Zombie Rush 3 Read online

  The first of the zombies that burst through the door thankfully weren't runners and merely stumbled on to the scene trying to locate the closest meal.

  He heard the screams from the first bound man as teeth set into flesh, and he laughed. He was pissed that he had to go but still enjoyed what he could. Almost as an afterthought, he hit the remote to the camera with the wide-angle view of the rooftop. He laughed as he climbed into the man-basket and fit his foot into the pedal stirrup that controlled the hydraulics while his hand started instantly to move the joy stick for mobility. He rose up a couple of feet just to see their faces as the first of them were eaten. Delicious!

  Two shots hit the rail of the basket and he ducked, pointing his gun toward the untrained sniper on the opposite roof. He knew it was just a regular Joe taking potshots at a range that was beyond his skill, but the guy could get lucky, so he sent a couple of more rounds at the guy's new position.

  The scream was back and he quick-fired at the woman who was now on the roof. He started pulling away from the roof by raising the boom arm as he retracted simultaneously. The black girl on the roof glared at him and if she would have had a gun, he would have been shot. She grabbed her spade and started toward him only to change direction and try to fight off the zombies that were already on the roof.

  Web was in a precarious situation, moving with his hands occupied by the controls, one foot held permanently on the throttle pedal, and a sniper behind him. He tried to crouch down behind the steel that covered the lower three and a half feet of the basket. He watched the woman start to clear the rooftop of zombies with her spade, spinning it like a bow staff in the hands of a martial arts expert.

  Web never felt fear before, but he was feeling it now. All of his blunders could be attributed to excitement of this one kill, displayed to all of the people in the compound, and now it was fucked up with two unpredictable factors—the sniper and the woman he had grossly underestimated. All it would take would be one more unseen factor come into play and he could be truly screwed. It was his time to run.

  Chapter 8:

  Caught

  Sedge developed a reputation as a lover right off the bat and was constantly being slipped a portion of a sandwich or some extra soup by pretty much everyone he cuddled up on. People couldn't help but feel their own loss of a pet when their homes were overrun. So Sedge and the other dogs had it made as long as they were nice and approachable. Being the largest and unarguably the strongest among them, the dogs naturally started to follow Sedge and do what he did. He trotted casually throughout the compound with no special mission or constraints on his time; he was simply a dog that was happy to be alive. A very highly trained dog who was happy to be alive.

  *

  "Mr. Boweaver?"

  "Yes, come in," Calvin said from the new office that he had negotiated for with Benson. A smaller man—who looked like he could lift a house judging by the size of his chest and arms—brushed past Fenton as if he didn't even exist.

  "We have a situation out in the field that I think you need to see to," the man said.

  "Oh, well … I'm kind of on restricted service right now," he said, knowing that taking anything on would cause problems between him and his new alliance. "Is Benson around? Or that contractor, Bret?"

  "No, Bret's not to be disturbed for another six hours under orders from the hospital. He collapsed from exhaustion earlier and his dad has been incapacitated since after the first day. Benson is staging the reclaiming of the airport right now and took Malcolm with him, and his Indian friend is locked in his sweat lodge."

  "Native American, you mean."

  "Damn, I thought that we would be done with all of that PC crap considering all that's happened," the man said, more than a little perturbed by his picky nature.

  "No need to be disrespectful to other survivors."

  "All right, all right. We got more to worry about than people's feelings right now. That doctor is putting on a show for everyone." The guy finished as they exited the building and he pointed up at one of two electronic billboards.

  Calvin saw the bound people and the doctor crawling into a man-basket as zombies poured out onto a flat roof in the older section of Hot Springs. A zombie fell into the first person bound to some sort of lattice work, immediately sinking its teeth into the thigh of the man. It didn't hesitate to rip a huge chunks of flesh from the man, who screamed. With no sound from the billboard, it seemed to magnify the terror in some strange way.

  "We gotta turn that thing off!" Calvin exclaimed.

  "They're tamperproof so we have an electrician trying to cut the power supply, but that's not what I got you for," the man said and then pointed toward a large group suiting up like they were going to leave the compound. "They think they're going to go and catch the bastard. Benson said no one leaves until he returns so you'd better stop them."

  "Fuck."

  *

  Wii adaawewininiikwe inaadiziwin izhitwaawin giinawind awi'iwe giinitamawind ode' oonh a'aw wiin zaagibagaa-giizis bimaadizi.

  “To the keeper of faith we lend our patience so that she may live.”

  Sharon knew that she was too late, but she had to try, and she needed help. She twirled and jabbed with her flat spade until she was close enough to Vern and could slice partway through the rope that held his left hand.

  "Get loose, Vern, I need your help," Sharon shouted.

  "I'm trying!" he yelled as he worked his wrist back and forth to break the last few strands. The doorway to the rooftop would only allow a couple at a time through so he knew Sharon could hold them for a couple of minutes but didn't know if it would that be enough. He could feel his credit card knife in his back pocket every time he moved but he couldn't get to it with his hands bound. The rope had loosened enough with Sharon's cut that he could move it up and down on the post. Wearing through the last few strands, his eyes stayed locked on Lin, who had already been attacked.

  Sharon kept swinging her spade as if it was an extension of her body. Nothing fancy like you would see in a movie, but something more akin to who she was. Strong, fast, and with solid precision was how she lived her life, and that was how she swung the long-handled spade as she smashed skulls with the handle and decapitated with the metal blade. Some were hit with so much force that they stumbled over to and off the edge of the building.

  Sharon saw Vern out of the corner of her eye, one hand free, but a couple of zombies that had slipped past her were approaching him. Lin and Toby had already been bitten and were in the process of being eaten, but there was nothing that she could do. Vern, Marcy, and Judith were the ones that she could still save. She gave a final push toward the door, sending several zombies sprawling before she turned and dispatched the two bearing down on Vern. His hand was free and he had that stupid credit card key in his hand. Sharon was grateful he had a blade, no matter how tiny it was. It would never kill a zombie, but it was sharp and could easily cut the thin para-cord that they were bound with.

  Sharon was too long away from the door and found herself flanked by five, then six, and then seven zombies. She had to hold them back, knowing that it was only a matter of time. A misstep or plain exhaustion would eventually spell her demise. A spray blew out the side of one's head as a bullet tore through it. Then another took one in the chest and a third took one in the head. A glance showed her the shooter set up on a distant roof. She didn't know who he was or if that was a skilled shot or just dumb luck, but any help she could get was better than nothing.

  "Crawl up onto the billboard," she shouted when she heard footsteps coming to help her. She didn't look but she knew it was Marcy, as she had been right next to Vern.

  "All of you, get to high ground. There are too many!" she shouted as she held the end of the spade handle and was starting to swing it like a baseball bat to keep them at bay long enough for them to crawl up the sign's small ladder. In her peripheral vision she saw two zombies roll, and assumed they had been pushed away by Marcy or Vern.

  "Come
on, Sharon!" she heard them shout, but she knew it was too late to get to the ladder; a mass of undead swarmed the bottom rungs and more were coming out from the doorway. These were her last minutes on earth and she knew it. She also knew that she had spent her last few breaths saving three of her friends so it was a worthy death. It was time to take as many out as she could before they got her.

  She changed her defensive tactics to offense by pulling the spade in tight and widening her grip for more killing blows. The doorway was filled with zombies and others were reaching toward the sky, trying to get at the three up the ladder, so she simply chose a random direction and started clearing a path. If body shots were effective she would have had a chance, but as it was, all they did was push the tide back a little bit. A few shots sounded but only one zombie fell and she found herself teetering at the edge of the roof, wondering if falling was a better option than being eaten.

  She heard a shouted word that sounded like a whisper because of the distance. "Jump!" and she did just that.

  *

  Wii nitamoozhaan giinawind awi'iwe giinitamawind oshikiinzhig odinan a'wa wiin zaagibagaa-giizis nanda-gikendan

  “To the youth we lend our eyes from which he may play his role.”

  "Dad, look!" Charlie said as he pointed to a shadow moving into the same building where the doctor was disembarking onto a second-floor balcony.

  "Fucking Kodiak! You got to help her, Charlie. Go. I'll catch up. Kill everything in your way and don't you get caught by that fucker."

  Charlie was up and running toward the exit from the roof that they were on. Most of the Z's in the area were focused on the building with the people trapped on top and the lift that slowly moved out of reach, but he still had to be careful of the stragglers. Thankfully his pockets were loaded with double-aught buckshot given to him by Lieutenant Reynolds.

  He made it down to the second landing before he needed to use the shotgun. He was small and the gun was big, but he had gotten used to it thanks to the number of times he had used it in the last few days. He had learned a lot of tricks such as only firing one barrel at a time and keeping two extra slugs in his left hand for a quicker reload. He also knew that with only two shots, he was going to have to use the gun as a club between loads.

  The Benelli 828U was his dad's prized possession and had cost him almost three thousand dollars back when cash was worth a shit. It wasn't until three days after he cut the stock down that Charlie realized he had done it for him. Dean rarely touched the gun after that and it fit Charlie's shoulder perfectly. The act of destroying a three-thousand-dollar over/under shotgun to ensure Charlie's survival created a feeling that kind of overwhelmed the boy. He would treasure it and use it only for things that he thought would make his dad proud—most of all to survive.

  He needed to survive just so he could show his dad how much he had come to mean to him over the last few days. Did he love him? Could he love him? Could anybody really love Dean? He thought maybe that was it, but not really like he could love other people. All he knew was that, in the zombie apocalypse, he sure was happy to see him when the shit was flying—nothing stopped his old man.

  He was on his third reload and breaking into the streets between buildings when he realized he was alone. For once, neither his dad, nor Kodiak—or even Lester—was there to back him up. He subconsciously slowed to a walk only to speed up again when he saw some shadows moving inside one of the buildings. He landed next to the door with his barrel pointed up as he peeked through the doorway to see what was going on. The building and the street was strangely devoid of Z's, but he could see Web stalking down the hallway away from him. He had an automatic rifle and was searching for anything that may come at him but he had a purpose to his direction and that was away from Charlie.

  Charlie waited a five count then checked again in time to see Web round a corner and waited a couple of seconds before he followed. He quietly checked doors as he went, looking for potential bolt holes in case he came back, but found them all locked. He watched the shadows dance on the wall, cast from the rooftop where the people were tied. Charlie didn't want to think what was happening to them; he knew it wasn't good, but there was nothing he could do. He had to help Kodiak right now and if anyone could find a way to help them, it would be his dad.

  That thought almost stopped him in his tracks. Last week he hated the guy and never wanted to see him again. He knew now that he never really took the time to look at him as a person instead of just the asshole who got stuck with his mom.

  Where are you, Kodiak? He forced his mind back to the task at hand. After the last few days, his mind could swirl with a mess of thoughts and feelings but he couldn't allow it. Now he hunted a murderer; a highly skilled assassin who took great joy in tormenting and destroying life. Charlie couldn't let himself forget that or he would be the next victim.

  Before he knew it, there was a man in front of him. Web reached out and clasped the over/under at the receiver, managing to hit the hinge lever at the same time. With a slight twist of his wrist, he caused the hinge to open and the shells to fall out as he smiled into the face of the stunned kid. Charlie could see the lust for more in his face but somehow he didn't think that would happen.

  "So you're the fourth element," he said and shoved Charlie backwards with the breach still open. Charlie tried to twist his left hand so that he couldn't see the two shells he carried in a tight three-finger grasp.

  "I expected more. I wish I could take the time to do you right, but alas, there is no time," he said as he displayed a knife in his other hand. There would be no theatrics, no fancy slash or cut, or even his arm raised high to bring down on him in a hacking motion. There was just the plunge. He held the knife chest high, intending to plunge it deep into Charlie's chest.

  Charlie panicked and slammed the breach of his shotgun closed, pinching the doctor's fingers. The heavy steel of the barrels against the receiver were too much for anyone to handle without a reaction; the doctor screamed and pulled his hand back. Charlie ran. He hit the end of the hallway and the door out knowing that the doctor was hot on his heels. If Charlie had one thing in his favor, it was youth. His legs were younger and more limber and the doctor would assume him to be foolish.

  Charlie faked toward the door, knowing that opening it would slow him down enough to be caught but then at the last moment turned left and took the stairs three at a time. He heard Web hit the door then swear at his miss, losing valuable time before he too took to the stairs.

  The hallway was empty except for a chair at the top of the stairs that Charlie pulled into his path behind him as he flew by. One door stood open and Charlie ran through it, slamming it behind him and managing to throw the lock. A body slammed into the outside and more swearing was heard.

  Web continued to put his shoulder to the door, shaking the whole frame. Charlie never thought that a man his size could create such force; it was only a matter of time before he broke through. Charlie ran to the living room—seeing nothing that could help—and the rest of the apartment led to a hallway that led nowhere. He opened the sliding door to the balcony and suddenly realized why this apartment had the only open door.

  Charlie crawled over the handrail and into the lift basket, which had been left running. Web wasn't taking time for anything except escape and apparently had no plans to come back this way or use it again so he hadn't bothered shutting it down.

  He threw the joy stick and nothing happened. He looked toward the door to the hallway and saw the frame actually starting to break the trim around it. Splinters of broken wood proved that it would only be seconds before the doorframe gave way and fell into the room. He then read the diagram on the face plate of the man basket and saw that he had to push the pedal down or the controls did nothing.

  He stepped on the pedal and heard the engine's RPMs speed up. When they reached operating speed, a light went on and Charlie pulled away from the balcony. When he looked up, he saw the doctor standing on the balcony watching him as if he were
on a ship that was sailing away.

  Charlie waved.

  Web pulled a pistol out from behind his back and pointed it at Charlie.

  *

  Wii adaawewininiikwe inaadiziwin izhitwaawin giinawind awi'iwe giinitamawind ode' oonh a'aw wiin zaagibagaa-giizis bimaadizi.

  “To the keeper of faith, we lend our patience so that she may live.”

  Sharon saw the small wrought iron window basket as soon as her feet cleared the building. It wasn't much but if it held her weight, she might be able to pull herself up and into a window opening. The entire building was filled with the undead, but there always the small hope that one room still had closed doors and was free of zombies.

  She caught the curved vertical bars at the bottom arc and smiled when the old iron held. Pulling herself up, she slipped into the space between the iron window basket and the windows. She saw movement in the apartment, but between the noise of the other zombies that filled the hallway on the other side of the door and the old dirty glass she was behind, they hadn't noticed her. She lay back and relaxed for a second just to catch her breath.

  Sharon Nader was powerful and thick. She was known as a bruiser not a marathon runner and usually had her opponents down by the third round so after the jump between buildings and the battle on the roof, she was winded. She knew that she had saved some of her friends, but she had no idea how many or what to do about them now. Maybe she had just prolonged their torture, she didn't know; she just prayed that Marcy made it. Being there for each other was how they made it this far. She couldn't imagine having to go it completely alone. She stared off into the distance and wondered how her ex-boyfriend had fared through it all; she hated him, but still hoped he made it.