Can You Survive the Zombie Apocalypse? (46 page)

You hear the jangle of keys and then the grating sound of a garage door being pulled open. Doc steps out, puffing a cigar. He meets the soldiers halfway and examines the crate, then directs them to the garage. Inside, you hear him curse one, saying, “No, numbnuts, over there in the corner.”

The soldiers carry in a total of nine crates, then take off in the helicopter.

For the next two days, Doc works. Comes out of the garage just to eat and get water. Each time he comes dirtier and greasier.

Then, finally, three days after the Colonel first arrived, just before midnight, Doc comes out and collapses on the couch. He nods at Jones.

“OK,” Jones says, “let's take a look.”

You step into the garage and your jaw drops. In front of you is the most badass collection of death on wheels since
twisted Metal 2
. Ten Harleys. Each one armed to the teeth. Doc gives the guys the tour, but you're barely listening. Just staring at the beauties.

Doc goes over each Harley one by one. Guns. Missile launchers. Blades. Saws. Did he just say flamethrower?

“Kid!” Doc says, snapping you out of it.

“Oh, sorry. Yeah?”

“This one's yours.”

“Uh, I can't ride.”

“No—the sidecar. You're with Tommy.”

Tommy grins and slaps you on the back.

Two pipes stick out of the chassis, parallel to the ground. At the end, about two feet in front of the tire, is a large horizontal circular saw. “Now Tommy, this blade here—this runs on the bike,” Doc says. “You give it gas, the saw spins. Anything in your way—cut it right in half.”

“And kid, this is my pride and joy here,” he says, indicating the sidecar.

You nod, awestruck.

“This sidecar is your new home. This big bastard mounted on the front is the M61 Vulcan minigun.”

“Shit yeah, the gun from
Predator
.”

“Dunno, never saw it. The Vulcan's serious—shoots bullets the size of my fist. Two wires run from the main trigger down under the hood,” he says, pointing to the interior of the sidecar. “Twin triggers—gotta hold down both to make it shoot. Now under here, along the side, I've got a Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine gun. Kickback ain't too bad—should be good for a little guy like you. And, ahem, at your request—a red Vitamin Water.”

The Angels roll their eyes.

“What? It's refreshing,” you say.

“Almost forgot,” Doc says, walking around the back of the bike. “On the sidecar here, you've got an RMG multipurpose disposable rocket-propelled grenade launcher. Use it once, then it's done. Who knows what you'll run into out there, so it could prove useful. Tommy's got some experience with the things.”

Tommy laughs. “Sure have—remember when we had to go to war with those fuckin'—”

Tommy is interrupted by Jones at the door. “Colonel just phoned. He's got tonight's target.”

“What is it?” you ask.

“Madison Square Garden. We're rescuing a woman. Wife of some congressman.”

“How do we know she's there?” Tommy asks.

“Man didn't say much. They picked her up on radio—she got a hold of some security guard's walkie-talkie. Everyone thought she was dead. She's not.”

“Who's going?” someone asks.

“Tommy, Joe Camel, and the Kid.”

“What, why me?”

“You're the one that cast the last vote. So now you ride. Get dressed—meet Tommy outside in ten.”

Sigh—how'd the hell did you get yourself into this…

THE JIG IS UP!

George Costanza running from that fire at the kid's birthday party? That's you. Pushing anyone and anything in your way aside.

You break away from the crowd. Long strides. This is your life—the whole thing—and it all comes down to how fast your out-of-shape legs can run.

You've never moved this fast before. Speedy Gonzalez meets Sonic the Hedgehog.

You're going to make it.

You hear them behind you.

No. You're faster. You want it more. You want to live.

Horrific moans.

Run. Run. Run.
Run!

You throw a glance back over your shoulder. No.… The lawyer leaps. Cold, dead hands wrap around you and pull you to the ground.

More hands on you. One rips into your arm. The lawyer buries its face in your belly and begins ripping through you.

You go into shock. The pain subsides. Your head rolls to the side.

As you begin to fade out, you see the rest of the group. They're all suffering the same fate. You've incited a massacre.

You've gotten every single one of them killed…

IT'S A ZOO OUT THERE

Yakuma goes for the door. You grab her shoulder. “Don't. There're too many out there—it's suicide.”

“You got a better idea?”

“Yeah, I do. Drive. Don't stop. Let's just get away from here. I live—I mean, my parents live, outside Boston. We could go there.”

Yakuma's not happy. But she takes a look out the window at the thousand beasts approaching, and acquiesces.

“Goddamn it. Fine. Rick,” she yells up to the front, “keep driving.”

“Yakuma…”

“Rick—I like you. Don't make me your cut your fucking head off.”

Rick slams his hand down on the wheel, furious, but he does as she says. He peels out of the parking lot and takes off up the avenue then up the on-ramp onto the parkway. It's complete gridlock. Every lane packed.

Hours pass. You sip from the glass bottle of Cîroc. It calms you some.

And then, like a tsunami, they come. Out of nowhere. Ravaging everything. Some people, bitten, stumble out of their cars. They swarm up the highway, moving through the traffic.

Rick floors it and smacks into the car in front of you. Then, screaming, he gets out and runs. A moment later, he goes down. Tackled by a monster in a Windbreaker.

The things surround the limo. Dead, disgusting faces press against the glass. Three of them gather at the door, slobbering on it. Your heart pounds.

Yakuma goes for the door.

“No!” you scream, terrified. “Let's wait, maybe they'll leave.”

“I'm not a ‘let's wait' kind of girl,” Yakuma says, then kicks open the door, sending the three sprawling back. She leaps out and slashes them.

Oh shit, here we go again. You take the bottle of Cîroc and follow her out the door. One gets close. You whack it across the head with the heavy glass bottle.

You cross the lanes and jump the guardrail. A wooden fence stretches along the side of the highway.

“Help me,” Yakuma says, looking up.

You interlace your fingers and give her a boost. She grasps at the fence. Your eyes are drawn to her rear.

“Knock it off,” she says.

How'd she know? “How'd you know?”

She wiggles her butt at you in response before making her way up. A second later, she appears over the side, hand out, and helps you up. You get one leg over. The second one's harder. Christ, like gym class all over again. Finally, Yakuma grabs you by your belt and pulls you up.

You're on the roof of a small building. You look out over the sprawling land in front of you. A monorail hangs above you. Perfectly laid out little streets. Huge trees.

“I—I think we just jumped the fence into the Bronx Zoo.”

Yakuma takes it in. “No way,” she says. “I've never been to the zoo. It's so empty.”

“We'll find out.…” You climb down over the side of the building. It's a little restaurant—the Dancing Crane Café. Empty. Like everything else. You grab a zoo map. Try to locate the Dancing Crane Café on the map, but you give up. Too hungry. So you hop the counter and go for food.

You've got half a chicken tender in your mouth when you hear the squeal of tires. A Bronx Zoo van rips around the corner.

“Uh-oh,” Yakuma says.

Coming around the corner after the van are hundreds of them. Every visitor to the zoo on this particular late summer Monday—now a zombie.

The van flies past you, the driver's eyes wide with fear. He takes a turn and the van goes up on two wheels and bursts through a heavy metal fence. The van flips and rolls down a hill, coming to a stop against a tree. Electric sparks fly around the gaping hole in the fence.

You turn. The army of the undead has its eyes on you.

You grab Yakuma by the wrist and run down through the hole. She passes you, making her way downhill. You lose your footing and tumble. But you're back up in a second, running. You pass the overturned van. Catch a glimpse of the driver, blood pouring down his face. Unconscious.

You don't stop. You race through a small wooded area and come out in a massive field. Giraffes in the distance. Tall grass, up to your waist.

“What did we just run into?” Yakuma says, taking it in.

“I think the T. rex exhibit.”

She doesn't laugh.

You glance behind you. The zombies have stopped for a moment to dine on the poor driver.

Yakuma takes off through the grass. Still running, you pull the map up. It flies up in your face. You try to hold it down, get your bearings, without stopping.

You find the café. See the line that indicates the fence.

“Yakuma,” you say, through sharp breaths. “You're not going to like this. But we're in the middle of the Wild African Safari.”

“Great,” she says, sounding legitimately excited.

“Sixty acres of wild Africa, it says. Oh cool. Water buffalo.”

Behind you, the beasts blast through the trees. The grass catches at your arms and waist as you continue through the field.

Then a roar. You turn to look. In the back of the mass, a zombie body flies up in the air. Then another.

And then a massive lion bursts through the front of the group, sending the zombies sprawling to the ground. It roars, sandy hair shining in the sunlight. Two come at it—it slaps a massive paw, sending the zombies stumbling back. It gets one in its powerful jaws and shakes it back and forth.

It rips another in half, right at the midsection.

Twenty of the undead jump on top of the lion. It roars, rises. More leap on top of it. Dig their teeth in. Two hang on to its front leg, chewing it up. Together, the beasts and the animal fall into the tall grass.

Yakuma yanks your wrist. “C'mon.”

You continue through the plains. Through the tall grass, then into a wooded area. Massive trees. Monkeys swing from vines. It gets thicker. Yakuma hands you one of the blades. Together, you hack your way through.

Up ahead is a swamp. Beyond that, one of the monorail's many elevated towers. If you can climb that, you can get the hell out of this jungle…

A crashing behind you. Then a rush of sounds—branches breaking.

“They're back,” you say.

The swamp stretches out wide to the left and to the right. With the beasts so close behind you, the only way forward is through the swamp.