Z-Risen (Book 2): Outcasts (8 page)

10:05 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

I sat down and wiped sweat off my forehead. So that was a battle? It was more like a one-sided ass whipping.

Joel stood over me as the last of the motorcycles roared away.

“Think they’ll be back?” I asked.

“Probably. We should clear out.”

“Are we safe?”

“Brother, we haven’t been safe since you carried your big ass down the stairs and interrupted my game of spades back on the
McClusky.”

“But you have to admit, I have my moments.”

“Was that one of them? What were you trying to hit with the shotgun, a building? I think you even missed that.”

“Fuck you, Marine. I laid down cover fire.”

“When you lay down cover fire, you need to actually hit stuff.”

“Noise was on my side.”

Joel looked at me and then his eyes clenched tight for a split-second.

“What is it?” I asked.

He farted.

###

10:15 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

We were crawling into our loaded vehicles when the rumble returned. We’d only taken ten or fifteen minutes, but it was long enough for the assholes to return with new trucks and their egos pumped up. I ran back to the wall and found my
peep hole. What I saw scared me.

Markus was already hopping into the driver’s seat. He got back out, took a look, and swore.

“Shit. Just got the gun packed up.” He rummaged around in the HUMVEE again.

“I can only provide a little more fire. Maybe three or four bursts. We need a way out, and we need to stop as many of them as we can. Let’s make them pay for ground,” Donny said and slid in the back.

“We need a back door outta this place,” Joel said.

“Fence in the back. Can we blow it?” I asked.

When we made our new home, Fortress Mark II was the perfect location to keep Z’s out. The fence extended all the way around the building and the small parking lot. It wasn’t all that high, old cast iron, painted black, but it stopped the casual creeper from hitting us on our six.

We ran to the back of the building and made for the fence.

“Why the fuck won’t those guys leave us alone?”

“It’s
gotta be the transport,” Joel said as I tried to keep up with him. “And maybe they think we have a lot of supplies. I think the main problem is that we hit them. We fucked with their pride and now they’re motivated.”

“Damn. Still doesn’t make sense.”

“That HUMVEE is worth its weight in gold right now. You’ve seen the world, Creed. You’ve seen what it’s become. The population’s been cut down to almost nothing and only the strong will survive and right now those guys want our strength.”

“So we should run.”

“They might not be trained and we are. Problem is, we’re a few and they’re a lot. Same shit happened on patrol. You’d have a bunch of well-trained Marines and all of the sudden you’re facing a larger and very determined Al Qaeda.”

The grass was all but dead where Joel knelt down and checked the fence. He pushed against it, rattled it, and then stood and rammed his shoulder into it. At
ten foot intervals, metal posts had been driven into the ground. That made for enough reinforcement against even Joel Kelly, super Marine.

“Can we blow it up? Couple of grenades?”

“It’s worth a shot. We could put one at a post here.” He pointed.

“Another one here,” I said and stood ten feet away.

There was another parking lot next to ours, but it was for a small Mexican restaurant that had been gutted by fire. The open road lay beyond that, a clogged freeway even farther away.

“I’ll get Sails and the Chevy. You go and provide covering fire.”

I hobbled along behind Creed, my leg screaming with pain every time I took a staggering step. I’d turned my nose up at some Aleve earlier in the day, but right about now I’d pop half the bottle.

Joel explained the plan while Markus loaded his rifle. I stuck around for a few minutes but moved toward the fence when I heard rumbling.

They had a moving truck and it was coming up to speed. They’d put a piece of corrugated steel over the windshield with a small view-hole cut for the driver. Behind them, cars were flanked on either side, along with a couple of motorcycles.

“Christ, what did we do to these guys?” Roz asked.

“Like I said. We hurt their fucking pride,” Joel replied.

Shots erupted and bullets winged our way. They hit some of the parked cars but none of them struck the HUMVEE. A window shattered in the hotel. Falling glass tinkled around us.

Donny aimed the big gun and shot at the truck. He splashed hits across the hood, and a few punched through the corrugated shield. Against a .50
cal, it might as well have been paper, but we couldn’t see the driver. For all we knew, the guy was lying down and just keeping the wheel straight. If we had unlimited ammo, Donny could have turned the entire front into Swiss cheese. That would have bought us time.

Joel grabbed Christy and Roz. They dove into the Chevy with Sails once again behind the wheel. She gunned it and they zipped around the side of the building.

“Fall back. Move from cover to cover, but lay down lots of fire, Creed,” Markus said.

He lifted the sniper rifle and took aim.

Bullets splashed around him and that’s when I noticed a couple of guys were firing from inside cars. One of them was leaning all the way out so his entire torso was exposed. He wore some kind of armor like Joel.

It didn’t help.

Markus fired, and the big round punched into the guy’s chest. He didn’t throw his hands up in pain; he just slumped to the side and then fell out of the moving car.

Markus aimed again and fired at the truck.

Donny shot a few more rounds but the truck wasn’t stopping. In fact, it was gaining speed, and it was aimed right at the fence.

“Go time!” Donny yelled out and Markus moved.

He was almost at the HUMVEE when he spun around.

I moved behind a little hybrid we’d pushed out of the way yesterday and fired a few rounds, but it was like shooting at a brick wall. I hit, sure, but the truck wasn’t stopping.

Markus staggered to the HUMVEE, his hand on his shoulder. He managed to crawl inside and back the transport up. Donny shot until the .50 cal ran dry. He lifted an assault rifle, but slumped back as a round slammed through his head.

Blood blew out in a mist, something I’d become all too familiar with since this whole fucking nightmare started.

The HUMVEE kept backing up, even as the truck hit the fence. The rending crash shook the ground. The metal buckled and the gate flew apart.

I ran as fast as I could, damning my ankle, expecting to take a round in the back at any moment. I ducked around the corner of the hotel and got a face full of brick for my effort, thanks to a bullet exploding next to my head. I dove to the ground, rolled to the side, and got my back against the wall. The Mossberg flew, so I leaned over and snapped it up by the stock.

I blew out a quick breath and risked a look. The HUMVEE kept backing up as the truck came through. The collision stopped the HUMVEE and pushed it forward until it hit the side of the hotel. Markus opened the door and staggered out. He had his sidearm in hand and started firing before he was even on his feet. His shoulder bled, and he looked like he was in shock. It didn’t last long; a couple of rounds found him.

Fuck! If Joel didn’t get the fence down with a pair of grenades we were so screwed. These assholes wouldn’t bother to talk. They’d probably shoot Joel and me down and then go after the girls.

Wait. Grenades. Frags. I had a couple jammed in my pockets.

I practically whooped as I pulled one out and turned the nearly one pound ball of explosive. I gripped the handle against the side and yanked the pin. I slipped from behind the wall and threw like the big truck was home base.

The grenade sailed through the air but I was already taking the next one out. I pulled the pin and repeated my throw even as shots rang out and rounds exploded around me. I’d forgotten to yell “frag out!”

Then I was on the move.

My ankle screaming in pain, I put everything I had into getting out of the area and into the car. As far as I knew, Joel and crew were already blowing the fence and leaving me behind.

I bolted around the corner and almost took a round in the face, thanks to Sails. She had her handgun raised, and it was just as steady as it had ever been. How that small woman managed to hold a .357 with an eight inch barrel and not even show the strain was something else.

Behind me, the first explosion sounded. Two seconds later, the other grenade went off, followed by an even larger explosion that rattled my spine.

Joel and Roz were running like they were on fire. They dove behind the car, and Sails gave me a quick motion that seemed to
say “get the fuck down!” I dropped to the ground.

The pair of grenades on the fence went off at about the same time. One tore the post away, but the blast must have nudged the other grenade, because it rolled away before exploding. I covered my head and hoped a piece of metal didn’t find it. Then I was back on my feet and staggering toward the car.

The chunk of fence was still in place, but was sheered away on one side. If the car missed, and hit one of posts on the left, the car wouldn’t go anywhere after that.

Joel looked at me, but it was Sails who broke and ran to my side.

I got to my feet and hooked my arm over her shoulder for support.

“Creed,
ya big dummy. What did you do?”

“What had to be done,” was all I could think to say.
Real heroic, right?

I might have been mistaken but I swear she turned her help into a halfhearted hug.

I crawled into the back right next to Christy and tried to shoot her and Roz a grin, but I was rattled. In the last fifteen minutes we’d gone from having a cozy home to driving off marauders, to facing almost certain death.

Sails hopped in the Chevy, and instead of ramming the fence she ripped the car to the right and did a one eighty.

“Down, you ox,” she said.

I dropped lower and Sails, eyes intent, punched it.

We raced backwards until the Chevy hit the curb. The car bounced up and I almost went with it. Roz got her hand up, and Christy reached for me and managed to grab my arm. She hugged me tight. Before I could think to catch my breath, we hit the remains of the fence and it slammed to the side. The rear of the car crunched, but we were free. Hitting the other parking lot was just as hectic, and this time I was bounced into the top of the car.

Sails yanked the car around and then shot between a pair of abandoned cars. She found her way out of the parking lot, and, instead of dealing with side streets, she made a beeline for the freeway, which lay over an expanse of dying grass and weeds.

“You okay, dude?” I asked Christy.

“I’ve never been so scared in my entire life.” She held onto me like I was going to fall out of the car.

“Me too,” I said.

“What happened?” Joel turned to ask.

I gave them a quick account of the scariest two minutes of my life. Joel looked at me for a few seconds after I’d finished the story before cracking a smile.

“Goddamn Jackson Fucking Creed. I knew I’d make a Marine out of you. A couple of big ass transports hit, and that means a lot of gas. A lot of gas means a bigger explosion. Way to use your head, squid.”

“Oh yeah. Totally planned that.”

“What about…” Roz trailed off.

“Donny bought it while he was still behind the fifty cal. Markus came out shooting, but they got him. He didn’t even look surprised.”

Sails struck the dash a couple of times.

“I tried, Sails, really,” I said.

“It’s not that. Those guys were assholes, but they deserved better. Everything’s gone. The HUMVEE, our ammo, guns, food, water.” She trailed off, frowning.

“We have stuff in the trunk. Enough to get us by for a few days. I say we keep trying to make it to Los Angeles,” Joel said.

I nodded,
then looked through the rear window.

We weren’t clear yet; the cars and motorcycles were finding a way around the hotel and heading toward us.

Entry #14 - Overdrive

13:50 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

We ran for our lives.

The Chevy was a busted up mess. The hood was creased and we were leaking some kind of fluid. The bumper held on for dear life. At least one tire was losing air, and we were overloaded, so the car took forever to get up to speed. Then, just as we got some momentum, Sails would have to slam on the brakes and maneuver around an abandoned bunch of cars.

Joel Kelly cursed. I cursed. Sails cursed. Roz was the only one who kept her cool, looking over her shoulder at the mob of pissed off civilians behind the car.

The Chevy was running in the red. We’d hit empty. If the car was like most, that meant we had maybe a gallon of gas. Two if the car’s manufacturer planned for idiotic moments.

The other vehicles closed in on us.

I motioned for Christy to move closer to Roz and lowered the armrest. I had to lean all the way over but managed to work my arm into the trunk. I shifted stuff around until I got my hands on some bottles. Coca-Cola, a diet Sprite, and a Snapple. I handed them around, reached back in, and snagged water. Joel took the tea and practically drained the whole bottle in a couple of huge swallows. We might be minutes from death, but at least we’d die hydrated.

“We don’t have much time,” Joel said.

“We can make it to an exit, maybe find a way to ditch them. Find an open garage and hide. If we move fast, we can get the door shut,” Sails said.

I ripped through one bottle of water,
then drained another.

Anna slowed once again and had to hit the shoulder to get around a pair of cars. The sports car must have been in a hurry, because it had hit a Fiesta so hard that the front looked like an accordion. It had flipped over onto its side. A car like that probably ran in the six-figure range. Like being stuck in the apocalypse wasn’t bad enough, this guy had wrecked his pride and joy.

No one moved in either wrecked vehicle.

“I don’t like it. Means we have to take a chance on finding the right neighborhood. We might make it a
half mile off the road and run into a road block we can’t get around. Or we do make it around and then run out of gas. Those guys are going to be able to spot five people on the run. Bet on it,” Joel said.

I couldn’t argue.

“What if we jump out and let the car keep rolling? We can get to the other side of the freeway and find a new ride. Look at all those cars. Hell, there’s a Suburban that’s just ripe for the taking. Big and black.”

I grinned at Joel and waited for him to shoot me a one-liner, but I guess the stress had gotten to his sense of humor and shut that shit down.

“That’s good,” Roz said. “Beats the hell out of getting caught in the open.”

Sails got up to almost twenty miles an hour by driving over all the white reflective turtles and swerving between a bunch of wrecks, then she
slammed on the brakes so she could cut to the left and find a way onto the shoulder. She had to get around a dozen-car pileup that would have been big news a few weeks ago. Now it was just a bunch of scrap metal that no one cared about.

The road behind us was a river of cars under a dull grey sky. Rain was coming. If we got stuck somewhere, we’d be cold and wet AND on the damn run.

The car sputtered and then caught, but our valiant steed managed to puff up another few hits of gasoline and carry us onward.

I didn’t know the first thing about horses, valiant or otherwise, but I bet they didn’t run out of gas unless you didn’t feed them.

“Shoulda got horses,” I said under my breath.

“Do you know how to ride?” Roz asked.

“Not a clue.”

“They wouldn’t be much use. Can’t exactly outrun a motorcycle.”

“I was just thinking out loud. Hell – horse, helicopter, gunship, big-ass tank, something other than this piece of shit car that’s running on fumes.”

“This car’s been a champ,” Sails said, glancing in the rearview mirror to catch my eye.

“I have a stupid idea,” I said after another few seconds of silence.

“Yeah?” Joel glanced at me.

I told them what I had in mind. Sails looked at me like I was bat-shit insane, but, after meeting my eyes once again, she nodded.

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