Pandora: A Novel of the Zombie Apocalypse (19 page)

Tommy had half his men stand down. Two hours later he would have the other half do the same. He wanted everyone ready and rested. All the prep work was done, and he didn’t want to make any more noise. Tommy had knives lashed to pool-cleaning poles, and any zombies that came to the barricade at the side entrance were speared in the head. It was quieter that way. All was going well. He needed only for his brother to call him and for the patrol to return with the zombies’ position. There was nothing to do now but wait.

27

F
or once the group’s timing was perfect. They were passing through West Palm Beach when they stopped to siphon gas again. The tanks were down to fumes. Checking all the vehicles scattered along I-95, they found that most of them had been left running and were bone dry.

“There’s not enough gas for the two SUVs,” complained Jack.

“No,” replied Mike. “We’re going to have to take mine. It’s bigger.”

“Are you saying yours is bigger than mine?” asked Jack.

Laughing and pushing Jack away, Mike retorted, “
Waaay
bigger. Now let’s put as much stuff as we can into the back of mine.”

Sean had walked over to the edge of the highway. Looking out, he grinned and walked back. “We finally lucked out, guys,” he stated. “There’s a big crowd of zombies starting to come up the ramp. Five minutes later, and we would have run smack into them. And with no gas.”

“It’s about time our luck changed,” Sue declared.

In short order they had the Yukon packed and everyone aboard. Sean and Linda sat next to each other, reunited at last. As the first zombies reached the freeway, the Yukon started up and sped away.

Tommy was worried. With the gas generators in the complex, all his men had been able to charge their cell phones and encrypted radios. John and Walt had a way to communicate back with him, yet there was silence. Tommy had just called them, wondering exactly where the zombies were right now. The two soldiers hadn’t answered his call, which wasn’t like them. He wanted to send someone else out to check on them, but not knowing specifically where they were, he couldn’t chance it. If there was a problem, he didn’t want to lose more men by having them drive around aimlessly.

Jake came up and was telling Tommy about the nautical charts he was consulting.

Suddenly Tommy put his hand up. “Hold up,” he said. He scrunched up his face and tilted his head to the side. He stood like a statue, concentrating, his finger up and his head skewed.

“What—” started Jake.

Tommy waved his finger and tightened his face even more. “Do you hear that?” he asked.

“I don’t hear anything,” replied Jake.

“That droning sound?”

“Sorry, no.”

As Tommy, still listening, stepped away, he noticed Paul Chen doing the same thing. “You hear that too?” Tommy called over.

“Yeah, Sarge,” Paul answered. “It’s kind of like a wavering drone.”

Tommy called the patrol again but still couldn’t get through.
Something’s wrong
, he thought. “Open the gate,” he yelled. “I’m taking one of the Humvees out.”

In five minutes, Tommy Di Meola was driving to Route 1. After reaching the intersection and turning left, he drove two more blocks then slammed on the brakes. There, about two miles down Federal Highway, were thousands of the walking dead. They stretched completely across the road. A few were in the lead and seemed to be moving faster, but most of them were following right behind.

“Aww, shit,” he groaned.

That droning noise was the combined moans of the undead. The eerie lamentation was the most unnerving thing he’d ever heard. Tommy turned around and rapidly drove back to the compound.
You’d better get here quick, Jack
, he thought.

Back on I-95, the remaining SUV rolled into Boca Raton. A little after the Glades Road exit, it stopped. After getting out of the car, the surviving members of the group looked on in awe.

A large commercial airliner had tried to land in the middle of the highway.

The pilots must have been desperate, and this was their last resort. The plane lay in three pieces, and the entire swath of the crash site was a blackened, charred area of devastation. Burnt-out hulks of cars and trucks were strewn about like a child’s discarded toys. Sad, burnt bodies lay in twisted death struggles.

“Crap, we only needed to go one more exit,” cried Jack.

“What now?” Sean asked, turning to him.

Jack looked behind him then turned to Mike. “Mike,” he said, “let me drive the rest of the way. It’ll be faster having me behind the wheel, rather than giving directions to you. Especially if we have to make some quick decisions.”

“Okay, it’s all yours,” said Mike, handing over the keys.

They all got in, and Jack backed the Yukon up to the exit. Then he climbed the ramp to Glades Road.

At the top of the ramp, he was stunned to see the number of vehicles sitting on the road. Turning left and weaving and pushing his way through, Jack looked over and saw he couldn’t travel down and continue going south on the northbound lanes; one of the airliner’s wings was lying across all lanes. That side was a blackened disaster as well.

After slowly making his way eastward, he turned off at the first cross street. He zigzagged his way toward Palmetto Drive. Finally getting close, Jack stopped and called his brother.

“Hey, Jack,” said Tommy when he picked up.

“We’re about ten minutes out,” stated Jack.

“Great! Listen, you bett—” The phone went dead.

“Tommy?” he called. Jack looked at his phone and saw that the battery finally had died. Turning to the others, he said, “Battery’s dead. No matter. We’re almost there.”

He came to Palmetto Drive, turned left, and drove on.

28

“G
reat!” said Tommy. “Listen, you’d better get here fast. There’s a huge horde of Zs about ten minutes out. You should just make it. Okay, Jack? Jack? Jack?” He looked at his phone and said, “Shit!”

Everyone was boarding Jake’s yacht. The only people not on board were Tommy and three privates, Edward Lewis, James Williams, and Travis Cassidy. They were manning the side-entrance barricade. Tommy had them pull most of the large obstacles back so just a car-size space was open. Barbed wire was stretched across that, and the soldiers were guarding that opening with their makeshift spears.

Ten minutes later Jack arrived at the intersection with Route 1. After stopping the Yukon fifteen yards away from the corner, he put it into park and said, “A few zombies are making their way north on the main road. There’s no sense attracting attention. Let’s just wait here till they all pass.”

All seven souls settled in their seats to wait.

Tommy, meanwhile, saw that he had miscalculated. He assumed the un-dead were only coming up the one road.

But they weren’t. As the vast mass of zombies started north from Fort Lauderdale, they wound up drawing recruits from the entire city. A large number who saw their ilk turning and walking did so too. But they just faced north and kept on whichever road they were on.

The activity around the marina had drawn some zombies. But, as Tommy noted to his shock, they were filtering in from all the streets, not just the one a couple of blocks away. Because these zombies were closer, the struggle at the barricade was starting to draw them in.

Tommy ran over. Grabbing one of the homemade spears, he joined the three soldiers who were frantically stabbing the intruders.

Sean leaned over to Jack. “Their numbers don’t seem to be dwindling. As a matter of fact, I think the crowd is getting thicker.”

Jack nodded. “I think you’re right.”

Pointing ahead, Sean told Jack to slowly roll forward so they could see down the road. As the car gradually advanced, they were able to see the mass of undead lurching up the street.

“Oh, my God!” cried Naomi, putting her hands to her face.

Slapping Jack’s shoulder, Mike shouted, “Go now! Smash through them before there are too many, and we get stuck.”

Jack took his foot off the brake and stomped on the gas pedal. The large Yukon shot forward and plowed into the walking parade of the dead. Bodies flew in all directions as he kept the pedal to the floor. Some zombies that had stopped fell and slipped under the wheels. As the vehicle barreled through, the gore-covered tires started to lose their traction, and the rear end fishtailed. As they reached the other side of the intersection, the rear end swung out to the left, and the rear panel smashed into a streetlight. Surging ahead again, the SUV swung back and sideswiped a row of automobiles to their right. Jack fought the wheel as the SUV swayed back and forth down the street. The pushed-in fender
was scraping against the tire, and when they neared the end of the block, the tire blew.