ZOMBIES: "Chronicles of the Dead": A Zombie Novel (40 page)

Between the snowplow blade shoving the hungry monsters to the left side of the road (except for some of their detached limbs, intestines, and cut off feet), and the attrition rate that Jacob and I were inflicting on them on the right side of the road, the bus was gradually gaining speed again.

Through the gunshots and sound of bones being bashed against the plow blade, and the low bass tone made by the feet being battered against the bottom of the bus, I somehow heard Dave screaming at us.

"It's working; I think we're going to make it!"

We continued to shoot and plow our way through the horde of the dead for the next two hundred yards or so, and as the quantity of zombies began to subside, Jacob and I retreated into the school bus, and secured the hatches, allowing only a few flies to follow.

Looking around the bus, I caught a serious gaze from Gin, as if she was saying to me.

"Who was it that thought this was a good idea?"

Dave was giggling again, most likely nervous laughter. Rich sat there seemingly unfazed by the event. Bruce smiled at me undaunted by the harrowing experience.

Surprisingly, Beth was the first to say something, usually it's the Sarge or myself that come up with the first quip after some hair raising incident.

"Well, that's one way to thin the herd," she said, as a smile broke through her serious demeanor, and she made her way from one gun port to the next, blowing off the fingers of the zombies that were still clinging to the side of the bus.

The Sarge wasn't in as much of a jovial mood as the rest of us.

"What the hell happened back there Dave, didn't you see that giant crowd of homicidal maniacs blocking the road, or did you just decide to the test our bus on the biggest group you could find to see if it was up to the task at hand?" he said angrily, glaring at Dave.

"They were gathered together on the other side of that hill, we crossed the crest of the hill, and there they were, there was nothing I could do, they weren't there and then they were there. They just appeared," Dave replied, no longer giggling.

"From now on, when you come to a hill, slow down so we don't end up in the middle of that kind of mess again. By the way, I want to thank you for the smell we have to endure for the rest of this trip, now that our vehicle is covered with rotting body fluids and entrails. Not to mention these damn flies all over the inside of our bus," Sarge replied, as he began to calm down and swat some of the buzzing insects near him.

Feeling the tension in the bus, Billy thought he would try to lighten the mood.

"Are we there yet?" he asked, smiling.

His imitation of a road wary child seemed to do the trick; the salty old Marine Corps veteran could not hold back his laughter even as a fly landed on his face.

"Like father like son," he teased. "Jack, that's your son all right."

"I have taught him well," I said jokingly, and then added. "I think Dave might just have broken my record of felony hit and runs!"

That comment brought a smile to everyone's face, even Rich's.

We drove on for miles, taking that time to reload our magazines, and kill the remaining marauding flies that had invaded our bus. We encountered small groups of zombies along the way, and tried to avoid, although not always successfully, a plethora of abandoned vehicles parked on the road.

At each occurrence, our blood stained modified school bus passed muster with flying-colors, dispatching zombies and vehicles alike from the road.

"We're almost there," Sarge announced, picking up his rifle and the biggest crowbar I had ever seen.

"Wow, that's a huge crowbar," Jacob said. "Where did you get it?"

"Picked this little baby up at the railroad yard, they used it to pry up railroad ties, it does wonders on doors and windows, but it's too heavy to carry around most of the time. I thought it might come in handy for breaking into a military facility like a National Guard armory," Sarge responded, holding up his humongous steel tool.

We all followed suit, picking up our weapons, and assorted specialized equipment, such as lock picks, and mechanic's tools and prepared to go into the armory.

Dave turned our bus onto a short asphalt street, and announced.

"There it is, just up ahead."

"Everyone knows what to do, so do your job and we should be in and out in no time, let's go," the Sarge ordered, as he opened the school bus door.

We filed out of the bus, and Rich, Dave, and Bruce separated from us immediately and disappeared around the side of the building in search of the area where the vehicles might be parked.

Sarge and the rest of our group went directly to the front of the building where we found the front door securely locked. The Sarge jammed his crowbar into the narrow crack between the door and the doorjamb close to the top hinge.

"Watch this; this should be a piece of cake," he said, tugging hard on the opposite end of the steel bar.

A loud crack broke the precious silence we coveted, as the top of the door separated from the frame.

"One more and we're in," Sarge bragged, while sticking the crowbar in beside the lower hinge.

Another loud cracking sound was heard, which was quickly eclipsed by the horrendous noise made by the heavy wooden door falling onto the concrete walkway.

"Eaters!" Gin said calmly, alerting us that the noise we had made was drawing zombies toward us.

"We'll take care of this," Billy said walking in the direction of the small cluster of zombies. "Come on Jake, let's get'um."

I had come to trust my boy's competence in the art of killing zombies, so I wasn't overly concerned when they set out to drop a small band of these deadly maniacs, apprehensive yes, overly concerned no. As long as I didn't see them becoming too cocky, which seems to always turn to carelessness, and being careless will get you killed in our new world.

Billy and Jacob silently did away with the approaching zombies, which reinforced my confidence in them, then they rejoined the rest of us waiting by the front door.

We all entered the building, and once inside we quickly located the arsenal that was one of the objectives of our mission.

"All of the guns are locked in these racks," Gin announced, seeming rather frustrated. "I thought all we would have to do is pick them up and leave."

"Soldiers steal too," I said, expecting to find them secured.

"Yeah, but soldiers don't carry five foot long crowbars," Sarge added, tearing the lock off a rack with one swift tug.

"Jack, see if you and your boy's can find some ammo for these M-4's, and anything else for that matter," the Sarge ordered, while ripping the lock off another rack.

"Gin, come with us, we're going to need all the help we can get," I explained.

We found the ammunition locked in a cage in the next room.

"Jacob, run back and get the sergeant's crowbar, quickly," I said.

Jacob ran back and returned with the crowbar, and with Beth.

"I don't think leaving the Sarge by himself is a good idea," I mentioned, while breaking the lock off the ammo cage door.

Beth shrugged her shoulders and replied. "Neither do I, but he insisted I help you guys, and we don't have time to sit down and debate it."

"These ammo boxes are heavy," Gin complained, as she lifted one of the boxes.

"Yeah, we're going to need a cart or a dolly or something, otherwise this will take us forever," I admitted, looking around for something to use to transport the ammunition.

"What about this?" Billy asked, pointing to a steel-wheeled heavy wooden flatbed cart.

"I think that's the reason it's here," Beth mocked sarcastically, showing that she could be just as big of a wiseass as the boys.

We loaded the flatbed with as much ammo as possible, keeping in mind that we still had to be able to move it once it was loaded.

"That's it, we've got 5.56, 7.62, 9mm, and some 50 cal. for that big sniper rifle I saw in the next room," I grunted, trying to push the cart by myself. "A little help would be nice boys."

With the help of Billy and Jacob, we pushed the ammo cart past the rifle depository room, to the front door, where we left it to return and help the Sarge.

The Sarge had found a flatbed of his own, and had it piled high with M-4 rifles and M-9 pistols.

"If I put anymore on it they just slide off," he said smiling.

"I can carry two or three," Jacob volunteered, sliding two pistols into his pockets, and picking up three more rifles. "Or both?"

"Me too," said Gin, as she grabbed two more M-4's.

"Give me some," Billy added, not wanting to look like a slacker.

"I'll make sure we don't get our asses killed," Beth muttered, heading for the door.

With both carts full, we maneuvered them out the front door and down the walkway to our parked bus.

"Let's get this stuff into the bus," Sarge ordered, pointing to a half dozen slobbering zombies stumbling toward our school bus.

As we loaded the weapons and ammo into the bus as fast as we could, Beth calmly stepped between us, and the approaching flesh-eating maniacs, pulled a plastic water bottle out of her pocket and unscrewed the cap. She took a small sip, and then emptied the rest of the water onto the street in front of her.

"What are you doing Beth?" the Sarge screamed. "Shoot'em, shoot'em now!"

Beth nonchalantly looked at Sarge and gave him a sultry wink. She then proceeded to stick the muzzle of her .22 rifle into the empty water bottle; she gripped the neck of the bottle hard, took two steps toward the closest zombie, and shot a round through the bottom of the bottle and into the forehead of the slobbering maggot infused beast. The fly larva that was infesting the hungry monster was sprinkled on the ground around its body, as it slammed down hard onto the asphalt.

She had effectively created a homemade suppressor (silencer) in a matter of seconds, which had muffled the sound of her rifle by at least two-thirds. Beth continued on, systematically neutralizing the hungry dead cannibals, while we finished loading the newly acquired weapons and ammo onto the bus.

Beth returned to the bus as if nothing had happened, brushing off some hitchhiking maggots from her arm as she approached.

"That's a neat trick Beth, where did you learn that," Billy asked.

"From my first real boy friend, he was somewhat of a bad boy; you know the type, right Gin?" she answered, looking at Gin knowingly.

"I know the type all right, I should, I married one," Gin replied.

"Hey honey, you can't be talking about me, can you?" I asked, looking as pitiful as I could.

"The one and only," was her answer.

"We need to find the others, and get out of here," Sarge stated, looking in the direction we last saw the other men.

"What's that?" Gin said, listening intently to an unfamiliar sound.

"It sounds to me like the boy's found themselves an armored vehicle," I said. "And here it comes now."

The rattling, clanking, clicking, and clattering sounds of tank tracks, gave way to the visual interpretation of the noise, as an M1 Abrams third-generation main battle tank rounded the corner of the building and headed straight for us.

We could see Bruce sitting behind a Ma Duce 50 caliber machine gun, as Rich steered the tank in our direction, while Dave staffed the main gun.

"Lucky we picked up a few boxes of the 50 cal. ammo," Billy said.

"Yes, it does look that way," Beth added, as she found another maggot to brush from her sleeve.

The tank pulled up beside the bus and Bruce said. "Hey guys, you'll never guess what else we found."

"Probably not, so why don't you tell us?" Sarge urged sternly.

Bruce held up the gun group and hose of a world war two M2-2 Flamethrower.

"It's a flamethrower, and it's full of fuel too," Bruce said proudly. "I have no idea what in the hell the National Guard was doing with this, but it's ours now."

"Maybe they were going to use it in a demonstration or something, who knows, but like Bruce says, it's ours now," Sarge declared, climbing onto the bus.

"Billy, climb up there and grab that Flamethrower, and let's get it loaded onto the bus," Sarge ordered.

Turning to Bruce, he then asked. "How much fuel does that tank have in it?"

"We just filled it up, they've got a fuel pump back there, there's a bunch of stuff back there, there's a garage, and a bunch of other vehicles too," Bruce proclaimed, boasting of his discovery.

"Sarge, I think we should check out the back, if there's a lot more stuff back there, I'd hate to leave it, after all we're already here," I told him, thinking I wouldn't mind getting a hold of another Hummer.

"You've got fifteen minutes, not a second longer, and don't make me have to come and find you, you hear me Jack?" Sarge said in an uncompromising tone.

"Yes sir, we hear you, fifteen minutes," I answered.

"I'm not kidding Jack, fifteen minutes," the Sarge reiterated.

"Let's go, you heard the Sarge," I said to my family.