The End: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (11 page)

Megan unbuckled her seatbelt and made her way to the back of the bus. The Army had confiscated a number of flamethrowers offered by a survivalist company. She had minimal training on the torch’s use, but she was a disciplined soldier and had full confidence in her abilities. The safety goggles went on first but as the most basic form of protection. The two tanks were on a backpack and she struggled to get the straps secured around her shoulders.

With the device in place, she ascended the ladder to the hatch on the roof. Releasing the latch and pushing open the hatch, she stuck the upper half of her body out.

“Fuck you, bitches!”

With a pull of the trigger, the bright flame erupted from the nozzle. Its bright golden glow lit the world around her, exposing what lingered out in the near distance previously hidden by shadows. An ambush of zombies steadily approached the idling bus. An easy twenty had already made their way up alongside the vehicle, frantically attempting to get inside.

“Let’s do this!” Luke steadily gave the Rhino some gas, sending the armored monstrosity across the field of walking corpses.

Megan narrowed her aim in on the cluster of ghouls surrounding the front of the bus. The flame shot out as she pulled the trigger and swung the nozzle from side to side. Instantly, over a dozen bodies were drenched with the near thousand-degree inferno. Skin crackled and popped like puffed rice as it blistered and burned.

Luke watched from the driver’s seat as the mob of angry flesh-crazed zombies ignited. The zombies scattered about, flailing their limbs in the air. Flesh scorching on their bones sent a few to the ground. Others bumped into one another, catching who they touched on fire. Dead flesh popped and sizzled like bacon cooked in a frying pan.

As the bus inched forward and zombie after zombie burst into a fiery glow, the stench of burning rotten skin and hair filled the air. Megan swung the flame back and forth, dousing the zombies along each side of the bus. The decomposed smell of rancid tissue as it melted on rotting bones reached Megan’s nose. The stench had her gagging. She forced back the vomit as it raced up her throat and let out a gasp from holding her breath. Thankfully, everything stayed down.

The numbers of the mob directly in front quickly dispersed, allowing the bus to move forward toward the bridge. Zombie bones crushed and heads popped shooting brains along the road as tires rolled over. Meagan’s body swayed as the Rhino trekked over the fallen dead.

The vehicle passed down the street leaving behind a wake of zombies still chasing the bus. The goal wasn’t to get rid of the problem but to simply get past it.

The bus made its way up to the bridge and forced its way through the crowd as far as it could, running over countless zombies. As the bus slowly moved forward, blood and gore drenched the windshield and splattered across the grill as faces met its force.

Once at near center of the bridge, the mass of zombies around the Rhino Runner brought it to a halt. The bus shook more violent than before, zombies ten and twenty deep on all sides pressed against it. The moans and screeches from the undead plague grew so loud that when Megan squeezed the trigger of her flamethrower, the roaring hiss of its blaze was drowned out.

Zombies lit up the night, and their screams grew louder.

5

People filled the cafeteria. Most wore green and gray uniforms. A select few dressed in black and sat together apart from everyone else. An even smaller number of men and women wore slacks and white coats. Those, too, separated themselves like a small flock of birds. Almost everyone had a weapon of some kind, but generally just the standard issue 9mm sidearm holstered at the hip.

The room was quite loud, filled with the chatter of small talk, and a movie playing in the background on three separate television sets all positioned in different corners of the room. The movie was of no real importance and no one showed it the slightest bit of attention.

Dinner time was taken in two shifts, one at 7 p.m. and the other at 7:45 p.m. Theresa Gibbs generally took hers along with the first batch and took thirty minutes to eat, spending the remainder of her time back in her lab, which she deemed of the utmost importance.

Not one to follow trends, Gibbs found herself seated with General Baker, Lieutenant Rob Foster, as well as a few others, one of which was missing. For a moment, she had forgotten that Clay had been sedated earlier that day due to stress and lack of rest. The man needed it, and she was glad to see that he was getting to sleep it off.

Gibbs didn’t really get along with Baker, but he generally held his manners at the dinner table and liked to keep to small talk. To her, that said a lot about the man’s character.

Even though Foster could be a bit annoying at times, she had to admit, at least to herself, that he was quite adorable with his boyish charm and witty sense of humor. She was on to him and appreciated his attempts to win her favor, but just didn’t want to take the time away from her work to build a relationship. She did, however, enjoy the attention.

She and Baker talked about their favorite jazz singers, while Rob strutted down the aisle carrying two trays of food, one of which belonged to the lovely Dr. Gibbs.

“Here you are, little lady,” Rob Foster said as he handed her the plate of food.

Gibbs did her best to push work into the back of her mind, deciding to take the entire forty-five-minute break today, knowing that after dinner they would be having a meeting. “Thank you, kind sir.”

“Why don’t you two just hook up already?” Clay said at his abrupt, unexpected entrance. He pulled out a chair and flopped down on the seat.

“Jared Clay, what are you doing up already? I didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow,” Gibbs said coolly.

“A man’s got to eat sometime,” Clay said, ending his sentence with a mouthful of whipped potatoes. He swallowed, and said, “Thanks, by the way, for the shot. I feel tons better. I really needed the sleep.”

“I’m glad to hear it, son. We’re going to need you tonight too. Going to be a late night for some. That’s if you’re going to be up to it, of course,” General Baker said.

Gibbs frowned and narrowed her gaze. “He should take things slowly.”

“I’m fine,” Clay said with food in his mouth. He was a southern boy through and through. Born and bred in the South, the rest of the world remained a mystery for the most part. After getting into trouble a time or two with the law and the inevitable knock down drag out he and his folks had, his future didn’t offer many options. Working for his old man the rest of his life as an electrician, despite the decently sized pay, didn’t seem like the life he had always hoped to have. Clay
wanted
to see the world, wanted to meet different ladies of all nationalities.

One day, sitting in the rundown trailer park in the rundown trailer he rented from his uncle, Clay decided his life had to change. It had to change
now
. As he sat back in the rickety old recliner watching the black and white television set, an Army commercial came on promising that he would see the world. Two days later he joined, and see the world, not so much. More like
see that next few states over
. Originally from Mississippi, Clay was stationed just down the block in Florida. Now, only two years remained on his enlistment contract.

“Ha-ha… check that out. If I found a cookie that big, I would be set for life!” Clay pointed to the television set playing
Honey, I Shrunk the Kids
and laughed out loud. A mashed potato mustache outlined his upper lip.

The four discussed small topics, keeping the conversation light between bites. Gibbs felt out of place at times when the men treated her like she wasn’t there.

Her eyes eventually wandered over to Rob. She watched him as his muscles flexed and his facial expressions changed back and forth between a series of emotions while the guys shared stories. He might have come on too strong at times, but she did find the man rather handsome. After a few moments, she caught herself staring at him, mostly because he had caught her staring too.

Awkwardly and spastically, she gathered her things up from the dining table. “Um… I… I um, I need to go back to my lab and gather my notes and go over a few samples before the meeting tonight.” She stomped off heading out of the cafeteria.

“Man, what the hell was that all about?” Baker asked.

“Mr. Romance over here has got the lady all flustered,” Clay said and lifted his spoon from his plate, mashed potatoes covering it as it pointed toward Rob.

Rob’s face was beet red. He excused himself from the table following after the perturbed Dr. Gibbs leaving his half-eaten plate of food on the table.

“You think he’s going to be back to eat that?” Clay asked.

Baker shrugged his shoulders.

Clay smiled, shoving his spoon into the Lieutenant’s remaining mashed potatoes.

*

“Hey.” Foster dashed up behind Gibbs in the hallway, catching her on her way back to her lab. She seemed anxious. “Everything okay?”

She turned around and met his gaze. She reached up and lightly grabbed his wrist. As she looked up at him, her breathing slowed, and she began to calm. “I’m fine, Rob. I’m just overwhelmed with my work right now. You’re a really nice guy, and I mean that… but…”

“I think you’re beautiful, and I don’t even have to tell you that I think you’re smart.”

Blushing from the compliments, Gibbs smiled, realizing she still held his arm. “Thanks, Rob. That is really sweet. You’re really sweet.” She leaned in having to step up on her toes to reach his face. She gave him a light peck on the cheek, then turned and walked away, leaving him to stand alone in the hallway perplexed. As she rounded the corner disappearing from his sight, she stopped and ducked into the women’s restroom. Overwhelmed with emotions and clashing rationalities, it all came down to one thing. She felt giddy. A feeling she hadn’t felt since junior year of high school.

But my work is too important. I just don’t have the time for this
, she thought to herself as another lady exited one of the stalls. Realizing she seemed out of place just standing around, she left the restroom and continued making her way to the lab, blushing still.

6

The El Camino set under the gas station pump covering, the big seashell gas station sign no longer fully illuminated as it laid shattered half in the street. The pole that supported the sign was now bent all to hell as a crashed car had met its base. A single body slouched over in the driver’s seat covered in blood was still strapped in by the seatbelt. What was left of the giant shell flickered and sparked, electricity dancing free into the street along with the once tall sign. At least that meant there was still hope that this part of town still had some form of power, though the gas station itself remained in the dark.

Eric drove past several other gas stations that had way too much undead activity for the three of them to handle, deciding to stop at this one because it seemed to have fewer zombies wandering about than the rest, and because the car started sputtering only a block up the road from where the car now sat entirely out of gas, engine off.

Cynthia stood outside the car, eyeing the creatures in the distance making their way toward them. There was only a handful of them out in the open. Without any lighting to illuminate the gas station’s small parking lot, she was unsure as to how many zombies might be lingering in the distance past her point of view.

Eric had already released the gas cap on the car and inserted the pump nozzle. “I hope this station has a backup generator for the pumps.” He stood on the opposite end of the car as Cynthia also watched the zombies as they crept ever closer as each moment passed.

Revolver in hand, Eric’s head constantly looked over his shoulder toward the gas station doors and kept a good eye on the action out beyond the parking lot.

Eric had never shot anyone or anything that actually had a pulse. The idea of causing pain or inflicting an injury made him uneasy. Sure, it was very possible zombies no longer felt pain. Eric thought this as he watched a tall, thin man, obviously undead, walking toward them.

The man’s right arm was gnawed up to the elbow, flesh and torn tendons still held his hand. His left hand reached out toward Eric while the other hand lay lifeless at his side holding the entrails.

Even if those things didn’t feel pain, Eric was having a hard time getting used to the idea of pointing the gun and pulling the trigger. He had no problems with the bat and bedposts, but something about this still seemed to bother him.

With the gun raised, Eric looked back over his shoulder again, first eyeing the storefront, and then meeting Cynthia’s gaze. “What the hell’s taking him so long?”

*

Kent had only been in the store for a moment and couldn’t see a thing. The room was dark, the moonlight not helping him to see inside. Shelves and food were scattered all over the place. Bottled soda and beer, along with chips and candy, lay everywhere. Kent crept quietly through the room watching his step, attempting to not crunch a bag of Doritos under his feet. He didn’t think there were any zombies in here, but the place smelled something awful, and that was a sure sign that there had been at one point.