Plague World (Ashley Parker Novel) (19 page)

“Is that the other ’copter?” Lil’s eyes widened like a panicked horse.

I swallowed hard.

“I think so.” Talk about shitty timing, and even shittier déjà vu.

A burst of unintelligible static flooded the headsets, followed by a loud explosion that blasted into our ears, piercing my head like an auditory knife to the brain.

Shit, shit, shit!

I grabbed my headset and pulled it off, throwing it away from me as if it would somehow change the fate of the other helicopter. Even if they’d survived the crash, they’d gone down in the middle of hell.

Lil started crying. I hugged her as best I could from my awkward position in front of her.

“We’re going to crash, too,” she choked out between sobs.

“No, we’re not,” I said as firmly as my own terror would allow. Lil needed me to be strong, so I had to hold it together no matter how badly I wanted to curl up in a fetal ball.

“Redundancy,” JT said. I glanced up to find him nodding as if he’d just figured something out.

I nodded back. “Yeah,” I said. “We’ve taken as many precautions as possible to conceal our destination, but we could still be tracked via satellite.”

Griff smiled. “Then those two—” He nodded toward Simone and Nathan. “—are banking on the hope that this one hasn’t been tampered with.” He stopped and stared. “Hope they’re right.”

* * *

We flew down the coast, following the line of the I-5 Freeway until it curved east, and then followed the toll road down through Laguna Niguel until it hooked back up to the 5 above San Juan Capistrano and San Clemente.

The toll road, usually lightly traveled, was as jam-packed as the 5, but traffic seemed to be moving, albeit at a glacial pace. I didn’t see any zombies yet, but it was only a matter of time before the spread reached the bedroom communities.

JT switched seats with me so I could sit next to Lil, who curled up against me despite my still-damp clothing. He also retrieved the blanket and handed it to me. It was Griff, however, who helped me tuck it around Lil when I spread it out over the two of us. I muttered a quick “thank you” to both of them. Then I put my headgear back on, even though part of me was really into blissful ignorance about now.

We passed over the San Onofre nuclear power plant, the two mound shaped reactors looking for all the world like a pair of breasts. My dad called them “nuclear hooters,” which he’d say whenever we drove past it. My mom had giggled every time.

A new and scary thought popped into the horror show inside my head. What was going to happen to the reactors around the world? They had to be kept cooled, right? If they had to be evacuated, there weren’t exactly “off” switches workers could hit on the way out. Remembering what had happened at Fukushima, I multiplied it by… well, however many nuclear reactors there were, scattered around the world.

Seeing my expression, Gentry reached across and tapped me on the leg.

“Don’t worry,” he said, nodding back in the direction of San Onofre. “DZN has core personnel and military backup in and around most facilities, to make sure the reactors aren’t compromised. At least not by zombies.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“So when did you add mind-reading to your wild card skills?” I asked.

Gentry gave me a rueful grin.

“Let’s just say you’d make a lousy poker player.”

San Diego, one of the most beautiful cities in the country, lay under the same pall of smoke and chaos as Los Angeles, but on a smaller scale. It lacked the urban sprawl of L.A. and the surrounding counties, but it packed enough people into a relatively small area to make for plenty of zombie fodder.

We’d flown down the coast, past all the little seaside towns from Oceanside to Del Mar and La Jolla, cutting inland once we hit Mission Bay. I recognized Mission Valley as we passed over I-8 before jigging south along the 163, a scenic freeway marked by graceful bridges and tons of trees.

We were headed for Balboa Park, home to museums, theaters, the world famous San Diego Zoo and, evidently, yet another DZN base hidden somewhere among its acreage. My money was on the Air and Space Museum or the Fleet Science Center.

The helicopter dipped low as we approached our destination, the late afternoon winter sun hitting the bridge that led to the iconic California Tower, originally built for the Panama-California Exposition more than a century ago. Hundreds of zombies staggered down across the bridge and into the park like gormless, rotting tourists, bumping aimlessly against statues, architectural treasures, and yet more abandoned vehicles.

Where the hell are we going to set down in this mess?

My unspoken question was quickly answered as Carl maneuvered the helicopter over an open courtyard garden and the parking lot behind it. In a graceful swoop worthy of Roy Scheider, he took the helicopter into a canyon tucked behind the parking lot and set down in the middle of a large dirt clearing.

The canyon was flanked by palm fronds, giant ferns, and ancient looking trees, some with above-ground root systems that looked like petrified tentacles. Cthulhu meets Jurassic Park. I expected to see velociraptors emerging from the shadows.

The mood was somber as we disembarked, everyone moving quickly to gather their gear before the helicopter’s landing drew too much attention from the zombies up top. Carl and the mechanic immediately set to pulling down low-hanging branches and palm fronds to camouflage the helicopter from anyone who might fly over. Definitely justifiable paranoia.

I could see several figures moving slowly around up there, but our landing area was concealed by plenty of thick foliage. If we moved quickly, we might be able to motor before an intrepid zombie spotted us and started the moaning chorus.

A wooden staircase at the far end of the canyon led up to the parking lot, tall palm trees flanking it like ragged sentries. Up top were small cream-colored buildings with curved red-shingled roofs.

Something white caught my eye—a set of earbuds on the dusty ground. They were attached to a blood-spattered iPod. A plastic water bottle lay crumpled against one of the Lovecraftian tangles, dark patches in the dirt telling the story of what probably happened to the iPod’s owner.

I glanced over at Lil, who was staring off into the distance. I put a hand on her shoulder.

“You okay?” I spoke in an undertone.

She nodded. “Just thinking about the zoo,” she said softly. “It’s huge, isn’t it?”

Uh-oh.

“Yeah, it’s pretty big,” I said cautiously. “With a ton of people who are committed to taking care of the animals during all sorts of emergencies.”

Lil nodded again.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

A plaintive moan drifted our way from the bottom of the wooden staircase. We all looked back to see a lone female zombie in sweats, tennis shoes, and T-shirt staring at us with a dead yet hungry gaze. It had nasty wounds on its arms and legs, one ankle nearly gnawed through, and I’d bet dollars to donuts it was missing an iPod. It lurched unsteadily in our direction, moaning again. A ragged chorus responded from the parking lot above.

A small pop sounded, and a hole appeared in the jogger’s head. It slumped to the ground, but already other zombies were appearing on the platform at the top of the wooden stairs.

“Time to move,” Nathan said quietly to everyone gathered round. “Hand-to-hand weapons to keep the noise down.” He nodded at Davis and Jones. “Except you two, of course.” He unhooked his Halligan bar from his belt as Simone pulled an identical tool from a duffel bag.

Awww, how cute. Matching weapons.
I had the sense to keep the observation to myself.

“Where are we headed?” I asked.

“It’s not too far,” Nathan replied. “Just stick together and follow Simone. She knows the way.”

Simone took point, moving up the slope to the east like some sort of magic ninja, her feet barely making any sound on the leaf-covered ground. The Gunsy Twins and Nathan moved with similar efficiency. JT moved quickly, refraining from swinging off the many low-hanging branches. He seemed to be taking the situation more seriously, instead of treating everything like an obstacle course for him to conquer.

I unsheathed my blades, and fell in behind the rest of the group, taking Tail-End Charlie just so I could keep an eye on Lil and not have Griff at my back. Compared to Simone, I felt like a clumsy puppy chasing after a sleek greyhound, feet landing on every stray branch. It made me feel slightly better to hear Tony, Lil, and Gentry crunching through the carpet of dead leaves, and downright happy when the catlike Griff tripped on one of the tentacle-like roots along the way.

And like a cat, he pretended nothing had happened.

Near the top, we reached a green fence separating us from a cement path, which led down into the canyon and up a flight of stairs that ended behind a row of the cream-colored buildings. The ever-present moans of the undead drifted toward us along with the all-too-familiar smell of necrosis.

I’d kill for some Febreze about now.

Simone nimbly hopped over the fence and ascended the stairs, the rest of us close behind. She stopped at a strip of walkway that was still below the rest of the park, several of the buildings hiding us from sight.

“Try to stay together,” she said quietly. “If you fall behind, just remember to head left through the International Cottages to the Organ Pavilion. You can’t miss it.”

Organ Pavilion?
My eyebrows shot up. Not the obvious choice.

“Once there,” Simone continued, “go straight to the door at the end of the right colonnade. Someone will be there to let us in.”

“What’s a colonnade?” Tony asked, saving me the trouble.

“It’s a row of columns placed at regular intervals, usually supporting a roof,” JT said without missing a beat.

Tony looked at him without love.

“Like, shouldn’t you be on
Jeopardy
, dude?”

“Tried out, didn’t make it,” JT admitted in a cheerful undertone. “Totally blew it in the sports categories. I hate sports.”

Simone shushed them with a look, and hefted her Halligan bar.

“We need to move quickly and quietly,” she said. “Let’s go.” With that, she took off at a sprint. I couldn’t help but notice the way Nathan’s gaze followed her.

Who knows? If we survived, maybe they’d figure their shit out.

Simone led us up a walkway between two of the International Cottages, and to the edge of a large grass clearing littered with food stands, barbecue grills, and overturned tables, rotting food and body parts scattered all over the formerly green lawn. A large banner reading “Ethnic Food Fair” stretched between two trees.

I’d been here many years ago during this same event, and still remembered all of the participants in their festive national costume. I’d dragged my indulgent parents into each and every one of the houses with their cheerful blue-painted shutters, and insisted on sampling food from every country.

Now the words “Ethnic Food Fair” took on a new and more literal meaning as zombies of all ages and nationalities in dirndls, lederhosen, kimonos, kilts, saris, and assorted other national garb gnawed on body parts or wandered around in search of food. It was like a ride at Disneyland, as imagined by George Romero.

It’s a dead world, after all…

That’s enough of that
, I told my brain firmly before that particular brain worm took hold.

There were muffled pops again as the Gunsy Twins started doing their job culling the herd. Zombies dropped as the rest of us broke from cover and plowed through the crowd as best we could. Those of us with immunity focused on keeping the zombies off of the helicopter crew. Gentry, Simone, and Nathan were a few yards ahead, while off to my left Lil wielded her pickaxe with gleeful abandon, splattering blood and black fluid in her wake. Tony swung Thor’s Wee Hammer with less glee but equal effectiveness, while JT effortlessly bounded on and over anything in his way.

I raised my katana as a zombie in traditional Greek costume reached for me, arms raised as though it were about to start line dancing.

“Sorry, Zorba,” I said, slicing through its neck.

I heard a snort.

“Life is what you do while you’re waiting to die.”

I turned to see Griff right behind me, facing off against a female zombie wearing an orange sari.

“Life is where the time goes by,” I shot back.

He grinned, looking genuinely amused for the first time since I’d met him as he nonchalantly bashed his opponent right in the middle of its bindi. I had to admire his aim.

“Raised on show tunes, were you?” he said.

I shrugged, but before I could answer, a shit-ton of ethnically diverse zombies headed my way. At the forefront was a swarm of formerly adorable Chinese toddlers in blood-stained folk-dance gear. They staggered unsteadily on chubby little legs, almost the way normal toddlers do when first learning to walk—like little Godzillas stomping through Tokyo. A little girl zombie reached towards me with chubby arms, as if asking me to pick it up.

This was so wrong on every possible level.

“Empty shells,” I muttered, reminding myself of a near-fatal lesson I’d learned in Golden Gate Park. Steeling myself, I raised my katana, but before I could cut off its head, Griff swung his crowbar and knocked it backward into the other toddlers. They toppled over like fat little bowling pins, tripping up a couple of adults who looked like refugees from Riverdance.

Griff turned to me. “Keep moving,” he said, his expression unreadable. “Just take out the ones you have to for now, not the ones that’ll give you more nightmares.”

I nodded tersely, and kept moving. I couldn’t bring myself to thank him, but as much as I hated to admit it, he was right.

That’s when it hit me.

This was so much worse than the swarm we’d defeated in Redwood Grove, I didn’t even know how to parse it. I mean, we weren’t just talking about Balboa Park. We weren’t even talking about San Diego, Southern California, or the entire frigging state. This shit, as Tony liked to say, had gotten real, and on a global scale.