Zombie Rush 2 (2 page)

“So Dick, I always thought that we could end up meeting like this, though I didn’t think it would be so soon. I hear you like to play tennis. Well, check out my swing.” He brought the sheath sideways before slamming it into the side of Dick’s head. Dick stumbled to the right but instantly recovered, and Solomon got the impression that Dick might be faster than the ones he had seen on the street, or even his soon-to-be ex-wife, who was stumbling around down below in the living room.

He had to pull his spear across the body of the suddenly swift-moving Dick to block his momentum.
Was he this fast at first or is he speeding up?
Dean wondered.
Maybe I surprised him and he didn’t have time to get moving.

In any case, Dick was flailing his arms in a way that he hadn’t when he was pressed up against the wall, and he had become stronger to the point where Solomon was having to exert quite a bit of strength to keep the Z off of him.

He struck him in the nose hard with the buckler. Although the nose crushed and other parts of Dick’s face split, he didn’t bleed and was up and running toward Solomon even faster than he had the first time. Dean was ready and brought the sheath handle across in a left-handed backhand that sent Dick over the railing to join his girlfriend.

“I have to admit, Dicky, you’re putting up more of a fight than I expected; especially from a lawyer. But what's life without a bit of a challenge?” he mocked as he walked down the stairs, watching the two and noting how different they were. Lori, who had lived a life of a pampered sloth that got most everything she wanted simply by staying pretty, struggled with a twisted, misshapen leg from her fall over the balcony. Dick, on the other hand, who had worked out regularly and considered himself to be the Casanova of his gym, rushed toward the stairs in his need to feed upon the man who was walking down them.

Solomon sent the boyfriend tumbling back down to the first level with a boot to the chest. A human would have to catch his breath and take inventory of what he had, but not Dick. Dick was on his feet and moving faster and faster every time he got knocked down. Solomon didn’t worry; he knew that he was one thrust away from ending Dick’s existence.

“What is that jingling I hear in your pocket, Dick? Are those the keys to my new Cadillac out in my driveway?” he said as he reached the first level and held the buckler out to keep his slower, limping, soon-to-be ex-wife away while Dick struggled to his feet for another rush.

“Just stay there for a minute, darlin’; I’m going to bring lover boy real close so that you can see him go.” His words had no effect on the undead woman, but he needed to say them for his own benefit.

He shoved the point of the spear into Dick’s chest and guided him up close to his soon-to-be ex. He yanked the blade out and directed the second shot up under the chin of lover boy, piercing through the back of his tongue and up into the cranium. He gave it a swirl and Dick went limp, almost pulling the spear from his hand. He directed Dick’s body to the side before yanking it out and slamming it through Lori’s good foot, pinning her in place. There was no scream of pain or frustration, just her flailing arms as she continued to try to grab the meat that was Dean.

He stood back and looked at the woman he once loved and remembered some of those special moments that melted through his icy heart.
This is a learning experience that I think Charlie should benefit from. He is going to have to be able to kill anybody infected, including me. What better place for him to start?

Dean Solomon walked over Dick’s immobile corpse and dug into his pockets for the keys to the luxury car outside; he was going to ride out this apocalypse in style. He then went to the utility drawer, where he had always kept a bowie knife for various scraping projects. It was an old, battered, blue steel blade that was pockmarked and weathered with rust stains despite the thin layer of oil that was always kept on it. Stainless steel was nicer and easier, but nothing took an edge like blue steel.

He opened the front door and almost panicked when he saw a very large black man standing outside the truck window where Charlie sat. When the man turned and waved, Solomon relaxed; it was his friend and neighbor, Lester.

“Why don’t you two come in here? There’s something I need Charlie to do. Still have that Benelli over/under of mine? Good, I have plans for that too.”

Chapter One

Krupp

Hidden by shadow deep within a nameless store, behind shattered windows that offered no protection from the horde trudging by, he waited. His only chance of survival: silence. Zombies had been in his city since the previous night and already he had lost two partners along with his two Labradors, one of which was a prized breeder. Worst of all his losses were those of his wife and son; he had been forced to put them both down in cold blood after they turned. It had not been a good day.

As if he sensed the stupidity of those who hid alongside him, he glared down at them and stifled whatever they were going to say. Now was not the time for talk or noise of any sort. He was confident that he could get away, but he doubted if the two he had stumbled upon were capable of out-maneuvering the dead horde that walked by. He also wondered why he cared; they were nothing to him, just a couple of lucky slobs who stumbled into survival for a few more hours.

He thought about the situation; his wife and son were dead, along with his dogs. His house—trashed; his job—nonexistent after today. He didn’t dare to even think about his daughter. He couldn’t bear the thought of her beautiful face hidden behind a mask of dead eyes and teeth that only wanted to rend raw flesh from the bones of all living creatures. He would rather be dead than have to stare into those zombie eyes—if that is what they had become. The thought of having to put her out of her nonexistence was more than he could think about right now. But he would do it. And then he would take care of himself.

He prayed that she still lived, though he knew the odds of two from one family surviving were very slim. Once he got to his storage locker, he would be able to equip himself with what he needed in order to search for her amongst the dead. Her last location was at the apartment of that loser who she insisted was her boyfriend, but he knew that could never last. His angel would never get stuck with a piece of trash who had nothing to offer. He would put him down whether he was infected or not.

He thought of calling her but was afraid of what would be on the other end. If she was still alive, she would need secrecy in order to stay that way, and a phone call at the wrong time could ruin that. No, best to leave it be until he could see that she was in a safe place.

He hung his head in thought. How far had he fallen in just a few short hours that he would contemplate the murder of her boyfriend? He’s not a murderer; that’s not his job. He would find a way to get rid of her boyfriend without having to do that. He hadn’t fallen that far yet.

He moved to the broken-out window as the last of the stragglers passed by, leaving the two with him locked within the stench of their own fear. They wanted him to stay, he could feel it, but they just weren’t worth his time. He took refuge, not out of fear, but out of necessity to avoid a horde too large for him to eliminate. He had one goal and when he was done, he was done. End of story. And he would welcome that end with open arms.

He crept out to the street, but when he heard the others follow him, he stopped and pushed them back.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he said.

“We’re coming with you.” The young male who spoke was dirty… dirtier than just a day’s worth of buildup, which was as long as it had been since the zombies first arrived.

Sixteen hours ago, he showed up for another shift at the grind, unaware that his wife was being partially eaten by his party-hopping son at that same moment.

“You
don’t
want to come with me; trust me on that.”

The woman spoke up. “Well, you’re a cop and you got a gun. You’re supposed to protect us, and we all need to get to the compound.”

Looking closer, he noticed that her clothing didn’t mesh with her companion’s ensemble, other than they were both dirty. Her face looked as if it had a fresh layer of makeup that morning, which had become streaked with tears and sweat. Her coat was fashionable, though ragged from the events of the day, and her shoes were by no means suitable for the situation.

The man, on the other hand, screamed wannabe rocker, complete with a
Hot Licks
t-shirt, grubby jeans enveloping dated Converse high tops, and a three-day growth on his lip and chin. Krupp felt some compassion for the woman, who appeared to be close to his own age, and he softened his attitude just a little.

“Look, I only have one round left and I’m saving it. Where I am going is not a place you want to be, okay?”

“How many bullets are in a round?” the guy asked, and the woman rolled her eyes. She shook her head and leaned in.

“Look, Officer Krupp is it? You can’t leave me with him, okay? We won’t make it two blocks, let alone to the compound.”

“Compound? What compound are you talking about?” he asked, having heard her mention it before.

“A lady cop with the Army, or something, has set up a compound in the Sam’s Club. It’s true. It was on the radio, on that AM jazz station.”

“A lady cop, huh?”

“Yeah, you probably know her.”

“I doubt it,” he lied. “There are lots of lady cops in the world, and the ones I know are dead. I guess you can tag along for a bit, although I have some stops to make first.”

He knew her; who else could it be? Who else would still be stealing his thunder? Lieutenant Reynolds should be dead by now … but no. Not yet, anyway.

“Stops? What kind of
stops
can you have during a zombie invasion?” This came from the scruffy punk.

“One bullet
is
a round … what is your name?” Krupp said to the guy, ignoring his question.

“Ludwig.”

“Ludwig, huh? Now what’s your real name, and you’d better be straight with me or you stay here.”

“Stanley.”

“Well, Stanley, you can run a couple of errands with me, or you can cross the river yourself. It’s up to you.”

Stanley looked around nervously. They all knew they had to cross the river in order to get to the compound. Stanley’s eyes landed on the female.

“Don’t look at me. I’m going to run errands with Officer Krupp here. My name is Lu.” She perked up and held her hand out in greeting.

***

His storage locker was easy to get to. The zombies all seemed to be moving toward the lake and bridges into Hot Springs proper, leaving Rockwell virtually empty. The zombies moved slowly, mainly in herds, and could be heard—and smelled—from a distance. Krupp found them easy to avoid but was getting tired of keeping Stanley from trying to feed himself to them. He shook his head in wonder countless times at how Stanley was oblivious to everything around him. Stanley’s senses had been cut off due to lack of exposure to the natural world, combined with the societal demands of the twenty-first century.

His ears seemed virtually useless and as far as Krupp could tell, he had never used his nose before other than trying to sniff a hit of reefer—or whatever they chose to use and call it these days. He saw pretty well but never trusted what he saw and often waited until it was too late to figure out what he was seeing. The guy was a burden and could get them into trouble. He could tell that Lu wasn’t excited about his inability to discern potential dangers either. She also didn’t make the mistakes he did; Lu was quieter in heels than Stanley was in sneakers. Stanley was a liability, and Krupp wouldn’t feel right until he got the S.O.B. to this so-called compound and out of his hair.

He used the bullet he had been saving to shoot through the hasp of the padlock and only noticed a couple of Z’s attracted to the sound. In this heavy industrial area, there were not enough people around to attract the zombies. He would be able to take care of them once he got to his safe. Thankfully, he kept a key to the safe stashed in the locker for impromptu visits.

“Why are we breaking into a storage locker?” Stanley asked, not grasping that they had traveled for several blocks with the sole purpose of reaching this one particular locker.

“Shut up, Stanley. Just be quiet for once, okay? Let Krupp do what he needs to do.” Lu didn’t try to hide her exasperation.

“It’s mine. I left my personal keys in my locker at the station. There are some things in here we need.”

“Is that a boat?” Lu asked as she looked at the flat bottom of an aluminum rectangle.

“It’s my duck boat. It will make it across the river with three of us but not much more than that.” Krupp sorted through a drawer of extra paddle locks, cable, and other assorted brick-a-brack.

Stanley stood nervously by the entrance, ready to bolt if the zombies came much closer. They had made it through the gate and were walking directly toward them. Krupp looked at Stanley and shook his head in disgust. Fear has a scent, a subtle underlying reek of malevolence that one becomes accustomed to. Absolute terror is a stench that strips the bearer of dignity and robs them of the ability to react. It was stench that permeated the air now as Stanley stared out in abject horror. Lu, however, stood out of the way watching Krupp’s every move. Pensive and nervous with the need to hurry, but not fear; she was just ready.

Krupp found the key and went to a multiple-door cabinet that covered the entire back wall. The door on the far right was open, exposing a small, solid door on the face of a fire safe. He grabbed one of the assault rifles from inside. Inserting a magazine, he charged it and met Stanley at the overhead door while installing a suppressor on to the end of the barrel.

“You’re going to have to smarten up, Stanley,” he said. “You’ll have to toughen up too, but before that will happen, you’re going to have to smarten up. I am not the type of person who tries to be an asshole; it just comes natural. But there is truth to the things that I say, or I don’t bother saying it.” He wasn’t sure if his words were heeded because Stanley was focused on the zombies not thirty feet away. “Christ, where were you when they passed out balls?” Again, Krupp felt that his words fell on deaf ears. The terror that filled Stanley right now only let him focus on one thing: the zombies that approached.

Several more had shown up at the gate and were making their way toward the group; Stanley wanted to run and get as far away as he could, but the calm demeanor of the police officer in front of him kept him there. He forced himself to keep thinking of Krupp as
the police officer
for fear that he would slip into his wannabe thug life persona and call him out for the fucking pig that he is. Stanley knew that he was a pig; he saw it in the redneck, gun-toting style that was prevalent in this part of the country, but Stanley needed him … for now.

***

Krupp was almost casual as he took out the six in sight, his suppressed M4 barely making a sound. He returned to his cabinet and started opening more drawers and doors.

“Do you know how to work this?” he asked as he handed a 9mm over to Lu.

“I think I can figure it out.” She turned the gun over in her hand. “My Glock doesn’t have a safety switch.”

“This Smith & Wesson does. Right here,” Krupp said as he showed her how to disengage it. He closed up the cabinet, leaving Stanley waiting expectantly for a weapon.

“Sorry, Stanley, you need your hands free to pull the boat.” Krupp gestured toward the small set of wheels strapped to the hull. Krupp threw a few more things into the boat before shutting down the door and fixing it with a fresh padlock.

“I’ll take point, you follow up. Keep your eyes and ears open and don’t shoot anything.”

“Okay,” she said and watched Krupp turn around with Stanley following, pushing the boat. She deftly reached in and plucked out a boot dagger from a pile she had been eyeing while making sure the other two didn’t see.

Krupp quietly directed them around the buildings while avoiding the bulk of the herds roaming the streets. He saw pockets of people who looked as if they wanted to follow, but he only had the one boat and couldn’t afford the crowd, so he kept them at bay by displaying his souped-up M4. He felt no regret and would shoot them if they persisted.

There were no cops and robbers anymore, no good guys or bad guys. There were only survivors, which is what he planned on being; at least until he found Cat. After that, he didn’t know or care. His daughter, and last remaining blood, would be released from her walking tomb before he left this world. That was the only promise that he had made to himself, his only goal and reason to survive. Maybe she was at this compound, maybe not. He would find out before he searched elsewhere.

Krupp’s thoughts were violent and suicidal—or so he thought—yet, apparent by having locked the locker and checking for possible witnesses before they left, his subconscious was on a different level.

They reached the water’s edge and slipped the boat quietly in, deciding to paddle out to the center of the lake where they could catch the current and drift while he secured the motor to the stern. He wasn’t comfortable doing it on shore where zombies and more people had access to them.

Thankful that the wind was down, he got to work as the boat slowly drifted. They were quite a distance southwest of downtown; it was going to take a while with the little nine-horsepower motor. The Mercury was small and quiet, not only good for duck hunting but also good for avoiding zombies. They had to negotiate around several islands in the lower portion of the lake, all of which seemed to be teeming with zombies. Even the uninhabited islands were lined with the dead; it was as if they simply washed up there and were waiting for … whatever. The moans and stench of fecal matter drifted heavily upon the water. He assumed that in a few days, the smell of decomposition would mix in with that stench, maybe even as early as tomorrow.