Metahumans vs the Undead: A Superhero vs Zombie Anthology (21 page)

“Bob, you can’t do this!”

Sloan completely ignored Perez and continued arming himself from the weapon stores in the police headquarters basement. He already had a powerful shotgun slung over his right shoulder, reams of bullets stuffed in every pocket of his gun vest, and was now reaching for a rifle to complete his ensemble.

“Harrison will have our heads if he finds out,” she said.

“You can stay here if you want,” he said, “but I’m not standing by while those monsters slaughter this city’s people while I do nothing to help them.”

Perez
ummed
and
ahed
in her mind. Then, she made the only possible choice. She moved over to the weapons shelves and began arming herself as well. Nothing she would say or do would stop Sloan when he was in this sort of mood, and she wasn’t about to let her partner enter such a dangerous situation on his own.

“Good to have you with me, Perez,” he said, a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

“Yeah, well,” she said, “I can’t leave you on your own out there. Goodness knows you can’t take care of yourself.”

She sounded like the man’s wife, she thought. What Jane must go through, being married to a man like him.

“Hurry it along,” Sloan said. “I don’t want to wait any longer than I have to, if we can at least get some people back here to safety.”

“I just hope we have enough bullets,” Perez said, somewhat annoyed at being hurried. “We’ve seen what those things are capable of.”

She was now outfitted in a similar vest, crammed with bullets and brandishing a shotgun of her own. Between the two of them, they could hold back an army . . . for a short time.

She followed as Sloan marched from the building, down the front steps and out toward the established perimeter. “I’m just glad Harrison isn’t here to see us.”

“Cheer up,” Sloan said. “We’ll be heroes when we return with survivors.” He winked.

She arched an eyebrow at that, but said nothing in reply as they passed their armed colleagues and moved, at their protest, out into the empty streets, ready for any threat they might meet.

Ready to meet their destiny.

I hope you’re out there, Michael . . . Wraith
, Sloan thought, brandishing his weapon.
I hope you’re out there.

5

“They’re just overhead.” Max pointed skyward as he gunned the classic Daimler through the streets of Metro City.

“I see them, though they’re not directly overhead,” The Wraith replied. “They’re continuing their circular patrol of part of the city.”

“And you still think they’re responsible for raising the dead?” Max asked.

“Until we come across a better explanation, let’s keep that at the forefront of our minds.”

Zombies of all sizes and shapes and in various states of decay
—
and condition
—
shambled through the streets, causing carnage wherever they went. They appeared to have only one purpose: to kill. Wherever possible, The Wraith indicated to Max to take the creatures down with the car. Its newly-installed armor-plating could withstand almost anything thrown at it.

“They’re everywhere!” Max yelled above the cacophony of screeching tires and bone crunching on metal.

“All these people,”
Leena
cried with
sympathy.

“We can’t help them right now,” The Wraith barked. “We must see if we can ascertain the exact point in the city the bids are circling above. Perhaps we’ll find some answers there.”

“Right,” Max said, and piloted the car around and through the building zombie traffic, while The Wraith and
Leena
kept watch out the windows.

“Head for Gladstone,” The Wraith ordered after some minutes. “I’m sure that’s their focal point.”

“Gladstone?” the burly Irishman said before checking himself. “Rookwood
Cemetary
, of course!” Max did as he was told and pointed them in the direction of the city suburb.

As they travelled at speed through the myriad city streets, the story was the same. Zombies everywhere, causing carnage and mayhem at every turn. Again, The Wraith directed Max to take as many out as possible, but time was also of the essence, and they continued thus as quickly as they could.

Nearing their destination, traffic lightened, but zombies were still marching through the streets as far as the eye could see.

Several more frantic minutes passed before they finally reached the
cemetary
. All exited the car immediately, The Wraith peering up into the sky. The eerie sight of several oversized vultures circling above was only overshadowed by the horrific vision that lay before them. Vultures, dozens of them, were visible throughout the graveyard, scratching, pecking and clawing at the ground, unearthing bodies of various size, shape and condition. Hands then arms would appear, often punching through the soil, sometimes dragging themselves up, other times helped up by the massive feathered monsters. It was a truly spine-tingling vision of absolute horror that confronted them, and The Wraith knew his comrades would feel as sickened by it as he was.

“Goodness,” was all Max could utter. Everyone else remained momentarily speechless.

“What do we—”
Leena
started.

Before she could finish her sentence, a covey of birds looked up in unison, stared directly at them. The Wraith swore an expression of intense anger was writ on the faces of the creatures. Anger and hatred. A sharp chill went up and down his spine.

“This doesn’t look good,” Max said, trying to steady his nerves.

One bird, the largest and nearest to them, raised its head, its leathery skin coated thick with offal, and let out a guttural squawk the likes The Wraith had never heard before. Max and
Leena
, their heads not covered with the protection of The Wraith’s cowl, reached up to shield their ears. The zombies, those just fully unearthed, froze in their tracks. They stood there, facing the three heroes, their lifeless frames absolutely still. A true army of the undead.

The largest vulture—their leader, The Wraith surmised—released another ear-shattering cry, and the army marched forth, directly for the three.

“We can’t take them all on,” Max cried.

“We make a stand here,” The Wraith said firmly. “Stand ready.”

The others did as they were told and readied themselves for battle.

The Wraith didn’t wait long, leaping up into the air and letting loose with a barrage of flash pellets. Several of the nearest undead were completely consumed within the fiery bursts of white-hot flame, yet another invention of Max’s.

Leena
and Max, similarly equipped, quickly followed suit, launching as many pellets as they initially could into the approaching zombie masses. They made no sound as they were once again consigned to eternal sleep, The Wraith hoping for all time.

“There’s too many of them,” Max shouted. “We don’t have enough flash pellets.”

The Wraith battled on, letting fly with flaming death left and right. Max was right, though, and The Wraith knew it. Then, an idea struck him. “The birds. Go for the birds.”

He looked down at his hands. There were still a small handful of pellets left, but they were all he had, and he knew he had to make them count. Perhaps by removing the birds from the equation, the zombies would fall. It was a crazy idea, but it was the only one he had right then.

The largest bird had retreated some way back. Three zombies charged at The Wraith, who took care of them with one spinning scissor kick. Three large vultures remained close, and The Wraith aimed some of his remaining flash pellets at all three of them. In an instant, the birds were engulfed in a fiery inferno. For some seconds, no sight of them was seen, and The Wraith and his team continued their hand-to-hand battle with the zombies, dispatching them with relative ease.

“Chief!” Max suddenly cried while delivering a powerful right hook to an attacking zombie, sending its jaw flying. “Look!”

The Dread Avenger whirled . . . and was stunned by what he saw: the three birds he had attacked with pellets still stood there, completely unharmed, their feathers not even singed. They gurgled in apparent belligerence, coming together with the other four remaining birds, which then milled at the rear of the still-advancing zombies.

“This is not possible,” The Wraith said under his breath.
Either these birds are not birds at all
or they’ve been enchanted or mutated somehow
.

Regardless, there appeared no way of stopping them. Flash pellets, up until then thought to be able to consume anything, had proven useless.

There was no more time for further thought, for there were still a handful of zombies advancing upon them. Max and
Leena
continued their assault with vigor, punching and kicking with everything they had. Thankfully, Max had been wrong. The last of the undead was dispatched with
Leena’s
last remaining batch of pellets. The three of them stood there, catching their breath, waiting, watching.

The vultures flapped their wings in defiance. They squawked and gurgled. The largest moved to the fore of its brethren and eyed the three intensely. Then, after some moments of tense silence, the leader raised its hideous head once again, loudly cried out and took to the air, the others following instantly thereafter. The Wraith craned his vision skyward. The birds they had seen in the air were still there, circling ominously, and were now joined by the seven they had just battled with. The newcomers joined the others in their eerie watch over the city.