and glass showered the office floor. With a couple sweeps of his rifle, he knocked away most of the jagged shards that remained.

“Go!” Private Stenson ordered. He hoisted the
pre
-teen girl onto the improvised rope before taking up a defensive position just outside the door. The girl gasped with fear as she saw the drop outside the window, but as soon as she gripped the sheet, she vanished upward.

The voices of those on the roof came down through the open window. “Hoist her up! Go! Go!”

A final fifteenth pistol shot rang out from Liam’s room, and Private Stenson bit his lip. Liam was gone, his last bullet spent to ensure he would not join the living dead. A handful of undead would be occupied with Liam’s corpse, but that majority would continue their pursuit down the hall. He glanced at Vanessa, who gripped the sheet and disappeared out the window, leaving only the woman and teenage boy.

With controlled breaths, Private Stenson took aim down the hall. He squeezed the trigger, and the closest monster dropped to its knees before toppling face-first onto the floor. He took aim and shot once more, and the next monster dropped. He aimed and fired again. A third.

The gut wrenching click of his empty chamber rang in his ears. He rolled into the office and slammed the door just as the first corpse made a clumsy lunge toward him. The legs of the last civilian woman disappeared out of view and he clamored toward the window.

“Come on, Private!” Dr. Damico’s voice came through the radio and echoed in real time from the roof above. “Come on!”

Private Stenson heard the office door behind him slam open. He gripped the sheet, hoisted himself up, and kicked himself out the window. A claw caught his pant leg, and he swung back hard into the broken window. Shards of broken glass ground into his legs, and he grunted in pain as he fought against his attackers. A second and third hand pulled at him and soon, the window was filled with snarling hungry faces snapping after him.

Then, he heard the sound of tearing linen and panic threatened to overwhelm him. If he couldn’t make it to the roof, his only option would be a several story drop down a rocky rise. That – or be torn apart.

Dr. Damico lay on her stomach, her outstretched hand reaching desperately toward him. “Come on!”

He heaved himself upward against the broken glass with all his might. Blood from his cuts ran down the side of the wall in thin streams. The sheet tore loose, and he felt the undead pulling at him through the window. He kicked away, resolved to take his chances with the fall, when something caught his wrist.

“I’ve got you!” Kelly hung off the roof at her waist, her face red and furrowed as she struggled against Stenson’s weight.

“Grab her! Pull her!” someone shouted.

Kelly’s face was beet red under the strain of holding a grown man’s weight. “I… can’t…”

Dozens of hands reached through the window after Private Stenson. Pallid faces mashed together like a wall of hungry death.  They snarled and snapped after the prey that was slipping from their grasp.

Stenson kicked and scrabbled up the side of the building. A second civilian reached down to grab him, then a third. Within seconds, he had been pulled safely to the roof.

“Damn, you’re heavy!” Kelly huffed and puffed with her hands on her knees.

“Thanks.” Stenson placed his hand on her shoulder. “You saved my ass.”

“Don’t mention it.” Kelly stood up and arched her back, a look of pain on her face.

“Every WD in the building is in that back office,” Stenson mustered.

“Good,” Kelly replied getting to her feet. “We have to go back down there.”

Chapter 16

The mounted guns atop the Humvees poured devastation in 360 degrees. A chorus of nightmarish howls rose to a crescendo, and hundreds of shambling dead surged toward the convoy. Children screamed in terror at the sound of gunfire and rampaging undead. Within seconds, the street was filled with thousands of blood thirsty monsters. Gore exploded around the vehicles as .50 caliber devastation cut through the host in a constant stream of annihilation.

Barely a minute passed before the first voice came over the network. “I’m low…”

“Me too…” another voice answered.

“Close the hatches!” Miguel shouted as the guns went dry. The vehicles plowed forward through the throngs of moaning horrors. The heavy military Humvees rocked violently under the relentless onslaught. They were buried beneath the dead within seconds.

“I’m pushing through,” Carl announced. The military had two protocols for being surrounded by a swarm of endless zombies. They could push through the mass and hope their vehicles endured, or teams could hide inside their impenetrable armored vehicles and wait for rescue. The latter wasn’t an option in this case. Aside from having limited rations among the crew, there were nearly a dozen children in each vehicle that would require food and water as well. They wouldn’t last a day when the California sun turned their vehicles into ovens. There was also the possibility that a rescue mission might not be mounted at all.

Carl pressed on the gas. His four-ton vehicle plowed forward. Ghouls bounced like rag dolls over and around the car. The chorus of moans grew louder as they drove deeper into the heart of the swarm.

“Control, Convoy Nineteen has encountered a STOG. Request air support three miles west of…” Pam shouted into the communications network.

The convoy initially had physics on its side, but Carl could already feel it turning against him. Every cadaver that bounced off the vehicle took a fraction of his momentum away. The powerful engine roared, but the tires began to slip and his speed dropped.

“Richards, push me!” Carl ordered.

“What?” Richards’s voice came over the network confused.

“Push me! Hurry! Before I lose all my momentum!” Carl pressed on the gas but could feel his tires slip. His RPMs were holding precariously in the red.

Carl’s vehicle jerked forward as the Humvee behind him slammed into his rear. The force of the two vehicles together slowed the loss of momentum, and they pressed on.

A gentle buzzing sound rose into a thundering drone above the moans and growls outside. Out of the horde rose a plume of dust and debris.  Miguel looked out the window past the faces leering back at him. “A Super Cobra!”

“Convoy Nineteen, this is Air Zero, remain on your current heading. Do not stop. Things are gonna get worse before they get better.” A voice came over the network. A marine helicopter hovered overhead, pouring streams of Vulcan Cannon firepower into the undulating mass. “We’re going to try to thin things out for you, but there’s a lot of WDs down there.”

“Barona, you need to push Richards! I’m getting bogged down again,” Carl ordered.

With another bang, Carl’s car flew forward. The three vehicles pushed together as one, their engines roaring in unison, their tires grinding relentlessly onward onto a street now slick with gore and limbs. Undead howled and clawed at the vehicles as they were crushed beneath the unstoppable armored trucks.

Progress slowed to a crawl, but they continued advancing. The Super Cobra above cut huge swaths through the swarm—slowing the onslaught, but an ocean of howling undead came at them like a deluge of claws and fangs.

“It’s starting to clear!” Pam shouted.

“Keep pushing!” Carl ordered.

“You’re almost there, Nineteen. Keep it up.” The Super Cobra pilot’s voice came back over the network.

Carl floored the accelerator. His Humvee plowed into a small clear patch of freedom. “We’re out!” A highway onramp ahead occupied by a handful of ghouls came into view beneath a tattered black billboard.

The sign read, ‘Hope,’ in white letters next to an image of a glowing crucifix. Some church had, perhaps in the closing days of the apocalypse, wanted to spread an inspirational message. Carl smiled but his joy was short lived as he veered up the ramp and onto the highway.

Graffiti came into view – letters added to the sign in blood-red spray paint created the word ‘Hope
less
.’ Thick red streaks ran down the sign from the paint and pooled at the bottom like a puddle of blood. Carl frowned as he accelerated. Optimism was all too rare in this new world, and destroying a heartwarming message like that seemed wrong.

“Ah…SHIT! Something’s wrong.” Richards’s voice came over the network.

Carl looked in his mirror to see the middle vehicle rolling to a stop, smoke pouring from its engine. He stomped on the brakes, threw his vehicle into reverse, and headed back towards his team.

Pam immediately shouted into her headset. “You still up there, Air Zero?”

“Still here, Ninteen. What’s up?” The pilot’s voice came back.

“Gonna need you to lay down some heat on that onramp back there. We have a problem,” Pam responded. “We have a breakdown.”

“On it…” The sound of the war machine hovering into position above them was small comfort, as the vanguard of the multitude behind them began to stagger up the onramp.

Miguel swung the Humvee door open as it came to a stop and stepped into a nightmare. Guns and rotors from the Super Cobra drowned out all sound in an oppressive rumble. The undead scattered through the immediate area, turned, and locked eyes on the convoy team. Rotting corpses slithered and slunk from behind broken-down cars and over the concrete median.

A nearby ghoul in a biker’s jacket and Harley Davidson t-shirt stumbled toward Miguel. Miguel took aim, fired, and the monster fell. Even the sound of his rifle was barely audible in the roar. He slung his gun over his shoulder, moved to the rear of his vehicle, and unraveled the heavy coiled chains.

Sergeant Quinn, Specialist MacAfee, and Private Barona emerged from their rear car. They fanned out over the highway, popping off shots into the shambling mass. The helicopter above poured firepower into the onramp. Huge arcs of carnage cut through the swarm, but it continued relentlessly up and toward the disabled convoy.

Private Richards and Sergeant Ornstein emerged from their broken-down vehicle firing their weapons. As quickly as they could drop a roaming corpse, three more took its place. The host was building by the second.

Pam and Carl climbed atop their hummer. They used their elevated position to cover their compatriots. With careful, precise shots, they picked off the undead that approached the convoy’s flanks. The corpses piled up in heaps of two and three, then four and five. A moat of bodies began to build around the convoy.

Miguel dragged the two chains—one in each hand—toward the disabled vehicle. His work would take mere seconds, but seconds were in short supply.  He stepped around a skinny undead woman in a black tank top that read ‘Pink.’ The limping corpse reached clumsily for Miguel, and then turned in pursuit.  Carl took aim, pulled his trigger, and watched a plume of black skull fragments erupt from the monster’s cranium.

Pam fired at a blood-covered child that scrabbled after Sergeant Ornstein. The skin was torn from its fingers, and dried bloody crusts of its flesh caked around exposed bone. The monster tumbled lifelessly to the ground, and Pam looked for another target. She aimed at the head of a man in a bathrobe, his abdomen torn open and his intestines dragging on the ground. She put a bullet in his skull. A dead woman in a police uniform followed. Pam fired. Next came an elderly man in overalls, his beard matted thickly with blood. Down. A tattered woman missing one arm stumbled clumsily toward the convoy crewman. Click. Pam’s stomach dropped.

“Ornstein! Behind you!” She screamed, but her shout was drowned in the tumult. Ornstein was oblivious. Firing shot after shot into the approaching swarm, his attention was focused on the mass working its way toward them.

Frantically, Pam punched her communication system. “Ornstein! Look out!” She jumped from the top of her Humvee and broke into a sprint.

The one-armed woman wrapped herself around Ornstein, and dug her teeth into his shoulder. Blood shot from an artery, and Ornstein stumbled backward under the woman’s weight. Ornstein twisted out of her grip and shoved her off him, before unloading a series of rifle shots into her face.

Pam rushed to Ornstein, but he shook his head and waved her away. He fell to one knee as blood poured from his severed artery. Ornstein then dropped his empty rifle and drew his sidearm. A ghoul in ragged blue jeans and a t-shirt stumbled towards him. Ornstein put a pistol shot through the monster’s knee. It tumbled into him and they fell to the ground. Ornstein’s attacker was joined by a second, and then a third ghoul, and his screams of agony were carried away by the thunder of the helicopter above.

“No!” Richards shouted. He rushed over to Pam with his sidearm drawn. He nearly went weak in the knees when he saw the monsters tearing into Ornstein.

“No…” he mumbled, but the undead were already losing interest in Ornstein and locking onto Pam and Richards with murderous intent.

A ring of undead began to press in on Pam and Richards. They backed toward the rear hummer. A wall of leering faces and outstretched claws reached for them.

“Get back in the cars!” Carl screamed. He watched as Sergeant Quinn swung his empty rifle like a club at a mass of walking corpses. Specialist MacAfee joined him with his combat knife, stabbing at snarling ghouls. Private Barona had fixed his bayonet to his rifle. He jabbed at the monsters closing around him. The three soldiers were fighting back to back. The horde surrounded them.

Suddenly, Private Barona went down under a dog pile of undead. MacAfee dove after him, and both of them vanished into the swarm. Quinn realized he was surrounded. He climbed a pile of corpses in hopes of gaining the high ground. He smashed his rifle into undead arms and faces. All the while, he looked back toward the spot where his fellow soldiers had fallen. He was searching, hoping his friends would emerge triumphant. No one did.

Quinn lost his footing, stumbled, and fell. He vanished into the mound of corpses. Within seconds, a dozen ravenous ghouls were upon him.

Miguel finished the work of securing the lead car to the second, and he turned around to find ten zombies closing in on him. Cut off from his comrades, he hoisted himself atop the Humvee. Rotting undead claws reached for him while he pounded frantically on the Humvee gun hatch. Miguel kicked and punched the ghouls who climbed after him. Just as it looked as though he would be overtaken, the hatch flung open. Miguel slipped inside, closed it behind him, and the vehicle disappeared beneath a shrieking pile of insane monsters.

Richards turned to Pam and nodded at her, “Get inside!” he screamed. Turning back toward the wall of undead that surrounded them, he barreled forward…holding his rifle like a club.

“No!” Pam screamed in protest. It was too late, and as quickly as Richards killed a ghoul, two more jumped on him. The first bite took a chunk out of his forearm, and the second, his thigh.

“Go! Get inside! Go!” Richards screamed as he fell.

Pam’s eyes welled with tears as her comrade was torn apart. Wordlessly, she opened the Humvee, pulled herself into it, and closed the door behind her. The thunder of the helicopter above was muffled by the rain of dozens of fists beating on the vehicle’s armored shell.

Carl watched as his team was consumed by the onslaught. The Super Cobra had backed away from the onramp and moved directly above him. It rotated in position, unleashing a constant stream of destruction into the undead. Their bodies piled high in a ring, and their mangled comrades relentlessly clambered over the heaps.

Pam was now in the rear Humvee, and Miguel in the disabled middle. They and the children were safe for the moment. They would have to leave now if there was any hope for survival, and Carl reluctantly slid in through the gun hatch of his own lead vehicle. He sealed the hatch behind him. More walking dead came to press themselves against his windows and hiss hungrily at the living within. The children in the back of Carl’s Hummer wept hysterically.

Carl bit his lip and closed his eyes for a moment. He was dizzy, conflicted, angry – overwhelmed by the loss of his men. These weren’t the first men he had lost, but there was something different this time. He felt like he was leaving something behind…something vital. Shifting the vehicle into gear was a feat of will.

“Dammit!” He shouted. “God dammit! God fucking dammit!” Carl opened his eyes, hit the gas, and jolted forward through the mass of bodies that lay before him. “Fuck you, you goddamn motherfuckers!”

His engine protested against the weight of the second vehicle dragging behind him. He looked in his rearview mirror. The third Humvee erupted out of the mob to follow his lead. After a few minutes, the mayhem vanished behind them. The wail of the undead faded and the roar of the helicopter quieted as it ascended. Vacant highway stretched before them, and the convoy was heading home.

“God fucking dammit!” he screamed again as he plowed through a handful of undead. “Fuck you!” he swerved and smashed into a rotting cadaver wearing a tattered business suit.

“You’re clear, Convoy Nineteen.” The voice of Air Zero came over the network somberly. “You’re clear.”