Zombie D.O.A. (35 page)

“How the hell…” I started to say.

“Courtesy of Pete the biker,” Babs said, “Remember him?”

“But how?”

“Stashed it where the sun don’t shine, and where dumb ass bikers fail to look.”

There was a drop left in the bottom of the vial, “Gimme a shot of that,“ Roy said, and slugged it down.

On the stage, Pratt was finishing his prelude, “Let’s get it on!” he screamed, and the crowd joined him. 

“Pratt! Pratt! Pratt!” they chanted as the three of us were pushed into the fighting cage.  The bodies of six Z’s and the broken corpses of the three men sent in before us littered the ground.

Right away Babs pushed me behind him with a force that almost sent me into the razor wire piled against the fence.

Roy and Babs now stood to the front, both in a fighting stance with me behind. From my position between them, I could see directly up
the run leading to D Block
, where the door now slid open.

The first of the Z’s stepped out, looking uncertain. I recognized him as the burn victim, I’d seen yesterday. Now, another man appeared, a big man with a gaping hole in his abdomen. 

The burn victim started walking down the run sniffing the air speculatively, while the other Z held his position in the doorway.

In front of me, Babs flexed his neck muscles and I heard what sounded almost like someone cracking their knuckles.

Evidently, the bigger of the two Zs heard it a
s
well, because he looked instantly in our direction and then came charging down the run. The burn victim had seen us now too, and his expression suddenly switched from perplexity to rage and he scurried forward on his damaged legs.

Babs bent and grabbed one of the zombie corpses lying on the ground. As the first Z charged into the cage Babs swung the corpse by its legs, using it like a club. The corpse collided head to head with the charging Z and there was a burst of red. The Z was thrown into the fence where he lay twitching like a broken toy, lacerated by wire.

The other Z made a run at Roy, who dropped his head like a bull and met its charge head on. He caught the Z in the chest and it was thrown to the ground. Roy
then executed a move
I’d once seen in a Kung-fu movie, jumping into the air and landing with both feet on the Zs head.

Roy let out a roar and thumped his chest like King Kong on top of the Em
pire State Building. In front of
me Babs bent forward and hawked a mouthful of blue gunk into the dust.

Boos rang out from the bikers, punctuated here and there by some cheering.

The next batch of Zs
had been released from the cellblock
, four of them. They came together down the run and this time Roy didn’t even wait for them to reach the cage. He raced up the run and tackled them head on, butting the front Z in the face and knocking it backward.

The other three kept running, burst into the cage and came directly at us. Babs swung his makeshift club and caught the first one, clattering it into the second and knocking them both down. The third Z ducked Babs’ second swing and came at me.

I held my ground until the last moment then sidestepped and the Z went past, his momentum carrying him into the rolls of razor wire against the fence. A hundred lacerations suddenly oozed black blood as the Z fought to pull himself free. But the wire held him and the more the struggled, the more it tore at his dead flesh. Eventually, one of the guards put him down with a shotgun blast.

Babs had meanwhile bludgeoned his two Z’s into submission and Roy looked to have gained the upper hand as well. I could see him twisting the Z’s head as though he wanted to pull it from the thing’s neck.

Roy got up and jogged back into the cage with an insane grin on his face. I could see that his face and throat had been badly lacerated and that part of his earlobe was missing.

The bikers were booing. Then Babs suddenly dropped to his knees and hurled and the boos turned to cheers.

Virgil Pratt was shouting something from the
stage and I saw the door of
the
cellblock suddenly flun
g back.  It was dark in D
block, but enough light was thrown in from the yard so that I could see the Zs in there. It looked like the entire population of the Zombie Zoo had been turned loose.

I saw something else too, so quick that I almost thought I’d imagined it. In the sky out there a red light flicked briefly on and off.

I could hear the humming from the Zs now, that electric thrum with the power to drive you insane. Even the bikers fell silent as the Zs emerged from the cellblock, first tentatively and then with growing purpose as they perceived the presence of food nearby.

The red light blinked again, and this time I was sure I hadn’t imagined it.

Babs was back on his feet and as the first of the Zs started running towards the cage, he moved quickly and pulled the inter-leading gate shut, then applied his bodyweight to it. The first wave of Z’s crashed into the gate and it bulged briefly but held. Roy ran to help him and I did too, but Babs pushed me back one handed.

I stumbled over one of the corpses in the cage and landed flat on my back and as I did, I saw the red light blink again, followed immediately by what looked like a firework being lit. A trail of light tracked across the night sky and collided with one of the guard towers, which exploded.

Chaos broke out in the yard as bikers ran for cover. Another of the towers exploded and now I could hear helicopter rotors and the sounds of automatic gunfire. Virgil Pratt was shouting something over the microphone but it was lost in a wail of feedback.

Two black helicopters now seemed to materialize from the darkness. One hovered low and I could see black clad men abseiling down on ropes.

The run was now a mass of writhing Zombies, but somehow Babs and Roy were still
standing firm, still holding them back.

One of
the helicopters had been hit by
a bu
r
st of tracer fire from the last remaining guard tower. It spun out of control, firing off a missile as it did.  The missile soared over the prison building and in the next moment there was a series of massive explosions out towards the main gate and I realized the gas tankers had been struck.

A fireball erupted at the front of the prison and I saw the stricken helicopter float sideways as though in slow motion. It drifted into the guard tower and exploded.

The yard was filled with flame and du
st and choking smoke that burned
my eye
s
. When I managed to open them a crack I could see that Babs and Roy were no longer at the gate. The gate, along with most of that side of the fence was no longer there.  The Zs were in the yard.

I could hear screams and gunfire and I started to pull myself up into a sitting position.

“Stay down,” I heard a weak voice say, and then I saw Babs. He was pinned under the chain link gate, with the bodies of at least ten Zs on top of him.

“Babs,” I said and tried to get up again.

“Stay down,” he said more urgently.

“Let me help you,” I said but stayed down as he instructed.

“I’m beyond that, “ Babs chuckled, then said in a clear voice, “Roy was right. It does feel like my heart’s about to explode.”

“Babs,” I called out, but he lay there still and silent.

I’m not sure how long I lay listening to screams and shots and finally to the remaining helicopter lifting off and the sound of its rotors fading. When I finally got up, I went over to where Babs lie. He’d gone with a smile on his face like he’d said he would.

I found Roy’s body not far off. He looked to have come off on the wrong side of a fight with a meat grinder.

The yard resembled a battlefield in the aftermath of a particularly bloody fight. There were bodies everywhere, and the smell of burning flesh was pervasive. The perimeter fence was down in a number of places and part of the east wing was damaged. A fire blazed at the front of the prison.

Among the bodies I saw a number of men in black combat fatigues. I rolled one over and saw a dragon emblem and the word PENCORP stenciled on his bullet-proof vest. Roy had
been right. The Corporation
had had enough of Pratt and Tucci. 

I picked up a shotgun and took a bandolier off the body of one of the guards. There were still a few Zs wandering among the carnage, and I put them down.

At the front of the building there was a huge crater, where the gas tanker trucks had exploded. At the bottom of the hole, a fierce petroleum-
fueled
fire still raged.

I dragged Babs and Roy around to the front of the building and rolled them into the fiery pit. It was the best I could do in the circumstances. I knew that Babs wouldn’t have wanted to be buried in a place like this and I guessed he would probably have appreciated the improvised warriors funeral.

At the other side of the yard I saw the tail end of the yellow school bus. The
wing
of the prison building had protected it from the blast and but for a few blown out windows, it was still amazingly in tact. I walked over and got on board. The key was in the ignition and when I gave it a twist it started right away.

Just then I saw movement in the rear view mirror. I slid from the drivers seat, rolled into the aisle and brought the shotgun up. I could see under the seats towards the back row, where someone’s legs were visible.

“I can see you,” I shouted. “Show yourself, or I’ll take your legs off.”

The legs were withdrawn immediately, but a small voice stammered, “Don’t shoot, mister.”

“Show yourself,” I repeated and the kid I’d seen earlier, Kelly I seemed to remember his name was, popped his head over the row of seats.

“You trying to get yourself shot,” I said, getting up.

“Sorry mister,” he said, looking down at his shoes.

“We need to get out of here,” I said to him, “and as this hulk looks like the only serviceable vehicle in here…”

“There
are others,” Kelly interrupted.
“Other people.”

Kelly led me through the building to a row of three small cells close to the prison mess hall.  There were about twenty people jammed in here, all of them women or kids in their teens. The cell doors were locked.

“How did you get out?” I asked Kelly.

“They took me out,” he said, “me and two others. They took us through to the kitchen just before the explosions started. The others…”

His voice trailed off and I could see tears welling in his eyes, and I pulled him towards me and gave him a hug. I could only imagine what the poor kid had been put through.

Looki
ng over Kelly’s head I saw
a key rack mounted on the wall, but even at this distance I could see that they weren’t for the cell doors. They did however remind me of a key rack I’d seen in Pratt’s office.

“Folks,” I said, addressing those crammed into cells. “Hang in there. I think I know where the keys are.”