Pandora 2: Death is not an Option (17 page)

“Knock him off you,” he shouted.

Just then, the disemboweled zombie got Konrad on his back. As he raised his head and opened his mouth to take a bite, Jack shot him in the bridge of the nose, blowing his brains against the panel truck behind him. The German engineer scrambled to his feet, breathing noisily through his open mouth. His wire glasses had been knocked off during the scuffle. He looked around wildly, making a keening sound as he panicked, trying to get his bearings. Jack could see bite marks on his face and hands.

“Konrad!” Jack called.

The engineer’s head kept darting from side to side, wild-eyed. He was hyperventilating.

“Konrad! This way.”

Looking now at Jack, they locked eyes for several seconds. Dropping his head, Konrad looked down at his hands. He raised his head again and said, “He bit me.” Konrad raised his hands toward Jack. “See, he bit me.”

“Okay, okay,” yelled Jack, “just come on.”

As the German took a step forward, the first of the zombies that were following them came around the panel truck and fell upon him. They surrounded him, biting and clawing, as he just stood there
frozen with fright. Just before disappearing from view, he let out a blood-curdling scream.

The undead surrounding La Cortina Restaurante either entered the shattered building to follow their ilk out the back to the alley to chase after Sean’s group or marched down the side street to join the mob following Mike and his group. The street corner gradually emptied of the zombie herd.

Malik and Regina crawled down the length of the overturned bus and carefully peered out the back window. The glass was shattered and lying in the street, the frame bent so the opening was folded almost in two. Lying on her stomach, Regina whispered, “I can see the last of them disappearing around the corner. They’re almost all gone.”

“We should probably wait an extra ten minutes,” Malik said, “to make sure the last of them are long gone.”

“Okay.”

Lying together on the side of the overturned bus, Regina and Malik continued surreptitiously monitoring the movements of the undead. The moaning, growling, and snarling from the creatures gradually faded as they shambled after the two separated groups. Malik crawled a little farther out.”

“It looks pretty clear,” Malik whispered over his shoulder.

“Go ahead,” Regina said. “I’m right behind you.”

They crawled through the opening and into the street. Quickly standing, they looked around. There were two or three zombies
walking up the street toward them. Regina tapped Malik on the upper arm and said, “Let me lead the way. I know this area.”

“You do?” questioned Malik.

“Yeah,” said Regina with an ironic smirk. “I live about two miles away. We’ll head to my house, regroup, and rearm.”

“Okay,” said Malik with a shrug. “After you.”

They both started up the street, picking their way between vehicles. Making their way almost a mile up the now-deserted road, they finally stopped at an intersection.

“We have to go left here,” said Regina softly, “then take the first right. About two miles up that side street is my house.”

They were both crouched against an empty taxicab with all four doors wide open. Regina had just stood up when Malik grabbed her and pulled her back down.

“Wait a minute,” he whispered. “Look.”

He pointed to the far right corner. The zombie had just stepped off the curb and was waddling to the middle of the intersection. He was well over six feet tall and weighed a good 450 pounds. All he had on was a pair of tattered blue jeans. They were stiff with blood and body fluids. His ragged, bloody, bare feet left a trail as he scraped them along the asphalt. He had a blackened bite mark on his forearm that was his obvious point of infection. The zombie had attacked other people, as he had bits of flesh hanging from his teeth, and he was covered with dried blood from his mouth all the way down his huge belly that was hanging over his jeans. He must have been one of the first turned. His greenish-gray flesh was mottled and showed dark
veins spreading under the waxy skin. Clusters of pustules were forming on his head and body. Some had broken and were leaking a vile, bilious, creamy fluid. He stank to high heaven. Whenever he took a plodding step, a swarm of flies rose and then landed back down on him. As he got closer, Malik could see maggots moving among the open, festering sores.

Regina gagged. Malik put his hand on her shoulder. “Yeah, I know,” he whispered. “That’s really bad.”

Peering through the open door, Malik said, “Start tapping at the end of the bumper. Draw his attention and get him to head that way. I want to get behind him.”

Making his way to the front fender, he turned and nodded to Regina. She in turn started tapping her pistol against the rear bumper. Malik reached down and drew a large hunting knife from the scabbard on his belt.

Tap…tap, tap…tap…tap.

The obese zombie turned his head toward the sound. Flies rose around him.

Tap, tap…tap.

A low growl came from his throat.

Tap, tap, tap.

Opening his gory mouth, he hissed. Congealed black blood oozed over his lips. Then he took a step toward the taxi.

Tap…tap.

Gaining momentum, he slowly plodded his way toward the tapping noise. His hands rose slightly, fingers curling and uncurling in anticipation. A louder growl issued from his vile mouth. Regina gave a final tap as he neared and then, still crouched, backed up the length of the taxi. Malik waited until the ghoul passed him and then slid around the front bumper. Crouching down, he came up behind him. The zombie reached the rear bumper and took a step around. No one was there. Standing still with a bewildered expression on his face, he was now the perfect target. Malik quickly stood, took two steps toward him, and, swinging his right arm in a wide, sweeping arc, drove the large blade into the creature’s ear. With a wet crunch, the knife drove into his skull up to the hilt. Tottering for a moment, the zombie went down as if pole-axed. All 450 pounds landed on his huge, bloated belly. It split open like a wet sack, and the most vile, putrid stench rose up, causing Malik, who’d seen almost everything, to turn his head and throw up. Regina came around the taxi with a handkerchief over her face. Even then, she kept her distance. Malik came up to her, eyes tearing and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Oh my God,” he croaked. “I have never smelled anything that rank in my life. Christ!”

“Let’s get out of here,” Regina said. He agreed.

The two ran to the left and then turned up Regina’s street. They ran on, leaving the downtown behind, and headed into the residential area.

The survivors from Key West were now separated into three groups and spread all over the city. They knew where they had to meet up but getting there and, more importantly, getting there in one piece, would prove to be harder than they could ever have imagined.

13

S
teve, Max, Ana, and Luke came to the crossroad leading to the Florida Turnpike. As they stopped and tried to catch their breath, they looked around. From the road to their left, they could see a group of zombies about half a mile away that was heading their way. The road they just had come from ended at this three-way intersection. There were gated communities lining both sides of the road all the way to the turnpike, which was about a quarter of a mile up the road. Only four zombies stood between them and the turnpike entrance ramp.

“Oh, thank God,” gasped Ana.

Losing their sense of urgency now, the foursome walked toward the overpass that spanned over the road. As the first two zombies shambled over to them, Max reached for the side arm he had taken.

“Don’t worry,” he said confidently, “I got point. This is just like Nam.”

The two zombies came around a Volkswagen Beetle that was in the middle of the road with the driver’s-side door open and a half-eaten body hanging out of the seat. A dried ring of blood had pooled
around the stalled vehicle. Max took a stance, and as the two ghouls came toward him, moaning, he fired two shots. The first hit the closer zombie in the head, and he went down. The second shot hit the other in the side of the head, blowing out part of the skull and his left ear. The creature staggered back two steps and then started moving forward again. Max sighted down the barrel and carefully fired again. This time the bullet hit the snarling zombie directly in the center of his nose, blowing it and the rest of his brains out the back of his head. The ghoul collapsed backward.

Max smiled. “Haven’t lost my touch,” he said triumphantly.

Steve and Luke came up to him and, smiling, slapped him on the back.

“You the man!” shouted Luke with a laugh.

Ana also came up and said, “Okay, Rambo. Let’s get a move on.”

Just then a moaning started. It continued to grow in volume, seemingly coming from all around them. The four stood there, looking around them.
Where was that infernal racket coming from?
Then the first of the undead emerged from the entrances of the gated communities on both sides of them.

Steve’s mouth dropped open. “Holy shit!” he said incredulously.

“We…we’re surrounded,” gasped Ana.

Luke started to shuffle his feet, inching toward the direction of the turnpike. He then yelled out, “Run!”

The four frightened survivors turned and started running for the entrance ramp. Now it seemed so far away. Max and Steve would take
an occasional shot while they were running, but they soon realized they weren’t that proficient of marksmen and soon gave up wasting ammo.

As he was running, Steve split his attention between tracking the zombies, planning a course to the ramp, and checking on his three other comrades. Luke was running about even with him. Max was ten feet behind, and Ana was off to the right. As Ana veered around a furniture delivery van, she passed the front gate to Vera Vista Estates. Passing the gated-community entranceway, she heard a high-pitched snarl. At first she thought it was a feral cat, but looking over as she ran, she saw a youngish woman come running down the drive toward her. She was obviously undead and apparently just turned. Her lime-green halter top was covered in blood. Most of her left shoulder was chewed down to the bone. She had bite marks on her neck, and she was missing her left ear. More frightening than that, though, she was moving fast. Very fast. When they first turn, zombies maintain most of their quickness for at least a week before the body starts to break down some, and then they begin to slow. After a while, their running (not really running, actually more of a fast walk) slows down to the shambling gait that they then maintain. This one must have just died. Though awkward (they are, after all, dead), she was still quick.

Ana could see they were on a collision course. Having run all this way, the middle-aged CEO just couldn’t go any faster. The stitch in her side was catching all of her breath and seemed to be squeezing the air out of her lungs. Half a dozen zombies had just appeared out of the left-side community gate, so Steve and Luke had to veer to the right to avoid them. Steve paused for a second and took a shot at the zombie coming at Ana. He fired, and the bullet hit the dead woman in the side. It didn’t even slow her down.

“Watch out, Ana,” he yelled.

He quickly turned his head to his left and saw that he had better start running again. With mounting dread, he watched as the female zombie got closer and closer to the faltering Ana. Just as he started to run toward Ana, he looked back and saw that Max was slowing down, and the zombies to his left were starting to head for him. He stopped again, not quite knowing whom to save first. The zombies coming at Max from his left were closer to Steve. He raised his pistol, steadied himself, and took four shots. Three creatures fell with head wounds. Having given Max a short reprieve, he now turned to Ana. The running ghoul was almost upon her. Ana slowed and then stopped, putting her arms out to ward her off. She looked like she was crying.

The snarling ghoul had her hands out in front of her like claws. She opened her cruel mouth wide to take a piece of Ana. Her milky eyes were almost wild. Just as she was about to pounce on Ana, her head exploded in a hail of brain matter and blood. A split second later, the report of a rifle shot sounded. Ana staggered back, covered with gore. Touching her face and seeing blood on her hands, Ana started to scream. Another zombie came out of the same gateway, but before he could get more than two steps, his head also burst open.

From the top of the overpass, they could see somebody waving an arm at them. He then started motioning them over. Steve, Luke, Ana, and Max ran toward the entrance ramp. The second person on the turnpike overpass was shooting at any of the undead that got close to them. It wasn’t an easy or a close shot, but every one that landed was a head shot. Whoever was firing was good. Very good.

Finally arriving at the turnpike entrance ramp, they stopped. A huge moving van had jackknifed at the turn into the ramp. The rear doors had burst open, and the contents were strewn over the asphalt. Several cars had plowed into the van, and together they made for an impassable obstacle. As they figured out a way over the jumble of
vehicles and furniture, the marksman on the turnpike continued to take out any zombies that neared them.