Zomb-Pocalypse 3 (18 page)

“Pull in here,”
Jack instructs, pointing to a rectangular modular that is just ahead. “It has
to be the office; hopefully we can find some keys.”

Regg steers the
truck into the marked parking spot reserved for PJ himself and slams it into
park as Jack, Dad, and Silas all jump out of the truck. I follow them, much to
my dad’s disappointment, though thankfully he doesn’t waste time arguing
anymore.

We try the door,
and I’m surprised when it actually opens. Jack throws it wide and stands with
his legs apart and his gun up, ready to blast anything that moves. The interior
of the building is dim even though there are a few windows, and our breath
puffs like big, fluffy clouds in front of our faces as we study the layout of
the room.

It looks like
we’ve walked into the receptionist’s area with the large wood grain desk
sitting front and center and mismatched chairs lined up against the wall for a
waiting room. Silas points to some pegboard on the wall behind the desk that is
filled with keys, and we all gather around it. “Which ones do you think we’ll
need?” I ask. Silas pulls the ball cap off his head, holds it upside down like
a bowl, and tosses in every single set of keys.

“All of them,” he
tells me once he’s plucked the very last key from its hook.

“Hot dang!” Jack
exclaims as he slides open one of the desk drawers and starts pulling out
quality walkie talkies. “These are exactly what we need,” he exclaims, taking
them all out of the drawer and shoving the extras into his bag after he hands
us each our own.

“These things have
a range of like sixteen miles,” Silas tells us. Once again, I have to marvel at
all the random bits of information that he has stored in his head.

“Let’s all turn
them to channel two, so we’re on the same page,” Jack suggests, and I fiddle
with my dial until the eight in the LCD screen changes to a two.

A scraping sound
draws my attention down the hallway to my right, and I grip Silas’s arm and
point. Silas makes a cutting motion to everybody else and we all freeze,
straining our ears, trying to discern if something is going to come after us
from down the hall.

An
all-too-familiar, phlegm-filled rattle sound gives us a brief warning before a
construction-zombie comes staggering down the hall towards us. The zombie is
wearing blue jeans, a flannel work shirt, and bright orange suspenders. He
looks like one of the guys from the YMCA song—all that’s missing is the bright
yellow hard hat. Silas steps forward, gripping the bolt cutters, but Jack beats
him to it, raising his gun, he pops him right between the eyes.

“Let’s get the
hell out of here,” Jack suggests as he turns and pushes through the door. The
snow is still coming down like crazy outside, but I’m mentally prepared for it
this time, so it’s less of a shock when it attacks my eyeballs.

Regg gets out of
the truck when he sees us and walks over, digging through the hat full of keys
and plucking a few out. He hands one to Barry, Jack, and my dad. “I need you
guys to find a truck that runs, hook up a trailer, and get some equipment
loaded,” he tells them before motioning to the rest of us. “Silas, Megan, and
Jane, you guys are on guard duty. Watch our backs while we work,” he tells us
and then walks off.

I stare at Megan
and Silas briefly and then I take off at a jog, following my dad. If I’m going
to watch anyone’s back, it’s definitely going to be his.

An hour later, I
am completely numb from my fingers to my toes. Even my nose and cheeks have
stopped hurting and are just frozen. The yard is a hub of activity with the
rumble of diesel engines and various pieces of equipment being loaded onto the
trailers for transport, and I’m pretty much a nervous wreck.

All this movement
isn’t exactly quiet, and we’ve managed to attract at least fifty zombies to the
outside perimeter of the fence. They follow us around and moan, clutching at
the chain link with rotten fingers. The sight of them makes me even colder.

“That’s it,” Regg
says as he parks the last tractor trailer behind the other two already lined up
at the gate. We all stop and stare at our adoring fan club and grimace.

“I have an idea,”
Silas says with a slight grin on his face. “We can’t risk damaging the trucks
by plowing into a group that big, but I could definitely clear them out with
that—” He points to a huge yellow machine with an enormous flat blade mounted
on the front.

“Do you even know
how to run that thing?” Regg asks, and Silas shrugs.

“I spent a summer
driving a tractor around a corn field— I’ll figure it out,” Silas retorts, and
it’s Regg’s turn to shrug.

“I guess if you
think you can do it,” he tells Silas as he hands over the remaining hat full of
keys. “Just don’t make me regret this!” Silas takes the keys like a kid on
Christmas morning and presses a quick kiss to my lips as he jogs over and
climbs up into the massive mountain of metal. We all watch him trying the
various keys until one works. The engine roars to life and smoke billows out of
the stack.

We all jump back
when the dozer bounces a little and start’s forward with a lurch. The metal
tracks make a distinct clicking sound as it rolls. After a few minutes of
complete experimentation, Silas seems to gain control over the machine and
gives us the thumbs up.

My dad sprints
over and gives me a big hug. “Be careful kiddo,” he warns me and I nod, hugging
him back tightly. I’m so grateful that he’s starting to trust me out here.

“We’d better get
going,” Regg tells us softly, not wanting to intrude, but also wanting us to
get the hell out of here. Dad releases me and runs back to his truck, and I
watch Barry climb into the passenger seat of the same truck my dad is driving.

“I guess you girls
are on your own for now. Who’s driving?” Regg asks, holding up the keys to the
Ford.

“You do it,” I say
to Megan right away. I’m not exactly comfortable driving on a good day and snow
and zombies don’t help.

Megan snatches up
the keys. I climb in the F-150 with her and watch everyone else get into their
big rigs—I didn’t even know my dad could drive a big truck! Once we are all inside,
Silas gets the dozer rolling forward until it gains momentum, and he smashes
through the front gate with absolutely no effort. “Holy shit,” Megan mutters
under her breath, and I kinda have to agree with her. I hadn’t been expecting
Silas to just smash it like that, but I guess it would be dangerous to get out
and open it.

Silas raises his
blade a couple feet just before he crashes into the crowd of zombies. Even
though I hate them and I want every single zombie on this planet to die, I
can’t help wincing. The zombies are like bowling pins getting knocked over and
pushed out of the way, with those that fall getting rolled underneath the
blade. “Oh gross, look at that one!” I yelp, pointing to an unfortunate zombie
that’s gotten himself stuck between the dozer’s tracks. He’s flopping around
like a rag doll as the tracks continue to spin, and I’m transfixed. I can’t
look away. Thankfully, he falls off on the next resolution and gets ground to
bits.

Megan and I both
clap our hands over our mouths. “I think that is one of the worst zombie kills
I’ve ever seen,” Megan admits, and I can only nod. If I thought killing a
zombie with a chainsaw was badass, Silas definitely has me beat with this.

The zombies don’t
know that they don’t stand a chance against the machine, so they just keep
heading for the big blade and it makes quick work of them. Silas does one more
pass and then there are none, and nothing left of them except crushed up
corpses, bone chips, and goo. The lead truck idles up and starts rolling, driving
right through the gore until it gets a good half a mile down the road. Then
Regg stops, and the rest of the convoy follows.

Megan stops the
truck near the dozer to see if Silas is going to jump in with us, but he waves
her away. I look at Megan in confusion as we leave Silas behind and she shrugs.
“I’m sure he has some plan up his sleeve,” she tells me, and she’s probably
right.

We wait with the
rest of the trucks for another ten minutes while Silas slowly creeps up on us
in the slow-ass dozer. When he parks the machine and gets out, Regg frowns at
him. “What are you doing?”

“We have to take
this thing with us!” Silas says, and it’s as close to begging as I’ve ever seen
Silas get. Regg turns to stare at the already loaded trucks.

“Oh come on,”
Silas cajoles, pointing to the truck that Jack was driving in the middle. “You
only have two skid steers on that trailer. It has to be a fifty foot trailer—at
least—there’s plenty of room.”

“Fine,” Regg snaps
with a frown on his face, but I’m pretty sure it’s all for show because he
really wants the dozer too.

We sit for another
half an hour while they screw around and reposition the small skid steers and
then roll the giant D6 dozer up the beavertail ramp and chain it down.

“I doubt she’s
legal, but it’s highly unlikely that there’s anyone left employed by the
Department of Transportation to stop us,” Jack says with a booming laugh as he
finishes tightening the chain with the chain binder and tosses it into the tool
box.

“Good. Let’s get
the hell out of here,” Regg yells to be heard above the rumble of engines.

“Take it easy with
that thing, she’s my girl,” Silas shouts to Jack, pointing to the dozer, and I
feel the craziest stab of jealousy.

Jack laughs.
“Don’t worry about it man. I’m gonna drive this D6, like a G6—see you back on
the mountain.” Silas waves as Jack jumps back into his truck and takes off.

Megan hands over
the keys and gets into the backseat as Silas gets in the Ford and pushes the
driver’s seat way back. I watch him with narrowed eyes as he puts the truck in
gear and eases off down the road. The truck fishtails and I grip the handle
above the door, causing Silas to glance over and look at me. “It’s getting
slippery out there,” he says unnecessarily, and I can’t help it.

“Are you sure you
wouldn’t rather ride with Jack and ‘your girl’?” I ask, air quoting. I
instantly regret my outburst when Silas’s face cracks into a grin, and Megan
laughs from the back seat.

“Aww, honey, are
you jealous of my dozer?” he asks, and it’s so ridiculous that even I have to
grin. Inside, though, I’m melting because Silas just called me honey.

Chapter Seventeen

We drive for half
an hour before Silas looks sharply to his left and slams on the brakes, causing
the truck to skid sideways and me to let loose a girly scream. “What in the
hell are you doing?” I demand as I watch the brake lights on the trucks up
ahead light up.

“What in the hell
are you doing?” Regg’s voice crackles into the cab through the walkie talkie
that I’d almost forgotten I’d shoved in my pocket.

Silas grabs the
walkie from my hand and holds the talk button down. “Did you notice that fuel
station back there had a couple tanker trucks?” he asks, and there is silence
on the other end—apparently Regg had not.

“Why don’t you go
take a quick look? I don’t really want to find a place to turn all these trucks
around, unless there’s a good reason,” Regg says after a full minute of silence
where we all just stare at the radio in Silas’s hand.

“Be careful!” my
dad cuts in across the two-way radio, cutting Regg off.

“She’s staying in
the truck,” Silas responds firmly, giving me a meaningful look as he sets the
walkie talkie down on the center console and does a U-turn with the Ford right
in the middle of the road.

We pull into the parking
lot, and Silas squints out into the swirling snow, trying to gauge the danger
level. “I can’t see a damn thing,” he admits finally, pulling his gun from his
belt and climbing out of the truck. He stops and looks back over his shoulder
at me. “Stay in the truck.”

My stomach sinks
as he walks away, and every instinct in my body screams at me to follow him,
but I also don’t want him pissed off. He promised my dad, and I know his word
is important to him, so I sit and scan the parking lot instead. If he needs
help, though, there is no way in hell I’m sitting in the cab letting him handle
it alone, but I guess, until I actually see any sign of danger, I can at least
pretend to follow his rules.

I watch Silas
check all around the first tanker truck for danger before he focuses on the
side of the tank where there is a series of valves and places for the hose to
attach. I watch him study it for a minute before he grabs a valve and gives it
an experimental tug, which opens it up and liquid starts to gush out. He lets
it spill on the ground for a minute before he struggles to shut the valve off,
and the flow slows and finally disappears.

Silas bends down,
dips his fingers in the puddle, and sniffs them for a split second before he
shakes his head in annoyance. He digs in his pocket and pulls out his own
walkie talkie and switches it on. “This one is gasoline,” he tells us before
turning his attention to the second tanker. It’s parked in a different area, so
I really hope that will mean something good for us.

“Gasoline is still
good,” I mutter, and Megan nods.

“We can use it,
for sure, but it’s not what runs the machinery,” she quips like a know-it-all,
so I stay silent and ignore her.

Silas repeats the
process, and this time his face lights up with a grin. “Diesel,” he informs us
through the two-way. He goes up to the cab of the second truck and peers in the
window before throwing the door open and stepping back. A zombie falls
face-first from the cab, and Silas uses his knife to stab him in the temple
before he has a chance to struggle to his feet.

“Why didn’t he
just use his gun?” I ask, and Megan rolls her eyes at me.

“This is just a
guess, but he probably didn’t want to cause a spark and blow us all up,” she
says, and I feel my cheeks get hot with embarrassment—sometimes I just don’t
think before I open my mouth.

Silas climbs up in
the big truck, but after a couple turns of the key he gets out and motions for
us to bring the Ford over while he pops the hood of the semi and rummages in
the back for some jumper cables. Megan gets into the driver’s seat and has to
move the seat forward again before she can reach the pedals. She drives it nose
to nose with the tanker and pulls a lever underneath the dash. A loud pop
echoes through the cab as the hood latch releases.

Silas nods his
thanks through the window and quickly clips on to our battery. Time feels like
it crawls by as I watch Megan’s watch tick by fifteen minutes. I see movement
out of the corner of my eye and try to shake off my watch envy and focus—it’s
just Silas going back into the cab, and this time the truck roars to life when
he turns the key.

He jumps out,
unclipping the booster cables, and tosses them into the back of our truck. “It
looks like you girls are on your own now,” he says, his voice coming in over
the walkie talkie. “Because we got the tanker truck started!” he crows, letting
the others know what’s happening.

“Take it easy on
these roads,” Dad lectures through the walkie, his panic clear, and both Megan
and I assure him that we will. We wait for Silas to get out on the road, and
then we pull in behind him.

I can tell Megan
isn’t completely comfortable on the icy roads, and I’m definitely not when she
taps the brakes and the truck just keeps sliding. I watch her reach over and
pop the truck into 4x4, and I’m not sure if it really helps, but it makes me
feel better at least.

It feels like the
drive takes forever as we crawl along. The road is completely white and iced
up, and it’s even drifted over in certain spots, though at least the big trucks
go through first and break a trail. The driving snow blurs and looks like stars
when the spaceships go into hyper drive, so at least that’s kind of cool.
“Holy, it’s hard to see,” Megan complains, rubbing her hand across her face.
Her eyes are getting bloodshot from the strain of staring at the road.

“Look at that
zombie,” I point out the window, trying to lighten the mood. The zombie is
standing on the side of the road, barely moving, and he’s covered in a thin
layer of snow, making him look a bit like a snowman. “All he’s missing is a
corn cob pipe and a button nose,” I joke, but Megan doesn’t even snicker.

“Hopefully this
weather will slow them down, or freeze them to death or something,” Megan says,
and I nod. That would be awesome.

We reach the bottom
of the mountain, finally. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see it in my
life, and that includes all our summer vacations back when things were good. My
whole body feels shaky and strained from worrying about the road conditions,
and expecting to die at any minute. I just want to get home and crawl into my
bed—a hot bath would be nice—but bed is much more attainable.

“You girls should
go on up the mountain first. It’s going to take us a while to get the trucks
up—it’s pretty steep,” Regg’s voice comes over the two-way, and I let out a
sigh of relief. I definitely do not want to follow the trucks while they crawl
up the mountain at snail speed.

Megan steers
around the trucks and trailers. “Just a minute!” My dad’s voice crackles over
the radio. “Barry wants to come with you guys.” I look over at Megan and we
both make a face, but we still hit the unlock button when Barry comes running
over with his head ducked down against the pounding snow. He jumps in the
backseat and we take off, winding past the big trucks—I wave to my dad and
Silas as we pass by.

“It’s really
coming down out there,” Barry says, leaning forward on the console to stare out
the front window.

Megan gives a
grunt of agreement that reminds me of Silas and makes me smile.

“Yeah,” I add,
just because it seems rude not to reply.

“It’s only going
to be worse the higher up we get,” Barry promises, and he isn’t wrong. It’s
practically a white out by the time we pull up outside the cabin. I get out of
the truck and shiver as the icy wind somehow manages to find its way up inside
my jacket. Megan jumps out of the truck and heads for the house, and I follow
closely behind her, hoping to somehow use her as a wind block. When we reach
the front steps, a figure standing on the porch starts towards us and I dumbly
turn with a smile, thinking it’s Ryan.

Megan raises her
gun and fires two rounds into his forehead, and my jaw drops. “What are you
doing?” I squeal as I run forward to get a better look at who she just shot.
It’s a zombie—holy shit.

I raise my fist to
knock on the cabin door, but it falls open underneath the gentle press of my
hand, and the small hairs on my arm start to rise. We haven’t had a chance to
fix the door yet, so there is no way it wouldn’t be locked from the inside if
everything was okay. I stare inside at the lack of flames in the fireplace and
fear runs down my spine, settling in my belly.

“Mom?” I shout
into the cold, empty cabin, but she doesn’t answer back. A low growl next to my
ear has me spinning with my gun up, but Megan beats me to it and shoots the
zombie who’s coming at me from the kitchen.

“What in the hell
is going on?” Megan demands, but of course, I have no idea either.

I panic and throw
caution to the wind, breaking into a jog as I head for the stairs, checking
each bedroom, but they are all empty. I even check the roof, but there isn’t
anyone out there either. I run back downstairs, out of breath and panicked.
“They aren’t here,” I tell Megan, which she obviously already knows.

I brush past her
to go back outside. If they aren’t in here, then they must be outside
somewhere, hopefully safe. Barry is standing next to the truck looking nervous.
“What’s going on?” he asks, motioning to the zombie lying dead on the porch.

“The house is
empty and there are zombies,” Megan says, filling Barry in with the least
amount of words possible.

“What are you
doing?” I ask, noticing the way he’s almost cowering against the door of the
truck.

“I accidentally
left my gun back in the truck with your dad,” Barry admits, and my jaw drops.
What kind of an idiot is this guy?

“I remembered
halfway up the mountain, but I thought it would be okay...” Barry trails off
and looks sick.

“Silas keeps extra
guns and ammo underneath the backseat,” I tell Barry, taking pity on him.

“Oh my God, thank
you,” Barry mumbles as he throws the back door open and starts scattering
everything all over the place in his hurry. He grabs a double-barrel twelve
gauge and a handful of loose shells, though there aren’t very many lying around
loose, so he opens up a new box and adds the contents to his pockets too.
“What’s the plan?” he asks once he’s armed again and obviously feeling more
confident, and I motion to the surrounding mountainside.

“We have to find
them. My mom, Sunny, Abby, and Ryan are out there somewhere,” I say, sucking in
air to try and stave off the full-blown panic attack that’s lurking just below
the surface.

The wind is
howling so loudly that it’s impossible to call out for them, and I still have
no idea how long Silas, Regg, Jack, and my dad are going to be. Thinking about
Jack gives me an idea.

“What about Jack’s
house?” I suggest, and Megan looks hopeful.

“They might’ve
gone over there—doesn’t Jack have a wife and a sister?” Barry adds, and we all
take off in that direction at a run. We get halfway to the cabin when we all
stop dead and stare at the odd tableau in front of us. There are at least ten
zombies standing around the base of a scraggly old tree. Ryan, my mom, Sunny,
and Abby are all up in the branches, clinging on for dear life.

“Now I’ve seen
everything,” Barry mutters as he drops a couple cartridges into his gun.

Barry is beside me
and the blast from his shotgun is deafening, so I take several steps sideways
away from him before he robs me of my youthful hearing. He takes out a zombie
with his first shot, but the second shot clicks when he pulls the trigger, and
nothing happens. The zombies turn towards us with hungry moans, and I stop
watching Barry fumble to reload and focus on thinning down this group. Megan and
I fire off several shots in the time it takes Barry to reload.

The boom of the
rifle fires again, taking down another zombie. I can’t help but notice how huge
the kickback is on the gun, and I feel bad for Barry—I’ll take my handgun any
day of the week. Barry’s next shot is more like an explosion, and I scream and
fling my hand over my face as pain slices through my cheek.

“What the fuck?” I
yell, turning to see what in the hell Barry is doing. My anger drains from my
body when I see that Barry’s down on the ground, the barrel of his rifle peeled
back like a banana and his face—my stomach rebels against me. A cry issues from
my throat, and Megan glances over briefly before turning her back on us once
more to deal with the zombies. I glance over at the zombies and see that there
are only four left, and Ryan is climbing down from the tree, so I turn my back
on the firefight and force myself to go to Barry’s aid.

I fall to my knees
beside him in snow that is now flecked with red spray, and I just don’t know what
to do for him. His face looks like a crater of raw hamburger. His chest is
rising and falling rapidly, and I grab his flailing hand and hold it tightly in
my own. I never really liked Barry, but no one deserves to have their face
blown off... I don’t even understand how something like this could even happen.

Ryan runs over and
lands on the other side of Barry, and I watch him press two fingers to check
the pulse in his neck. I’m pretty sure it’s an empty gesture though. There
isn’t anything we can do for him; his wounds are too bad. Back when it was as
easy as calling 911, maybe he would’ve had a chance, but not now.