For the Fallen Page 19

  had more of his sister in him than either of us would have liked to admit.

  I did the math quickly in my head, three plus five is eight, we were light a zombie.

  Then I noticed one was hauling ass back towards the building.

  “This sucks. I like stupid zombies just fine,” I said as I hurtled over two dead ones.

  I caught him just as I felt that niggling feeling in my skull. The tip of my blade

  sliced straight down his neck and back, parting the skin and giving me a perfect view

  of his spine. I watched the compression of his disks as he kept running before blood

  began to well up in the one inch wide opening. He quickly side-stepped, my next slice

  catching him low in the neck, more towards the collar bone. The blade was lodged deep

  into bone, so much so that I completely stopped his forward momentum. We both nearly

  went down with my wrist attached to the machete by a heavy hemp cord.

  The blade popped loose as he struck the ground. He was staring straight up at me as

  I brought the heel of my boot down on the middle of his face. I turned my face as

  gore shot up and around my contact point. The next time, I stomped my whole foot down.

  I’d done it so hard that it sent shock waves throughout my entire body. I twisted

  my leg like I was putting a cigarette out, or maybe doing the funky chicken dance,

  you decide which analogy fits better.

  I was breathing heavy; not so much from the exertion, but from the fight itself. I

  was disgusted by what I had just done; yet, in one sense, exhilarated. I’d defeated

  my enemy on the field of battle. It was them or me, and it always had to be them. This wasn’t dominoes; there was no margin for error. As Tommy walked

  up, we both watched the zombie’s legs twitching like the death throes of a cockroach.

  Now that was fucking disgusting.

  “Did he get his message off?” Tommy asked.

  “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  We waited there a few moments longer. Restless-Leg-Syndrome Rex had finally stopped

  his movements when we dared to move again. I had just opened the door to the station

  and taken my first step in when Tommy spoke.

  “It could be a trap.”

  “You don’t think you could have brought this up before I walked in?”

  “Sorry.” He shrugged his shoulders.

  It was possible the entire pile of zombies in here were waiting for us, but I didn’t

  think it probable, mainly because the zombie I was chasing had to have been calling

  for help. They would have come streaming out to aid, not lie in wait. At least that

  was my thought process going in. The stench was a physical presence pushing on all

  of my senses. I swear it was so thick it was like a translucent wall that I could

  reach out and touch.

  “Is there any need to go further in?” I asked Tommy. That we had found a clutch of

  them could not be denied.

  He shook his head. I think he had been smart enough to hold his breath. Why I didn’t

  think of that was beyond me. We had a little bit of luck on our side; the store section

  had three gas containers. Two were on the smallish side, maybe a gallon, and the third

  was two-and-a-half. I snagged them and went through the door that Tommy was thankfully

  holding open. I took a big breath when I got outside like I’d been underwater for

  three minutes. Tommy drove a tire iron through a gas tank and we were in business.

  A fair amount got on the ground, but enough got in the cans that we were going to

  be able to go forward with our pyrotechnics show.

  “You cool with your end of this?” I asked Tommy once I laid my plan out.

  “Seems like you’re getting better with the ‘thinking out’ process.” He told me.

  “Yeah, I’m pretty fond of my skin and of those around me. You ready?”

  Personally, I was petrified. The last time I’d messed with fire, I’d nearly died.

  Sure, I got to meet Trip, but the odds that another kindred spirit like that lived

  in this area was slim—or any area for that matter. I wonder how he’s doing? I thought as Tommy headed back in. I was right behind him, the murky light offered

  from outside barely penetrating the garage bay, but what little did shine in was more

  than enough to see the nightmare bedded down.

  ‘How are they not crushing the ones below?’ I thought-asked Tommy.

  They had to be ten deep. They were stacked more in a pyramid structure rather than

  the traditional cordwood fashion we’d grown accustomed to. Another new development.

  Tommy was almost as silent as a ghost as he ran around the zombies, letting gas from

  the two cans spill around them. He almost made it undetected; right up until his hip

  struck the corner of a workbox sending a lone wrench spiraling to the ground. I watched

  the glint of it as it circled downwards. The noise it made in the silence of that

  tomb was deafening. I caught the milky eye-shine of more than a few zombies as they

  heard the solitude of their domain being shattered. That they were awake and alert

  that quickly was another something new. Tommy started tip-toeing back to me.

  “Too late,” I told him. “They know we’re here. Let’s go!”

  I pulled a grenade from my belt. The truckers at Ron’s had left a lot of little goodies,

  this being one of them. The pile shifted as zombies began to come down.

  “Go, GO!” I told Tommy as I pulled the pin.

  I released the handgrip and dropped the grenade into the gas can. I’d cut off the

  nozzle of the can just for this particular effect. I truly wished that I could stay

  and watch the show, or at least have a camera set up so I could play it back later.

  I tossed the grenade-laden can, hoping that I had timed it to go off just as it reached

  the apex of the rapidly diminishing pyramid.

  Tommy was once again holding the door for me. As I reached it, he grabbed my shoulder

  and launched us both as a plume of flame pummeled us at nearly the same time the percussion

  from the explosion hit.

  “Holy fuck!” I said as we came to a stop from our roll. I had to shield my eyes from

  the brightness that blazed before us.

  “We should move further away,” Tommy said, grabbing me to help me up.

  I don’t know what it is about watching large plumes of fire and ash that fascinate

  men so much, but I was so transfixed I didn’t even notice the stream of zombies pouring

  out of the station. A fair number were on fire or had some serious bodily damage as

  the explosion had ripped through them. But for every three or four burning or damaged

  ones, there was one that was in pretty decent shape and they all looked like they

  had revenge on the mind. Or steak…one or the other.

  “Oh boy, they look pissed,” I said as we started running.

  Tommy was heading back the way we had come.

  “Tommy, not that way,” I said, steering him away. He immediately understood why. “Next

  time I think we need a bigger explosion.”

  I saw him nod. I took a quick glance over my shoulder, actually happy that I only

  saw about twenty or so zombies. An accurate count was beyond my capabilities at the

  moment, but once we found a place that was semi-defendable we should be able to dispatch

  of them relatively quickly before another hive could get in on the action.

  “Do you think Tracy heard that?” I asked Tommy as we ran. “Because you realize that,

  if she did,
she’s going to know exactly who did it.”

  “You sure do pick strange things to be concerned about at strange times,” Tommy said,

  not slowing down.

  “Yeah, it’s no joke being trapped in this head.”

  “It’s got to be easier on you than those around you.” He may have muttered or it could

  have just been the sound of his footfalls echoing off the houses as we ran.

  He slowed half a step and smacked my shoulder lightly with his hand. When he got my

  attention, he pointed to a small apartment building. It looked more like a giant house

  segmented into ten or twelve units, seemed as good a place as any. We’d put some distance

  between us and our potential eaters, but we hadn’t shaken them. In hindsight, I guess

  we could have, but we’d wound them up. They wouldn’t be going back to sleep anytime

  soon, and I sure as hell didn’t want them stumbling across our DPW spot. That fence

  wouldn’t hold them back, and I didn’t want to be rolling around in the back of the

  dump truck like a super ball for the next hundred miles.

  I ran up the stairs on the closest unit. I reached a small landing. I put my machete

  away and moved my rifle to my shoulder.

  “Hold on, I’ve got an idea,” Tommy said as he pointed to another landing that was

  across a narrow gap. He stepped up onto the railing and with little effort he bridged

  the gap. He broke through the lock on the apartment and a few moments later he came

  back out the door. “All clear.” Then he came back to join me while getting his rifle

  ready.

  The zombies that had been tailing us the closest knew we had deviated from the path,

  but they weren’t entirely sure where we’d gone. They stopped in front of the apartment

  and started looking around, raising their noses to the air in an attempt to pick up

  our scent.

  “I’ll give them something to smell.” I felt the familiar push against my shoulder

  as I sent them a high velocity projectile. The lead zombie’s head disintegrated into

  a plume of blood. He hadn’t hit the ground before his posse advanced on our location.

  Tommy’s rifle joined in and we destroyed the front ranks of the zombies.

  “Shit…how many made it out?” I dropped the empty magazine into my hand and switched

  out. The zombies made the foot of the stairway while I was reloading. “No sense in

  saving any bullets,” I told Tommy.

  “Is that what you really think I’m doing?”

  I shrugged.

  “Reloading,” he said, warning me. This was my cue to maintain a controlled but sustained

  rate of fire so I could keep the zombies at bay until he was back in the firefight.

  I was halfway-ish through my magazine, the zombies were close to midway up the stairs.

  We were going to have to employ our escape plan soon. Then my throat closed shut.

  I thought I was going to pass out from lack of air. I saw as the muzzle of Tommy’s

  rifle came back up and the tell-tale click as he released his charging handle.

  I pushed the barrel down just as he fired, the bullet slamming into the cement landing

  right next to my foot sending fragments flying.

  “Mike?” Tommy asked in alarm.

  “It’s Melanie,” I said, my heart sinking.

  “We have to go!” he shouted, getting up on the handrail.

  My niece was less than five steps away.

  “Oh, sweet Jesus,” I said as I joined Tommy. He launched and I was right behind him.

  She was snarling and hissing at me over the gap. I could see her debating about making

  the move. Tommy was firing again as some of the slower zombies saw our new location

  and began coming up the new staircase.

  “Mike?” Tommy asked. “You alright?” He would fire and then look over at me.

  I was staring over at Ron’s daughter, wondering how I was ever going to tell him and

  Nancy. Except for the blue tinge to her skin, she looked very much like my niece.

  Her blonde locks were matted to her head and her cute pug nose was wrinkled up in

  a snarl, but other than that, yes, she still looked like family.

  I held up the rifle. She was leaning over so far that I was literally pressing the

  muzzle up against her forehead. “Do it! Do IT! DO IT!!!!!” I realized I was screaming

  this; trying to ramp myself up to do the unspeakable. My firing pin clicked, nothing.

  I tried to pull the trigger again and nothing happened. I turned the ejection port

  towards me, a casing was stuck between the bolt and the port door. “FUCK!” I cried

  in frustration and grief.

  Melanie growled at me. She was alternating her gaze between me and the staircase she

  was on. The zombies were coming up the one we were on now. I noticed she wasn’t budging,

  she was waiting. Probably figuring we’d eventually have to hop back onto her side

  and into her mouth. She was a particularly clever man-eater, always had been I suppose.

  “Mike, I could sure use your help,” Tommy said, trying to shake me out of my reverie.

  I pulled the charging handle back and dug the jammed brass out. I released the handle

  and pushed the forward assist sending the bolt home. I blew through my thirty-round

  magazine as fast as I could pull the trigger. They weren’t all kill shots, but it

  definitely clogged up the main artery.

  “Let’s go!” Tommy grabbed my shoulder.

  He pulled me into the apartment. I watched Melanie’s eyebrows furrow in anger and

  frustration as her dinner got away. Tommy was busy leveraging a couch and a dresser

  against the door. He had them sufficiently pinned against a support wall that would

  make getting through that door some doing from the zombies. I was too busy sobbing

  to take much notice of his engineering feat, although I would later wonder why there

  was a dresser in the apartment’s living room.

  “Mike?” Tommy asked, placing his hand on my back. I was sitting on a chair leaned

  over, my head in my hands, tears free falling from my face.

  “My niece is out there, Tommy. I held her when she was first born. I babysat for her.

  I may have even traumatized her when I made her watch Dawn of The Dead one of those times.”

  “How old was she?”

  “I think she was seven.”

  “You let a seven-year-old watch Dawn of the Dead?”

  “She was very adamant. God I love that kid. What am I going to do?” I asked, looking

  up at him.

  “The Christian thing,” he said, surprising me.

  “And what the hell would that be? Exorcise her demons?”

  “Put her out of her misery. And then tell her parents so they can begin the mourning

  process.”

  “Is there another decision tree we can pull solutions from?” I asked, trying and failing

  miserably to lift my sinking spirits.

  “She deserves at least that,” Tommy said.

  “A bullet from her uncle…yeah, that seems fucking fair,” I said softly, anguish crushing

  out my anger.

  Tommy said nothing more. What could he say? Zombies were at the door to the apartment,

  luckily, his make-shift defenses were holding.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said.

  “I’ll come with you.”

  He knew where I was going and what I was going to do, and ultimately, it was our only

  avenue of escape. I went into the back bedroom, my boots pressing down on the soft

  pile of the rug, the sheer drapes billowing softly
in a slight breeze. The bed was

  made and a couple of books were on the nightstand. At a time when I wanted my senses

  dulled, I was hyper-aware. Had I looked a bit longer I probably could have figured

  out the thread count on the neatly turned down sheet. I opened the window further,

  pulled the screen in and tossed it on the bed. I stuck my head out and reached up,