Killer Z (19 page)
T
he helicopter buzzes through the capital heading
west. Hordes of zombies reach for the flying bird. The undead are simply
everywhere. They cross the Pontiac River. The only sign of the 14
th
Street Bridge are cement blocks jutting out of the ocean. On rooftops are
sandbags and unmanned machine guns. Soldiers, once human, look up and reach for
the helicopter. Mark shudders as they zip over the Pentagon.
“The heart of the American empire
has fallen in one day,” Fred says.
Zombies in hospital gowns,
business suits, fatigues, pajamas, and nothing at all look upwards and groan as
they pass. In Arlington Cemetery a lone soldier stands in the amphitheater. The
helicopter dips and collects him.
“Looks like you went through a
blood bath,” Mark says as the solider settles into a seat.
“Fucking fought those freaks with
my knife and watched my unit die.”
“This is Fred and I’m Mark.”
“I would shake your hand but I’m
covered with zombie blood. Name’s Brandon Gibbs,” the airborne ranger says.
“Where are we going?” Fred asks
the pilot.
“To the refugee camp in Greenbrier
Resort,” the pilot answers.
“No shit. That’s where my grandson
is.”
“It’s where the National Guard and
reserves are planning to make their last stand.”
“Where are we?” Brandon asks with
an eastern accent.
“Bladensburg, Maryland,” the pilot
says.
They fly over destroyed bridges
and a hill. Rows upon rows of empty tanks and jeeps face southeast. Dead
soldiers lie in between the vehicles.
“I made my decision Fred,” Mark
says.
“What’s that?”
“I want to help you find your
grandson.”
“I could use the help,” Fred
replies with a tired smile.
“Where’s your final destination?” Brandon asks.
“Twin Cities, Minnesota,” Fred
answers.
“Need a soldier? My base is in Wisconsin. I’m heading your way.”
“We could use your help. Thanks,”
Fred stutters.
The helicopter dips northwest.
The End