Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (Book 3): Mitigation Book 3) (38 page)

It was apparent the concrete traffic barrier had been placed prior to the emergence of Armageddon. On this side of the lot, the pavement was largely broken and, in some places, had been stripped back completely down to bare earth. Distracted while he looked around, Jerry nearly turned his ankle on the uneven surface.

Looking up, Jerry saw that they were in a gathering lot of cars, truck, vans, and all manner of small commercial vehicles. Most appeared very used and definitely abandoned, probably utilized by some of the survivors to get there and then discarded. Through the middle of the motor pool was a clearly marked path that led from an opening in the concrete wall and to a closed fenced gate.

He pointed. “That’s our way in.”

Emma nodded and kept pumping her legs, forcing herself to run despite her growing fatigue. The plan. They needed to stick to the plan. The plan would keep them all alive.

They didn’t have much going for them. Neil estimated that the only real thing they did have was the element of surprise. So, when they devised a plan, there weren’t a whole lot of moving parts to it. They needed to lead as many zombies as they could to the walls of the fortified school, use the diversion to get inside, rescue their cohorts, and then get away.

The emerging weather might also play a part. The closer they came to the river, the more flakes they began to see in the dim light afforded their eyes. The thin, icy fog had definitely given way to a light flurry. It wasn’t diminishing his vision yet, but it was threatening to do so. Maybe they could ride in behind it and never get noticed.

It was the best Neil and the others could do with little to no time and even fewer resources at their disposal. Neil, Della, and Steve rode in the truck at a safe distance behind the attacking mob of frenzied fiends. It was their job to ride in following the chaos and collect the others while the fight still occupied the defenders.

It was important that revenge didn’t preoccupy their intentions. They needed to be quick and stealthy. Revenge would only compromise their efforts. Neil tried to explain and then emphasize this to Jerry, who had demanded to be one of the runners. Neil was worried about what Jerry might find and was even more worried that he might go looking for those responsible.

When Steve heard the shooting, his breathing changed. Each exhaled breath held a little doubt and a little guilt. He shifted uncomfortably several times in his seat next to Della in the back of the truck. His regret hung as heavy in the air as did the smell of everyone’s body odor.

Neil sensed the shift in his disposition almost immediately, and spent as much time watching Steve in the rearview mirror as he did watching the road. “You doin’ alright back there, Steve?” When Steve made no response, and only peered over Neil’s shoulder out the front windshield, Neil said reassuringly, “If they’re as good as you said, then they’ll be okay. I’ve got no interest in killing anyone. I just want our people back. We’re gonna get in and out as quick as we can.”

When Steve looked away, Neil shot a glance at Della. Her expression rarely changed and this time was no exception. She wore a constant mask of serious consideration which could be mistaken for belligerence or hostility. Looking at her eyes, Neil felt calm again and knew that he had nothing to fear from Steve. Della, as DB had said many times, was not a woman with which to trifle. His concerns temporarily allayed, Neil paid closer attention to the road ahead.

The lingering evening had yielded to the press of night. The darkness, as absolute as Neil had ever seen, made him feel claustrophobic so overwhelming was its presence. He was driving with only the parking lights to show the way for fear that he would compromise their plan. Even the moon had pulled a heavy, gray cloud around itself as a means to shield it from the unrelenting night and the gathering wintry winds.

They crossed the bridge slowly so as not to distract the undead army from its siege. Below, the river had begun to embrace its winter ebb, its depths as shallow as they would be all year. Neil strained to try and see better what lay ahead but it was of little use. He was as blind as the proverbial bat but he lacked the sonic radar system for navigation.

Across the bridge, the road and the area to either side widened, adding a new depth and dimension to the darkness. It felt like they were driving down a well. Neil couldn’t take it any longer.

“I don’t think I can drive any farther without lights. I can’t see a goddamned thing.”

Both Della and Steve nodded, but Neil had already made up his mind. He flipped on the lights and revealed only a few yards in front a slow moving procession with its back to them. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed.

“There’s hundreds of ‘em!” Steve gasped. Steve was correct. There
were
hundreds of the ghouls immediately in front of them and hundreds more over at the battle at the school. Slowly, like a many-headed serpent of gray stone, the slithering parade of death wheeled about to face this fast approaching new opportunity. Only man made his own light and it was only man that the infection craved.

The hunger fueled the rage that coursed through the creatures’ black coagulated veins. Their hands, as thick as branches, clawed at the night. From their open mouths spilled a vile chorus that engorged the black all around them and produced a rising nausea in Neil’s, Della’s, and Steve’s stomachs.

Through the tight forest of reaching, decaying dark arms, Neil pressed the truck forward. He pulled the large silver vehicle hard to the left, trying to escape the cul-de-sac forming in front of them, and found a little space into which he could continue their forward momentum.

Neil hadn’t anticipated this many of the foul creatures, based upon the isolated pockets they had encountered thus far in and around Soldotna. He had been concerned that Jerry and Emma wouldn’t have been successful in attracting enough of the undead to create the diversion needed to liberate their abducted friends.

Apparently, his concerns were not well founded. Sensing that perhaps he needed to change his own role in their scheme, Neil said over his shoulder, “When I get us a little breathing room, Steve I want you to come up here and drive. You probably know the lay of the land around the school better than I do anyway.”

Steve asked doubtfully, “What do you plan on doing?”

“We might need some protection, so I’m gonna climb into the bed of the truck and be ready with my shotgun. If we hit another big pocket of ‘em, I’ll try and clear us a path.”

Steve nodded his understanding, but the nod also held a little doubt about Neil’s judgment. Steve had no interest in being out amongst those things, even if it only meant in the back of their truck. He didn’t want to be any closer to those things than he had to be. When Neil stopped the truck, Steve threw open the door, leapt out, and then quickly hopped into the driver’s side door. He didn’t even pause to breathe. Once back inside, he locked the door and finally exhaled.

Neil deftly climbed into the bed of the truck and lifted a backpack full of handguns and ammunition onto his back. At his feet lay another backpack holding more ammunition for his shotgun as well as his trusty aluminum bat. He grabbed hold of the truck’s decorative roll bar and slapped his hand twice on the roof of the cab to signal he was ready. Della had also taken the opportunity to climb into the front seat and was preparing herself, though her demeanor was much calmer than that of her male counterparts. Across her lap she was holding a dangerous looking blade that most resembled a machete. Once seated, she began to hum quietly to herself.

Steve pressed the gas, spinning the tires slightly in the gravel. Neil held tightly as they lurched forward, getting away just as a large group of zombies was closing around them. Steve drove over two of the beasts who fell from sight beneath the grill and were crushed by the truck’s heavy wheels.

Neil hoped they could trust Steve. He, Della, Jerry and Emma were all placing a lot of faith in the young man. Della didn’t seem to be as hesitant as Neil, but that only went so far in alleviating Neil’s worry.

There was more shooting coming from the school and now they could hear shouting as well. There was no discerning individual voices, but the sound was clearly that of desperation. Perhaps the wall was not as solid as they had thought or had hoped. They never were.

The battle was fully engaged, the outcome very much in doubt. The militia was killing scores of the undead, but there always seemed to be more to fill the gaps that opened. Lacking the discipline of fully and professionally trained soldiers, the militia expended large quantities of ammunition needlessly. Their shooting was erratic, and oftentimes ineffective.

From the tops of the buses, several militia members threw flaming Molotov cocktails into the masses of decomposing but still animated flesh. The fires lit the killing ground somewhat but did little else. Several of the fiery ghouls pressed themselves against the sides of the buses, threatening to torch those sections of the wall and its hapless defenders.

It was one of the bursting firebombs that caught Steve’s attention. He looked over for just a second but that was enough. When he looked back, he saw too late the concrete barricade which separated the old parking lot from the new expanded lot which was still under construction. It was a wall that shouldn’t have been there and caught poor Steve completely unaware. He had no time to react other than to gasp and close his eyes.

The truck ran headlong into the concrete wall with a sound that rivaled all the shooting combined. Pieces of steel, shards of glass, and splinters of plastic and fiberglass exploded into the air. Smoke seeped and steam hissed. The truck was dead after a series of exasperated and fruitless clicks and pops from the engine.

Neil was thrown like a flailing ragdoll over the top of the tuck and onto the other side of the barrier. Landing on his back with a jarring thud which robbed him of both his senses and his breath momentarily, Neil was thankful for the padding the full backpack over his shoulders provided him. The pack’s contents, lumpy and hard as they were, inflicted some significant bruising and aching pains, but he was thankful for being alive. He allowed a few precious seconds to pass as he appreciated his first struggling breath into his starving lungs. His vision was still absent which allowed his mind to struggle to process what had just happened.

Neil saw the barricade before Steve did and had time to prepare. Neil thought for sure that Steve had seen the obstacle, but when the truck neither changed course nor speed, Neil had braced for the impact. Now, his moment of reflection and gratitude behind him, Neil got his feet under him and looked around. One of the headlights from the truck was still functioning, as was a single yellow hazard light which flashed on and off in rhythmic clicks. All of which cast a haunting, pulsating glow over the accident scene.

The truck’s demise was not lost on the army of zombies who had already dispatched contingents to attack, overwhelm, and devour whomever was involved in the crash. The monsters shuffled hungrily, their bile-fouled voices rushing forward and preceding them like the tide. Neil could make out their silhouettes as they approached.

“Della? Della?” he shouted. “Steve? Anyone?” Looking around desperately for anything he might use, Neil thought he recognized something on the pavement. Excited, he tried to run, but his legs and especially his back were hurting worse than he had originally thought. Instead, he stumbled forward and fell painfully.

Breathless and suffering, Neil managed to pull himself along the ground until he had laid his hands on the object. It was his shotgun and its oily, cool, metal surface instantly helped him to feel more confident. At least with the gun, he had a fighting chance.

Time was working against him. It was working against all of them. Neil didn’t know if either Della or Steve was still alive but he needed to get back up so he could help them. He gritted his teeth and stood up on his hurt leg, which sent currents of pain shooting up from his bruised and bleeding knee as well as his aching tail bone. When he straightened his back, his tail bone shifted uncomfortably like the unoiled hinge joints of a door that hadn’t been opened in a millennium. He could almost hear the grinding of bone against bone. Neil was in need of a good oiling more so than Oz’s Tin Man ever had been.

Once up, Neil could see that Della was starting to move again. She shook her head, the blood on her brow glistening in the faint glow from the lone working headlight. She looked over at Steve who was still unconscious behind the steering wheel. From Della’s reaction when she touched Steve’s forehead, Neil could deduce that Steve was still breathing.

Della looked up and finally saw Neil. She could see the fear in his eyes despite the sparse light. She followed his gaze over her shoulder and saw the oncoming ranks of death. Excited by the prospect of a meal of flesh, the ghouls moved with a ravenous purpose toward their prey. Rotting arms lashed out in anticipation and heads the color of granite rippled with tics. She looked at her approaching fate and knew her time was limited.

Della locked her yellow eyes on Neil’s and said calmly, “You need to be goin’ on now. Me and Steve, we’ll keep ‘em busy. You go get the others. Protect ‘em as best you can.”

“No, Della. You don’t know what you’re saying. We can...” but Neil’s protests fell on deaf ears. Della had already started to hum to herself.

She forced open her partially crushed door, which creaked and popped loudly. Grabbing a baseball bat that was on the floor of the truck, Della climbed out and faced the predators who were mere feet away by then.