Dead Drunk: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse... One Beer at a Time (17 page)

Chapter
33

Spring Flower

Sergeant Zhang removed his bloody helmet and wiped the sweat
from his brow with a camouflaged handkerchief. The stocky class-two sergeant of
the People’s Liberation Army concentrated on a map for the fifth time. The long
monsoons of Liaoning Province made Chicago summers pale in comparison, so it
wasn’t the heat throwing him off. No, what rattled Zhang was the overwhelming
stench of rotting corpses and the non-stop pace of battle.

The old man understood well the ugliness of war. Firing on
civilians at Tiananmen Square long ago and storming the beaches of Taiwan more
recently had prepared him for that. But nothing could prime him for the carnage
of the North American theatre.

Of the twenty thousand troops from Zhang’s division, the
pride of Shenyang Military Region, under five thousand remained. Since a
disastrous border crossing from Canada, they’d been bombed, strafed, sniped and
even eaten until only a scant handful survived from his original squad. Still,
the sergeant knew China could afford losses like that. It was all part of the
plan after all.

Lack of sleep was pushing
him closer to madness by the hour, and he trusted no one. A soldier that failed
to look him in the eye would earn a swift rifle butt to the head, and any type
of insubordination meant summary execution. These “morale boosters” had brought
many of his men to their breaking point.

Most recently, Sergeant Zhang’s squad moved to section eight-C,
also known as Wicker Park, for a clean sweep and holding action. The orders
were simple, neutralize any Americans, infected or not, and then secure the
area. Artillery, tanks, heavy machine guns and flamethrowers had created a
gory, yet highly choreographed, invasion of the city. Resistance was rapidly
shrinking, but only from the living.

In theory, the Chinese population was supposed to be immune
to the pandemic virus, but this wasn’t always the case. That uncertainty led to
a strict policy of shooting compromised soldiers, and that was happening plenty
as they pushed into the more populated areas. The latest example was a former
schoolteacher with a lovely singing voice by the name of Wu Ming. He went out
singing an ode to Chairman Mao and brought many to tears.

It was the first time Zhang regretted his no exceptions
policy, but there had been little choice. One infection could spiral out of
control and destroy a whole unit in minutes. He’d seen it happen up close, only
escaping by hiding in an abandoned refrigerator.

Zhang clapped his hands
to gather the troops for another mission. “I’ve learned one of our 62’s
recently broke off communications in section ten-B, just north of here. We have
been tasked with sending scouts to locate the tank.” This was a bullshit
mission and Zhang knew it. A two-mile trip into no-man’s land was almost
certain suicide, and that’s why he planned to use several of his weakest links
in the operation.

Twenty-three year old Yi Chen faked a pleasant smile while
hiding the terror that clawed at his stomach like a parasite.
Don’t pick me,
don’t pick me, don’t pick me
. He held his breath as the sergeant studied a
crumpled up piece of paper.

“I have chosen for this honorable mission Private Lin,
Private Wu, Private Cai and Private
Duànbèi
.” There were a few chuckles
at the mention of the last name.

Yi Chen’s heart sank. On top of being chosen, Zhang had
called him “Private Duànbèi.” Private Brokeback. Apparently, winning a bronze
medal after landing a flawless Yamashita style vault in the World Games wasn’t
enough to earn respect among this group. Chen no longer heard the orders as
blood pumped in his head faster and faster.

“Make visual contact with the tank, note its location,
assess its condition and radio your findings directly to me. Your secondary
mission is to locate the crew by checking the surrounding area. Duànbèi, are
you listening?”

Chen snapped back into the moment and answered fast enough
to avoid a vicious thrashing. “Yes, sir. It will be an honor to carry out this
mission. I will not let you down.”

“You have five minutes to pack and head out. Anyone have
questions?” Dead silence greeted him as usual. Having questions often turned to
having beatings. “Good.” Finished, Sergeant Zhang returned to the shade of a
burned out tanning salon to finish drinking something they’d found called
Mountain Dew. It was giving him quite a buzz.

Yi Chen donned his pack and checked his automatic rifle for
problems. The QBZ-95 had seen plenty of action lately, almost becoming an
extension of his own powerfully built body. Even the bayonet had saved his life
in close combat with the infected, and Chen made sure it was razor sharp.

Finally, he prayed to his elders. During the quiet
contemplation, Chen sought wisdom and courage to maintain his secret oath. He
would avoid harming the innocent at all costs. His “poor” aim had earned him
the scorn of fellow soldiers but helped keep his conscience clean, and that was
important enough for Chen to risk his own life.

Private Wu, a lean and foul-tempered man, snuck up on Chen
and sent him sprawling to the ground with a forceful kick to the rear. “Hurry
up,
Liúmáng
. We don’t have time for your fantasies about cock-gobbling
boyfriends.” Wu snorted loudly after calling Chen a pervert and looked to his
comrades for approval. But most kept quiet, not wanting to ridicule a condemned
man. Besides, they figured Wu wouldn’t be coming back either.

Chen ignored the man he could snap in half like a dry twig and
finished his thoughts. The kind-hearted soldier never bothered explaining how
he’d actually been happily married. Chen wouldn’t sully the image of his wife,
the beautiful Chunhua, by even mentioning her in his current company of
scoundrels.

She was Chen’s “Spring Flower,” and her memory would remain
his and his alone. His wife had been gone for several years now, but he still
thought about her almost every waking moment, and took any chance he could to
remember the sound of her voice. The memory of her face however, slipped
further and further away from him with each day.

The government had promised to provide for everyone during
the Great Famine, but Chunhua’s village had been passed over so party leaders
could feed their own families. When Chen finally earned leave after two years
of fierce service, all he found waiting was an empty house and a shallow grave.
The gymnast never even learned who buried her. But after the betrayal, Chen
swore an oath to remain faithful to the memory of his Spring Flower, and he
would gladly die to honor it. He believed he would soon get that chance.

Chapter
34

The Windy City

What remained of Bruce had been tossed into the street with
little fanfare. The place was too thick with zombies for a burial now, not to mention
the new threat of a mechanized Chinese army. Russ summed up their predicament
while puffing a menthol cigarette. “We’re boned.”

“It’s another hurdle,” Mike said unconvincingly. “We’ll have
to be more careful but it doesn’t change our goals, just how we get to them.”

“Look, you can’t make chicken salad out of chicken shit,”
Russ said. “Face it, if the zombies don’t get us, the goddamned communists
will. Fuck it, I’m gonna get drunk.”

“You’d have to sober up first,” Charlie said. “But Mike’s
right. We’ll start clearing the streets now. I’ve got some ideas that might
work.” His plan to help the women escape had grown in complexity and danger,
but the prospect of a chopper ride to safety would be well worth the risk. “And
Left-Nut, say another word about those girls and I turn you into a wind chime.”

“What in the shit are the Chinese doing here anyways?”
Smokey said.

“No clue, but I bet they’ll come looking for their tank,”
Charlie replied. “Which means we need to get moving.” The men agreed and
started culling the massive zombie herd while Charlie and Mike spitballed the
specifics of a new escape plan.

Trent fired his Everclear loaded Super-Soaker into the mass
of staggering cannibals below while Smokey chucked a lit roll of toilet paper
into the mix. The blazing figures ran around like stuntmen before collapsing
into piles of smoldering tinder while Russ enjoyed the show.

“Tell me what you got,” Mike said as the stench and smoke
overtook them.

“God, that reeks. Anyways, that morning I’ll sneak the girls
over and we’ll use the ladder to go from rooftop to rooftop until we reach the
end of the block. We’ll need to practice a few times and secure the route to
make sure there aren’t surprises along the way. We time the stereo to go off
and draw any stragglers back to our apartment, then we drop down and sprint to
the finish line.”

“You just thought of this?” Mike asked.

“Actually, I’ve been planning to leave for a while now, but
you probably knew that.” As the two conversed, Rob began using a painter’s pole
with a steak knife taped to the end as a spear. Smokey dangled over the side as
bait while Rob gigged the stragglers like frogs. The streets were clear after
several hours of the gruesome work and the men went down to inspect the ruined
tank.

Somehow, the machine gun was still intact and after several
minutes of shit-talking and finger pointing, they were able to detach and carry
it to the roof along with boxes of unexploded ammo. Having the heavy gun would
give them a much needed confidence boost, and everyone wanted the chance to
fire it off when the time was right.

Mike and Charlie started practicing their building hopping
technique as the sun set. It worked by extending the thirty foot ladder
straight into the air and then lowering one end to the roof of the next
building. Next, they’d cross the pseudo-bridge, rinse and repeat.

“I wish we had thought of this before,” Mike said as he
padlocked the roof access door of the last building on their escape route.

“Yeah, it’s the only way to travel.” Charlie shivered as he
noticed a sudden temperature drop. “Better head home soon. I think a storm’s
brewing.”

The pair made their way back uneventfully as dark clouds
rolled in and lightning flashed in the distance. Storms were always welcome as
they brought cooler temperatures, needed water and a chance to shower. This one
had the added benefit of dousing flaming piles of corpses.

Charlie placed the ladder down and carefully crossed the
rungs until he felt the familiar roof of their apartment beneath his feet. He
turned as Mike followed behind. “I bet in a hurry we could make the trip in ten
minutes.”

“I’d say more like fifteen when you take into account… oh
fuck—” A large gust of wind barreled down the alley and threw Mike off balance.
His left foot fell between the rungs and he hit his crotch on the metal ladder
before slipping off the side.

Charlie gasped when his friend dropped out of sight, and
visions of Jim’s ruined body came to mind as he ran to the edge. But Mike was
on his back and waving up with a big smile plastered on his face. As luck would
have it, a pile of dispatched zombies had broken his fall. “Don’t stand there,
drop the ladder down,” he whispered.

Russ was nearby and helped Charlie position the ladder while
Mike played possum. But as Mike rose to make his escape, something else rose
with him. Apparently, a creature on the bottom of the pile hadn’t been quite
dead, and Mike’s movement triggered a reflex, causing it to lash out. He shoved
the wounded creature off and followed with a powerful swing of his hammer,
putting the mohawked zombie down with a well-placed blow to the temple.

A nearly out of breath Mike sprang up top as his friends
gathered around. “I thought you were a goner. Twice,” Charlie said while giving
him a bear hug.

“I think I almost shit my pants twice,” Mike replied with a
grin. “Literally, I almost shit my pants.”

Charlie’s smile disappeared as blood began trickling from
Mike’s nose. “Did you hit your head?” The trickle became a gush.

“No,” Mike said and turned pale while pinching his nose.

Trent backed up and settled behind the machine gun. “Dude, I
think you got bit. Take your shirt off so we can check. It’s your rule after
all.”

Mike gave in, revealing a round indentation on his shoulder.
“It’s just a scratch from the fall.”

“Bullshit,” Trent said as the mark turned purple, then black
before their eyes. Large raindrops began to fall from the sky.

“I can’t believe it. I just…” Mike’s shoulders slumped.

Charlie moved in front of Trent’s line of fire. “Everybody
take a deep breath. If he’s infected we can put him in the alley with Cliff,
and… and if there’s a cure we can come back.” It didn’t make sense but he had
to try.

Mike sighed loudly. “No thanks, I saw what these assholes
did to Cliff.”

“He can’t stay here another minute,” Trent said. His face
softened. “I’m sorry, but he’s a ticking time bomb.”

“I understand.” Mike put
his shirt back on. “I’ll go. Maybe being a zombie won’t be so bad. Maybe you
daydream all day or something. I just know I don’t wanna die. That’s like, too
final. And I always have been experimental.”

Trent gritted his teeth. “I can’t let you wander off either.
You’d put us all in danger, even Brandon, and you know I won’t let that
happen.”

Internally Charlie agreed with Trent, but that route was too
painful. “We’ve killed hundreds of zombies, one more out there won’t matter.
Let him go.”

“I’ll take Vidu’s moped as far away as I can. I might even
stop by the zoo to see some old friends from vet school.” He clutched his
tightening stomach.

Trent noticed Mike’s growing discomfort. “Fine, but you need
to go now.”

Russ stepped forward. “I know we gave you a lot of shit, but
you’re a righteous dude. It’s too bad you had to die a gay virgin.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, huh, Left-Nut?” Mike managed
a smile as his pain intensified. “He really liked the French maid outfit.”

Left-Nut squirmed as all eyes turned to him. “Hey, I was
pitching and remember, I got a medical condition which means if I don’t—”

“Yeah, it’s called being a flamer,” Russ said and gave Mike
a hug before quickly backing away. “Adios, brother.”

“Thanks,” Mike said. “You all need to listen to Charlie if
you wanna get out alive.” He gave his friend a knowing look. “Follow your gut
and show these knuckleheads what a real man is.”

Charlie tried to reply, but the words wouldn’t come. So he
ruffled Mike’s hair and held the ladder as his friend descended for the last
time. They waved goodbye as Mike pulled the moped upright and turned the engine
on. Lightning flashed as he began the mile and a half trip to the zoo, weaving
around various obstacles while ignoring the growing pain in his gut.

“Focus, you’ve still got some life left in you,” he said as
several zombies gave a half-assed chase.

Mike was amazed at how easily he travelled by scooter and
wondered if they could have fled the city that way. It was idle speculation
though, considering he wouldn’t be returning to tell anyone. Soon enough he
pulled up to the main gate of the Lincoln Park Zoo and found the area
surprisingly void of any movement, zombie or otherwise. He passed the turnstile
and entered his familiar stomping ground. But the happy summer days spent
tending to the animals were long gone, and the zoo was in utter shambles.

Still, he hoped to hold off long enough to rescue some of his
furry friends. But each exhibit brought fresh disappointment and dead animals.
The zebras, kangaroos, lions and others he’d known intimately were all gone,
wasted away with nobody to feed them.

As Mike rested by the primate enclosure he felt a presence behind
him, and for a moment the rain stopped landing on his head. He turned to see
six huge forms — Baringo giraffes to be precise — staring at him. They’d
somehow gotten free and wandered the zoo foraging from tree to tree. By the
look of things, the herd had just about stripped the place.

“Can I get you to follow
me?” he said between wet coughs. The desperate animals timidly complied, and a
minute later Mike unlocked one of the gates by the parking lot and shooed them
to freedom. The last giraffe lowered its head as if to say thanks, and then
followed the others to a nearby grove of trees where they hungrily tore into
the foliage.

Mike had no time to celebrate as he doubled over in pain and
vomited bloody mucous onto the wet pavement. He had one last place to check and
at this point would have to crawl. Mike continued on willpower alone and his
knees left a red trail behind him that was quickly washed away in the downpour.

What seemed like an eternity later, he reached the bear cave
he’d spent so much time in, only to find it full of zookeeper corpses and empty
of bears.

“Shit,” he said and rolled onto his back to stare into the
sky, expecting his last vision to be the tempest responsible for his demise.
Instead, he got to witness a badly injured zombie crawl on top of him. “Shit!”
he said much louder this time while struggling to hold the chomping creature
back. Dying or not, nobody wants to get bitten.

The thing pressed down so close he could smell its fetid breath
and feel its heart racing with anticipation. With one final effort, Mike pushed
as hard as he could, but his strength was gone, and the zookeeper surged
forward.

It was at that point Mike learned how the zombie ended up
injured in the first place. The massive brown bear known affectionately as
Snickers picked the zombie up and began ripping it limb from limb. With a
mighty roar, the bloodied bear stood on its hind legs in victory, then advanced
towards a shivering Mike.

The twelve-hundred pound beast sniffed the air as it came in
for a closer look, and then planted a massive lick on Mike’s face. He’d helped
raise the bear as a cub years earlier after all. Reuniting with his old friend
energized Mike enough to get him to his knees one final time, and he began the
crawl back to the exit while Snickers followed him like an attention-starved
puppy.

It was slow going but he eventually reached the open gate.
Before Mike could say goodbye though, he stopped dead in his tracks, literally,
as the sickness robbed his humanity. Snickers recognized something had changed
and sniffed his special friend once more.

Mike calmly stood up, no longer feeling any pain besides the
growing hunger in his stomach. As he began his search for human flesh, the
nine-foot beast opened its enormous mouth and chomped down on the new zombie’s
neck, killing it instantly.

After mourning for what it thought was its mother, Snickers
the bear wandered through the gate and into the raging storm, frightened and
alone once more.