Deadrise 2: Deadwar (10 page)
“Get up top and get Bear!” Smitty snarled to Chico, who disappeared through the access hatch into the trailer. The wind whipped through the cabin, a few jagged shards of glass around the edges was all that remained of the trucks windshield. Angel’s bike was about fifty yards ahead, and he could see Wild Billy trying to tie a tourniquet around Angel’s wounded leg, much to Angel’s discomfort. The bike and sidecar would rock and swerve across the four lanes of the interstate as Angel fought bouts of pain, but after a minute Wild Billy sat back, his task finished.
“Holy Christ! Smitty! Bear don’t look so hot!” Chico screamed from the trailer. Smitty could barely hear him over Bear's own screams. He chanced a quick look into the trailer, seeing Chico lowering a bellowing Bear to the trailer floor.
“Shut him the hell up!” Smitty screamed. He could barely concentrate as it was. He heard the crack of knuckles against skull as Chico punched Bear upside the head, knocking him out.
“How bad is he?” Smitty called.
“His right hand was blow off! And he’s got a chunk of steel sticking out of his gut!”
“Don’t pull it out.” Smitty cautioned. “And get a tourniquet around his arm!” Smitty turned his attention back to the road, trying to stay focused, but after a minute was distracted by wild gesticulating from Wild Billy in the sidecar. He appeared to be pointing behind them. Smitty glanced in the side view mirror, and saw a black pickup truck speeding up the highway towards them. It was still quite a ways back, but it was traveling considerable faster than Smitty’s truck and would be upon them soon. To make matters worse, a motorcycle swerved into view from behind the truck. Even though it was nearly half a mile behind them, Smitty could make out the general shape and style of the bike…it was Augie’s bike.
“We got trouble Chico.” Smitty called to his partner.
“Talk to me!” Chico responded.
“A truck and Augie’s bike coming up behind us.”
“Augie made it?” Chico asked incredulously.
“Superzombies! And they are coming up fast.”
“Fuck.” Chico was frayed to the edge.
Smitty gave Wild Billy the signal to accelerate, then pressed the pedal further to the floor. In the side mirror, he could see that the bike had pulled ahead of the truck, the driver hunched low to cut wind resistance, preventing Smitty from getting a good glimpse of the creature. Was it Augie? It looked as though it was wearing black leather, but it was still too far away to tell. But that would change.
Smitty pulled his radio from his belt and called home. When the dispatch officer came on, Smitty relayed the situation as best he could, screaming at the top of his lungs to hear his own voice over the roaring wind, concluding with the fact that superzombies in vehicles were pursuing them.
“I’m dispatching Bravo One and Three to assist you immediately. Hold tight Tucker.” The radio went silent and Smitty tossed it onto the seat beside him. The wind drowned out most the message, but Smitty got the thrust of it; help was on the way, good luck.
As they rounded a bend in the interstate near Jamestown, the road ahead was suddenly filled with zombies. They mingled about, looking more confused than usual. The sight of the motorcycle and truck brought them to life, causing them to grow agitated with the anticipation of warm human flesh.
“Get behind me!” Smitty screamed to Angel at the top of his lungs, but his voice was drowned out by the roaring wind that whipped through the cabin like a minor tornado, making even vision difficult.
Even though Angel couldn’t hear Smitty’s shout of warning, he knew what he needed to do. He swerved to the far side of the highway and applied his brake, slowing considerably. Smitty’s truck sped past him at 70 mph and Angel punched it, falling in line right behind the trailer, letting the drag add to his acceleration.
Smitty gripped the wheel tightly, keeping to the centerline of the highway. “Hold on Chico!” he hollered over his shoulder just as the flat nose grill of the truck smashed into the first zombie, sending it flying back twenty feet where it skidded and tumbled to a shattered halt. Out of the corner of his eye Smitty caught movement, and looking to the side of the road he saw a superzombie step out from behind an abandoned car. Its fatigues were tattered, and its lower jaw was missing. In its hands it held an AK-47, which it began firing. Bullets crashed through the open cab of the truck, peppering the empty passengers seat and door, one grazed the back of Smitty’s neck and another winged the top of his left shoulder, causing his to lose momentarily control of the truck, careening it to the side of the road. In the back, Chico was tossed against one side of the trailer with a bone jarring crash before being dumped to the floor stunned.
Angel saw the truck swerve, and went into offensive driving mode, gunning the engine and weaving through the deadfucks that had been scattered by the trucks passing. Up ahead, he saw the superzombie standing in the road in front of an abandoned sedan. Wild Billy saw it too. With a scream of rage, Wild Billy opened up with his AK on full automatic, spraying short controlled bursts. Wild Billy was as good a shot with the assault rifle as one could ask for, and his bullets chewed into the deadfucks upper chest, throat and head. It didn’t drop the superzombie but it staggered back, throwing its aim away from the cab of Smitty’s truck. Then Angel gunned the engine again and they shot past the sedan and the superzombie.
Smitty gritted his teeth against the pain and wrestled the truck back under control just before it impacted head-on with the guardrail, scraping the side of the truck with a sparking screech of metal on metal before he had it back in the center of the road, plowing through the last of the crowd of zombies and falling in line behind Angel’s bike. But he had lost a lot of speed, and Angel continued to pull away from him while the motorized superzombies behind drew nearer. By the time Smitty had the truck back up to 70 mph, Augie’s bike had drawn to within a quarter mile. It was close enough for him to make out details…the creature definitely was wearing black leather, with spikes running up the outer edge of each forearm. It had to be Augie. Could he have survived? No, it was impossible. He was damn near crippled, choking to death on his own blood. The superzombie had come upon him and put one of those
things
into him, turned him into one of them.
The glare of the Flaming Gorge reservoir could be seen to the left, south, while to their right were gently rolling hills, covered with scrub. The highway here sloped noticeably downhill, which brought their speed upwards of 90 mph. It was as they passed the Highway-30 north exit that Augie’s motorcycle drew to within twenty yards. The superzombie driving the bike raised its head high, giving Smitty a good look in the mirror. Its skin was blackened leather, withered against a skeletal face. The eyelids and lips had either dried up or melted during the transformation, leaving the eyeballs and teeth exposed. It looked into the mirror, looking Smitty right in the eye, and Smitty felt a cold shiver run down his spine. The superzombie pulled an AK-47 from the gun rack Augie had mounted to the side of his bike, took aim at the rear tires of the truck and fired.
Smitty fought with the wheel as a pair of tires came apart, decelerating quickly to keep from careening into the guardrail once again. Once the speed was down to 40 mph he got the truck completely under control.
“Fall back! Fall back!” Wild Billy screamed from the sidecar, looking behind them. “Smitty’s in trouble!” Angel decelerated and Wild Billy brought his AK-47 to bear. “That’s Augie! They turned Augie into one of those deadfucks!” Spittle flew from Wild Billy’s lips and he squeezed the trigger, emptying his clip at the creature on Augie’s bike. The superzombie swung the bike in tight behind Smitty’s truck, out of Wild Billy’s line of fire.
“HOLD ON!” Smitty screamed back to Chico before slamming his foot on the brake pedal. The air brakes hissed as the hydraulics fought to keep the wheels from locking, but he felt the jarring impact of the superzombie and his bike as they smashed into the tail end of the truck. Chico was thrown into the front bulkhead, and Bear’s unconscious form slid across the floor. Smitty worked the gearshift, gathering speed once again. In the side view mirror he could see the mangled wreckage of Augie’s bike.
One problem was solved, but the pursuing 4x4 had pulled to within fifty yards. Smitty could see a figure driving and another riding shotgun, plus another standing in the bed of the truck, upper torso splayed out over the roof of the cab, M-16 with attached grenade launcher in its hand. Smitty couldn’t push the truck above 40 mph. otherwise the blown rear tire caused too much interference with driving. He kept one eye on the road and another on the mirror, watching the truck draw closer with each second.
“Chico!” There was no answer. “Chico?” Smitty screamed at the top of his lungs.
“I’m here.” Chico said from just inside the access door, near the floor. He sounded rattled and in pain.
Smitty would have said more, but in the side view mirror he saw the superzombie standing in the back of the 4x4 raise its weapon, bracing to fire the grenade launcher. “Fire in the hole!” he screamed, cringing down into his seat. The back panel of the trailer exploded inward, spraying wooden splinters down the length of the trailer, covering Chico and Bear’s prone figures. Searing pain lanced through his wounded shoulder, nearly causing him to let go of the wheel. But he managed to get it under control, his speed barely 20 mph.
Chico sat up, his head ringing from the concussion of the explosion. Blood was running into his eyes, blurring his vision. He wiped his eyes and looked around. Bear was slumped next to him, covered in shards of wood. He looked down the length of the 20’ box trailer, and saw that the entire back panel had been blown apart, leaving a gaping hole in the rear of the truck. His vision blurred from dripping blood, and he wiped it clear again, rising painfully to his knees. Looking out the back of the trailer, he saw a black Toyota 4x4 less than ten feet behind the truck. A superzombie clad in military battle gear was crawling over the roof of the 4x4, sliding down the windshield onto the hood. Its M-16 was slung over its shoulder. Its bloodshot eyes were locked on Chico’s, its lipless mouth twisted into a jack-o-lantern grin. Chico’s hand scrabbled for his shotgun, but it was not in its holster on his thigh, it had fallen from his hand in the blast. He reached for the razor sharp machete tucked into his right boot instead.
The superzombie leapt from the hood of the truck, soaring through the blast hole and landing in the back of the trailer ten feet from Chico. With a snarl Chico lunged in, swinging the machete in an overhand arc. The deadfuck raised its arm to parry, and the blade sank halfway through its forearm bone before stopping, allowing the superzombie to wrench it out of Chico’s hand. Before Chico could react it lashed out with a kick, catching him in the chest, sending him flying back into the front bulkhead of the trailer with a crash.
Meanwhile, the 4x4 had swerved to the driver’s side of the truck and accelerated, trying to draw parallel to the door. The superzombie in the passenger seat had rolled down the window and now hung its upper torso out the window, an AK-47 in its hands. Smitty swerved the truck hard to the left, causing the 4x4 to go off the pavement and onto the shoulder of the road. It smashed through a mile marker post and a road sign before decelerating until it fell behind the truck and was able to swerve back onto the pavement.
Chico pulled his face from the floor of the trailer, blowing bloody splinters out of his mouth. He looked up and watched the superzombie pull the machete from its forearm with its other hand, then look him in the eye, giving the blade a slow, arcing swing. Amazingly as Chico scrambled to his feet, his left hand came upon the sawed-off barrel of his shotgun. He snatched the weapon up, rising to his knees and pumping the action just to make sure there was a live round in the chamber. If the superzombie could have registered surprise it would have, but instead it simply lunged forward, machete raised over its head for the killing blow. Chico took a quick aim and fired, the blast catching the deadfuck in the upper chest and throat. At that distance, the twelve-gauge double-ought buckshot actually lifted the zombie off its feet, threw it backwards three feet and planted it firmly on its back. Chico stood up, pumping the shotgun and advancing on the superzombie. It sat up with a snap, swinging the machete wildly at his legs, but Chico was still out of its range. He took aim and fired, disintegrating its head from the jaw line up. Its headless body fell onto its back, flopping about blindly. Holstering the shotgun, he reached down and grabbed one of the deadfuck’s flopping feet, bracing against its convulsions and using its own energy to propel it out the back end of the trailer where it was steamrolled by the Toyota 4x4.
Angel kept to the left side of the interstate and decelerated, letting the truck pass him and swerving over to put his bike between the truck and the 4x4.
“Gotcha motherfucker!” Wild Billy screamed, opening up on fully automatic. The 7.76mm rounds shattered the 4x4’s windshield, peppering the driver and passenger with bullets. It swung around to the driver side of the truck and accelerated out of Billy’s line of sight.
But not Chico’s.
He stood at the blown open rear of the trailer, raised his shotgun and took aim. The superzombie driving the 4x4 was visible, less than fifteen away. Chico fired, blowing the left side of the deadfuck’s face off. The truck swerved hard to the left a decelerated, recovering just as two of its tires hit the unpaved shoulder of the road.
Angel dropped his bike back to come parallel with the 4x4. Wild Billy held a grenade in his hand, and had pulled the pin as Angel brought the bike alongside the 4x4.
