***
“Something’s going on,” Azile said in my ear.
Not sure how she thought I could miss the loud metallic clanging in the otherwise still night.
“Sounds like a security door rolling up,” Azile said. “They had them at the loading docks where I worked.”
“Not good, not good,” I said as I charged the weapon. A heavy cloud chose that exact moment to cross over our small source of light. The moon was completely blanketed as we both heard the sounds of metal scraping along pavement. Sparks were shooting up from the ground as what we later learned were chains being dragged along. We couldn’t see what was dragging them, but it was clear they were headed in our direction and fast.
“Shoot!” Azile begged.
“I can’t see anything. Get us out of here!”
Using the sparks as an indicator, whatever was coming had halved their distance and were not slowing. Without being able to see what was coming I could not shoot I was ninety-nine percent sure what it was, but not a hundred.
I heard the whir as the truck tried to catch. “Azile, now would be a good time.”
“Won’t start,” she said as she pumped the gas and messed with the stick shift.
The cloud cover passed, my nightmare was revealed as hundreds of zombies raced toward the truck. Bullets and tracers lit up the night as I hammered them into the oblivion they so rightfully deserved.
***
“Fuck,” Dave said as he watched the hellfire issue from the truck. He was glad he hadn’t taken a shot. He would have never got a second one off if he had missed, and he was no marksman.
“He’s killing my pets!” Kirk shouted. “Kill him!” he shouted at Dave.
“I don’t have a shot.”
“Make one or you’ll be running out there.”
Dave lined up a shot. His crosshairs dancing wildly as he made the attempt. The shot went wide blasting through the windshield.
***
“Fuck!” I shouted as the windshield blasted out away from me. I had caught the muzzle flash from my peripheral vision and swung the M240 in the general direction. Bullets slammed into and through the thin aluminum shell of the building.
***
Bullets danced over the heads of Dave and Kirk as they dropped for cover.
“That might have been a bad idea.” Kirk was smiling again. Broken glass, debris and dust were still raining down on them long after the bullets had ceased their attempt at ending their lives. Kirk didn’t get back up to look out the windows until the gun started up again and thankfully not in their direction.
***
I was not egotistical enough to think that I had killed the threat from the third story window, but I imagine I had put the fear of whatever deity he believed in into his heart, and as long as he embraced that fear, I’d be fine. “How’s it going, Azile? I’m running a little low on ammo.”
“I’m trying, stop yelling at me!” she screamed back.
***
“Recall the zombies!” Kirk yelled as he raced down to the first floor.
Dave stayed where he was. Recalling the zombies meant putting out some of their prisoners as bait and he didn’t want to be part of it. “I should have left with Bill,” he said softly.
“You say something?” Greg asked.
“What’d you hear?” Dave asked.
“Something about you wishing you’d left. I’m going to have to tell Kirk.”
“Tell him this for me,” Dave said as he put a round in Greg’s chest. Dave ran to the opposite end of the building and down the two flights.
“What the fuck is going on out there?” Len asked as Dave nearly plowed into him.
Len had the unenviable task of guarding the door that was located the furthest from the action.
“Armageddon, Len, I’m getting out of here.”
“You know the rules, Dave, nobody in…and especially nobody out.”
“Len, just let me go. Or, better yet, come with me.”
Len actually did think about it for a moment. “Shit, Dave, I’d like to, but you saw what he did to Bill. I can’t go through that.”
“Just let me go, Len.”
“I can’t. There’s one way out from the back of this building, who do you think he’s going to blame?”
“Just say you didn’t see anything.”
“But I did and I’m a horrible liar.”
“Fuck, Len, I’m sorry” Dave said as he shot Len in the midsection.
Len fell back into the door as he placed his hands over the wound. “That fucking hurts, Dave,” Len said as he slid down the door.
“I’m sorry, man.” Dave grabbed Len’s legs to move him out of the way.
“Not as sorry as you’re going to be,” Len said as he pulled his .38 Special from his holster. He drilled a hole in the top of Dave’s head. The smell of expended rounds and burnt brains dominated the small enclave. Dave was dead before he could form the thought.
“Asshole. Who does that to their friend?” Len said, referring to Dave’s whipping of Bill. He lifted his shirt and his bulletproof vest; a fist-sized bruise was already forming on his stomach. “That’s gonna hurt,” Len said as he slowly worked himself back up into a standing position. He opened the door quickly, making sure nothing was out there. His plan was to drag Dave out so that he wouldn’t bleed all over his guard station and then a new thought formed in his mind.
“Fuck it.” He ran for the tree line.
***
I had maybe fifteen rounds left when the zombies stopped coming. Fifteen rounds to a machinegun is like eating one potato chip; it’s not enough.
“You stopped shooting, Mike, are you out of ammo,” Azile said, checking under the dash for potential truck starting problems.
“The zombies are heading back in,” I said, trying to figure out what was going on.
“Why?” Azile asked, and that was immediately followed by the screams of the reasons ‘why.’
“They’re using people to bring them back.” I put my head down on the butt stock of my gun.
“What?” Azile asked in surprise, then she figured it out. “Shoot the zombies!”
“I would,” I told her sadly, “but I don’t have enough rounds, and I don’t know exactly where the people are. I’d just as likely kill them as save them.”
“This can’t be happening.” Azile frantically pumped the gas pedal and turned the ignition.
Oh, it most assuredly is, I thought as I heard the screams of the eaten.
A few moments later, when the hordes had been retrieved and the cries of the lures had died down, we could hear the doors that housed the zombies being lowered.
“What is this newest nightmare?” I asked in preparation for round two.
“Hello, travelers!” a voice shouted from the shadows. “My name is Kirk and I am the captain of this facility.”
“Like Captain Kirk?” I asked Azile.
“Who’s Captain Kirk?” she asked as she shrugged her shoulders.
“Where’s Spock! I want to talk to Spock!” I yelled.
There was some muttering, then Kirk spoke back up. “There is no Spock here. Perhaps we can come to an agreement.”
“You mean since your first attack was unsuccessful in killing us, you want to go to a diplomatic approach?” I asked dripping in sarcasm.
“The release of my pets was unfortunate.”
“Pets?” Azile and I asked each other.
“Someone here misunderstood my orders,” Kirk added.
“Was he one of the ones you fed to your pets?” I asked.
“No, no, they were prisoners of war.”
I wanted to tell him that the war was against the zombies, killing each other off wasn’t doing anybody any good; he didn’t seem like the reasoning type. Spock would have been a much better negotiator.
“And if we don’t come to an agreement?” I asked, leaving the question hanging.
“Well then, I would consider that an act of aggression,”
he stated simply.
“Azile, what are the odds you can get out of the cab and grab another box of ammo without being seen?”
“I’d have to crawl out the window so the cab light doesn’t come on.”
“Shit,” I said as I caught movement in my rearview mirror, “they’re trying to come up behind us. I hope I sound convincing,” I told Azile, then I yelled to Kirk, “My rear observer just told me that you have people attempting to come up behind us. If they don’t stop now I will level your building.”
There was a long pause. “Let’s be civilized about this.”
“I’ve been nothing but, you’re the one that sent your pets to kill us, then fed them dinner. And now, while we are in the midst of negotiations, you send men to try and waylay us. I will consider that an act of aggression.” I opened up the breech so that I could make as much sound as I could ‘re-loading’ my weapon.
“Okay, hold on,” Kirk’s voice said with an edge. “My men are returning.”
“We’ll talk more when my observation post confirms this. He says they haven’t moved yet. Azile, you need to move. Sooner or later he’s going to figure my ruse out.”
Azile rolled her window down and slid effortlessly through the opening. She peeked up. “Once I roll the back door up, the cab light will come on.”
“Okay, I’ll improvise. Make sure you grab the box that says 7.62.”
“I know guns,” she muttered.
“They’re not quite gone yet!” I yelled.
“Patience,” Kirk yelled back.
“Oh I’m patient but you see my gun here she isn’t.”
The dome light came on, startling the hell out of me. I pulled the trigger and let a controlled three-round burst issue forth from my gun. That would get any ‘lookie loos’ diving for cover. The echo of my firing was just dying down as the light clicked off.
“Sorry...mosquito!” I shouted.
“I’ve got a girl” someone said triumphantly behind me. I heard some scuffling.
It seemed that my rear observation post had failed me. I put the weapon down and exited the truck as quickly as I could. Azile was struggling in a man’s arms. Her legs were kicking uselessly in the air as he had lifted her up against him and was pulling her back to the building.
I ran at him, he had been looking back towards the building. When he finally turned forward and saw me, I was within ten feet.
He put Azile up as a human shield. “Wait...you don’t even have a gun.”
I kept coming at him. Azile pulled her head to the left as I brought a punch from somewhere off in right field. Azile’s attacker was not able to do much more than watch as my fist made contact with his face. I had struck him so hard, bones cracked. At first, I was certain the snapping bones had been my knuckles. It was difficult to tell in the moonlight, but I was certain that his face was indented; it was a nauseating sight.
His nose had been pushed flat and his right cheek bone was non-existent. He fell backwards to the ground, the back of his head slamming off the pavement. The cavity in his face was soon filled in with a rush of blood.
“Jonas,” Kirk called out, “you still got her?”
I could hear blood pounding in my ears, fury had taken root. “That would be a negative!” I yelled as I grabbed Jonas by his shins. I screamed in rage as I tossed his body a good fifteen feet, more of his frame splintered as he landed with a crushing blow.
Azile was watching me, possibly thankful, possibly warily. “How?” was her one word question.
I wasn’t entirely sure if she meant, how did I cave his face in or how did I throw a two hundred-something pound man fifteen feet. More likely both. My chest was heaving from the adrenaline, not the effort, no, that had come easy enough.
“Shit, Kirk, he just killed Jonas!” someone yelled from one of the higher stories.
We were in the open and had nothing to shield us.
“NO!” Kirk screamed just as I heard the doors open back up.
Zombies were streaming towards us. “RUN!” I yelled to Azile as if she needed any prodding. I mostly meant for her to run away, but in the confusion she headed back to our haven, our not operating haven.
I ran to the back of the truck to retrieve the fallen ammo box. I quickly turned to head back to the passenger side door and realized I wouldn’t make it—or maybe I would. I started swinging the box like it was a Louisville Slugger and my team was down by three, bases loaded, two outs, and bottom of the ninth. I figured if I was going for cliché, I might as well go all the way. The lead zombie met the full fury of a twenty-five pound ammunition box as it completely caved its skull in. He hadn’t hit the ground before I drove it into Kirk’s next pet.
Brain matter shot out the tops of heads like sleeves of Mentos dropped in a gallon container of Diet Pepsi. I was covered in the viscera, and still they came. My arms were beginning to burn from the effort.
“My pets!” Kirk screamed from a doorway. Some saw their ‘master’ and turned to express their gratitude; most stayed behind thinking I would eventually let one in. More than once I nearly lost my grip on the box handle as viscous blood coated everything. “Get more prisoners!” Kirk screamed as he headed back in.
They might be his pets, but he knew enough to realize that they bit. More screaming ensued as the damned witnessed their fate bearing down on them. I would have chased the retreating zombies down, but I was exhausted and exposed. It was only a matter of time before someone shot my ass.
“He fucking killed like twenty zombies with...with his bare hands,” the man that had informed Kirk of Jonas’ passing yelled.
To be fair, it wasn’t my bare hands. Now my chest was heaving from the exertion, I moved quickly to the truck and pulled myself up with no small amount of difficulty.
“Mike?”
“Later,” I said breathlessly. “Help me...lift the gun.” My arms were jelly-filled rope. Azile did her best to help me while also not getting too close; I was beyond gross. I loaded the new belt in. “Keep the ammo straight,” I told Azile as she got up behind me, reaching to my left to hold the ammo up. “This’ll...be...loud,” I breathed out heavily, looking back at her.
“I’m fine,” she returned.
“Friend!” Kirk yelled.
“Friend this, motherfucker!” I unleashed hell’s fury in multiple 7.62 projectiles. Screams of terror echoed throughout the building as I tried to tear it down. Bullets whined as they struck home, some ricocheting inside and doing more damage as they careened off of poles or beams. I was indiscriminately doling out death. I hoped the prisoners were tucked away safe but even if that wasn’t the case, I had to believe I was giving them the escape they had longed for. Kirk didn’t seem like a benevolent captor. The building’s groans of protestations were the only sounds once I dry fired.
“Mike?” Azile asked again.
“I’m fine,” I told her through gritted teeth. At least as fine as a mass murderer can be.
Azile did the only think she could think to do, she tried the truck again. Of course this time it started without a hitch.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Eliza and Tomas
Kong was underneath the hood of yet another truck trying his best to hold up his end of the bargain with Eliza, when one of his men tapped him on the shoulder.
“Fucking what?” Kong asked heatedly.
“She’s back,” his helper answered nervously.
Kong turned, the black tinted window, late model Chevy Camaro idled on the far side of the lot. The car was pointed directly at him; he knew better than to wave her over to him. He jumped off his work bench and walked over. He wiped the grease and now-forming sweat off his hands as he did so. Her window lowered as he approached. He could not fathom how someone so beautiful could be so cruel, and on top of that, she seemed particularly pissed off. He noted that his end of the conversation was going to consist of a bunch of head nods and yesses at all the appropriate times.
“We will leave within the hour,” she told him, ne
ver even looking over at his face as he bent over to look in.
He had ten great reasons why that couldn’t happen. “As you wish, mistress,” was his reply.
Her window rolled up.
Now he had the unenviable task of figuring out how to make it happen. “Wrench!” Tank shouted for his helper. “Are all the trucks topped off with fuel?”
“You know the answer to that,” Wrench told him, getting back to switching out the water pump in the truck they had been working on.
“Shit,” Kong said. Eliza was a day earlier than she had told him she was going to be. They had completely sucked the diesel tanks dry at the truck stop. He was going to send a fair number of trucks to a nearby station to top off, now he had no time. “Wrench, stop what you’re doing.” Wrench looked up. “Any truck not making the journey or has less than half a tank of fuel needs to have its fuel siphoned.”
“Kong that is NOT going to go over well with those truckers.”
“Not much of a choice. Get an armed escort if you have to. She wants to leave in less than hour.”
Kong was happy when Wrench didn’t say the traditional ‘Ain’t gonna happen’; there was no sense to it. They had all thrown the dice when they opted to work for Eliza. Although ‘work for’ might be somewhat liberal, ‘indentured servant’ was probably a better fit.
The smell of diesel wafted across the parking lot as men in a hurry took diesel from one truck to place in others—more than a fair amount landing on the ground—and still Eliza sat in her car. Kong doubted she was watching any of the activity going on around her.
***
Exactly fifty-eight minutes later, the last of the trucks pulled out of the parking lot, seventeen trucks stood as lone sentinels.
Kong pulled up alongside Eliza’s car. “Five of the drivers of the seventeen trucks sitting are not going,” Kong said as he pointed back to a small group of men standing in a loose circle.