Swarm (Dead Ends) (26 page)

Something important was behind that door. That much I knew. But I also knew that the only way to gain access was to have the right fingerprint identification. It took me longer than I’d like to admit before I came up with the solution. Or maybe I knew the solution the whole time and just didn’t want to think about how insane it would be to actually accomplish. Choice no longer being a luxury I possessed, the decision was an easy one. Do it or die trying. That was the only way. I knew I could close the blast door and be safe behind it but how long would I have to wait there with no water or food? Would the zombies lose interest when they didn’t find me or would they just mill around like bored kids at a mall with nothing better to do? The waiting around would make me crazy. And if they did stay, I would have no chance of killing a group of them when I opened the door. The bodies would be too dense, too close to give me any real chance. I reloaded the gun with the extra bullets, hoping I was doing it right, and just stared at it in my hand for what felt like an eternity as my plan manifested itself. My only chance was to pick them off one by one as soon as that door gave way. I convinced myself it would be easy. They’re all coming from one direction after all. And for the most part they would be forced to go single file down the stairs. It would be like shooting fish in a barrel. If the fish were piranhas and the barrel was full of hot lava. Yeah. Piece of cake.

I could hear the door beginning to bulge and splinter. It would be less than a minute before they got it down. I was trying to remember how many of them I had seen outside aside from the hunter. Was it four or five of them? Maybe six, I wasn’t sure. My mind couldn’t settle on a number that made sense. The door buckled and made a sound that reminded me of a sinking ship before it finally cracked open. Bloodied hands began to reach through the hole, tearing it open more and more with each passing second. I raised the gun as a head poked through the bowling ball sized hole. An older man that didn’t seem to have any teeth left began trying to chew through the wood, his mouth and face stained with viscous blood that had long abandoned its liquid state. I took the shot and got lucky. Dead center. One down. It’s amazing the difference in effectiveness between an old weapon that had been stored next to a bottle of booze for a decade and a military issue weapon that was kept clean and serviceable. This thing was like using a toy. It made very little sound and its aim was true every single time. The old man’s face disappeared from view and the remaining zombies seemed to get angrier and louder as they were reminded of what lay behind the door.

Finally the door came flying off the hinges and barreling down the stairs directly at me with the first zombie stumbling behind it. I used the blast door to protect me and then shot the stumbling zombie in the head before he could make his way upright. The next one came stumbling down the stairs as its eyes bored into me. It stopped halfway down with its butt facing me so I decided to concentrate on the two that remained at the top. They seemed to be slightly smarter than the first two. They waited, looking back and forth between the stairs and the meal that awaited them at the bottom. I yelled at them, trying to get them to come after me but they remained at the top as if they were trying to figure out a plan. The entire scene made my blood run cold. I kept yelling “come on!” but it did nothing until I realized what they were doing. The zombie that had stumbled halfway down the stairs had now made it to me. I was so focused on the two at the top of the stairs that I almost realized too late. It grabbed my leg and I panicked, unloading several bullets into its back. I pulled my leg free and attempted to get back behind the blast door, all semblance of confidence I once had melting away in seconds. Before I could get the door closed, the zombie had wedged its head in. The weight of the door obliterated its skull easily once I got it going. It was like Gallagher smashing a watermelon with a sledgehammer in both sight and sound. At least that’s what I tried to tell myself.

Realizing their simplistic trickery had failed, the remaining two zombies bounded down the stairs, both tumbling the instant they ran out of flat ground. Bloodied and graying arms and legs flailed in the air as their bodies stumbled down. The look of confusion on their faces was almost enough to make me smile. The shards of door and zombie meat stopped their progress about three quarters of the way down. Before they got up, I stepped closer and put a bullet in each of their heads. And just like that, it was over. I didn’t know whether to celebrate or check my underwear. I was pretty sure that was all of them but I kept the gun raised just in case as I ascended the stairs. I cleared the house as best as I knew how, making sure to close the front door this time, and made my way to the kitchen. I rifled through the drawers until I found a razor sharp butcher’s knife and made my way up to the man’s body. A small, somewhat empty apology and a couple of hacks was all it took to separate hand from body. Practice being the prime indicator of perfection, my upchuck reflex was pretty much non-existent at this point. The only surprise came when his blood actually flowed like blood should. I had gotten too used to the thick slurry of blackish-red goo that came from the meat grinders that I had forgotten what actual blood looked like when it flowed so freely. He must have killed himself immediately after getting bit. At least that’s what made sense to me anyway but trying to come up with some amount of sound reasoning given what has happened seemed like a waste of time.

I grabbed a fresh can of Coke out of the fridge along with some lunch meat for the dog. I didn’t have to worry about spoilage. That shit stays good forever. I rifled through the cupboards and found a can of tuna and opened it up and emptied the contents onto the counter in case the cat decided to come back. I walked back down the blood-splattered stairs, Coke in one hand, severed hand in the other, dodging body parts and thick pools of blood along the way. I took a deep breath and placed the hand on the scanner. A small anticlimactic hiss was the only sign that it had worked. I pulled the door open to see Mellie sitting patiently, tail wagging, with a look on her face that seemed to be asking “what took you so long?” I shook my head and threw the lunch meat down on the floor. She sniffed it once and backed away as if scoffing at my subpar offering. Rich dogs have rich tastes apparently. There was a small entryway with a few chairs and lamps that led into a larger room. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting but whatever it was, this exceeded it. There were bunks, rows and rows of canned food, a freezer stocked with all sorts of delicious frozen foods, several electric cook tops, a microwave, and a complete home entertainment system. And the best part was that the lights were on. I went to the faucet and turned the handle, saying a little prayer as I did so, and clean cool water came rushing out. Whatever this was, it was made to stay in for quite some time. Finally I felt like I had caught a break.

***

Two days had passed before I even realized it. I intended to ignore reality for as long as possible. I watched movies, I ate microwaveable pot pies and popcorn, I took half-hour long hot showers thanks to a tank-less water heater and an apparently limitless supply of water. I slept in warmth with Mellie at my feet. Mellie, the amazingly trained dog that she is, showed me where her food was, nosing at it on the shelf until I got the message. I even found little disposable doggy bathroom pads that Mellie dutifully went on whenever she needed to. A few bites of pot pie and licks of vanilla bean ice cream were all it took for her to completely take to me. There was an intensity in her eyes that surprised me at times. Part of it was training I’m sure but the other part is that she’s just a damn smart little dog. She wants tasks to complete. Her eyes always seem to be asking,
what’s next?
I found some toys for her, including a little miniature tennis ball that she seemed to carry with her wherever she went. Everything was as perfect as I could imagine given the circumstances. Then I had to go and open that damned laptop.

When the screen flickered to life, I was greeted by some kind of military document, I’m assuming the last thing this high ranking military official looked at before the cavalry tried and failed to pluck him out of his house and into some underground safe facility in Colorado or Montana or wherever it is the government hides stuff like that. Words like “Classified” and “Eyes Only” littered the document, stressing the severity of its importance to whoever was reading it. I didn’t need to read much before I got the just of it. It outlined a military operation known as “Operation Clean Sweep” which would ultimately lead to every major city with an infection present being bombed. It talked of underground seed vaults, mountain strongholds, and martial law. In the government’s estimation, the End Times had arrived and they were already planning the restructuring effort to try and save what I assume was no longer the greatest nation on the planet. The world that we recognized had officially crumbled and the government wanted every chance possible to put the pieces back together. Unfortunately the only solution seemed to be total annihilation. Breaking the land down to its purest elements and hoping for the best.

All of this running, surviving things I had no business living through, watching good people die, killing in the name of survival. If this document were to be believed, all of that amounted to nothing – a futile attempt to secure more time in a world that no longer had any to spare.

Chapter 23

Anger was overrated given the circumstances. It wasn’t going to change anything. And I didn’t want to scare Mellie and ruin all of the bonding we had done in the past few days. If we were going to survive the ridiculous plan I’d thought of we needed to be on the same page. For a moment, I thought of riding things out here and just waiting for the
boom
but Mellie made me want to keep fighting. After seeing her whole family taken from her, she deserved a chance to live. Apparently I still had some semblance of a heart left in there somewhere. And I always had a soft spot for dogs. The duffel bag I found in one of the small closets only intensified my desire to get us out of here. It contained a knife, another silenced revolver similar to the one I got from the helicopter, several MRE’s, the largest Swiss Army Knife I’ve ever seen, a GPS unit with preprogrammed directions to the nearest marina, and the keys to a boat known as the Gracie May. I assume this bag represented a last resort scenario and all I could do was hope that the boat would still be there. A part of me feels like I’ve exhausted every last bit of luck I could’ve ever hoped for but I didn’t really see any other option. And after a few days of living in cramped luxury, we were both beginning to get restless. For better or for worse, I’d rather make things happen than sit around waiting for other things to happen on their own schedule. I didn’t care how safe and comfortable I felt here. All the waiting and worrying would drive me crazy in no time. Especially after I ran out of movies to watch.

The only vehicle in the spacious garage was an older model ½ ton pickup truck. From the look and feel of it, it was made out of pure steel before the days of carbon fiber and reasonable gas mileage. For my purposes, it would do just fine. The truck was well taken care of, perhaps a weekend project that was nearing its completion. It had two gas tanks with a switch in the cab to alternate between tanks. One tank was full and the other was ½ full. I wanted to pack the bed full of everything and anything that would be useful but past experience was enough to make me realize that was a bad idea. Eventually, I’d lose everything and be forced once again to run for my life. Once it’s begun, the end of the world is nothing if not predictably cruel. I focused on the bag I had found in the closet, some important supplies for the dog, and plenty of clean clothing for me. I brought enough food to last us three days. The hope was that if we actually made it to this boat, there would be some kind of food supply onboard. If not, that’s a problem for another day. I was expecting some hesitation from Mellie when it came time to leave but dogs are so in the moment that it barely seemed to register. She was just excited to go for a ride.

The truck heaved to life as the garage door opened, slowly revealing a suburban wasteland devoid of life, absent of hope. Everything looked clear for now but I still rolled out cautiously, looking for any signs of the undead. And if I did see any, my foot hovered over the gas pedal waiting to pound it to the floor and leave one horror in the rear view while I inevitably wheeled towards another. I followed the route on the GPS, winding through nice neighborhoods and small town centers, marveling at how little wealth matters when true disaster strikes. I rolled the passenger side window down so Mellie could enjoy the smells but she only cowered away from it. The days of fun smells and endless possibilities were over. I considered myself lucky that I didn’t have that good of a sense of smell. Wherever we went, I’m sure Mellie could smell the dead, rotting and waiting for their next meal to show itself. For a time, the drive was peaceful and beautiful. Until it wasn’t.

According to the GPS, we were about ¾ of the way to our destination. I could smell the crisp ocean air once again. But hope and joy quickly gave way to desperation as I turned the corner blindly without surveying what was up ahead, realizing too late that Mellie had begun to growl again. I ran over two zombies before I found the brake pedal but they were the least of my problems. The road ahead was clogged with hundreds of the slow movers, their attention suddenly diverted from the ground to the big shiny loud truck in front of them. The crowd stirred and the moans began to echo as the message was passed along to the stragglers in back. I didn’t see a single hunter, which worried me. Then I glanced in the rear view mirror to see two of them sprinting towards the truck, graying and angry. I threw it into reverse and clipped both of them just as they tried to split up and run along each side of the truck. I could hear the shatter of brake lights and the mushy sound of rotting flesh being turned inside out as I continued to mash the pedal. Streaks of blood, hair, and mangled body parts littered the road. I jammed the brakes while turning the steering wheel in some ridiculous attempt at recreating an impossible movie stunt. Predictably, it didn’t go as planned. The truck launched into a dizzying spin as the brakes locked, leaving me unable to do anything but watch as the buildings got closer with each second. I held Mellie close and braced for impact. The truck hit the side of a building nose first sending chunks of brick and mortar flying. We were both ok and somehow, aside from a little smoke emanating from the engine, the truck was still running. Gotta love American Muscle. The beeping of the GPS jarred me out of whatever shock I was experiencing, causing me to look out the window at the slowly approaching mob of dead. An alternate route displayed on the screen and I wasted no time getting the hell out of here.