ZOMBIES: "Chronicles of the Dead": A Zombie Novel (35 page)

In addition, the woman's body served, at least for the moment, to plug the hole in the glass door that her face had made as it quickly exited the building just ahead of Billy's bullet.

"This broken glass isn't going to hold for long," I warned. "Billy, Jake, the two of you go to the back door and lock it, we don't need any surprises. Then get back up here quick."

Billy and Jacob ran to the rear door and made sure that it was locked, and then quickly rejoined Gin and I at the front of the building.

"How many do you think are out there?" Gin asked, turning a little pale.

"More than there were when we ran in here. I can't see past the ghouls squished up against the door," I answered. "But when that glass door breaks, we're going to have to do some very quick shooting."

"Want me to shoot some now?" Jacob asked, sticking the muzzle of his rifle up next to a zombie's face that was pressed flat against the glass.

"Don't shoot yet, we need to get ready first," I said.

"Ready, ready for what, to die," Gin added softly, her face still very pale.

"Yeah, ready to die mom, that's what we're getting ready to do," Billy snapped, annoyed at his mother's cynicism, and just as scared as she was.

"We're not going to die," I told them. "Not if we do this right."

Let's form a semicircle about ten feet from the door and two feet apart, the two of us on the ends will shoot across at the eaters on the opposite sides of the door. The two of us in the middle, will lay waste to the eaters in the middle. With all of the eaters trying to get to us, they'll climb over the one's we've already shot, then we shoot some more of them until the pile of dead eaters completely blocks the entrance. Hopefully, the sound of all our gunfire will draw any stray eaters to the front of the building; we'll exit out the back door and run past the crowd of remaining eaters that are trying to get through the front door, we'll jump into the van and get the living hell out of this piss hole."

"The door can't stand the force of the eaters any longer, the rest of the glass is beginning to crack," Jacob yelled, as he moved his finger onto the trigger of his gun.

No sooner, did the last word leave Jacob's mouth, than the glass door shattered and the zombies that had been pressed up against the glass tumbled in.

We began firing our weapons as rapidly as we could. One zombie after another dropped to the floor, most of which were now missing a sizeable portion of the back of their head. However, a select group that seemingly had softer skulls received our 9mm bullets that penetrated the front of their heads, and left a perfectly round 9mm hole, then traveled through destroying their brains, and exited leaving another perfectly round 9mm hole in the back of their skulls.

As one zombie fell another took its place, each one having to climb higher as the pile of bodies grew. The plan was working; one or two minutes after the first zombie had fallen onto the floor in front of us, the pile of corpses had grown to such a magnitude that the doorway could no longer accommodate as much as one more body.

"Now might be a good time to test part two of your plan honey," Gin stated, no longer pale, the adrenalin having helped pump blood back into her face.

"Good idea, let's move," I ordered, firing two more shots into the mound of rotting corpses, disturbing the hundreds of buzzing flies that were landing on them, causing the flying insects to circle the pile once or twice and then land again.

Bursting into the alleyway from the back door of the gas station, we found that phase two of the plan was also working, so far anyway.

Rounding the corner and with the van in sight, we sprinted to it as fast as we could. A couple of lone stragglers were ghosting the van, but Billy eliminated both of them quickly with a swift stroke of his sickle, dealing each of them a dash of sharp force trauma to their diseased brains ending their torment.

Once in the van more zombies came into view, it was as if a sporting event had just let out and flooded the streets with its patrons. But each and every one of these patrons were dead set (again, no pun intended) on having us as a four course meal for their cannibalistic style dining pleasure.

Seeing the massive gathering of the organic undead on all sides of us, swaying and stumbling in our direction, Gin screamed.

"Hurry! Go!"

Her spontaneous request was unwarranted, as I too had seen the substantial amount of raw flesh eaters that were converging on our position and surrounding our vehicle.

I slammed the van into drive and headed for the same driveway that we had used to gain entry to the station. This time however, as we negotiated the combination of entrance and exit we did so at a greatly increased speed, and plowed through a group of ten or fifteen zombies as we did so.

Severed arms and legs flew into the air, as sharp edges on the van's now damaged fenders sliced them off and hurled them in different directions.

Blood, intestines, feces, and other bodily fluids were also abundantly distributed across the front of our vehicle's fenders, hood, and windshield as our desperate escape attempt proceeded.

"Turn your wipers on honey; you can't see where you're going with all of the blood and guts all over the windshield," Gin said, showing little emotion as we drove through the blood thirsty pack of predatory undead.

Which I found to be a little strange, considering minutes prior to this, when we were facing what seem to be certain death from an infinite number of these skin-devouring monsters, she was white as a ghost. Maybe she felt that now we weren't in any real danger. Personally, if that was the case, I thought she was wrong.

I reached down and set the wipers on high, and replied.

"Roger that!"

The wipers smeared the gory concoction back and forth across the window, occasionally catching an intestine on the blade and dragging it across the windshield as well.

We were able to maintain our speed, and not allow the zombies to compress in front of us and slow us to a stop. However, the down side to preserving our rapid speed was that arms and legs weren't the only things that were flung into the air. Sometimes, whole cadavers were sent airborne, bouncing off the hood and even the roof of our vehicle.

Then it happened, I hit a female zombie, one that was slightly overweight, she (it) wasn't what you would call grossly fat, her nickname might have been
pudgy
or
chubby
before the outbreak.

The configuration of the front of the van caught her just right and launched her up into the air about fifteen feet, flipping her end over end, and when she landed her head penetrated the windshield face first.

The impact crushed the front of her skull killing her inner zombie instantly, but left her head dangling through the window just below the rearview mirror, exposing part of her brain and dripping blood, and some purplish colored liquid that none of us could, would, or wanted to identify onto the dashboard of our vehicle.

Our van plowed through what seemed to be a never-ending mob of the creophagous undead for several more blocks, crushing and crunching bones under our tires, and dismembering many of the monsters, even as I tried to dodge the bulk of this riot of the dead.

Then finally, as quick as it had begun, it was over, the zombie horde was behind us and the road ahead was clear again.

Staring at the bloated carcass of the plump woman whose head now tilted up and down with every bump on the road, like a grotesque bobble-head doll, Jacob made a profound statement.

"I think we're going to have to find another vehicle."

"And soon," Billy added, swatting one of the tormenting flies that "pudgy" had brought along with her.

"That'll work for me," Gin agreed, trying to poke the crushed head back through the hole in the windshield with the barrel of her rifle.

Having no luck pushing the corpse onto the hood, Gin asked. "Can I get some help here boys?"

Billy and Jacob quickly responded by adding the barrels of their guns to the effort, and with a powerful shove on the count of three, the pudgy one slid back through the windshield and down the hood. Pudgy was the last zombie to be squished under this vehicle, as she disappeared under the front of the van and became a speed bump on the road.

"It stinks more now than it did with that head in here," Billy noticed, shooing a number of flies away from his face.

"That's because the air from outside is filled with the stench of rotting flesh, and the feces that is smeared all over the van is coming through the hole in the window," I contended. "We'll just have to suffer for awhile longer, after all, we spent days on the river inhaling that putrid smell, I think we can tolerate this for a few hours until we can find another car or truck."

"Well let's at least roll down the windows and try to get rid of all of these flies," Jacob suggested, waving his arms in front of his face in an effort to disperse the nasty menacing insects.

The stink of the zombies, the harassing flies, and the hole in the windshield wasn't the only problem we had with the van. The constant pounding of the zombie horde being smashed against the front of the vehicle, had pushed the fenders in far enough that both the left and the right were touching the front tires every time the steering wheel was turned. The effect of this was that it was wearing down the sidewalls of the tires extremely fast.

"Every turn takes away more rubber from the tires," I said.

"We're not going to get very far, are we?" Gin asked, already knowing the answer.

"I don't think we're going to, not in this vehicle anyway," I answered, feeling compelled to say something.

Jacob and Billy were looking out the window, scanning the area for more danger when Jacob mentioned something that I had noticed earlier.

"It seems the further south we go, the more eaters we're running into. Has anyone else noticed that?"

Billy quickly answered his question.

"I've noticed the groups of eaters seem to be getting bigger, but none as big as the one we just drove through, not since we saw that giant bunch on the river bank."

"Come to think of it, we have been seeing more eaters," Gin said in agreement, nodding her head. "They were on us pretty quick when we set out on foot from those ambushers, then again when we rode through them on the bicycles, and then again at the jail, and finally at the gas station."

"It's probably because we're close to a large metropolitan area," I speculated.

"Maybe we should alter our course then?" Gin replied, reaching for the map.

"It's time for that change of tactics we spoke of, maybe go a little further west, and then cut south to Galveston?" I recommended.

"I think that might be a good idea," Gin agreed, scanning her map.

"Right after we find another ride," I answered.

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THE TOWER

"I have an idea; see that water tower over there? It's not too far away, if we can make it there we'll use it as an observation post. We'll be able to see for miles in every direction," I insisted.

"Boys get the bolt cutters, we might need them."

As expected, the front tires didn't last very long. Moments after I made my request for the bolt cutters, the right front tire popped, pulling the van to the right and making it almost impossible to steer.

"That's it, now we walk again," I said. "We can't be burdened like we were before, this time we're going to travel light. Just take a couple of bottles of water and our ammo. Leave the food behind, we'll get more later, and we're bringing the bolt cutters too. Let's go!" I ordered.

We quickly grabbed our ammo and water and exited the vehicle fearing that the sound of the tire popping would alert any roaming zombies that were close. We left the van in the middle of the road thereby adding one more abandoned vehicle to the many that were already littering America's highway system, and began to walk toward the water tower.

"How far do you think the water tower is from here?" Gin asked, sounding depressed.

"It's not that far mom," Jacob answered confidently. "We'll be there in no time, that is if we don't have to fight our way through a mass quantity of eaters."