The End: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (14 page)

“You mean the zombies?” Billy asked.

Willy was sitting up now. He looked like hell. Pale and bursting into a cold sweat just from the exertion of sitting up, he let out a ferocious hack, shooting a small bit of blood on the floor. Willy looked around the room and no one had taken notice. He quickly tossed a magazine over the blood-soaked couch cushion, his leg no longer bleeding. The area around the wound was clotted and puffy. His slightly torn pant leg covered the injury as he slowly stood. He ambled over to the back window next to Seth, who was working the window open.

Both men eagerly looked out into the dark. Gus sat on the loveseat, gathering up the gear that he had taken off, allowing himself to be a bit more relaxed during the wait. George and the boy seemed as ready as they would ever be. Billy grabbed a few CDs from the shelf and motioned to George, taking a few along as he eyed the old man’s bag.

“You all right, dude? You look like you have seen better days,” Seth said, taking his eyes away from the window.

The sounds of pounding and moaning were still just as strong as it had been after the two armed men joined the group upstairs. The relentless mob of zombies outside lingered on with the infernal beating and banging at the lobby door.

Taking a deep breath, Willy said, “Yes. I’ll be fine. It took a lot out of me to see Bo go like that. He was my best friend. I just need a shower and some rest. I’ll be fine, seriously.”

“So exactly how are we going to get down there from way up here?” George leaned in looking over their shoulders out the window at the back lot of the building. “Seems kind of high, don’t you think?” A light draft blew in his face as the three men peeked out the open window.

“The Runner is made to handle situations like this, boss. They will have us covered. Don’t worry,” Willy replied, stepping away from the window and heading toward Gus.

“Hey, look! There they are. I can see them!” Seth looked back into the room and motioning with his hands.

Gus’ radio kicked on. “This is Luke. We made it around back undetected. I take it you’re at the window with the lights on in the upstairs room. We can see you. Moving into position… Over.”

“Copy that.” Gus handed back the radio to Willy, who latched it to his hip alongside the holstered 9mm, rifle, and machete strapped to his back.

With the five of them at the window, they watched as the very large bus slowly moved into position, backing in directly under the window. Billy held George’s hand.

All of a sudden, the double doors at the front of the building gave way. The sheer weight of zombies had overwhelmed the barricade, causing it to weaken. Innumerable zombies stumbled into the lobby, falling over one another as they gained entrance into the building. The crack of wooden doors was followed by countless footsteps traveling up to the second floor.

“Uh oh, I think I know what that is.” Gus broke away from the window toward the door. He swung it open and ran to the steps leading down to the lobby. He listened for a moment and instantly knew what he heard. The grunts and moans of the undead had made it inside. He could see their shadows along the wall as they made their way to the stairwell. Crashing sounds and thuds thundered as the mob of endless zombies staggered through the building, colliding with numerous things. The fake tree, a few lamps, the phone that had been mounted to the wall… all trampled in their wake.

“Shit!” Gus darted back into the room with the others as the first of the undead reached the stairs. “We’ve got company.” Gus dashed to the loveseat, and with a single thrust, flipped it over on its side. “Give me a hand!”

Seth and George quickly stepped over, grabbing anything they could to put in front of the door. Willy stood at the window watching the Rhino Runner as it backed up. The bus was big and the window was only two stories up, but it still looked like a long way down. The Runner’s sunroof popped open revealing the top half of Megan, waving him to come down.

Willy looked back for only a second before deciding to step out the window. Two couches, the desk, and a shelf stacked with scattered CDs quickly covered the door. The three men frantically looked around in the room for something, anything to help wedge the door from opening. The sounds of the undead drew even closer with each moment as they crept up the stairs. Their footsteps getting louder as they drew near.

Willy was gone.

THUD!

Billy on his tiptoes looked out the window. Willy was climbing into the bus from a hatch in the roof. The horde of zombies in the alley trapped by the enormous fence became antsy as they watched. The sudden thump startled the other men upstairs still hunting for anything possible to block the door. The door started to move. The creatures had made it to the second floor. Their moans were louder than ever as the door shook. The couches and desk bounced about in place.

“It’s not going to hold! It’s not going to hold,” Seth said.

“Go! Go!” Gus, with all his might, leaned against the sofas and with one hand up, pointed to the window.

George and Seth rushed over to Billy and leaned halfway out the window, looking at the ground below. A woman motioned for them to jump. George looked out past the bus. There were no zombies.

None.

“Okay, Billy, you ready to do this?”

“I’m scared.”

“You can do this, son. We’re going to make it.” George picked up the child and leaned him out the window, lowering him as much as he could before letting him go.

“I’m scared,” Billy shouted as he dangled in the wind over the bus.

“You can do this. You’re going to be fine,” George said. George let him go.

Billy landed atop the bus. His footing wasn’t firm and he began to slide off the side. Before tumbling to the ground, a woman reached over and grabbed his leg, and pulled him in.

George tossed out his duffle bag and then stepped out onto the window ledge. “Hell… I’m getting way too old for this kind of crap.” George safely landed on top of the bus, also being escorted down the ladder by the same lady.

*

Inside the big bus, George met gazes with Willy, who had a seat in the back. Billy sat next to him looking around and taking it all in. The bus was dark but not dark enough to keep from telling who was who or where was where. There wasn’t a single window on the sides or the back. The front was slightly sectioned off with just enough room for one person to squeeze in and out at a time. A ladder descended from one side of the bus opposite a large side door. The seating reminded George of an ambulance. He hated riding in those contraptions and hoped to never do it again after losing his wife a few years back. The grueling 30-minute drive in the back of that ambulance was the hardest thing he had ever had to do. Several shelves lay strewn along one wall with a few guns and a large pack of some kind that looked like a flamethrower.

Suddenly, bright lights flashed in from around the street corner. An El Camino peeled out as it slid to one side, breaking itself center of the lot. Dust and dirt poured through the air around it as the car came to a stop. Seth was hanging from the second-floor window lit up in the night from the car’s bright headlights. Three people instantly jumped out of the car. Two men and a woman all wielding weapons darted for the bus.

“They’re right behind us and headed this way,” the young male with dirty blonde hair shouted, both hands gripping a revolver.

The older man following looked twice the boy’s age. He carried a shotgun.

The woman held a crowbar and trailed behind.

“Did you not hear me? They’re coming this way,” Eric said. As he got closer to the bus, countless zombies pushed the massive gate holding them back. “Hoooolllly shit.”

Luke stuck his arm out of the driver’s side window and motioned them to come.

Eric came to a stop by the vehicle. Cynthia and Kent came to his side.

The side door to the bus slid open. Megan stepped out with weapon drawn, eye sighted down her rifle. She took three or four long strides forward not even paying attention to the new arrivals. “We need to move,” she said.

Three-burst rounds blasted from her rifle as she squeezed the trigger, aiming in the direction the old car had just come from. An unending swarm of the dead poured out from the side street in their direction. Megan kept taking step after step forward while firing round after round. With each burst of steady shots, a ghoul dropped to the ground, only for another to take its place. Five zombies had fallen within a few seconds, but it made no difference. Their numbers were too great.

*

Seth stood at the window, paralyzed while he watched the horde of zombies descend upon the bus. The bulky, metal gate adjacent to the building shook violently from the relentless mass of zombies pushing against it. “Well, crap! I think I changed my mind about joining you guys after all.” He looked back at Gus, who had left the wall of furniture, no longer bracing the door with his girth.

One of the couches fell over, and then the other, the door sliding open just a hair revealing several outstretched arms rotting and festered with worms and bloody bites. One hand was missing most of its fingers. The door inched open from the pressure of the growing numbers behind it. Gus couldn’t help but imagine the numbers that now filled the lobby, crammed like sardines leading up the stairs. Shoulders and legs were in view, the door opening even wider, the desk sliding slow and steady along the carpet.

*

Eric and Kent joined the military woman in a barrage of fire outside. Eric steadied his hand, missing the first two shots as they went wild into the crowd. The third and fourth shots sent one to the ground. His fifth shot was a dud. The gun was empty. He reached into his pocket and pulled out several more rounds but fumbled them, dropping them on the cement.

Megan momentarily glanced down stepping aside to give him room, doing what damage she could.

Kent stood to Eric’s right a few feet over, holding out his shotgun. A loud blast erupted from the weapon kicking back in his hand. He almost dropped it. Holding the shotgun tighter, he pulled the trigger again, holding the gun more at waist level. The gun kicked, but this time, he was ready for it. The shot was more controlled, nailing an old frail zombie that had to have been in her late 80’s right in the neck. Her neck and the lower part of her chest exploded. Bloody, gray pus blasted out, spraying on the other zombies around her.

An echoing thud from behind them surprised Cynthia, making her drop the crowbar on the ground. The metal clanged against the concrete a few times before coming to a rest. A man from behind her had just jumped on top of the bus from the window. He lost his balance and slid to one side. She looked back watching the man fall from the roof of the vehicle. His long hair bounced in the air as he crashed to the cement below, landing on his shoulder, and what looked like his head. It was hard to tell. He hit really hard and wasn’t moving. Cynthia instantly jogged over to him. As she reached him, she caught a glimpse of a large man standing at the window yelling something down.

The gunfire, the zombies falling on them in the lot from the side street, the man at the window, the man on the ground. He was bleeding. Blood poured out onto the lot right where he had fallen. He reeked of beer.

She looked up and saw the zombies at the gate. She was only a few feet away from them. The gate shook and rattled, tons of hands gripping it violently trying to get to her. Countless fingers enthralled its woven mesh.

*

The upstairs door slid open wide enough and more than a few zombies entered the room. Gus struggled to fit through the window. His shoulders were too broad. He leaned out the window, pushing with everything he had to get his upper half to squeeze out. The zombies moved in. The room quickly filled. One zombie after another entered the room. Gus gave up on the window and turned firing on the zombies. With his 9mm out, Gus did his best to make each shot count, the close range making this easier to do. After seven pops of the gun and five zombies down, more kept coming. They just kept coming.

Gus knew that this wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He shot three more, taking them all down each getting hit where it counts. Blood and brain splattered everywhere in the broadcasting room as he took out each zombie. After emptying the magazine on the undead and littering the floor with more than a handful of ghouls, he frantically looked around in the room for something, anything that could help him. He grabbed a tall floor lamp from the corner to his right. Holding it sideways, he lunged into the mob and pushed them all back. Several of them fell over landing on others causing a domino effect. Seeing his opportunity, Gus dropped the magazine and popped in a fresh one, then turned, making for the window.

Giving it everything he had, Gus pushed and pulled trying to get both shoulders through the window, the panel too narrow for his body. Something grabbed his leg and pulled him. He heard the moans and felt them crowding around at his back. He pushed harder, kicking and flailing. Another hand on his other leg. Gus’ foot collided with what had to have been a face, because one of the arms gripping his leg instantly let go. The adrenaline pumping through his body gave him the extra boost needed. His shoulders scraped against the sides of the window panel as he exited.

Gus came down hard and fast. He reached his hands out to catch his fall. Something in his right hand snapped upon impact.

*