Forget The Zombies (Book 3): Forget America (20 page)

I took quick aim and shot it in the face, knocking it backwards and over the side of the bridge. The waves were so violent, that it didn’t even make a splash as the ocean took it down to Davey Jones locker.

When I turned back to Dave, I saw that he cradled the arm close to his body, kneeling on one knee, rocking back and forth. He knew what that bite meant. We all did.

Despite the chaos around us, it seemed like someone had sucked the oxygen out of the air. We were all afraid to take the next breath because the next breath meant taking an action that none of us wanted to take.

A small voice spoke behind me, “Daddy?” Jessica moved past me, walking slowly. “Are you all right?”

Dave shot out his good arm and said, “Baby, stay back. Daddy’s okay, but he needs you to stay where you are.”

“But that zombie bit you,” she said, her voice shaky.

She wasn’t dumb. Far from it. What she truly understood about this zombie filled world was in question, but it was clear that she knew that a bite from a zombie was bad news.

“Jessie, come back to me,” Joni said stepping forward still holding Martin close. Jessica stopped in her tracks, her expression shifting from puzzlement to fear.

“Go to your mom,” Dave said, standing and turning his back to her.

“Did Dad get bit?” Martin asked.

Joni’s face mirrored Jessica’s. She and Dave had had their issues, but they also had been married for a long time and shared a life together. Her face was blanched nearly white in the same panic that was infecting Jessica.

Randell looked to Dave and then to me. An obvious question hid behind his expression. “
What are we going to do now, Grant?
”

In ordinary times, we’d convene a meeting of the group and talk this out, but these were far from ordinary times. I wouldn’t call them extraordinary times, because, well frankly, extraordinary makes something sound exciting and fantastic. These were just fucking awful times. There were no upsides other than we were alive.

On a slow day in the zombie apocalypse, we would have debated how to handle Dave and his impending transition from life to undeadness. We all knew the transition took hours and maybe even a couple days, but it was inevitable. In the past, I had had the dubious distinction of having to take out members of our party after they had been bitten, but on that day, I definitely decided to defer that decision because we needed every able body to get off that bridge to safety. That’s if you called having to shoot your way through a pack of zombies safety. It all sucked.

It seemed like life had been distilled down to this sentiment: At least we’re not dead. After a while that low, low bar for measuring our quality of life seemed to be quite lacking. There had to be something better than just being alive? Didn’t there?

There was no time for a qualifying philosophical debate, though.

Jay shouted, “Hey Grant, dude, we’ve got deaders heading our way.”

I looked past Dave and saw a couple dozen creeping up the highway towards us. Many of them wore beach clothing; swimsuits, shorts, and tank tops. One wore a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt which stood in stark contrast to its dead gray skin. When I flipped around and looked to the north from where they had just come, a small horde was collecting on the bridge and heading our way. There had to be a hundred of them. I glanced back the cruiseliner and saw ever more trundling our way on the beach. Once they all got on the bridge and headed our way, we’d have an army of the dead to take on.

We could handle the ones south of us. The ones from the north were big trouble, though. We might have enough guns and ammo, but I didn’t have enough shooters.

My whole idea of finding safety on this remote island began to look one of the worst ideas I had ever had, but then I didn’t count on a cruiseliner full of zombies beaching itself on that same island. I guess expecting the unexpected was the way of the world.

A part of me just wanted to lie down on the bridge and forget it all. Another part considered jumping into the ocean and letting the waves have their way with me. But in the end, I knew these people counted on me. We had lost people before and we would probably lose more people in the future, but survival is one of things we do best. Maybe best was a bit of an exaggeration. We survived anyway and in any style we could. It wasn’t always pretty, but we did it and that’s what counted.

“Jay, Jane, Randell,” I said trying to find the steel I needed deep down. What I found seemed quite rusty and maybe a little mushy, but I found it, “get all the guns you can from Chuck’s bag. We’re heading south and killing any undead bastard that gets in our way.”

They disappeared inside the trailer and I turned and walked to Joni. Looking in her eyes, I saw a woman on the verge of being lost. The parts and the sum of all that we had been through were catching up to her and threatened to swamp her completely.

“Can you shoot?” I asked.

“I...I…” she stammered out.

“We need you,” I said. “The kids need you.”

That broke her out of the descent and she rallied. “Yes, I can shoot,” she said. The rally wavered, though. “What are we going to do about Dave.” Her eyes filled with tears as she pulled Martin close.

Footsteps sounded behind me, coming fast. “I’m not dead, yet,” Dave said walking up from behind me while wrapping his shirt around the bite wound on his forearm. “Give me a damn gun.” There was something in the set of his expression that told us that he meant business.

That was when things changed. At least a little. Dave’s small act gave us an injection of courage. We had been on the ropes, our morale threatening to go down the tubes at any moment, but that his small courageous act turned the tide. We found a sliver of hope in a hopeless situation and grabbed onto it with everything we had.

Randell and Jay muscled their way out the door of the trailer carrying Chuck’s over burdened duffle bag. After getting it fully outside, they let it drop to the road. Randell leaned over and unzipped the bag and started handing out weapons as soon as the group circled around him. Not everyone was eager for what we were about to have to do, but each one had a fixed look of determination in their eyes.

Robbie stood looking at the pistol he has just been handed as if someone had just put a snake in his hand. “I’ve never fired a gun in my life,” he said.

“You’ll figure it out,” I said. “It’s a point and shoot system.”

“How do I turn it on?” he asked.

Now, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“You can piggyback Rosalita out,” I said taking the pistol back.

He looked at me almost as stricken as he had when the gun came into his hand. Robbie wasn’t a big guy. I wasn’t sure how far he’d be able to carry Rosalita, but we needed everyone who could shoot to do just that. What we didn’t need is someone in our own party to shoot another one.

“You can handle it,” I said, but was doubtful he could.

I knelt down and rummaged through the bag until I found what I wanted and why this bought me some relief, I also discovered that there was something very critical missing. I played through several scenarios in my mind and eliminated each one until it only came down to one choice. It wasn’t one I relished, but it was the only way for the group to survive. Well, all but one.

I stood up and took one last look north at the approaching horde. We had five, maybe ten minutes until they reached us.

“What’s the plan?” Randell asked looking directly at me.

I took a moment and looked at each one of them and then said, “You’re shooting your way south through the ones coming that way. I’m staying here to blow the bridge with the C4 Chuck brought along.”

“Wait...you’re what? Joni asked.

“Look that way,” I said pointing north at the zombies heading down the bridge for us. “We could try to make a run for it, but I have to tell you, there’s no way off the island south of us unless we find a boat. If those zombies get across the bridge, I don’t like our chances.”

Dave stepped up beside me and looked me straight in the eye and said, “So, what you’re telling us is that unless we take down that bridge, we’re done for?”

I didn’t say anything.

“This has been a great plan so far,” he said. “You’ve led us onto an island with no escape and now we have a horde of zombies coming down on us.”

Rosalita limped into the group and said, “No, that is not fair. Mr. Grant, he has saved us so many times. He could not know about this big boat full of the dead being here.”

Dave was silent for a moment, then said, “It is what it is. Let’s go.”

I laid out a quick game plan which was really quite simple. Move south, shoot any dead son of a bitch that comes your way. I’d blow the bridge, cutting off the horde. What they didn’t know was that I probably wouldn’t make it off the bridge. Chuck had left the explosives, but he hadn’t left anyway to remotely detonate it. There was a couple fuse caps, but that would require that whoever detonated the explosives would have to be up-close and personal to do it.

I could only guess that he planned to use small portions of the C4 and not enough to blow up an entire bridge.

“You’re coming with us after you blow the bridge, right?” Joni asked.

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll be right behind you.” There’s nothing like a lie to put people’s minds at ease. She smiled at me, but then looked to Dave and any hint of joy left her eyes.

This seemed like the time for a big inspirational speech like the generals give before the big battle, but I didn’t have it in me. Besides, the zombies were always good at spoiling the timing of anything good or inspirational. As if on cue, two zombies from the south came around the front of our now dead truck. Randell brought up his rifle and dropped them both, but there were plenty more coming after that.

“Let’s move, people,” I yelled.

Randell, Jay, and Jane took point. Joni and the kids held down the middle with Robbie staggering along under Rosalita’s weight, following just behind. I stayed with Chuck’s bag, but noticed that Dave hung back just behind me.

“You need to get moving, Dave,” I said.

“I’m just hanging back to watch your back.”

“I don’t need it. Get going.”

“In a minute.”

I didn’t pay too much more attention to him as I knelt bag over the duffle bag and started inventorying the C4 blocks. After 9/11, just about everybody in law enforcement was taken through some explosives training just to be ready for anything. I had followed the demonstration from our expert instructor to know just enough to be dangerous. Too bad most of the danger was to me.

Gunshots sounded from the south and I glanced back to see the crew making slow, but steady progress down the bridge as the zombie bodies piled up. Randell was out in front and was doing a great job of leading the group down the bridge. I figured he’d take over when I was gone. Besides, his sometimes windy and overblown speeches, he was a good choice.

I went to work, trying to figure how to get the biggest bang for my buck with the explosives. There could be no half measures. The bridge had to fall entirely. My limited knowledge told me I had just enough C4 to make it happen, but I wasn’t sure.

More gunshots filtered my way, but I barely heard them as I concentrated on the task at hand. C4 was sturdy stuff and could be handled without too much danger, but still it had me nervous. Why I was nervous was beyond me. I wasn’t planning on being alive much longer unless I could figure out a way to detonate these explosives from a distance.

I finally decided on a final configuration when someone behind me spoke, “You got that shit all figured out?”

I whirled around to see Dave leaning over me.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked. “They need you to fight their way out.”

“No, they need me here.” He had a curious expression on his face. It was halfway between resignation and batshit crazy.

“I’m telling you,” I said rising up to look him in the eye, “they need you now!”

A sly smile came to his face and before I knew it, he whipped up his pistol and aimed it at my heart. “And I said, they need me here.”

“They need me here to blow the bridge and you to help them,” I said.

“Listen, I’m not a total dumbass. I was in the Army and almost went into a demo team. I saw what Chuck had and didn’t have in that bag. Like not having enough detonation cable to get to a safe distance. And I know what you’re thinking. You stay behind, blow the bridge, and be the hero. Well, I can’t let that happen.”

I began to think that all the tension between Dave and me was about to simmer over in a volcanic eruption and one that would get everyone killed.

“There’s no time for this bullshit,” I said.

“You have all the time in the world,” he said. “I don’t.” He bought up his arm wrapped in a blood soaked shirt.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m blowing the bridge and you’re saving my family and the others.”

“I don’t mean to say this, but you’re not the hero type.”

“No, I’m the dead type.” He pointed the barrel of his gun at the blood soaked shirt again. He then re-pointed the gun at me again. “Now, go.”

“You realize that whoever sets off these explosives is most likely going to go up with them?”

“Shit, are you dense,” he said. “I’m dead already. You know it. I know it. This bite has done me in and it’s all over but the crying. And I don’t want to be around for that.” He wiped away the rain running down his forehead. “Besides, take a look at Robbie. He’s a good kid, but how far is he going to get carrying Rosalita?”

I looked down the bridge and watched as Robbie nearly stumbled as he hobbled along with Rosalita. Dave was right, Robbie wasn’t up to that task.

I turned back to Dave and said, “You’re strong enough to carry her. You need to get down there.”

Still, I shook my head.

Dave brought the gun back up and aimed it back at my chest. “You’re not listening! I’m going to shoot you if you don’t get down the bridge.

His eyes went dark with an over heated rage and I actually thought that he might shoot me. It probably didn’t help that he thought there something was going on between his wife and me. Maybe I’d shoot me, too.