The Rising Dead (25 page)

I guess I’ll find out when I die,
Gunner thought.
Until then, I’m following my own moral compass--not some arbitrarily made-up set of rules crammed down my throat by religion or society.
But then that was the point, right? Now there was no more 'society' to be concerned with. The truth of it flooded him and he liked the way it felt to be honest. The very same society he'd served, fought for, bled for, the one that had rejected him for his sacrifice, turned him away, shunned him, no longer existed--and in all likelihood it never would again. It was almost too much to wrap his head around. And these kids wondered why he seemed happy about all this.

It’s the first sense of peace I’ve had since the war
, he thought.

A strange sound off in the distance shook him from his serene contemplation. It sounded like the engine of a large truck, and it was getting closer. All at once the zombies spun around and froze, gazing into the distance. Gunner turned his binoculars in the direction of their hollow stares, up toward the north end of Main Street. The source of the disturbance came into sight. Gunner could hardly believe what he was seeing. A garbage truck with two men in the cab was racing in high gear toward the center of town. Snarling packs of zombies clung to all sides of the truck as it advanced toward him. Men in business suits, women in their morning robes, children in school uniforms, they were crawling over the vehicle like ants, scanning every inch for an entrance. A dead man in a jogging suit swung in front of the broken windshield. Through a hole punched in the glass, the short barrel of a shotgun came out and blasted him off. He fell under the wheels and was run over and dragged. The sound of the gun reached Gunner a half second after the blast had sent the zombie to his final resting place. The man in the passenger side was not nearly as lucky. One of the zombies, the one in the expensive looking suit, had jammed himself between the sides of the door, preventing the door from properly closing. Gunner saw the dead creature lean in and bite the man's neck. A splash of bright red exploded in the cab, covering everything but a small patch on the driver's side. The driver turned and blasted the undead businessman out of the cab with the shotgun. He tumbled like a rag doll, rolling alongside the garbage truck. Immediately he was up and stumbling after him again. It sent chills down Gunner's spine to see them rise up like that, as if nothing had happened, when they should be permanently silenced.

Gunner walked back over to Parker and nudged him with the tip of his boot. Parker stirred but didn't get up.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” Gunner said.

“Go away,” Parker replied without opening his eyes.

“You’re going to want to see this.”

Holt heard and sat up with a loud intake of breath, grabbing for his crowbar.

“I'm awake,” he said. “We got action?”

Max rolled over and stretched like a cat, climbing out of her sleeping bag and cracking her back with a yoga stretch. She noticed Gunner staring at her skin tight undershirt and quickly covered up again, searching for her bra. Gunner shook his head.

If you’re gonna keep showing off your body like that,
he thought,
you’d better get used to being on the receiving end of some extra male attention.
He didn't see why she always bristled whenever he checked her out. As far as he was concerned, she ought to be flattered he noticed her in the first place. She turned her head to break eye contact, not ready yet to escalate a fight until she was fully awake.

“Pervert,” she mumbled under her breath. This was one of those rare times she was actually glad Holt and Parker were around.

“What's going on?”

Travis and Gemma emerged half dressed from the camping goods store. They both wore the beatific smiles of a couple madly in love who'd spent the night exploring each other in a pleasure garden of wide-eyed wonder. Wrapped in a blanket together, they sauntered over to the window following Gunner, Holt, and Max.

“I thought I heard a truck or something,” Gemma said, unable to hide the hope in her voice. “Have they come to rescue us from the base?”

“Come take a look,” Gunner motioned them over with his hands.

The garbage truck was much closer now. It had picked up several more zombies along the way, the smell of the fresh blood drawing them in like flies to meat. It seemed to be picking up speed.

“What are the odds?” Max asked.

“Slim to none,” Travis replied.

The truck slowed to a stop almost in front of the automotive store. The driver fought off a zombie that tried to crawl into the cab, beating it in the head with the butt of his empty shotgun. The blue of his jeans was stained dark red and black with the bites he'd sustained. He was a goner. It was just a matter of time now.

“The guy needs help,” Holt protested.

“He's covered in bites,” Max argued. “We can't help him anymore.”

Travis pulled Gemma closer to him and Gunner shook his head in disgust.

“So I'm the bad guy for being honest?” Max asked, but no one made eye contact with her. “Whatever.”

The man turned toward them, gave a curt nod, and slammed the door shut. He pulled the truck forward in the opposite direction of the hardware store.

“Where is he going?” Holt asked.

Parker sat up, rubbing his eyes like a little kid.

“What's going on?”

“Nice of you to join us,” Max said.

The truck stopped abruptly and the tail lights went from red to white. A familiar beeping sound rang out as the truck rapidly backed toward the building.

“What’s he doing?” asked Gemma, her eyes widening with fear.

“He's going for the front windows,” Holt answered.

“They'll kill us all!” Gunner shouted. “Clear out!”

Holt ran and helped a stunned Parker to his feet. The rest hurriedly made their way to the back of the store. The truck reversed until its back end was flush with the right side of the boarded up window. The beeping stopped and everything was silent save for the snarling of the hungry dead.

“That was close,” Max said.

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than a loud crashing sound of wood tearing and glass breaking, accompanied a loud ringing of metal as the driver released the lever that sent the hydraulically powered scooper tumbling into the store. The side of the building seemed to crumple as well, sagging concrete and broken cinder blocks filling in around the shards of shattered window and splintered wood.

“What the hell was that?” Max yelled.

A zombie hand shot through the side of the broken window then pulled back as the glass tore through the dead flesh. The debris settled around the tiny hole as it disappeared.

Outside, the loud screams of a man could be heard as the zombies undoubtedly tore the man from the cab and began to devour him alive.

“A desperate last stand, I guess,” Holt said sourly, leveling a disgruntled stare at her. Everyone turned and stared at Max who shifted back and forth uncomfortably.

A small cough sounded from somewhere in the dust, ending the awkward silence. Holt gripped his crowbar tightly as he stepped forward and prepared to smash in someone’s head. Gunner took up his shovel and followed him. The rest stared, wondering what new horror was about to be thrust upon them.

“Wait!” Gemma shouted at the top of her lungs.

Two men and a teenage boy rolled out into the store from the belly of the garbage truck and looked up at Holt and Gunner, their tear-streaked faces filled with dread and fear.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

“Dad!” The boy screeched when he saw them gathered around him with weapons ready to strike her. He turned his face into his father's chest as he hugged him close, raising his head and revealing his furious and indignant scowl.

“Please,” the man said, shielding the boy with his body. “Please don't hurt my son.”

“Where the hell did you come from?” Gunner demanded.

“All over Paradise road,” the man said frantically. He was nervous, twitchy. “We were picking people up. We had people running at the truck from all sides,” the man spoke. “None of them would get in the back of the scoop with us. They're still outside in the cab.”

“Who are you?” Max asked.

“My name is Dustin and this is my son Johnnie,” he said. “Please, lower your weapon.”

Holt didn't budge.

“What part of town did you come from?” Gunner asked.

“South Vegas,” he said. “We live in Paradise Valley on Sawtooth.”

“How'd you survive yesterday?” Max asked suspiciously.

“I took the afternoon off to spend it with my son,” Dustin said. “I left work at lunch and took him out of school.”

“Why would you do that?”

“It's kind of a birthday tradition,” he said. “Usually we go to the park or to the movies, but he wasn't feeling well so we stayed in and I cooked. When we woke up this morning, there were people yelling out in the middle of the street. The Hendersons, John and his wife Tammy, they've lived across the way practically their whole lives. They were on their lawn making an unholy racket. The rest of the neighbors were tearing them apart. People from the city council, the lawyer from up the block, the neighborhood watch kid, all gathered around them, chewing red swatches clean off their bodies with their bare teeth. It was horrible. That's when I saw George. He ran out of his garage with a shotgun and jumped in a garbage truck that had been abandoned next to the curb. If it wasn't for him, we wouldn't have made it.”

“George!” the boy yelled suddenly. “He's still out there. We've gotta help him.”

“Hold on there,” Gunner said, raising his hand. “Nobody is going outside.”

“But they'll kill him,” he protested.

“I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, little man,” Holt said. “But your friend is no longer with us.”

He slumped back, tears welling up in his eyes.

“What about the others?” Dustin asked.

“There were no others by the time you got here,” Gunner said coldly. “Just him.”

They all turned to look at the second man from the garbage truck.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Names Reggie,” he said nervously. “I was actually the first one in the truck.”

“Why's that?” Holt advanced menacingly on him.

“It's my truck,” he said. “I was trying to hide in it until the police arrived but instead their friend stole it.”

“Ain't no police coming,” Gunner said.

“I know that now,” Reggie said, looking pissed.

A loud crash drew their attention and they turned to see more of the wall give way, leaving a hole big enough to crawl through.

“Great,” Max said, still angry. “You tore a hole through the wall. How are we supposed to keep them out now?”

“What were we supposed to do?” Dustin asked defensively. “George was just looking for someplace safe for us to hide.”

“You were safer inside that metal truck, man,” Gunner said.

“That's what I said,” Reggie joined in.

“Now none of us are safe,” Max said bitterly. “Nice going.”

One of the smaller zombies began to crawl through the hole in the wall. Parker recognized him as one of the creepy rat-tailed kids from the day before. He nodded to Holt who jumped up smiling. He ran over and crushed the brat’s skull with one massive blow from his crowbar. The little demon slumped dead and stopped moving as his tiny neck snapped forward. Brains, blood, and an oily film ran from his head like a cracked egg.

“We're going to need to come up with a new plan,” Holt said, panting. “I'm not sure this place is going to hold forever with a garbage truck parked in its side.”

“Maybe we can retreat into the camping supply store and patch up the hole we made,” Travis suggested. “Just for the time being.”

“It's not a bad idea,” Holt said, “but I'm not sure we have enough time right now. We've gotta deal with this mess first, or some of them might get through.”

Max picked up a heavy metal wrench and pointed it threateningly at Johnnie.

“How did you get that wound?” she asked.

Johnnie quickly covered a bite mark on her arm.

“I fell,” he lied, looking at the ground.

“Bullshit,” roared Max. “He's been bitten. Look. He has, too!”

Dustin pulled his sleeves down to cover bite marks on his forearms.

“We had to fight our way into the back of that truck,” he said. “It wasn't easy. You have no idea what we've been through. So stop trying to bully my son!”

The rest of the group had backed up a step and grabbed some kind of makeshift weapon, everyone except Gemma, who looked like she might burst into tears at any second.

“You can't stay here,” Max said.

“Now wait a minute,” Dustin started, but Holt interrupted him.

“She's right, man,” he said. “You're infected. Sorry bro, but you have to go.”

“Daddy,” Johnnie whined. “I don't want to go back out there.”

“Don't worry son,” said Dustin with a determined look in his eyes. “We aren't going anywhere.”

“You're not really in a position to make that kind of decision right now,” Gunner said. “So let's figure out the best way to get you safely back outside before you get hurt.”

“If it's a matter of money,” Dustin said. “You don't have to worry. I've got plenty. It's all yours.”

“We don't want your money,” Gunner said. “What good is money now, anyway?”

A loud crash and a moan interrupted them. Two more zombies had figured out how to get through the hole, breaking part of the remaining window fragments and slicing their bodies in the process. They didn't seem to notice the shards poking through their bodies. No blood came out, just a thick black ooze with traces of wriggling white foam that looked like maggots.

Johnnie screamed, pointing at them in terror. Holt rushed back to the opening once more and swung his crowbar. It connected with the chest of the first zombie, caving it in--but the tip lodged in the hollow cavity. A burst of black oily fluid shot out and Holt stumbled back to avoid it, his fingertips narrowly holding on to the bottom of the metal. He was determined not to give up his favorite weapon. Despite being completely run through, the undead creature was still clawing his way toward Holt.