The Week of the Dead (29 page)

Devin came forward. He approached the woman with his ax in hand. “Put the boy down!” He commanded. The woman paid him no attention. Redbeard came forward and placed a hand on his shoulder and held him back. Devin shook off the big hand. “Put him down! He’s infected!” Again the woman was on her knees sobbing as she cradled her child. The child’s hands began to move. The hands found clumps of hair from the back of the woman’s head and pulled at the hair. The woman lifted up the face of the child to see its eyes had turned red and the skin pale. The child opened its mouth, and the woman watched as the little face came toward her and bit her on the cheek. She screamed in pain as she released her hold on the child. Devin came forward and swung the ax at the child’s head. Devin’s ax cleaved the head clean off. The woman continued to cradle the headless body. Devin raised his ax again and struck the woman on the top of the head. Red blood was followed by milky white ooze, and it ran down her eyes. Devin placed a boot on the woman’s bare shoulders as pulled the ax free. He swung sideways this time, and the woman’s body fell to the ground with the blow of the ax.

“She’s done!” Redbeard said as he grabbed the handle of the ax from Devin’s hands overhead. “Finish up here; I’ll keep watch,” Devin said as he picked up his rifle again. The Vikings had taken the time to remove the heads from the bodies with their weapons. Jamison walked forward. He politely knocked three times.

A young woman came to the door. She displayed her pregnant belly. “Hello!” Walker said with a smile. The woman’s face was somber as she opened the door wider to reveal more humans sitting around an open room. They all gasped as their eyesights focused on the Vikings. Those who had weapons began pointing them at the new comers who came through the door. “Easy folks,” said a man in a police uniform. “Lieutenant Gary Miwalski, Milan PD,” the man in the police uniform spoke as he eyed Jamison in the fatigues.

“Staff Sergeant Jamison. United States Marine Corps.” The two men shook hands. “Ya’ll doing OK?” Jamison asked.

“Keeping our own. How about you, fellas?” Miwalski asked.

“We’re making it. We hear you might have ammo here?”

“Enough to spare, but we don’t have enough weapons. We’re a small town. Not a whole lot of need for weapons that fire NATO rounds,” Miwalski said.

“We got plenty of weapons, but not a whole lot of ammunition,” Jamison responded.

“We also have a doctor,” Walker said as he looked at the young pregnant girl.

The sun danced on Devin’s face. He found himself lying in the back of the SWAT van. Erica was driving. He sat up. His body ached from the run in with the Minotaur-creature and the woman with the child. He grabbed something to eat and began munching on it as he threw his body in the passenger seat. “What’d I miss?” he asked. “Well, we found an ammo depot. You eliminated a woman and her child. We traded some guns and cigarettes for some ammo. We picked up a pregnant girl and a few others from the depot, and you still smell bad.” He looked at her. “I was there for most of that. That lady was stupid. She knew her kid was infected. She didn’t listen. What was her name?” Erica sat quietly.

“M’kay, maybe not. Why did a pregnant girl come with us?” Devin asked. “Some of the town had taken over the ammo depot, but since we had Isaac, the girl thought she should come with us in case she has the baby,” Erica explained.

“Fan-freaking-tastic! Where are we now?”

“We’re on 79, coming up on Clarksville.”

“How long was I asleep?” he asked rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Only about two hours.”

“How was the Big Sandy Bridge?”

“Surprisingly not bad. We had to stop and push some stuff out of the way,” she said. Devin looked at her. She had found a pair of aviator sunglasses, and her hair blew from the wind coming through the small window of the sliding door. He marveled at her. At the beginning of the week, she was still wearing flats and a dress, driving a Volkswagen. Now, she had become something different in his clothes driving a van full of weaponry, and then he smiled. He remembered when she lit the gas station on fire. He chuckled to himself as he munched on his snack food. “Where’s the phone?” he asked. She pointed at the dash. He picked up the phone and chicken pecked at the keys.

“You don’t text much, do you?” She watched him attempt to type.

“No, I never had a phone growing up.”

Devin’s message contained the simple greeting of “
Hello.
” Devin tapped the phone against his thigh.

“So a Minotaur, huh?” Erica asked.

“It was one of them. It had horns. It was pissed. Minotaur. Is that what Ferret called him?”

“Yeah, Walker was pissed you ditched the machine gun.”

“It was empty! What did he want me to do? Drag it back? Duct tape it to the roof of this van?” he said rhetorically.

“Beats me. I think Walker had some sort of attachment to it since Daniels died.”

“Touché.” He stared out the window at the signs pointing them toward Clarksville.

“What’s up with the armor? Are you a
Viking
now?” she asked hoveringly.

“Maybe…I don’t know. I listened to Ferret talk about what they believe in. It sounded pretty right. They have a system going, and it’s better to be part of a group than a bunch of rag-taggers. Otherwise, we’re no better than those fuckers we killed back there. We got to stick together. Why? Is it weird?”

“No, well, kind of,” she stammered. “It’s not what I expected. A motorcycle gang who thinks their ancient warriors, dressing for the part mind you—”

“Which, I think, we should work on. The armor saved my ass more than once so far. Besides, what happens when we run out of ammo? We’re going to do what they do, and use handheld weapons? Probably end up using shields and spears like the Spartans. I already have the helmet. Did you see Tara with that bow? Holy shit!”

“I saw it.”

“I know you’re not comfortable with violence, but now isn’t the time to smell flowers and take a nap by the river,” he said. The phone buzzed breaking the silence. “
Still alive?
” It said. “
Y-e-a-h. Y-o-u?
” Devin spoke as he typed. “
Still kicking. Lol. Where are you?
” “
Clarksville.
” “
Getting close. How many people?
” “Shit, he wants to know how many people we have,” he said to Erica.

“What are you going to do? How do we know this guy isn’t going to fuck us on this one?”

“We don’t.” Devin picked up the radio. “Jamison, come back?”

“Jamison here. What’s up, buddy?”

“Talking to the guy. He wants to know what our head count is. What do you think?”

“Tell him; don’t tell him about the Vikings or the guns.”

“Why not?” Tara clicked in.

Because, we don’t want him to think we’re marauders or we’re going to steal their stuff.”

“Copy that,” Devin said. “
17.
” He typed.

“
We’ll make room. Most of the roads should be clear by now. Not many zombies left. We have some fighters out there. They wave white flags. Be cautious.
” Phoenix said.

“
Can I call?
” Devin texted.

“
Not now. Going to check the gardens. Remember where you’re going?
”

“
Yeah.
”

“
Follow the address. It’s an old drive-in theater. Screen 4.
”

“Looks like we’re going to see a movie.” Devin clicked on the radio.

Zombies.
It never clicked in his head. Devin realized what they were up against. “Fucking zombies!” Devin said out loud.

“What?” asked Erica. “They’re fucking zombies! That’s what this guy is calling them, but he’s right. They’re fucking zombies!”

The Exodus

Chapter 64

Thursday 0350 CST

Fort Knox

P
eople threw themselves into vehicles. The fort had turned into a barren wasteland. Some people were able to climb on board the vehicles, both military and civilian. Others were left to defend themselves. Most of them hid within the fort. Henry took a group and hid within the recently vacated vault. Nurse Amy was stationed in a transport truck. Jenna, Ashley, Paul, and Harrison were in a vehicle with Phil behind the wheel. Ethan and Josh were handing out weapons to those who were staying. Junior was there sharpening his knife. Runt was pulling crates and other things to barricades that were being built by those already armed by Ethan or Josh. Reynolds was on the far wall. He was placing a satchel charge on the massive gate that the vehicles were going to make their grand departure. Ethan radioed in everyone’s ears. “If you believe in a God, now’s the time to start praying.”

Runt came over the microphone. “I don’t know many prayers. But I know Ephesians, Chapter 6, verse 10–17, seems fitting.”

“Lay it on us, Brother,” Ethan said. He watched people take a knee. He felt like he needed all the spirituality he could get right now. Runt cleared his throat and began to speak.

“As I had read before, ‘Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in this heavenly realm. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so when this day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and you will have done everything to stand. Stand firm then with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of Righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all of that, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Finally, take up the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.’”

Runt clicked the radio as he heard solemn “Ah-men” around him. “That was deep. But I’m all out of swords and armor; instead I’ve got this motherfucking flamethrower!” One of the soldiers said as he fired a beam of liquid fire into the air.

Runt found a drum of something and taped a charge to it. Josh helped him roll it on the side of the APC. “What are you doing?” Reynolds broke the moment by shouting “Let’s get these bastards!” as he started throwing grenades over the wall. The mild morning dew was expelled from the dirt with forceful explosions. They watched as body parts flew above the top of the remaining wall. “Fuck ’em up!” Josh said as he too grabbed a grenade and threw it. “Explosives over the wall! Fuck ’em up!” Ethan shouted as he began giving orders. “All gunners and flamethrowers, hold until breach!”

The men were left with about thirty fighters including themselves. All the civilians who were outranked by Reynolds, his men, Runt, and Josh had taken up the position of Ethan’s lieutenant, unofficially of course. Thirty humans and most of a concrete wall was all that stood in the way of thousands of zombies and Alphas waiting to break in. The APC rocked back and forth. Its tracks were broken after the fifteenth smash against the wall. The right side was rolling up and down. The metal body was gaining momentum against the concrete wall. The lead Alpha’s throat could be heard in between grenade explosions. It roared loud enough the wall vibrated. “Show time! On your ready!” Ethan spoke. Weapons were racked; the hissing sound of flamethrowers preceded the warm air around them. An Alpha leaped on the top of the APC. It was met with a volley of rounds and a stream of fire. It winced in pain as it fell to the ground outside the wall.

“Bring it on, bitch!” Josh said as he slung two rifles around his shoulders. The APC began to take greater strides. It slammed itself against the wall again and again. The humans took their places behind the sandbag barricades. The humans in the vehicles got out to watch. Ethan waved them back. “Do not blow the gate until it gets too hairy. We don’t want to open the back door too early. We could still salvage this holdout.”

“Bullshit!” someone called out loud. “We need to run!” The man in the trucker hat put his hands on his hips.

“Calm down!” Ethan shouted at the man. Another Alpha leaped on the APC and charged at the men on the ground. Its barbequed head exploded as it fell to its knees. A man in civilian clothes charged forward with an AA-12 automatic shotgun. It shook his arms as he carelessly walked forward. “Fuck yeah!” he shouted as he changed magazines of the shotgun. The civilian ran through three magazines. He threw the shotgun down as he grabbed a Pelican Case and threw it at the hole in the wall. Josh looked at Runt. He stood there with the clacker to whatever was on the oil drum. “What is that?” he asked.

“Homemade hot sauce,” the little man said.

“What does that mean?” Runt didn’t answer.

He held the clacker in his forward hand as he took pop shots at the creatures falling over the wall. They were beginning to climb. Reynolds’s men sprayed liquid fire over them. The APC was being pushed forward. The megaton vehicle rolled over the rubble of the concrete wall. It was pulled back through with massive hands. “Breach!” There was a thirty-foot gap in the concrete wall. The creatures decided the APC wasn’t a good-enough ram, so they tossed it aside. The bodies, big and small, began filling the gap. Their red eyes and open arms were met with a mixture of flame and brass. Unfortunately, Runt and Josh didn’t mention the explosive to anyone else. The napalm stream of a flamethrower ignited the charge, a Pelican case that happened to contain a few M203 rounds and the drum of what turned out to be jet fuel and vegetable oil mixed together. The air filled with smoke and the smell of fried potatoes. “Fuck!” was heard as some of the humans were blown aside by the blast.

Ethan found himself on the ground. His left eye was on the ground. His right eye was focused on the blurry fire that engulfed the gap in the wall. He sat up and tried to get to his feet. His ears were filled with a deafening ring. He shook his head getting the dirt out of his eyes. He looked up to see one of the zombies on fire coming toward him. Its chest and arms were on fire as it came forward followed by more. Ethan reached for his weapon, but he couldn’t find his trigger. He fumbled with the device. The flaming creature came forward with Ethan as his target. Ethan shouldered the rifle; he looked down the sights only to discover that most of the rifle had been destroyed in the blast. He was still positioned on his butt looking up. He removed the shoulder strap and wielded the broken rifle like a club.