Zombie Fallout 7 For The Fallen Read online

  Then what previously would have been the unthinkable began to happen; the zombie woman began to move…and not of her own volition. She was being dragged from the opening.

  “Well that sucks,” Travis said.

  I couldn’t have put it any more eloquently. She left a bloody smear as her head dragged against the wall. Then, the rest of the zombies we had used as an informal barricade were slowly moved out. In one case, I think the zombies were going for psychological warfare. They battered and rammed one of their own into the basement, breaking every substantial bone in its body to do so, the snaps and cracks echoing throughout the room as we watched. When the heap of zombie remains plopped wetly to the floor, all of our eyes were riveted to it.

  At this point, I would have yielded the basement to the zombies and closed it off, but we didn’t have that luxury. To give up this room meant we would lose the library. There was no way to close this section off. It was a wide staircase that led down to it and no door at the top.

  “Shit! Should have thought of this sooner. Look for tools…hammer, pry bar, any strong piece of steel.” The boys weren’t moving. “Now!” I shouted to get them going. “Upstairs!” I told them when they started to go deeper into the basement.

  “What are you thinking?” Tommy asked.

  “I’m thinking that beautiful staircase has to go,” I told him. “It worked for a while in Little Turtle, it should buy us some time here.”

  “We don’t need tools,” he said to me.

  I looked at him like he was a vampire. Which I guess he is, so that makes sense. Tommy came down to the first step and gripped the lip of the first stair. I saw his fingers whiten and an intense look on his face, and then I heard the groans of ten penny nails as they began to yield their prize. The wooden step shot up and flipped over a few times before coming to rest halfway up the stairs.

  “That’ll work,” I told him.

  The next wave of zombies began to try and find an entrance. It was not lost on me that most of them were women and a slight man. It was the five-year-old that fell to the floor that really got my attention though.

  “Faster, Tommy,” I said as he looked over his shoulder, horror clearly evident on his face. The zombie child came closer. Its teeth were not bared; he had almost a sad expression on his face as if he were asking for my help.

  I raised my rifle up—the child’s small head directly in front of my steel sights. That got him going. His arms came out and hatred squeezed out any semblance of a child in trouble from his face. I pulled the trigger, the top of his head vaporized in a spray of blood and skull plate. He skidded to a stop no more than ten feet from me. I heard three more steps clatter away. That was followed by more bodies hitting the floor. Two were women and one was a man that I think was the previous world record holder for oldest living human being. That he was able to stand and start running at me should have been a sight to behold. Instead, it was just fucking scary as hell. He looked like a Halloween prop brought to life. Something that shouldn’t be…was.

  The rifle jumped in my shoulder as I drew a breath, exhaled, and blew him back to the hell he had come from. I had a trio of zombie women running towards me and reacquired a target. The round caught her in the neck, shattering her spinal column, her head falling forward to her chest and still she came.

  “Tommy!” I shouted, to make him aware we were about to become overrun as more bodies hit the floor. I moved quickly away from the ‘one shot one kill’ philosophy. I sent the rest of my magazine into the two remaining women. Their bodies danced until I found the ‘kill’ zones, dropping them hard.

  I’d bought enough time to reload. I pressed the magazine release, going old-school. When I’d first joined the Marines we’d been taught to just press the release and let the magazine fall where it may and then jam a full one back into the well. By the time I was getting out, they had realized in a combat situation they were losing tens of thousands of dollars in ‘lost’ magazines. We were then being shown how to salvage the spent bullet holder before putting a full one in. It cost us precious seconds while people were trying to kill us, but hey, anything to save the government a buck or two. The magazine clacked to the floor, I slammed another home, pulled the charging handle back and was in business once again.

  “Few more seconds,” Tommy told me.

  “That’s all we have,” I told him back.

  Tommy was straddling the risers, pulling on the wood. I was left to wonder if our new and improved zombies would be able to do this as well. In fact, when I turned to see the advancing horde, I realized that more than one was staring intently at Tommy as if they were learning some new skill.

  “Up, Tommy!” I yelled.

  The way in which I commanded it gave him no doubt that I did not want to be questioned or second-guessed. He turned to me once before bounding up the stairs. The six or so that he’d removed would have to be enough. I destroyed the zombie that had been so intent on him.

  “I could have gotten more,” Tommy said with chagrin as he looked down at the stairs and his handiwork.

  “Most likely, but they were watching you. And not watching you like they wanted to eat you. Well…that too I suppose, but they were watching you like you were a teacher and they were rapt students.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “No, not at all.” I told him.

  “Talbot, nice of you to join us,” BT said as he was working on one of the last screws.

  “Sorry, I was getting a pedicure.”

  He looked up. “Wouldn’t doubt it.”

  “Travis, Justin.” I motioned to the stairs. “Shoot only if they start making headway.” We had a fair amount of rounds, but I didn’t know when we were really going to need them.

  Gary at some point had moved from his chair to a reading couch, he and Henry were snuggled up tight and somehow still fast asleep. BT shrugged his shoulders when he saw me looking at them. Tracy was at my side as we watched BT pull the cover off the box.

  “I’ll be damned,” BT said. “How in the hell did your brother carry this?”

  “Well, he is Gambo,” Tracy said.

  In addition to the two dead batteries, there were what we hoped were two ‘fresh’ ones.

  “Extras, he put friggin’ extras in here,” BT said, shaking his head. “I knew it weighed more than a buck thirty. How does he forget something like that?”

  “Just because you’re brilliant doesn’t mean you’re smart,” I said.

  BT nodded in agreement.

  “Oh bullshit,” Tracy said. “That doesn’t even make sense and BT’s over there agreeing with you.”

  I gave her a cheesy smile. It had seemed like genius when I said it, upon reflection it began to lose luster.

  “At least the crazy bastard used wing nuts to attach the leads,” BT said as he quickly went to work on replacing the batteries.

  “Dad, what about now?” Travis asked. He had his rifle in his shoulder and pointed down the stairs.

  “Yeah, definitely,” I said, not prepared for the explosion of his rifle near to me. Two zombies had stepped onto the first riser, looking like toddlers attempting their first steps. The old adage ‘practice makes perfect’ popped in my head. I was not going to give the remaining one the opportunity. I blew off the bottom of her leg. My thinking was that, if the zombies could learn, maybe they would know that climbing meant maiming which in turn meant death. It was a bit much for me to hope, but I did it anyway.

  “Dad, you didn’t hit it in the head,” Justin said. “I know, I know, Captain Obvious. Is there a reason I should know about though?”

  “Just testing a theory,” I told him.

  The zombie turned herself around on the floor and was now looking up at me. Hatred burned through her eyes. And hatred implied intelligence. Then she began to pull herself back towards the stairs. Her hands gripped the riser and she started to pull herself forward.

  “So much for that,” I said as I put a round in her forehead, snapping her head bac
k violently. A group of zombies was milling about at the bottom. Occasionally one would get divine inspiration and give the balancing act a go.

  “How long before they figure out they can climb?” Travis asked with some trepidation.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” I told him.

  Where the stairs continued on was about chest to head level high, depending on the zombie. Not an overly hard climb for someone with dexterity and the know-how. The speeders had all the dexterity they needed; it was just a matter of getting all their parts to move in the correct unison.

  “BT?”

  “I’ve got the new batteries in, but it’s not doing anything and I’m afraid to just start flipping switches. Looks like a high-tech server room inside this thing.”

  “I hate to be Deputy Downer, but I think we’re going to need that thing before the night is done,” I told him.

  “Really?” Tracy asked. I nodded to her.

  “These fuckers are going to start pole-vaulting this chasm soon.” On further reflection I should have maybe kept that thought to myself. Always one to comment first and recant later, it’s a pretty good thing I never got on Twitter; inserting a hundred and forty characters into my mouth instantaneously would be bad for my dental work.

  “Alright, boys, time to take back the night,” I said.

  “Huh?” Travis asked.

  “I think it was a line from a movie, sounded good before I said it. We’re going to take back the basement. I’m sick of waiting for them to figure out a way up here. Ready?”

  Travis shrugged. Justin nodded.

  I opened fire, immediately followed by my boys. At this close range, the effects of the bullets were devastating. Bodies bounced around as they caught our rounds. Books exploded in a cloud of confetti from errant shots and ricochets. We’d descend a step or riser every time we dropped a line of zombies. We didn’t give them much of an opportunity to fill their ranks as we decimated their force.

  Within a couple of minutes, we had taken out the twenty or so zombies who had made it in. It would have been impossible to accurately count the dead given the amount of body parts that littered the floor. Okay, so impossible might be an over-exaggeration. How about fucking disturbingly gross? The basement was ours once again, but she was much like Helen of Troy, now that we had her back we didn’t want her. It smelled like an old octopus with diarrhea. Stop for a moment and let that sink in. Yeah it was that bad.

  We still didn’t have a way to keep them from coming in. All I’d really bought us was a moral victory. Those do have their own importance. I was at the bottom step when I heard the familiar plop of a zombie dropping in.

  “Seems these old buildings have leaky windows,” I said to Tommy.

  He had come down to survey the damage after I’d sent the boys back up. Why I still felt the need to protect them from these sights eluded me. They’d seen this and worse ten times over.

  “I can pop off a few more steps,” he said to me.

  “I’ll watch your back.”

  Tommy jumped down and quickly pried three more steps off. I’d only had to shoot two approaching zombies. Either they were running out of little ones, or they’d figured out the futility of this avenue of attack. I reached down and helped Tommy back up, although I’m certain he didn’t need it.

  “Wish I had a flamethrower,” I told him as we sat, our legs dangling into the library basement, almost without a care in the world like we were “sitting on a dock by the bay”. (I know, it’s a great song.) “I’d torch these bastards.”

  I looked upon the fallen zombies. It was not out of malice I said that, but rather, it would be easier to see them as they enemy if they were molten shapes as opposed to the expectant mother to my right, the teenager with braces in front of me, the business woman in her tattered power suit. They had just been people, not even combatants. A flamethrower would have been nice.

  “Not sure if that’d be a good idea in a library,” Tommy said to me.

  “Sure it would. We could pretend we were in Georgia and this was a good old fashioned book burning.”

  “I’m going to talk to Mrs. T. I think it’s time for your meds. For your information there are no records of book burnings in Georgia.” He rose. “You staying?”

  “For a little bit.” I was having a hard time taking my eyes off the young woman who couldn’t have been much older than my daughter, her stomach was protruding slightly from a baby bump. She had probably been out shopping for baby stuff when she turned or was bitten.

  “Two for the price of one.” I sighed.

  Her size and shape reminded me of my daughter. It was only fine lines of fate that separated the dead woman’s lot in life from my Coley’s. I wanted to cry for the woman and her lost child. Yeah, fire and dehumanization would have been great just about then. I stood and walked away from the stairs—or more correctly, what was left of them, I may have heard something fall into the basement over my sniffling.

  “You alright?” BT asked, never looking up at me. He was busy concentrating on the box innards.

  “How can you tell?” I asked.

  “We’ve been hanging around long enough now for me to get a bead on you, plus I saw you wiping your nose.” He smiled, looking up. “They’re zombies, Mike,” he said seriously.

  “They weren’t always.”

  “And Nazi soldiers were once small children playing just like American kids You can’t go down that road.”

  “I get it, BT, I get it. I’m not going soft on the zombies, just a momentary twang for the lost humans.”

  “Let me know when your period bleeds out.”

  I don’t think I said anything for a full minute. First, I was in shock at his words, then I wanted to laugh uncontrollably, and then—most importantly—I wanted to make sure Tracy had absolutely not heard a word. When I cycled through all of those thoughts and emotions, I merely made a fist and thrust it out to BT who again, without even looking, raised his own fist and bumped mine.

  “Good one, man, good one,” I said, walking away. “Get the box working.”

  “I think Uncle Ronnie is coming back,” Travis said from the mezzanine level above me.

  I went up to him. He was right. I could see the truck swinging onto the road that led to us and it looked like he had a stadium worth of admirers following.

  “MIKE!” he shouted as he approached.

  I waved and shouted back. “Up here!”

  “This isn’t working so well. I think we’ve awoken every hibernating cell this side of Portland. You’re going to have to try an escape soon.”

  “Ask MJ how to turn the box on, we found batteries,” I added, not wanting to waste the time and explain.

  Ron had the truck rolling slowly. I could see him talking to MJ in the cab. He was running out of real estate in which to drive on, soon he would be out of earshot and he would have to loop around again.

  “He says behind a group of small wires there is a switch labeled in Russian. It looks like an H and an A. He said it’s very important that you make sure to—” And then he was around a bend.

  “Why doesn’t he use the radio?” Tracy asked.

  “It’s just static,” Travis told her.

  “MJ probably fixed it,” BT threw in.

  “What do you think that last part was?” Travis asked.

  “Oh, I’m sure it was nothing or incredibly imperative.”

  “Not helpful, Dad,” Travis said.

  “We’ll just wait until they come back around. Knowing MJ, if we do something wrong, the box probably has a self-destruct on it.”

  “Do you think?” Travis asked.

  I really wanted to tell him that I was just kidding, but now I wasn’t so sure.

  “Hey, BT, Mad Jack says that there is a button behind a bunch of cables labeled with—”

  “HA,” he finished for me. “I thought it was some sort of nerd joke.”

  “Apparently it’s Russian.”

  “Why would he label something in
Russian?”

  “Maybe the part came that way?” I tried to explain.

  “It’s done with a sharpie,” BT said. “Damn nerds. Should I push it?”

  “Umm…”

  “What the hell does ‘umm’ mean? Is there more to it?”

  “Yeah, but then we couldn’t hear them. Plus, I’m not sure if there is an off button.”

  “I could always pull the battery lead.”

  “There was more to it. I think we should just wait…no sense in possibly damaging it.”

  “You doubting my tech skills?” he asked.

  “No. I’m doubting the way in which MJ engineered this thing. For all we know, he has it booby-trapped.”

  “Booby trapped?” BT stepped away from the box. “I’ve been inside that thing for an hour!” he said hotly.

  “Relax, I’m sure the yield couldn’t be much more than a megaton or two.”

  “I’ve never liked you.” He went to sit down.

  I went back to the window, waiting for the return of MJ and his additional instructions.

  “You hear that?” Justin asked. He was on the far side of the mezzanine.

  I looked to Tommy who, besides a bat, had the best hearing among us. “No,” he said.

  “Maybe the library is haunted,” Travis said.

  “Oh, that would be wonderful,” Tracy replied.

  “I’d rather have zombies than ghosts,” I said to no one in particular.

  “Let’s hear it,” BT said.

  “You can shoot zombies,” was my more than common-sense reply.

  “That’s really your argument?” BT asked, sitting up. “Never had a damn ghost bite me. Afraid of a little ‘boo’ in the night?”

  “Who the hell isn’t? Ghosts freak me out.”

  “Ghosts don’t have germs,” Tracy added.

  I had to think about that for a second; she did have a valid point. “That’s not a proven,” I told her. “Who knows what nasty things they have on the other side.”

  “Oh, Talbot, sometimes I feel sorry for you,” Tracy said.

  “You should be feeling sorrier for yourself,” BT said to her.

  “Alright…there’s no reason to get personal.” I tried to diffuse the line of conversation.