Zombie Warfare: Impact Series - Book 3 Read online

  He dreamed. About zombies. Labs and zombies. She was screaming. He was running but couldn’t catch her. Zombies stumbled his way, knocking over racks of basketballs and bubble gum machines. They turned to shoot at them with a pistol. Click. Click. Click. The zombies were on top of him. Their mouths seemed to hang to the floor and their teeth were made of sharp metal.

  Scrreeeeeeeeeech!

  He jerked in his seat. Eyes wide open.

  Rudy was staring at him.

  “Bad dream, Bawk?”

  Henry wiped the drool from his mouth, straightened his glasses and faced front. They were stopped at a light.

  “I know this intersection,” he said. “Are we―”

  Rudy stuck his arms in the air. “We’re in Mo-Town baby!”

  The light turned green and the van accelerated and turned left. They passed a few more lights, all green, and headed down a twisting hill. There wasn’t as much traffic on the road, at least not as much as he was used to seeing. Henry hadn’t been back to Morgantown since college. The van turned right at the next light and headed up a driveway on a winding hill. At the entrance, a weathered sign in an overgrown garden read Mountaineer Mall.

  The van traveled another quarter mile and stopped again. There was a chain link gate and a guard shack. The setup was very similar to the one at the Zombie Day Care. Henry’s breath quickened. Two guards stepped out of the shack armed with shotguns. One came out, checked the manifest of the driver and peered in the back seat. His eyes stopped on Tori. He smiled and a couple of teeth were missing. She scooted closer to Rod.

  “Alright,” the guard said, stepping back out of the window. He waved to the guard behind the fence and the gate rattled open. “Enjoy your stay.” The driver accelerated through the gate.

  Everyone in the van was quiet. This trip to Morgantown wasn’t as thrilling as they used to be. Henry remembered the days of tailgates and football games. Cars filling the streets bumper to bumper in gold and blue. Now it felt like a one-car funeral procession.

  A closed grocery store was to the left and at the top of the hill an empty parking lot loomed, with grass growing through the cracks of the blacktop. A drizzling rain splattered on the boarded-up windows.

  “Looks like the mall’s closed,” Rudy said. “No shopping for you, Tori.”

  “Funny,” she said, not looking around.

  The abandoned mall wasn’t huge. It was encircled by an outdoor parking lot with maybe a few thousand spaces. Henry remembered coming to it as a kid, and the malls weren’t all so big back then. It was just a couple of department stories like Elder-Beerman and J.C. Penny and maybe a couple dozen other stores. This one looked like it had been closed since the Outbreak. With all the entrances and windows sealed up, it looked more like a bunker now.

  The van wheeled around to the far side and pulled down a loading dock ramp. A couple of empty truck trailers were parked nearby. Nothing else moved. Just the rain that pattered on the van’s roof.

  The WHS driver honked the horn three times.

  Henry’s fingers started to tingle. A sense of dread filled him. It looked like his home was going to be another abandoned building, but this one didn’t have many unboarded windows except a few skylights in the ceiling. He rubbed his shoulders. My Life Among the Zombies: From Chaos to Madness. The Autobiography of Henry Bawkula. Deceased. He sighed.

  Rudy slapped him on the back.

  “Don’t be so glum, Bawk,” Rudy said. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as it looks. Besides, it’s Morgantown. Lots of college chicks.”

  Tori shot him a look over her shoulder.

  “For me, that is.”

  “I have a feeling we won’t get much of an opportunity to mix with the locals,” Henry said, looking out his window. There were black cameras everywhere. He’d counted at least fifty of them on the way up the road.

  The side door alongside the docking garage opened up and a WHS Security guard stepped outside. He was a big man. Bigger than Rod, heavyset and white. His gray mustache and beard were neatly trimmed. A pistol was on each hip. Automatics by the looks of them. Nickel plated .44 Magnums, Henry guessed. It took a big man to wield those.

  “Come on in,” the man said, waving. His voice was loud and heavy. “It’s pouring rain less than a mile away.”

  Rod shoved the side van doors open and burst outside.

  “You got any food?”

  “Yep, but maybe not enough to fill you.” The man chuckled. “We have good coffee and all the donuts you can eat.”

  Rudy tripped over his bag trying to get out.

  “Watch it,” Rod said, glowering at him, grabbing his own bags.

  Henry waited for Tori. She took her time without looking back.

  Great.

  Henry was the last one out. He grabbed his bag and shut the door behind him. The van started backing away. Seconds later they were all alone with a big burly stranger. The man’s eyes smiled and he tipped his hat at Tori. “Ma’am,” he said.

  The raindrops started to pour down.

  Everyone hussled for the door. The man stopped them under the overhang.

  “My name’s Jake.” He pointed to the sewn-on name tag of his WHS uniform. “I’m the boss around here.” He stepped aside. “Go on, get in there.”

  One by one they crossed the threshold into a corridor. Drywall. White. Lit up by fluorescent lights. It was clear to Henry the place had gone through some major renovation, but nothing expensive. Not all the bulbs were lit. Twenty feet down the hall was a Security Door. Heavy duty. All steel. A green and red light panel showed red. A camera was mounted above the threshold.

  Jake jostled Henry as he passed.

  “I’ll get that.”

  Jake pressed his thumb above the key pad. The door slid open and in they went.

  There was an old conference table and a mishmash of office chairs on rollers around it. A coffee urn, juice boxes, and a spread of donuts in boxes. It looked like a large break room. Cabinets and a refrigerator. The room was cold and the air filters rattled in the high ceiling above. There were two Security Doors near the other corners of the rectangular room.

  Rudy took a seat and started eating.

  Jake hitched his knee up on the chair and tightened up his bootlace.

  “Eat up and relax, everyone,” Jake said. “They’ll be here to brief you soon enough. And the shitter, er, pardon me Ma’am, the ladies is over there.”

  “Who’s coming to brief us?” Henry asked.

  “Them,” Jake said. He scanned his thumb. The door slid open. Jake stepped through and it closed behind him.

  “I don’t like how he said that,” Tori said, rubbing the goosebumps on her arms.

  Rod agreed.

  “Me either.”

  CHAPTER 11

  -Arizona-

  Location Unknown

  “Argh!” Chad screamed out.

  The zombie pinned him down. The tiny hooks on its gloved hands tore into his shoulders, ripping cloth and flesh. Its jaw snapped at his face. Teeth chomping and clattering. The zombie was ravenous.

  Chad locked his fingers around its throat. Shoved it back.

  “No!”

  It was strong like a wild animal. Relentless. He gasped for breath. Kicked. Pushed. Squirmed. He’d seen zombies eat people before. The horror. Dead men eating the flesh of the living. Don’t panic, a voice in his head said. Don’t stop fighting. Kill it!

  He pulled his knees to his chest. Squeezed its neck. Its teeth chomped and snapped. Its fingers dug deeper into his flesh. It pulled him closer. Its tongue brushed his cheek. Licked his ear.

  “Numma-numma. Numma-numma!”

  Chad groaned. Wriggled. His shoulders burned. He heard his skin tear. His lungs were flames. He’d wrestled his way into college, but he’d never wrestled anything like this. An opponent with superhuman vitality and hunger. The match of his life.

  One move! One move!

  Its hands ripped up his arms. It tore hunks of s
hirt and skin. Blood dripped in tiny pools on the sand. Chad squeezed its neck and glared into its dead eyes.

  “I’m not going down to you,” he spit. “Dead Devil.”

  He summoned everything he had left. Let out a roar.

  He flipped to his belly. Pulled his knees under him. Hooked the zombie’s arm under his elbow. Burst up and twisted the zombie’s arms behind its back. Drove it face first into the ground. He screamed again.

  “Take that!”

  He shoved its arm towards the back of its head, snorting like a bull.

  Snap!

  Its arm popped at the shoulder and no longer flailed.

  Chad jumped on the other arm, grabbed the wrist and twisted it behind its back.

  “Take that!”

  Pop!

  The zombie writhed on the ground. Snapped its jaws and kicked.

  Chad rolled away, gulping for air. Clutching at his chest. Blood dripped all over his arms and down his face. On shaking hands and knees he crawled for his knife. The zombie pushed its head over the sand with its legs right after him.

  “Numma-Numma,” it said, with mouthfuls of dirt.

  Chad wrapped his bloodstained fingers around the buck knife’s handle. Staggered to his feet, swaying. The zombie nipped at his toes. One eye in the dirt. One eye on him. Chad sucked in all the hot air he could handle. His dry throat tried to swallow. He felt things hurt he’d never felt before. Other things he knew well. Anger. Hatred.

  He stepped onto the zombie’s back and jumped up and down.

  “Die!”

  “Die!”

  “Die!”

  He ripped its mask off

  Its neck crackled and snapped to the left and right.

  “Numma-numma.”

  “I’ll give you some Numma-Numma!”

  Chad jammed the knife in its skull. Wrenched it to the left with a sickening crack.

  The zombie juttered. Limps twitched and then twitched no more.

  Chap rolled off its back and stared into the setting sun.

  “Numma dumma damn dead …”

  ***

  “Now that’s a real cowboy,” Rancho said.

  Charles slung his popcorn over the room.

  “Dammit!”

  “What’s the matter?” Rancho said in his deep Texan voice. “You didn’t put too much money on the zombies did you? Woo Hoo.”

  “Shut up,” Charles said. He banged his fist on the table. He’d wanted to make the man die. Tear him asunder. Eat him. His damn zombies hadn’t been up to it. He slung his chair across the room.

  “Say, are you alright in there? The man wasn’t some soft bellied civilian. And you said to arm him.”

  Charles picked up his chair and slammed it back down in front of his work station.

  “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”

  “I think your expectations of the zombies are a little high. They don’t have the best reflexes, you know,” Rancho said. “And what brains those ones did have, well, they’ve got big holes in them now. But, me and the boys enjoyed the show. It was better than what we saw at The Octagon last night. I say we keep this guy around for another fight.”

  Charles punched a key on his board with his pudgy finger. The sound was muted. The drone showed a clear shot of the man, lying in the sand, eyes to the sky, closed, and bleeding all over. He winced. His mouth curled.

  “I hate people like that,” he said. His forehead dripped sweat on the table. “Bloody survivors.” He grabbed a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his brow. It made him think of Nate McDaniel, the Man Who Saved the World. “Cost us time and money, those guys do.”

  The man on the screen crawled into the shade and hunkered down. What happened wasn’t a failure. Just an experiment. It just would have been more fun if the man had lost. It was no reason for Charles to lose his head.

  “Oh well,” he said to himself, “I can always send more zombies. We have plenty of them.” He tapped his keyboard. “Rancho?”

  “You finished with yer little fit?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “So, Cowboy, do you want my men to waste this guy or let him bleed and bake to death?”

  ***

  Chad sat in the shade with his bloody back against the rock.

  If I live till tomorrow, it’s gonna be the sorest I’ve ever been.

  Eyeing the sky, he could see a drone hovering about thirty feet in the air. It was silent. Like a Flying Saucer or something. He raised his arm, turned his hand and gave it the finger. What kind of men was he dealing with? They couldn’t just kill him. They had to watch him being killed by zombies. A lab rat in a carnivorous cage.

  He shifted his seat and winced.

  “Ah.”

  His shoulders were raw meat. Blood, sand and cloth were mixed in with his muscles. He flipped a dangling piece of skin back into place. It fell over again.

  “What to do,” he said, wiping his arm across his mouth. His throat was parched. He lived, but what for.

  A sound caught his ear. Boots crunching over the sand and rock. It made him think of the little girl in Poltergeist. “They’re here.” A sliver of fear went through him. It could be more zombies. He only remembered two, but they didn’t get the job done. Maybe they sent more. If it were him chasing them, that’s what he would do.

  His neck rolled over on his shoulders toward the sound. A black silhouette stepped into the sunlight. Tall and lean. Assault rifle in the ready position.

  “Hoy Mate,” the man said, “looks like you put on quite a show.”

  The soldier stepped over one of the zombies and kicked it in the head.

  Chad got a better look at the man. Desert camo from head to toe and topped off with a jungle hat. Two canteens were on his side. The man’s chin was narrow and jutted out. The other one appeared. Shorter and thicker. Close set eyes. Chinless with hairy black arms.

  “Damn,” the other one said. He looked at Chad and the zombies. “He did this?”

  “No, a giant scorpion did it.”

  “I’m just talking.”

  “Yes, you Americans do a lot of that. Yak, yak, yak about nothing. Too much television.”

  “Better than being a Kangaroo poker.”

  Chad cracked a smile.

  The taller one walked over and knelt down in front of him.

  “Not feeling so bad are you, Mate? Aye?”

  Chad lifted the knife. It felt like a brick of lead. He gently jabbed it at the man.

  “Ho, Ho, this mate’s still got some fight in him. He must not be a product of TV Land.” The man’s gray eyes lifted. “A good hard boned American. Like the old ones.”

  “So,” the other man said, “what’s the plan? Do we kill him?”

  “Probably. I’m still waiting for orders.”

  The soldier slipped his cell phone from his pocket and eyed the screen.

  Chad leaned forward.

  “Aye now,” the man said, turning his barrel towards him. “Lean back, and go ahead and let the knife go.”

  Chad shook his head.

  “Come on, Mate. I’ll switch my canteen for it.” He pulled it off his belt and wiggled it. The sloshing sound made Chad’s mouth water. “You deserve it, Mate. I’d give you a can of lager if I had it. What you did to those zombies, now that was impressive.”

  Chad chucked the knife. He caught the canteen. Fired roared through his shoulders. He twisted off the cap and gulped it down.

  “I bet I could have killed those zombies,” the other soldier said, bobbing his head. “I wouldn’t look like he looks either.”

  “Shaddup, you moron,” the soldier said. “I can’t think of many men that could survive that and you sure ain’t one of them.” He turned back to Chad. “Shame. We could use more men like you. Most of my men are like Shit for Brains over there. Are you sure you don’t want to make a deal?”

  Chad kept drinking.

  “Ah, it probably don’t make a difference now anyway.”
He checked his phone again. “Any day now. Ew,” the man grimaced, looking at Chad. “Looks like a zombie chewed off your ear.” The man backed off. Started texting.

  Damn!

  Chad didn’t want to reach up and give the man any satisfaction. He reached up and felt his left ear. Most of it was missing.

  “Not good, Mate, not good at all. You’ve been bitten.” The soldier shook his head and lowered his barrel to Chad’s forehead.

  “Great fighting, Mate, but this is a better end for you.” He huffed a sigh. “If you got any last thoughts, go ahead and say them.”

  I’m not going to be a zombie. God help me, not a zombie. Shoot me! Please, shoot me!

  CHAPTER 12

  -Morgantown, WV-

  “Hey!” Henry whacked the Security Door with his fist. “It’s been two hours already!” He shook his hand and rubbed it. He shook his fist at one of the cameras mounted in the corner ceiling.

  “Don’t hurt yourself, Henry,” Rod said. He was sitting by Tori. They both had sour looks on their faces. “Try not to lose your patience. It’s not like you.”

  He eyed Rod.

  “Really?”

  Ever since Jake departed, his skin had been tingling. The man seemed friendly, honest, but there was something cold about him.

  “You know,” Rod started. His swivel chair groaned when he moved. “I’m pretty sure Jake used to played football up here. Pretty badass back in the day.”

  Henry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Great. This place is probably full of more zombies like Rod the Rifle and Slam Dunk Jones. He whirled and kicked the door hard with his toe. “Ah!”

  “Henry!” Tori said. She started up from her chair and sat back down again. “Settle down, will you? You’re making me nervous.”

  He glared at her. Fine one she is to talk!

  She hadn’t said hardly a thing to him since they left, and he still had no idea what he did. How was he supposed to avoid a conversation with Alice? He couldn’t ever avoid her getting mad over just about anything it seemed lately. First the interrogations and now this. His nerves were thinned.

  “Are you glaring at me?” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “Stop it, Henry.”

  “Oh, speaking to me now, are we?”

  “No.”

  “Good!” He half hobbled over to the table. Took a seat far away. Filled up a cup of coffee and looked in the corner.

  “Bawk, I’ve never seen you like this,” Rudy said. He had donut powder on his shirt and mouth. “Makes me nervous too. But listen.” He dug his heels into the floor and wheeled his chair over. “You know these big government gigs take a lot of time. Think about it. Remember the Day Care? It took days to get set up in there. The Rehab wasn’t much different.” He dusted his Quantum Leap shirt off. “Come on, Bawk. You’re the calm one.”