Escape from the Damned (APEX Predator Book 2) (22 page)

“The back, open the back,” he ordered.  Shane and Theresa ran to the rear door of the truck.  Just before they opened it, Theresa slammed on the door three times.  The duo jumped back almost in unison as several voices began moaning.  The moaning was coming from inside the back of the truck.  There were more zombies inside.

“No good,” Shane yelled.  “Dead inside!”

SSgt Brown reassessed the situation from the cab of the truck.  The horde was approaching the 50 meter mark.  The road was clear of vehicles.  He knew the river was pretty close.

“Hurry,” he yelled.  “Get on top of the truck!”  He scrambled to the top of the cab, helping Shane and Theresa as they climbed up.  Ms. Hebert slammed the door as the first zombies began to reach the truck.  SSgt Brown slapped the top of the cab.  Sgt Procell eased the truck forward.  He did not want another injury.  He watched as the horde of zombies grew smaller and smaller in the mirror.

The area around the road was a wide open field.  SSgt Brown thought he remembered this was sweet potato farm country.  He knew that would mean lots of wide open space, no fences, and very few buildings.  He knew there was a town a few miles west of them, but he didn’t think there would be much in the line of civilization around here.

As if on cue, a farm house appeared on their left.  It was surrounded by trees and close to the road.  He immediately discounted that.  He didn’t want to get trapped in tight quarters.  No, they’d keep going for a little longer.

He started thinking about contingency plans.  Continuing on all night wasn’t an option.  They were getting too damned tired.  The rumbling in his stomach reminded him that they had not eaten since this morning.  The only plan he could think of was to park the truck in as wide open a space as they could find and sleep on it.  He shuddered at the thought of sleeping on top of a truck filled with zombies in the middle of nowhere.

The trees that lined the road began to thin and then disappeared.  He could see a farm house about a half mile away.  That’s it.  It’s either that or it’s the truck.  He slapped the roof.

“The farm house,” he yelled into the open window.  “Let’s hunker down there for the night.”  Sgt Procell turned at the next intersection.

The farmhouse sat about 150 meters off of the road.  There was no fencing.  This didn’t surprise SSgt Brown.  This was crop growing country; not animal growing country.  As they drove down the small country lane, he noticed that the fields were surrounded by a shallow ditch. 

He assumed this had something to do with irrigation and drainage, but wasn’t sure.  What he did recognize, was that the ditch was probably deep enough to slow down the undead.  It was also deep enough for the truck to get stuck.  He’d have to remind Sgt Procell not to go traipsing across country around here, lest they end up walking again.

Sgt Procell pulled the truck into the long driveway.  The house was a typical two story farm house with a porch running the length of the front of the house.  The only difference was that there was a deck running above the porch off of the second story. Sgt Procell thought that would make a great escape route.  He pulled the truck as close to the deck as he could get. It was close enough for SSgt Brown, Theresa and Shane to hop easily from the truck onto the deck.

“C’mon you guys,” he told the two civilians with him.  “We’ll meet you down stairs in a minute,” he called over to Sgt Procell.

There were two glass doors that opened to the deck.  SSgt Brown led the three to the one on the left.  He knocked on the door and waited for several seconds.  When nothing tried to come through the window at them, he carefully opened the door.  As he stepped in, the smell of rot and decay assaulted his nose.  There was definitely something dead in here.  He just didn’t know if it was dead, or undead.

The room was a bedroom with a queen sized bed, and assorted antique-looking furniture and mirror.  There was a closet on one wall and the door was partially ajar.  The door to the rest of the house was closed.

He crept quietly to the closet door, followed by Theresa and Shane.  With his right hand still holding his M-16 to his shoulder, he pulled the closet door open with his left hand.  The smell was stronger in the closet.  Upon further inspection, he found why.  There was a carcass of a large dog in the closet.  The animal was skin and bones, and was starting to decompose.  Shane poked his head in and immediately regretted that decision.  He ran outside and began retching over the railing.

SSgt Brown and Theresa continued to the door.  He listened quietly.  Nothing.  He pointed to Theresa, then to the right.  He then pointed to himself and to the left.  The message was clear.  You go right and then I go left.  Again, he opened the door with his left hand while keeping the rifle to his shoulder.

Shane was still on the deck.  As the last of the dry heaves subsided, he heard a noise coming from the door that remained closed.  As he approached, the glass shattered and two large zombies stumbled onto the deck.  Shane was altogether unprepared for the onslaught of the two zombies.

He had dropped his rifle when he started vomiting and hadn’t retrieved it when the zombies came through the door.  All he could do was reach for the giant knife on his belt.  It cleared his scabbard as the first zombie reached him.

The zombie had been an older man, maybe in his 60’s when he’d turned.  He was wearing a white shirt that was stained with blood and a gold and black baseball hat with a fleur-de-lis on it.  Its white beard was also stained in blood.

The zombie grabbed Shane’s hand before he could get the knife above his waist.  Shane screamed as the zombie pushed him backwards, cold dead hands grasping his wrist like a vise.  He tried to push back but the old farmer had leverage on him.  They both tumbled to the deck.

The knife dug into Shane’s abdomen just below his rib cage and left of center.  He let out a scream of both pain and panic.  He tried hard to roll the zombie off of him but the old man was stronger than he should have been.  All he could do was shove his left palm under the zombie’s chin in an attempt to keep its gaping maw away from his face.

Suddenly the zombie’s weight was lifted off of the young fireman.  A shot rang out, then another.  Shane couldn’t tell who had pulled the zombie off of him, or who had fired.  An electric shock ran through his stomach and chest when he tried to breath.  He tried again.  Ouch!  Nope, he couldn’t breathe.  It hurt too badly.

Finally he was able to draw in a shallow breath.  That didn’t hurt too much.  He could do that, he thought.  All he had to do was stop the pain and the buzzing in his ears.  Wow, he thought, that’s loud.  What was buzzing in his ears?  He didn’t remember seeing any bugs.

Wait, is it the time of the year for the crickets?  Crickets, that has to be it.  He wished they’d be quiet.  He could hear them but couldn’t see them.  All he could see was a shape above him.  Was it a person?   Yes, the person was saying something, but what?  Maybe it was a shadow of a person?  Maybe it was that pretty Ms. Hebert.  Oh, she had a nice…  Wait, what was it?  It was nice whatever it was.   Nice…Nice…  He gasped once.  There was no pain

SSgt Brown stood and shook his head.  Shane was gone.  He looked at the rapidly growing pool of blood.  His stomach was starting to grow too, like he’d just eaten a huge meal.  The knife must have gotten his aorta.  He’d seen that before.  The aorta was the big artery coming out of the heart.  If you rupture it, you can bleed out in under a minute.  SSgt Brown couldn’t help but envy the young paramedic.  He’d died a quick death.

Suddenly shots rang out from inside the house, followed by screaming.  SSgt Brown and Theresa charged through the door they had just come through.  As they came out of the bedroom, a zombie met them in the hallway.  This one was a teen aged boy wearing jeans and no shoes.  His long hair was slick with blood.

It grabbed SSgt Brown by his uniform top and pulled the big NCO close.  SSgt Brown for his part was able to get his rifle between himself and the zombie.  He shoved as hard as he could in some kind of macabre push-up.  Although he could not push the teenager away, neither could the zombie get close enough to bite the soldier.

Finally, the big soldier threw his right leg behind the zombie’s left leg and was able to break the zombie’s hold as he flung it to the ground.  Before the zombie could react, he shoved his boot in its chest and fired his rifle point blank into its face.  The zombie released its grip as the 5.56 mm jacketed rifle round drove through its skull, turning its brain into something with the consistency of grape jelly.

A woman’s scream from down stairs spurred him to continue towards the stairs.  This is not how this was supposed to go.  He and Theresa had both cleared houses correctly.  He knew that she knew how to stack outside of a door, and how to cover her sector upon entry into a space.  He’d seen it.  Heck, she and Jackson were downright great at it.

But, that wasn’t happening now.  His people were separated and reacting to their own individual situations.  To put it in military thinking, the zombies had the initiative, and his people didn’t.

              Another zombie emerged from a room between him and the stairs.  Shit! Another scream and more gunshots rang out down stairs.  “Back,” he ordered Theresa.  “Out on the deck!”

              When they emerged onto the deck, SSgt Brown jumped from the deck onto the truck.  He slid down the front windshield without looking back.  He knew Theresa was there.  He landed hard on the ground, forgetting to roll.

            
 
He could see the front door open as he got to his feet.  About that time Theresa landed next to him.  She landed much softer than he.  She was ready as soon as her feet found mother Earth.  They charged to the door but did not enter.

“Comin’ in,” he yelled.  He led the way, Theresa followed two steps behind.

The scene in front of them was something straight out of a slaughter house.  At the door, two zombies lay, nice neat little holes in their heads.  There were several other bodies that were dismembered on the floor of the room.  SSgt Brown couldn’t begin to organize body parts enough to count the number of dead.  All of the furniture was overturned.

On the opposite side of the room, Ms. Hebert was using a brass table lamp as a shield.  A zombie had one side of it and was trying its damnedest to reach the woman.  Every time it would advance, she’d use its weight and push it to one side or the other.  She never pushed it far enough away for her to be able to escape, but it couldn’t get its hands on her either.

Lying on the floor behind her was Sgt Procell.  Blood was pouring from a hole in his leg.  The pool of blood was growing rapidly.  He was pale and screaming.  His rifle was a few feet away.  He wasn’t trying to use it.

“Oh God!” she screamed when she saw them.  “Help him!  I shot him!”  Theresa darted past SSgt Brown.  Shoving the shotgun against the remaining zombie’s head, she pulled the trigger.  Its head exploded in the same blackish-pink mist that she had become accustomed to.

At the same moment, the zombie from the top of the stairs tumbled down.  Before it could regain its feet, Theresa dispatched it with another well aimed shotgun blast.

“Are there any more?” SSgt Brown pressed Ms. Hebert.  She looked at him with a wild look.  He’d seen it before.  She was shutting down.  Right now, she was just as out of the fight as Sgt Procell.  He needed to get her back.  “Cover the stairs,” he ordered Theresa

He placed his hand on Ms. Hebert’s shoulder.  She recoiled from his touch.  “Ms. Hebert,” he began in as soft a voice as he could muster.  “It’s ok.”  She was staring at Sgt Procell, crying.  The younger soldier was still writhing in pain on the ground.

“Ms. Hebert,” he tried again.  “You have to look at me.”  She continued to stare at the wounded man.  “Hey!” he finally yelled.  She turned to his voice.  Good, at least she was responding to something.

“He’s going to be ok,” he told her.  He hoped he was telling her the truth.  “What happened?”  He knew she needed to say it.  She needed to get whatever happened off her chest.  Until then, she was going to remain like this.

She wiped the tears from her eyes.  “I shot him,” she began.  “I didn’t mean to.  That thing scared the hell out of me,” she said as she pointed at the headless zombie.   “I turned and my finger must have been on the trigger.  The gun went off and he just went down screaming.  Oh Jesus!  I didn’t mean to shoot him,” she sobbed.

“It’s going to be ok,” he told her.  “We need to get him taken care of.  Can you help Theresa, while I see to his wounds?”  She shook her head yes.  She stood up and retrieved her pistol.

He moved to Sgt Procell.  He’d already determined that the wound was on the NCO’s leg.  A quick assessment revealed that it was worse than he believed.  The bullet had hit the soldier’s right leg below the knee, shattering his tibia.  SSgt Brown could feel the bones crunching as he squeezed the leg.  Sgt Procell screamed in pain again.

“Sorry about that Ed,” he said in as soothing a voice as he could.

“It’s ok,” Sgt Procell answered through gritted teeth.  “How bad is it?”

“Not good,” he said matter-of-factly.  “Looks like the bullet broke your shin.  I can stop the bleeding, but you’re not going to be able to walk.”

Ah, heck,” he chuckled.  “I was getting kinda tired of walking anyway.” He winced in pain as SSgt Brown tied a bandage around his leg.

“Yeah,” the big NCO replied. “I’m pretty sick of humping around myself.”  After he was satisfied that he’d secured the bandage and that the bleeding had stopped, or at least slowed down, he turned his attention to the broken leg.