The Zombie Virus (Book 1) (9 page)

Finally my heel landed a blow on its shoulder
and forced it backwards as the first Loony was trying to crawl back
in through the open door over the other’s back. I drew the Beretta,
pointed it toward the attacking creatures and pulled the trigger,
trying not to shoot my own legs in the process. I wasn’t sure how
many times I shot. I just pulled the trigger until the doorway was
empty.

I sat up and saw the two Loonies writhing on
the ground in pools of bright blood, one with its lower jaw and
neck blown apart.

I grabbed the door handle and slammed the
truck’s door shut. My ears were ringing loudly from the gun shots
and my heart trip-hammered in my chest. I was drenched in sweat and
nauseous with fear.

Suddenly, one of the Loonies was up and
outside the window trying to claw its way in. Blood poured from
bullet wounds in its shoulder and arm. Others were arriving behind
it. I frantically looked around the truck, the interior was
empty.

The keys were there, dangling in the
ignition. I said a quick thank you under my breath and holstered
the pistol. Now if only the battery still had enough juice in it to
turn over the engine after days of sitting with the door hanging
open.

I said a silent prayer as I turned the
ignition key. The truck roared to life. Relief flooded through my
body until I glanced outside. The infected were swarming over the
truck. Several had climbed into the bed while others where clawing
their way onto the hood and beating on the side windows.

I slammed the gearshift into drive and sped
off, spilling bodies around me. One clung tenaciously to the brush
guard until the large AT tire caught its foot and ripped its body
loose, crushing it beneath the tire when I accelerated. I had lost
one of my shoes in the fight and a pant leg was torn nearly its
entire length. Thankfully I hadn’t been bitten or had my skin
broken by their filthy fingernails.

Three Loonies were hanging on in the bed of
the pickup while another had a tenacious one armed grip around the
driver’s side mirror. Blood coated the outside of the window giving
the creature even more of a macabre look. Its blood red eyes stared
at me through the window and the jaws worked in anticipation of the
kill. I threw the truck sideways and sped up the road at breakneck
speed.

The creature lost its grip along with another
in the back of the truck bed. It landed face first on the road and
its head came apart. Both of them looked like rag dolls as they
bounced and rolled on the pavement. Neither one got up.

I passed two more empty vehicles partially
off the road and slowed to a crawl. As I did so the two remaining
Loonies stood up in the truck bed and charged toward the back
window. I jammed the accelerator with my shoeless foot. The truck
lurched forward and both Loonies flew backwards over the tailgate
and landed hard on the pavement. They were up instantly and tearing
off after me, one with an appreciable limp. I quickly left them
behind and they were soon out of sight.

Within minutes I was pulling into the road
that led to my neighborhood. I was exhausted. I wanted to wake up
from this nightmare. How could I keep on fighting these creatures
like this? Home was drawing me like a beacon with the thought of my
young wife’s arms and comforting smile waiting there for me. She
and my ten-year-old son were all the reason I needed to persevere.
They had to survive this. I would not let them become one of those
things, or food for them.

I turned onto my street. There were infected
moving aimlessly throughout the neighborhood. As soon as they heard
or saw the truck, their pace picked up and it was as if I was the
Pied Piper with a horde of bloodthirsty human rats following me
down the road. I knew I couldn’t go to my house leading this
ravenous mob of enraged murderous creatures to my doorstep.

I stopped the truck.

Loonies appeared from the green manicured
yards beside and ahead of me while the pursuing crowd of growling,
jostling infected was nearly to the back of the truck. I looked
around me in a dreamlike state, exhausted from long, hard days of
work and little sleep.

It was a beautiful but hot summer day, the
sky was a deep indigo blue. The sun crept to the western horizon
and small cotton white cumulus clouds drifted lazily across my
view. Not a single contrail graced the sky. The truck’s air
conditioning had dried the sweat on my arms and face, and
everything felt normal for a moment.

I looked outside again, it all seemed so
surreal. It would be so easy to give in.

Fuck that! I let out a bloody scream and
shifted the gear lever into reverse, stomping on the gas. The truck
sped backward plowing into the first of the Loonies. Then I was
into the bulk of them. The truck bounced up and down, crushing
bodies beneath its massive tires. A staccato banging sound rang out
loudly from the multiple bodies bouncing off of the tailgate as I
rolled though the horde of infected. Arms clawed at the side of the
truck when I sped by.

I was soon free of the mob. I spun the wheel
and the truck skidded 180 degrees facing out of the neighborhood. I
drove out and turned onto the main road, parking about one hundred
yards up on the shoulder. Behind me the infected that could still
move were chasing after the truck.

I sat there with the engine idling, the
guttural growl of the 5.4 liter Triton engine reverberating off of
the trees beside me. It gave me a powerful feeling and I felt safer
than I probably actually was. Bring it on you bastards! I thought
to myself as I looked in the rearview mirror at the approaching
mob. We’re going to play a little game of hide ‘n’ seek!

There was a back way onto the street where my
house was located, an old overgrown logging road used by ATV’s and
BMXers. It connected to the main road a half mile ahead. I put the
Ford into four wheel drive. The Loonies were pouring around the
corner and onto the main road, closing fast.

I revved the engine and hit the horn on the
truck, sounding long blasts. A startled flock of birds took to wing
from the trees. I started the truck moving forward at a running
pace, still laying on the horn. I looked in the rearview and saw
the stragglers and injured infected rounding the turn out of my
neighborhood, following the larger crowd that was sprinting after
the truck.

I continued on, leading them away from my
family.

I reached the turn to the old road which was
nothing more than a couple of weed filled ruts through the trees
and brush. Behind me the horde closed the distance, though still a
few hundred yards back. I turned the pickup onto the logging trail.
Branches slapped at the windshield and hood as I sped off down the
road, the stiff suspension bouncing me off the seat when I hit the
puddle filled potholes.

I traversed the trail quickly, now wishing
the truck’s exhaust was a bit quieter. My wife, son and I had
walked this trail many times over the years, although it looked
eerily unfamiliar from the high vantage point of the truck. The
trail spilled out into the back lot of a neighbor’s house.

The street was quiet and empty. I drove up to
my driveway, scanning the road for any of the infected, my
situational awareness on high alert. I saw only one shuffling up
the road toward me in a soiled tattered pink nightgown.

I backed the truck into the driveway, putting
the tailgate as close to the front door as I could, and shut down
the engine. The quiet was unnerving. I stepped out of the pickup
and briskly walked toward the Loony, my one shoe slapping loudly on
the concrete. It was an older woman – I recognized her although I
didn’t know her name. When she spotted me she ran at me with an
unbelievable burst of speed, with that keening growl that I was
becoming all too familiar with.

I unholstered the Beretta and raised it
toward her in a two handed grip. Her distorted face was a blur. I
focused on the front sight and pulled the trigger twice, one shot
rang out and the slide locked back. The Loony dropped in its tracks
as the bullet tore through its throat and out the back of its
spine.

I triggered the mag release and swiftly
heeled another one in the open slot, cursing myself for not
changing mags after the last encounter. I couldn’t overlook these
types of details – it would get us killed.

My wife must have heard the truck arrive and
was out the door and running toward me with her arms outstretched.
Jeremy was close behind. Both of them carried rifles. I enfolded my
family in my arms and sobbed along with them. I brushed my wife’s
long auburn hair back from her face and kissed her deeply.

“We can’t stay out here,” I said. I reached
down and put my arm around my boy, hugging him tightly to me. He
was getting big enough that I could barely lift him off his
feet.

“What are we going to do, Papa?” he asked
wiping at the tears with the back of his hand and hoping I hadn’t
seen them.

“Let’s get in the house and talk about it.” I
gathered them up and herded them toward the door.

“I didn’t know you were going to stop and
truck shop on the way home,” Holly said in jest when she saw the
pickup.

“I couldn’t pass up the deal, and it’s owner
financing,” I winked at her.

“I’m so thankful you’re home,” Holly cried in
my ear when the door closed behind us. “How bad is it out
there?”

I took my briefcase off of my shoulder and
set it on the floor. “It’s about as bad as you can imagine. I think
the world that we have known is gone forever.”

We walked to the kitchen where she examined
me from head to toe, taking in the blood splatters on my torn
trousers and shirt. “Are you injured?”

I kicked off my remaining loafer. “I don’t
think so. That blood’s from the infected I fought with. I need to
get out of this stuff and wash up. I don’t think the blood’s still
hot but we can’t take the chance.”

I had Jeremy get a trash bag from under the
sink and soon I was standing in just my underwear while we bagged
my ruined clothes. I told Jeremy to keep an eye out through the
windows in case the horde of Loonies found their way here through
the woods and he went off with a serious expression on his young
face to carry out his assignment. Holly followed me into the
bathroom to help me clean up.

The sun was setting. We had survived another
day.

We spent the evening gathering the remaining
supplies and piling them up on the inside of the garage with those
that Holly had already put together. We had eight military
patterned rifles, ranging in calibers from .22 long rifle to .308.
Two were class III short barreled AR15 M4 style rifles. We also had
four shotguns and several hunting and old military rifles, plus an
assortment of handguns. I only had one suppressor which I used on
several of the .22 rifles and handguns. For ammunition we had
sixteen 50 caliber ammo cans filled with various rounds for all our
weapons, about 2,000 rounds per weapon.

From their display case I grabbed the two
authentic samurai swords that my grandfather had brought back from
the Pacific during WWII. We boxed up all of our pantry food along
with the buckets of emergency food we had stored. We emptied our
refrigerator/freezers into the couple of large coolers and topped
them with icepacks. We would unfortunately have to leave some
behind to rot.

We put two cases of water along with several
cases of soda in the pile. We had clothes out at the farm,
nevertheless we packed a bag of travelling clothes for each of us.
We cleaned out all of our medical supplies, including prescriptions
and vitamins, along with Holly’s medical kit. We even boxed up our
canning supplies and spare jars.

It was a huge load, however, I was confident
the full sized bed of the pickup could easily carry it. I would
have to get the spare gas from the shed in the morning and top off
the truck’s tank and take whatever was left with us for on the road
fills.

It was just over 250 miles to the farm, which
seemed like the other side of the world after what I went through
earlier. Each of us would carry two handguns and one carbine with
plenty of spare mags for each weapon. I cut down the barrel on our
old double barrel to use as a coach gun in the truck’s cab. It was
nearly midnight when we finally got to sleep.

CHAPTER 6

I awoke at 0500 hours with my son nestled between
Holly and me on the full size bed. It was pitch black in the
basement bedroom. I had slept fully dressed in olive drab cargo
pants and a tan tee shirt in case the shit hit the fan in the
middle of the night. I slipped out of the warm bed and lit the
lantern on the desk, bathing the room in a warm glow.

I quietly slid into my hiking boots, grabbed
the Colt short barreled M4 with the EoTech holographic scope and
slung it over my shoulder, then strapped on the drop-leg holster
and inserted my Para Ordnance NightHawg. It was a full size .45
with a 10 round magazine. My wife carried a Para PXT in 9mm which
held 18 double stacked rounds. My older Sig P220, also a .45, went
into the retention holster on my belt.

Holly raised her head and looked at me. “What
time is it?” she asked.

I looked at my watch again.
“Zero-five-fifteen,” I replied. I adjusted the Colt so it was in
front of me and tight to my chest. “We need to get moving. Those
things are mainly active during the day and sleep at night. I want
to get the truck loaded and out of here before they’re on the
move.”

Holly shook Jeremy awake while I went
upstairs to scout the outside of the house. I had always meant to
purchase a set of night vision goggles or a scope, although I had
never gotten around to it. You never expect to need something like
that until you absolutely need something like that. You know what
they say about hindsight.

I had a SureFire G3 flashlight in my hand. It
gave out 120 lumens of blinding white light when switched on, at
least that’s what the ad for it said. I kept it off for now since I
didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to the house.