“You look worried.” Eric let the words bounce off him as he chewed on a particularly tough piece of beef jerky and thought about all the things that could go wrong in the morning. Stephanie, the raven haired woman who looked older than her actual age put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, it didn’t have the calming effect she was going for. “Malcolm has been planning this for awhile, things should work out.” Getting no response she turned her attention to her own hunk of dried beef.
The beef jerky was starting to soften under the unrelenting crush of his teeth while Eric started into the middle distance and thought about Malcolm’s plan. Eddie, one of the local bus drivers was stuck a half mile away with a bus crammed full of kids a handful of teachers, and a couple of parent volunteers. They had been on a field trip when things had gone to hell. Eddie, completely unaware of what was going on had driven the bus back to the school and gotten swamped by the dead and they’d been stuck in the school parking lot ever since.
Malcolm who had a shortwave radio had been in contact with the driver and had managed to arrange a few quick food drops to the bus keeping the small group fed for the last week. Time had run out on the kids in the bus. Without a steady supply of water and food they were starting to fade and if Malcolm didn’t make his rescue attempt tomorrow then the kids were going to start dropping like flies.
It was a dangerous idea and a dangerous plan that bit at Eric’s mind and fought sleep off. He also knew that this was the type of thing he had vowed to do on the first day of the zombie outbreak. To save people you had to risk everything and more and more he was confident that the people he had loved before the zombies rose up were gone. Now it was about saving anyone who could be saved. Someone among the survivors might one day find a cure. Or the grandchild of one of the survivors might one day kill the last of the dead.
Eric swallowed the eviscerated hunk of meat and unzipped the sleeping bag under him. He kicked off his boots and set them at the feet of his sleeping back before zipping himself into the fleece lined bag. Resting his head on a flattened half empty pillow Eric stared up at the stars and wonder if any god was staring down at them from the heavens laughing at their dead world.
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Dawn came early, the rays of sunlight poking Eric in the eye and forcing him awake. As Eric pushed himself up and pulled on the zipper of the sleeping back he scanned the roof top and found Malcolm sitting next to his sister stroking her cheek. Her forehead looked clammy, beads of sweat dotting her forehead around her hair line. Eric hadn’t paid much attention to the young woman and his eyes didn’t linger now, he didn’t want to spend too much time gazing on the dying.
Scouring the small area that had been cordoned off for him Eric found the torn bag of beef jerky from the night before and plucked the last shredded remains of the bag out and stuffed them into his mouth. He didn’t want to have to fight for his life on an empty stomach. The muffled grumbles and growls started echoing up and down the rooftop camp as Malcolm went around and roused everyone awake.
Ten minutes later the ladder was lowered into a small alley behind the stores that made up their little refuge. Three trucks were lined up nose to tail in the alley and all looked in good working over from Eric’s position on the roof top. Two five gallon gas cans had been lowered into the alley first and when that didn’t draw anything’s attention they had gone ahead with the rest of the plan. Eric was sure that even if the zombies had flooded into the alleyway at that point Malcolm would have gone. The guy appeared to be on the verge of suicide by zombie, he’d dying saving his sister if it came to it.
Malcolm was the first man down the ladder and he edge his way to the far end of the alley keeping watch in case zombies swelled into the narrow street. Three men went down after him, Trevor the pharmacy owner, Don a slightly overweight ex college football player and owner of the corner bar, and Nick, a suburban dad who had been the sole survivor of his family’s attempt to get to higher ground. Eric grabbed the rung of the ladder and swung around. Stephanie was standing at the top of the ladder waiting to follow him down. After she had introduced herself the night before she had told him she had served as a combat hospital nurse in Iraq which is where her medical knowledge came from. He also knew how to shoot and Eric was glad of it, her words about untested hands carrying guns made him concerned about the success of this mission.
As soon as his feet hit the ground Eric turned his attention to the nearer end of the alley his gun in his hands and pointed down the long cracked street ready to shoot. The clang of booted feet against the aluminum of the ladder and thud of feet hitting the ground echoed down the abandoned alley. After eight more percussive thumps of feet against the asphalt a hand tapped him on the shoulder and Eric turned from the alley and holstered his pistol.
The group of thirteen quickly divided into the three waiting trucks Don grabbing the two gas cans and tenderly putting them into the truck bed behind his driver’s seat. Malcolm still standing at the edge of the alley poked his head round the corner. He turned looking over his right shoulder and waved the trucks forward. As the first truck pulled onto Harker St Eric watched as Malcolm darted to his left. The plan was for Malcolm to drive his banshee of a dirt bike down to the school and grab the attention of any zombies in the area. As the dead turned and charged after Malcolm the trucks would pull in, gas up the bus and then lead Eddie and the kids back to the rooftop.
Eric sat in the passenger seat of the second truck the engine idling as they waited. A second later the tortured whine of the dirt bike engine cut through the eerie silence of the morning and Malcolm when rocketing down the street headed to the school. Don waited silently counting down from 120 to zero his mouth moving as he ticked off the numbers. After two minutes the lead truck turned left and headed down the street spitting a noxious black cloud of exhaust behind it. Don followed close behind the first truck and Stephanie manning the third truck’s steering wheel pulled out behind them.
The trucks rolled slowly down the street at an easy fifteen miles per hour. Malcolm’s plan called for a lead time of several minutes to first get the zombies attention and then draw them off far enough away that the trucks and their noise wouldn’t pulled the zombies back in their direction. Don guided the truck as it gently bent to the right for a half block before straightening out and turning into 5th St. With the window open and straining to hear Eric could catch only the faint whine of the dirt bike in the distance. The truck’s crawl to the elementary school was tense with anticipation and fear. Malcolm was the one member of the small group of refugees who’d dared the streets of Davenport since the fall. Everyone else had decide after fighting their way to safety during the first few days of the zombie outbreak weren’t going to risk going out in the dead lands again. Of course there were lives on the line today and that put a fire inside the hearts of the men and women on the mission. Their lives could be so easily risked to save a child.
“Two blocks to go, everyone know what their job is?” The deep gentle voice of Don in the driver’s seat brought Eric out of his musings. Eric nodded, his right hand touching the cold metal of his gun reassuring him it was still there. The long neck of the carpenter’s hammer pressed hard into his left hip. This had to be as quiet as possible or else a tide of starving death was going to fall on them before they managed to get to safety.
The truck drove through the intersection of Main St without stopping. Eric spotted a wayward zombie lurching across the side yard headed in the direction of the school. Eric knew these stragglers were something to expect but Malcolm’s plan hadn’t accounted for them very well nor realistically addressed the sheer number of the dead they might have to contend with. Some zombies might have been slowed to the point that while they couldn’t get up the energy to chase Malcolm on his dirt bike but the sound of the screaming engine would jostle them from their half rest enough to get them up and moving in the direction of the rescue party.
Eric turned his attention back to the road and caught a glimpse of the yellow bus as they rolled through the intersection at Washington St. The bus was battered and painted with the bloody streaks of shattered fists smashed in frustration against the metal shell that kept the living safe from the dead. Out his side window a trail of the dead could be seen rounded the corner at 7th as the cry of Malcolm’s dirt bike faded into the distance.
The first truck pulled into the parking lot and pulled to a stop. The truck extended halfway past the nose of the bus, its bed being employed as a barrier around the door of the bus. Don drove the truck in behind the first truck nearly tapping the lead trucks back bumper. Stephanie pulled the last truck in behind Eric and Don and tapped their bumper jostling them both as they tried to climb out of the truck.
Two other men, Jason a half bald middle aged man with a thick beard and a younger guy maybe nineteen climbed out of the passenger doors of their respective trucks and took up positions on the outside ring the trucks made to guard the bus. Eric looked over his shoulder and watched as Don quickly retrieved the gas cans and went to work. In front of the three men a small group of roaming zombies had taken notice of the small group of would be rescuers and was now moving in their awkward hobbling walk towards the group.
There were only a handful coming from a cluster of three houses across the street from the school parking lot, Eric wondered if they had been parents hopeless with worry about saving their kids and had fallen victim to the zombies as they waited and prayed for their children to be spared. Eric hoped none of them had been waiting for the kids on the field trip; he didn’t want to kill the zombie parents in front of their living children.
Jason had his gun; it shook in his hands like an alcoholic going through withdrawals. Took two steps over and put a calming hand on the man’s bicep. The kid, Marcus didn’t have the same nervous reaction. In fact his hands were steady as a statue as he sighted up on the closed zombie still over thirty yards away. The wind changed in that instant and the stench of wet rotting plant waste hit Eric in the face. The zombies in front of them began to hiss and growl their dry throats twisting the sounds into a mockery of laughter.
Snapping his fingers Eric managed to get Marcus’ attention before the kid fired and ringing the dinner bell for any waiting zombies still lurking in the area. Eric made a lowering gesture with his right hand which was itching to grab his own gun. Slowly Marcus lowered his gun and slipped it between his belt and his jeans. Turning to each man Eric pointed dramatically at the hammer on his hip and then pulled the long necked hammer from his belt. He put his finger to his lips telling each man to be quiet before he marched with iron resolve toward the nearest zombie.
He cocked back is arm like he was throwing a Hail Mary in the final seconds of the Super Bowl and swung forward. The head of the hammer crashed through the hard bone of the zombie’s forehead with sharp crack like snapping wood before pitching forward. The black blood that had rotted inside the zombies skull leaked out onto the front of Eric’s jeans as the zombie crashed into Eric’s thigh and then tilted to the left and fell face down in the street. The reek of the zombies black blood thrust itself into Eric’s nostrils like knives and nothing he could do could drive it out. He could feel the black goo oozing through the fabric of his jeans the feel of it against his skin made him nauseas.
The other five zombies who seconds before had been moving with purpose towards Eric balked and stared around with the zombie equivalent of confused looks on their faces. A male zombie wearing the shredded remains of a black windbreaker was the closest to Eric just five feet away. It was looking at Eric and then as if the fresh meat it had been craving had just disappeared it turned towards Marcus whose jaw was nearly to the floor as he watched the zombie turn away from Eric and start sauntering towards him. The zombie had barely taken one step towards Marcus when Eric swung with all his strength. The hammer head caught the zombie in the back of the head a few inches behind its right ear and as the hammer sailed through flesh of the zombie bits of bone and decaying brains went flying into the air like the spray from a surfacing whale. Shaking off the shock Marcus ran towards the last next closes zombie and buried a hatchet into the dead thing’s head splitting it in half like a log. He yanked the hatchet free and turned to the last zombie still ten feet away.
Eric turned and ran to his left as three zombies closed in on Jason. He was swinging a golf club, a five wood in front of him like a sword. The first blow Eric saw as he ran towards the other man caught one of the zombies, a petite woman by the looks of it in the shoulder and sent her staggering to the ground. A second zombie darted in a second later trying to get at Jason while the lethal head of the club was as far away from it as possible. Jason swung in the opposite direction, the zombies jaws found only the graphite shaft of the golf club in its mouth. The quick movement of the zombie and the moment of its heavy dead weight carried both it and Jason to the ground where Jason fought to keep the shaft of the club in the zombie’s mouth and away from his neck.
Eric turned the hammer over in his hand and with a half strength swing imbedded the claw of the hammer in the zombie’s skull and yanked it off of Jason. The petite zombie he had knocked down was dragging itself towards the two men and their undefended ankles as Eric gave Jason a hand and hoisted the overweight man to his feet. Eric was turning around to face the last zombie still shambling towards them when Jason lunged forward and drove his heavy workmen’s boot into the back of the petite zombie’s skull and smashed it against the pavement. Bones, teeth, and blood splattered the asphalt under their feet as it seeped outward painting a bloody black halo around the zombies head.
Flipping the hammer head around again Eric was gearing up to take a swing at the last zombie when Jason brushed him aside with a nudge of his shoulder. The overweight man pulled back on the club his knuckles turning white as they clutched the handle and then he swung with a barbarian’s strength and the knocked the face off the last zombie. The zombie fell forward its outstretched arms snapping and cracking as the bones broke under the lifeless weight of its body.
“I think an iron would have worked better.” Eric smiled as the critique left his lips. The two men had done well, the brief savagery of the moment coursing through them like a mainlined shot of speed.
Marcus joined them and surveyed the carnage in front of him smiling and nodding the whole time. He looked up at the two men and spoke, barely contained excitement tainting his words, “that was a lot easier than I thought.”
A shot rang out putting an exclamation point on the kid’s words. They all turned to look behind them the sound of the blast still ringing in their ears. “You had to jinx it,” Eric grumbled as he started to jog back towards the bus.
Putting his right boot on the back tire of the truck and grabbing the rim of the truck bed Eric hoisted himself up over their barrier that the three pickup trucks made around the bus. His feet thumped against the metal bed of the truck as he marched over to the other side of the bed and looked down into the small circle of people struggling to fuel up the bus.
Stephanie was struggling to get one of the gas cans upright before it spilled all of its precious diesel all over the asphalt. Don was leaning back his head working to keep the rest of his body propped up against the bus and a third man, Robert was pointing an old west style revolver at the lifeless half empty head of a zombie who was sprawled out underneath the bus. He guy looked with pleading eyes at Jason, Marcus, and Eric, “I’m…I’m sorry.” He stumbled over the apology as he lowered his gun from the empty zombie skull slumped against the ground. In the distance the sound of breaking glass and crying hinges sent cold fingers tickling the back of Eric’s neck.