Z Children (Book 2): The Surge (8 page)

Once
Bonnie was seated in the back with Ranger beside her—Bonnie applying Ranger’s
sunscreen in big, generous white dollops—I looked at the cart that was now
toppled over; all but one of the jugs busted and leaking fuel. Sighing, I
grabbed the only surviving container and poured its contents into the tank. Not
even three gallons after all that effort. We needed the diesel to get the hell
out of dodge.
What now?

Maybe
it would be enough—at least to get to the hospital, to find JW…and Chris…if
either were alive. One thing was definite. We couldn’t stay in one place.

Ranger
may have drawn the monsters off, but they wouldn’t stay gone. Not for long. My
instincts—for what they were worth—were screaming at me to get in the vehicle
and drive.

With
all the doors closed and the windows up, the heat inside the Hummer was
oppressive. How the hell soldiers used these things without air conditioning
was beyond comprehension. Heat-related injuries in the military must be through
the roof. Thanks to JW, I knew there was a way to let in fresh air by pushing a
lever, but my mind was a total blank and I couldn’t remember where it was
located. I doubted opening a vent would do much anyways. The outside air wasn’t
arctic by a long shot.

Pulling
the collar of my shirt away from my neck and waving the material briskly, I
tried to cool off my skin, but I only succeeded in warming it further so that
sweat began to gather between my breasts. Some days, I’d like to slice them
off; tits can be such a nuisance.

Turning
the ignition switch part way, I waited for the warning light to flash so I
could fully turn it to actually start the hummer. It was a maddeningly slow
process to me, even though it only took fleeting moments. As soon as the
vehicle rumbled to life, I put it into gear. It only took a minute of driving
the big vehicle to learn that slow and steady won the race. One rev of the engine
and Z kids and adults started to appear. Fast movement and noise drew their
attention quickly—I should know that by now, be smart enough to avoid things
that attract them. Yet, a slow-moving vehicle wasn’t always ignored either.
Only sometimes.

Again,
as I depressed the gas pedal only low enough to allow the large truck to creep
along the asphalt road at a snail’s pace, I was hit with the stark reality that
I wasn’t JW. I was just me. And me wasn’t the kind of person that survived
these situations. I wasn’t made for war or physical extremes.

The Z
kids we passed did not retreat or advance; they only studied us as we moved slowly
by. The look of them, and their perceptive stares, sent shivers up and down my
spine. God, everything about them was so unsettling. Even more disturbing was
that they seemed to realize that the military-issue vehicle was too fortified
for them to attack. I wondered if they were contemplating other ways to get at
us.

They
shouldn’t be that intelligent.

They
should all be like the adults—shambling things with little focus.

Although…the
adults were distressing in their own ways—how they seemed to still stay
slightly ‘themselves’ for a time after infection. My mind jumped backwards to
Bonnie telling me about her grandmother. She’d shared just a few sentences on
the subject, only enough to understand how important the woman had been to the
girl and how she’d saved Bonnie from a group of Z children…
after becoming
one of
them herself.

Once
we’d made it a block, I realized I was holding my breath. Forcing my body to
exhale, I focused on the hospital in the distance. My plan was to get close to
where the explosion had been, close to where JW had entered and then wait.
Hopefully he would come out the same way he’d gone in and I would be there with
rescue. Not that it was a very good rescue—especially if the beast of a vehicle
ran out of fuel too quickly.

Thanks
to JW, the back of the vehicle was loaded with a few weapons, some ammo and enough
food and water so that we could afford to sit tight for a while, maybe even a
few days—not that we would. If JW didn’t appear—with or without Chris in tow—by
the next morning, then there wouldn’t be any point in waiting days. Because
that meant he was dead. Chris too.

It
seemed to take an hour to reach our destination. Driving the hummer was tough;
it was the largest vehicle I’d ever handled. So, even when there were no Z’s in
sight, I took it slow. Kept it within the lines and on the course.

The
explosion had dwindled into wispy smoke rising from a badly-charred SUV by the
time we’d arrived. The Texas sun was high in the sky and the interior of the
hummer was a sauna. I lowered the driver’s side window, it thumped down jerkily
to land on the next plateau within the frame; it wasn’t like a normal
window—able to be moved down smoothly and by small degrees. The distance from
window top to door frame seeming like a great, safety-risking expanse—I hoped,
by some miracle, that JW would barrel through the only building door in sight
sooner rather than later. If he didn’t, we’d probably roast like thanksgiving
turkeys—which would still be preferable to becoming one of the flesh-eating
freaks.

Be
alive. Come out of that door with Chris. That’s all I’m asking, JW.
Wringing
my hands with worry, I settled back into the uncomfortable driver’s seat. In
the back, Bonnie’s eyes were closing and opening drowsily. Ranger was my mirror
image, though—sitting at attention and staring at the hospital. I knew Ranger
realized that his master was somewhere inside, somewhere beyond his reach. The
dog was becoming a person to me, in every imaginable way.

* * *

JW

I had
done it again—listened to a noob and we’d ended up stuck.

The
doctor had convinced me that the safest way out of the hospital was through the
construction area. Sure, it was safe with not a Z kid in sight, but the ‘safe
passage’ had ended at the cafeteria and that was about as safe as razor blades
in a birthday piñata. I should have asked more questions before taking her at
her word. Like—how far the construction went and how she knew it was safe. The
fact that it was the shortest distance between her office and her daily caffeine
fix was about as useless a piece of information as he could imagine.

The
fucking cafeteria was crawling with the monsters—short and tall.

Z
adults were ambling about. One was knocking its head into the wall repeatedly
as if trying to lodge something from memory. Maybe its living name or maybe
some image that wouldn’t die along with its humanity. There was a cluster of Z
kids on the serving counter. Two were straddling a tall woman—not a woman, a Z
adult now—with rich brown skin and curly hair that was coated in a layer of,
what looked like, whipped cream.

The Z
kids were everywhere really, outnumbering the adults by a mile. They’d gathered
here, apparently, for the junk food. Surprise, surprise. Kids are kids, even
zombie ones—like those creepy ass triplets outside the ice cream shop when I’d
first seen Virginia. Just perched on the trunk of that car, enjoying scoops of
chocolate in the sunshine.

Watching
the Z’s in the cafeteria—munching on candy bars, Ding-Dongs, and moon
pies—would have almost been comical except for the fact that these
junk-food-loving monsters also craved flesh and were deranged midget killers.

Nearest
to the door we were shielded by, was a Z boy who was studying something on the
floor intently. Following his (no, its…I had to keep reminding myself that they
weren’t boys or girls or kids. They were ‘its’) gaze toward the pale industrial
tile, I saw something miniscule and black rushing across the smooth surface. A
bug of some type.

The Z
kid followed the insect, eventually falling to all-fours and moving like the
animal it was. The bug’s trajectory took it away from our position. I wondered
how long the monster would chase the insect, how long it would be distracted.

I
didn’t have to wonder long.

Seconds
later, the Z pounced, slamming his fingers around the tiny bug’s body and
screeching in triumph. Bringing his domed hands to his eyes, he peered into a
small gap between his fingers.

Then,
in a lightning-fast motion, he slammed his hands against his mouth. When he
brought them down again, they were no longer shaped into a small cage. And the
insect was gone.

Now,
I’d eaten worse—in the field, when wildlife gets into your food, you suck it up
and swallow them down (roaches in brazil come to mind)—but watching the boy
play predator and eat the insect made bile rise in my mouth. It was just a bug,
just a damn bug, but I wanted to shoot the Z over it.

Maybe
it was because watching the monster chase the bug was too child-like. It was
something I’d seen children do—so fascinated by ants on the sidewalk. I didn’t
like it. If they were dead creatures, horrible and blood-thirsty, then they
should not be allowed innocent actions and awareness.

I
turned and sat down with my back against the door and took a minute to think. Chris
stood over me, rocking on the balls of her feet with nervous energy. I had to
close my eyes to block her and her movement out so I could focus.

Going
in the cafeteria was suicide and I wasn’t much into that. Reflecting back on my
training, I recalled what one drill instructor had beat into my brain with a
single-minded ferocity.
“Over, under, around or through, Noob! There is always
a way and your brain is your best weapon in war. Learn to use it!”

There
is always away,
I thought.
Even in a world full of Z’s, though? Without
intel, a schematic of the hospital, and with a useless split-tail in tow?
“Over,
under, around or through,” I murmured under my breath.

“What?”
Chris’s voice was small and frightened.

“Nothing.”
Opening my eyes, I looked at her. “Doc, you got an option B for an exit?” I
cocked a thumb at the door behind me. “There’s no way in hell we’re going out
this way. Suicide alley if I ever saw one.”

Chris
leaned over me to look through the windows. I hadn’t realized she hadn’t seen
what I had. “Oh…oh, my God. There are so many.” Her voice was a
squeaky-whisper, yet it carried down the under-construction hall behind her.
She stepped away from the door as if that short distance would offer some
shield against the scene in the dining hall.

“Well?”
I pushed, not really expecting a tactically-sound or rational answer.

“No,”
she admitted, shoulders slumping. “They weren’t here before. I swear they
weren’t. When I came for tea…” Chris’s eyes darted from me back to the window.
“Oh, no…oh, Fran.” Her gaze drops and I can see that something has given her an
emotional blow.

“Friend
of yours?” A nod is enough answer for me.

“Do we
head back? I mean…if we can’t go in there?” The look on Chris’s face was a
mixture of fear, frustration, and just a hint of steel—that’s what she’d need
to survive this, steel.

“Probably
not the best idea in the world.” Trying to keep the conversation calm, I stood
up and rolled my neck and shoulders to ease some of the tension there.

“What
else can we do? Going back has to be safer than in there.”

“I
made a lot of noise getting to you. I’ve got a feeling that there’s just as
many behind us as there is ahead of us.” My tone was still even. I needed her
to stay even-keel and focused. I wasn’t sure she was the type of woman who
could hold it together if I didn’t stay completely levelheaded.

“Then
what? What do we do?” she shout-whispered at me, her voice right on the edge of
changing into a yell.

“Not
sure.” I pause and look at her firmly, “but if you lose your cool and get too
loud, it might not matter what we do, ‘cause they’ll be coming at us from all
sides. Just give me a chance to think this over.”

“Great,”
Chris rolls her eyes, swamping fear for sarcasm, “my life depends on the army’s
finest thinking. Fucking lovely.”

 “I’ll
have you know, lady,” I force the words through closed teeth, my voice taking
on a dangerous edge, “I’m a Green Beret with two tours in Afghanistan under my
belt and a Master’s in International Relations. You could do a lot worse, and I
would be more than happy to leave you on your own. Be a hell of a lot easier on
me.”

“I…I’m
sorry.” She was on the verge of tears again. “I’m just so far out of my
element…and I’m scared…I didn’t mean…”

“Enough.”
I raised a hand to stop her; I didn’t need her to become a blubbering idiot.
Given a choice, I preferred the sarcastic bitch over that. “No need to explain.
Scared is your body telling you to do something. So let’s figure out what to
do. You know anything about this construction area?”

Chris
picked up the corner of her top and rubbed at her eyes. For a moment, her
stomach was exposed. It was toned, muscled even. If she could get her act
together, she might be an asset eventually. “It’s a complete redo. They only
started a month or so ago. The plan is to decrease the number of beds and make
suites for the kids in their final stages.”

“To
make them and their families more comfortable?”

“Exactly.
Even today there are limits to what science can do.”

“Doesn’t
seem science has any problems screwing things up. Don’t know why healing is
such a hurdle.” I nodded to the doors behind me.”

“What
are you talking about? The killer kids?” Chris looked out the small window one
more time and shuddered.

“Yep,
your girlfriend thinks this was caused by vaccines.”

“Childhood
inoculations? Jesus…” Chris put her hands on her hips and took a deep breath.
“The implications of that are…God, they’re insane. But Virginia would have as
good an idea as anyone. And it would explain the age brackets I’ve seen
infected, that’s for sure. A lot of the children here aren’t on the regular
vaccine tract because of their compromised immune systems. But they have
siblings that visit…” Her voice trailed off and her face lost any color it had
left—it was already so pale, so drained from the horrors she’d witnessed in the
past few hours. “That means some of the patients in isolation might be okay. We
have to help—”