The Left Series (Book 1): Leftovers (26 page)

“Stay calm, stay focused,” he muttered to himself.

He looked around the transporter interior to see who was where. He felt the vehicle gather speed and heard the engine rumble louder. The female zombie crawled towards Smith, who lay prone on the deck. The middle aged, balding zombie seemed to be in some sort of dazed trance. He knelt before the bench seat and continually banged his head onto the lower horizontal wooden part. Wilde sat up wiping his eyes.

Rosenberg’s attention snapped back to the woman crawling over Smith. She heaved herself onto all fours again. Rosenberg noticed one of her legs bent at an odd angle to her body, definitely broken in at least two places. Chunks of her calf had been bitten away, the wounds oozing straw colored liquid.

“Oh no you don’t, you bitch,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

He looked for the rifle but it lay at the back of the interior, two feet from the ramp. No time to run over and collect it. He grabbed hold of the overturned wheelchair and righted it.

“You stay there, Brett. I need your chair for a moment.”

Rosenberg ran the chair towards the woman. The foot rests hit the top of her arms causing her chin to thud into the metallic frame. Rosenberg ploughed on through the center of the transporter. The female zombie skidded backwards across the floor on her knees trapped in front of the chair. Rosenberg gave a final push and watched the chair and the female zombie plummet down the ramp and scuff along the road before disappearing from sight.

Rosenberg breathed heavily trying to hold off the panic attack. Sweat ran down his face and dripped from his chin. He bent over and put his hands on his knees and watched the dark silhouettes of the airport buildings recede into the distance.

Something shuffled behind him. He turned and saw the middle aged zombie reaching for him, too close to avoid. Rosenberg felt the gnarled fingers grip his shirt and smelled the coppery stench of congealed, stale blood.

Eazy braced himself before the front of the cab smashed into the heavy gates. The grating noise of metal upon metal reverberated through the transporter as the front fender, hood and grill collided with steel and mesh.

Rosenberg and the middle aged zombie were thrown from the back of the interior and clattered onto the tarmac road.

The vehicle rocked from side to side and slowed almost to a crawl but ploughed on through the wrecked gates. The windshield was cracked in several places and steam and water spewed between the mangled grill and the creased hood.

Eazy slowed the vehicle to a stop. “You better just check everyone is still in one piece in the back,” he said. An egg shaped lump swelled on his forehead where he’d hit his head on the steering wheel on impact.

Batfish nodded and jumped out of the cab.

“I’ll go too,” Julia said rubbing her shoulder where the seat belt jolted her.

“Don’t be too long,” Eazy said. “I don’t know if this mother will make it back to the Interstate and we don’t know how many zombies might be coming our way or if Podolski and his goons are following.”

Batfish and Julia trotted around the back of the transporter. They looked inside and saw Smith laying unconscious on his back and Wilde trying to stand up.

“Where’s Denny?” Julia asked.

“Oh, my God. Where the hell is he?” Batfish squawked.

“I’m right here,” a voice wailed from behind them.

They turned and saw Rosenberg lying in the middle of the road twenty yards away.

“Can someone help me up? I’ve kind of had the wind knocked out of my sails.”

Batfish and Julia hurried towards him. The remains of a zombie with its head completely shattered lay next to Rosenberg.

“What happened?” Julia asked as she and Batfish grabbed each of Rosenberg’s arms.

Rosenberg sighed and winced in pain as he stood up. “I was battling the zombies that got in the back. I dealt with them all until the last one. God damn it, what did we hit?”

“Eazy had to drive through some big gates,” Batfish explained as though she was talking to a child.

“We fell out the back and luckily for me, that last zombie landed on the road right on his head.”

“You’re not bitten?” Julia whispered. “Tell me you’re not bitten.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Rosenberg studied himself for injuries. “Just winded is all and a few grazes from the fall.”

“Come on, we better go,” Batfish ushered. “We’re not safe out here with our asses hanging out in the dark. Let’s get back in the truck.”

Batfish and Julia held Rosenberg by an arm each and stumbled back towards the transporter.

“You better look at Smith, Denny,” Julia said. “He looks in a bad way.”

“Yeah, I think he passed out in the back. He did so much to get us out of that hellhole back there,” Rosenberg nodded towards the airport.

“Don’t let him die will you,” Julia whispered. “We need him.”

“I’ll do my best,” Rosenberg said.

“Hang on, what’s that noise?” Batfish asked.

“Sounds like a vehicle,” Rosenberg said. “It’s coming our way.”

The three of them turned and saw vehicle headlights fast approaching from the same route they had taken.

Batfish shielded her eyes from the full beam headlights. “If that’s Podolski and his army, we’re fucked.”

Chapter Forty-Two

The driver dimmed the headlights and slowed the vehicle, coming to a stop in front of Batfish, Julia and Rosenberg.

“Who the hell is it?” Rosenberg whispered.

“I don’t know but it’s a nice set of wheels,” Batfish said, admiring the black Lexus CT 200h.

The driver’s window lowered and a familiar face appeared from the interior.

“Doctor Soames,” Rosenberg gasped. “What are you doing out here?”

“Those cowards inside the complex wouldn’t let me back in,” Soames spat. “I had no option but to make my escape and it’s because of you people that I am in this predicament. So unfortunately I’ll have to tag along with you. You owe me that.”

“Listen, asshole, we don’t owe you a God damn thing,” Batfish retorted. “You locked us up in there and wanted to kill us or turn us into living dead or whatever the hell it was you were going to do. If you don’t like it, you can go it alone.”

“Hold on, Batfish. Just calm down for a second,” Rosenberg said. “He may be of some use. He’s a fully qualified scientific doctor after all.”

Batfish screwed her eyes at Soames but kept silent.

“And another thing,” Soames said. “We better not hang around here too long because some of the walking corpses began to chase me when I left the complex in my car. They’re slow but determined. They’ll follow us until they find us.”

“Okay, you follow us in your car,” Julia reasoned. “We are heading back to the Interstate to collect our vehicle and you can decide what to do from there.”

“Suits me,” Soames said and closed his window.

Julia, Batfish and Rosenberg shuffled back towards the transporter.

“We may need a lift if our truck doesn’t make it,” Julia said quietly.

They clambered over the wrecked steel gates lying in the middle of the road and Rosenberg hopped up the ramp into the rear of the transporter. He knelt by Smith, checked his pulse and breathing rate.

“Are you going to be okay in there, Denny?” Julia asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Smith seems stable. I think he’s just exhausted and needs some rest.”

They heard a low rumble like the sound of a herd of cattle over the noise of the idling vehicle engines.

“What was that?” Batfish whispered.

“Zombies,” Rosenberg hissed. “Sounds like lots of them coming our way. We better get out of here. Can you two lift the tail gate?”

Batfish nodded and her and Julia struggled but lifted the ramp into the closed, vertical position and slotted home the security bolts. Soames slowly drove over the mangled gates and stopped close behind the transporter. Julia and Batfish ran to the cab and jumped inside. Eazy sat with Spot on his lap looking in the side mirrors.

“Who the hell’s that behind?”

“That is Doctor Soames,” Julia said.

“What the fuck does he want?”

“He wants to follow us back to the Interstate. Oh, and we better go because there are lots of zombies coming,” Julia said.

“I can’t believe that motherfucker is looking to us for protection now,” Eazy rumbled, trying to see through the cracked windshield and plumes of steam from the engine.

“He’s no threat without Podolski’s guards to back him up,” Batfish said, grabbing Spot from Eazy’s lap.

Eazy pulled the vehicle forward. “I don’t think this piece of shit is going to get us very far. The radiator’s busted and it’s going to overheat soon.”

“We can jump in with Soames if it comes to it,” Julia said.

“I hope it don’t come to that,” Eazy sighed. “I may end up strangling the bastard if I have to get too close to him.”

Julia giggled.

Eazy kept the speed to 20 mph on the clock. He didn’t want the transporter to die on them so close to the Interstate. He couldn’t wait to get back inside the relative safety of the RV and get as far away from the airport as possible. Podolski’s unnecessary intervention had cost them time, their weapons, cell phones and personal possessions. Eazy felt the small window of opportunity for refuge on the ship in Battery Park Harbor closing with every second.

He wondered briefly if his family was okay and still breathing God’s clean air. He hadn’t had much contact with his parents and two brothers over the past three years. The family had virtually disowned him after a breaking and entering charge brought shame on them. Eazy moved away from Harrisburg to start a new life somewhere. He didn’t know where he was going when he left, simply jumped in his car and drove, ending up in Brynston after unsuccessfully job hunting in New York and New Jersey. At least now he was free of the low-lifes, dropouts and ex-con’s that he reluctantly mixed with. Now he had some sole purpose in life, survival.

The transporter engine spluttered as they crawled along the slip road towards the Interstate 78 entry junction. Eazy steered around the abandoned vehicles and debris littering the slip road. Visibility was hindered with one of the front headlight beams broken and the remaining light shining at a 45 degree angle to the truck.

“I can’t see shit,” Eazy spat.

“We’re nearly there,” Julia reassured.

“I just hope Podolski isn’t on our tail,” Eazy said. “This slow, snail’s ass pace is going to make it real easy for him to catch us up.”

“He’ll probably stay inside that compound for a while,” Batfish said. “Those zombies outside won’t make it easy for him to get out of the building.”

“I’m sick and tired of zombies,” Eazy snorted.

“I have a feeling we’re going to see a lot more of them before we get to that ship,” Julia sighed.

Chapter Forty-Three

I didn’t know if I was dreaming, tripping or hallucinating when Rosenberg bundled me in the back of the RV. Real events merged into memories, visions, thoughts and sub thoughts. Where the hell was I? A few moments ago I was with Samantha in London, now I was on a road in the middle of the night with rain pissing against the RV windows. What had I been doing? I felt like I was in the middle of someone else’s dream.

The people inside the RV talked at such a rapid pace, I couldn’t understand half of what they were saying.

“
Which route do we take?…Interstate 78 East or US 1-9 North…traffic jams…zombies…New York…high pitch, low pitch…blah, blah, blah, guff and rhubarb.”

I looked around and saw Rosenberg looking at some bandages on Smith’s chest. Smith sat on one of the chairs looking sweaty and pale. Jesus, I had the feeling we’d been through something terrible but I couldn’t remember what exactly. I remembered the zombies and a feeling of impending doom but was that real or had I dreamt it all. Sam said something about taking drugs in London. Maybe I had overdosed on some bad acid and gone ape shit. Shit, this was all my fault. Weird science meets a crock of shit.
Bally fantastic… fan dabby fucking dozy.

“You really shouldn’t smoke, right now,” Rosenberg was saying to Smith.

“Can I have one of those?” My voice was feeble and sounded like a choir boy when his voice is breaking during the onset of puberty.

Smith fumbled with his cigarette packet and tossed me one which landed in my lap.

“Good to see you back in the land of the living, Wilde man,” Smith wheezed.

I didn’t know what
un
living state I’d previously been in.

“Carrots,” I said. “Whores like carrots. I mean horses like carrots.” Smith had just thrown me a carrot. No, it was a cigarette.

I noticed the others exchanged uncertain glances.

“It may take him a while to get back to normal,” Rosenberg muttered.

Batfish moved towards me and picked up the cigarette and put in my mouth. “There you go, honey,” she said and lit the end. “Just don’t burn the place down, will you?”

I puffed on the cigarette and enjoyed its burn. After all, I hadn’t had anything to eat for ages.

“Come on, let’s get going,” Eazy said, moving towards the cab.

“I just hope they left the keys,” Batfish said, following Eazy and holding the little dog in her arms.

“Those bastard soldiers took them off me and threw them back in the cab some place,” Eazy said.

“Sit down, Smith,” Rosenberg was nearly restraining Smith in his seat. “You need to rest.”

“I need to check if my God damn bag is still onboard,” Smith groaned. He winced as he tried to stand and put a hand to his shoulder.

“Check for it later,” Rosenberg implored. “You don’t need it right now.”

Smith gave up and slumped back into the chair. He had draped a jacket around his shoulders and wore a pair of loose fitting pants. Rosenberg had done his best to redress the bandages covering his wounds using the first aid kit in the RV.

The RV engine started up and Eazy pulled the vehicle forward. “Is Soames still behind us?” I heard him call from the cab.

Rosenberg glanced out of the back window and watched the beam from the tailing car headlights. “Yeah, he’s still following,” he yelled back.