Z Children (Book 2): The Surge (9 page)

“We
aren’t helping anyone right now. We can’t even help ourselves.” In my head, I
was thinking another thought—one that made me realize that I might very well be
the most heartless motherfucker left on the planet. Those kids in isolation,
zombie infected or not, they were secluded and unvaccinated for a reason…us
trying to help them when they were already dying didn’t make sense to me.

My
soul must be black as tar.

“Please,
we can check on one of them and see—”

“You
want to try, go right ahead. I’m getting out of here and back to Virginia.”
Using her significant other as bait was a shit thing to do, but I didn’t care.
I needed the doctor on board, not dreaming of playing hero to possibly
uninfected but still sick kids.

She
shut up, though—coldhearted as my tactic was. “Now, if they’re tearing shit
out, then they probably have trash chutes and scaffolding. I didn’t see any on
my way into the building, but I only saw one side of the hospital.”

Chris
didn’t say anything as she followed me, but I could feel her thinking at
me—terrible words for the terrible person that I was.

My
stomach rumbled. Usually I was able to ignore bodily needs during a mission,
but we’d been idle too long outside the dining hall doors, giving my body time
to realize it was hungry, thirsty, and tired. I hadn’t brought any supplies for
overnight. Going a while without food wasn’t a problem, but I didn’t have any
water either. This wasn’t the quick smash-and-grab I was hoping for.

A
noise in the distance brought Chris next to me with a jerky, fearful movement.
For the first time, I really studied her. The rest of her body was as tone as
her stomach and she was taller-than-average for a woman. Up to my chin, so
about 5’7”. She was very nearly the type of woman I’d have been attracted to…in
another life, before experience changed me into what I was now. Of course, it
wouldn’t matter if I did find her attractive. She pitched for the other team,
and didn’t play with balls.

It
didn’t take long to find the access the construction crews had made to the
third floor; the Texas heat wafting in lead us to it. The crew had removed a
massive floor-to-ceiling window in a small waiting room that was now serving as
material storage. I stared down at the ground three stories below. The long,
yellow dump tube terminated into an enormous Dumpster full of debris—glass,
steel, screws, busted drywall, and electrical conduit that looked a lot like
punji sticks.

Traveling
down the tube would be okay, but the landing
did not
look survivable.

“Fuck
way to go, but no other choice,” I said out loud, forgetting Chris was behind
me.

“You
have got to be kidding me?” came the incredulous response, “You don’t
actually
expect me to slide down that thing, do you?”

I
didn’t turn around to look at her. “You need to get your pretty little head
wrapped fully around our situation, Doc. This may look like the slide from
hell, but we’re three stories up, surrounded by monsters that are hell-bent on
killing us, and we are not equipped to blow our way out of here by force.”
Stay
calm, even tone, JW. Don’t get her worked up. Shit, I’m hungry and I have to
piss now.
“We are on the run, trying to survive, and this is as good as it
gets. So quit your damn belly-aching and buck the fuck up.”

“If we
go down that thing, there is no way to avoid injury. Look at all that
shit—glass, screws, who knows what else. Best case scenario, we need a few
stitches. Worst case—we’re impaled and bleed to death in seconds. I am not
doing it.”

“I’m
not saying it’s not going to be rough as hell.” I was pretty sure I could
handle my way down the chute, control the fall enough to come out of it with
minimal damage, but if Chris got screwed up really bad…I couldn’t carry
deadweight and make it. Turning around now, I studied the piles of construction
materials and spotted a thick spool of electrical cord. “Doc…how much you
weigh?”

“What?
God, that’s none of your bus—”

“For
Christ’s sake, woman, I’m not asking if you’re a virgin, just how much you
weigh. I’m trying to get us out of here. How. Much. Do. You. Weigh?”

She
looked at me like I was asking her to reveal her darkest secret. When she
finally spoke, her voice was pissed, “Fine. I’m 127 pounds, maybe a little
less.” Her arms crossed, Chris stared daggers at me as if daring me to make a
comment on her size.

So I
indulged her. That’s just the kind of generous-hearted person I am.

“Regular
behemoth, aren’t you. Don’t even know if I can support that much.”

“What
the hell did you just call me?” Her eyes were wide now, her mouth open in
disbelief.

“Thought
you were an educated woman.” I smirked, knowing I was baiting her and we didn’t
have time for game-playing.

“Who
do you think you are?” She advanced a step, trying to be intimidating.

I
looked away from her dismissively. “Here’s the plan. I’m going to lower you
down the chute—controlled descent, less damage at the bottom.” I paused,
waiting for her to protest. She didn’t. “Then I’ll follow you.” A muffled noise
in the distance made my body forget all its urgings. “And we have to go now.”

“You’re
an asshole. I’m not going anywhere—”

Another
noise.

“Fine.
Stay here and let the monsters get you, Doc. I’ll tell Virginia that I tried.”

Another
noise.

“Did
you hear that?” Her eyes were wide once more, but this time for a different
reason.

“Yeah,
I heard it. I heard it the first time when you were busy yanking your panties
so far up your ass crack that your ears were affected.”

“What
the hell is wrong with you?” she stammered, scared, but still warring with
having to deal with me and my crap.  

Ignoring
her question, I raced to the spool and grabbed the dangling socket end of the
orange cord. In precious seconds, I’d made a substantial loop and lassoed it
around Chris’s body. When she protested, I looked her in the eyes. What she saw
in my face must have been enough to make her realize that we were on the edge
of getting eaten and worse.

“Keep
the knot in front of you and hold onto the cord.”

“What
if I lose my grip?” Her eyes are wide, scared.

“There
isn’t time.” The noise in the distance was louder now. This time, she heard it.
“It’s basically a rescue sling. Face forward, you can’t fall through. Sorry
about this, Doc.” And then I pushed her over the edge and down the chute, simultaneously
whipping the cord around my waist and leaning back.

 Her
scream pierced my ear drums and I was sure that it would call every Z in the
vicinity to our precise location, but I didn’t really have time to give a shit
and worry. Mouth set in a hard line, I let her down as fast as I could. The
noise was even closer, more distinct—footsteps coming fast, scuffling and
scratching and searching for prey. The Z’s were on the hunt. They could smell
us; of that I was sure—like a dog. And now, to make it easier for them, they’d
heard us. Or, rather, they’d heard her—the idiot’s scream heard round the damn
world. I knew rationally that, even without Chris screaming, it would have only
been a matter of time.

 I
began lower the doc faster, ignoring her ever-more-distant-and-faint pleas for
me to slow down.

The
instant I felt the cord go slack I dropped it, turned, and drew the Beretta
tucked in my pants. I wanted to go for the .45, but the military flap holster
would have slowed me down. The miniature freak was already airborne as I
snapped off a first shot, dropped, and rolled to the right. The round missed
completely, but the Z missed me too, landing on the ledge and blocking my way
down the cute.

Refocusing
my gaze and my weapon, I saw, in morbid clarity, what I was facing. And it was
a nightmare. A
Cirque du Freak
that overshadowed any horror I’d yet
seen. It was an apparition straight out of a filmmaker’s most bizarre and
unsettling dream. The most disturbing film come to life to haunt the living.

 Not just
a Z kid, but a Siamese twin Z.

They
were conjoined at the hip and, in unison, both heads turned and snarled at me;
the sounds the twins made were identical, a chorus of hunger and predatory
excitement. One head let out a gut-wrenching cry that rocked me to my core and
the second focused on me with murder in its eyes. Then it leaped, leaving the
two by four window barrier in an arc that was amazingly graceful and
coordinated despite its four legs. Its mouths opened and closed. Opened.
Closed. The teeth were stained crimson and black. The eyes were pale, catching
flashes of light that turned them glossy white as it sailed towards me in a
death flight.

This
time I was ready, and I did not miss.

The
gun barked three times, the open slide working flawlessly as it fed one round
after another into the chamber. The right head of the creature exploded in an
obsidian spray of fluid and gray matter. The second and third rounds burrowed
into the conjoined Z’s chest, leaving small, but no-less damning wounds.

Unceremoniously,
the creature fell to the ground. The uninjured head, like a fish out of water,
gasped and clung to life with ferocity. One more bullet to silence it—the
merciful thing to do. Part of me, the disgusting part that thought the ill
children were not worth saving, wanted to leave it on the floor, still
withering and clinging to animation.

After
I released the fifth bullet to quiet the monster, I realized that my breathing
was labored. In all my experience with war and killing, I had not been prepared
for this—for siblings, joined in life and death, to be ended by my hand. Not
alive though. Not human any more. Two sides of me, always at odds—my humanity
versus the ugliness of my training and trade.
This just keeps getting better
and better.
I’m going to need my fucking meds tonight.

I
could hear more of them coming; there was no time to recover mentally or
physically. Securing all my weapons to me, I leapt into the chute like I was
performing some Hollywood stunt rather than a controlled descent for minimal
injury. The impact was harsh and painful. Cuts all over, but I could tell that
none were deep, at least not so deep as to keep me from moving forward, and
that was all that mattered. Lucky, considering I’d been forced to jump like
Evel Knievel. Chris was huddled in the corner of the Dumpster, watching me
quickly assess the damage.

“You’re
all cut up, you idiot,” she stammered, starting to crawl to me slowly, trying
to avoid all the sharp shit in the bin.

“And
you’re still in the fucking Dumpster,” I shot back, pissed that she was just
sitting on her ass waiting while I’d just battled a double-headed zombie kid—
twice
the bite, twice the bullets.

“I
wasn’t going out there without protection.”

“There’s
nothing down here right n—”

Screeches
from above shut us both up.

 “Move.
Now
,” I shouted, working my way to the Dumpster’s edge and swinging a
leg over.

I
jumped out of the dumpster and noticed blood running down my arm. So at least
one cut wasn’t just superficial.
Doesn’t matter now. Ignore it.
Gotta
move.
I grabbed the doc by the sleeve and ran. There was no time for
hiding, stealth or decision-making. My blood was going to attract the Z’s like
flies to honey. Chris dropped out of the dumpster beside me and brushed off her
hands reflexively.
If the Doc doesn’t slow me down, we might just make it
back to the hotel in one piece.

From
where we stood, I could get enough bearing to know that we were around the side
of the building from where I entered. Smoke was still rising from my makeshift
explosion.

“Move
your ass, Doc.” I yelled, as I bolted down the length of the hospital, turned
the corner around the building, and began angling around the fenced-in
generator yard. Behind me I could hear the first of the little monsters hitting
the garbage bin and screaming for help in their hunt.
Fuck, they came down
too quick.
I knew we could only keep this pace up for a while, mile at the
most, maybe less. The blood still leaking from my arm injury was going to
eventually slow me down even more.

It was
going to come down to another fight for life.

“Pick
it the hell up, Doc!” Ahead, there was a Brinks armored truck—I remembered
seeing it earlier when I was scanning the area. It would give us some tactical
advantage. The rear door was open.

“I’m
running as fast as I can,” Chris shouted from a few feet behind me.

“If
that’s full-tilt then start writing your fucking obituary,” I yelled back to
her. My words were enough—in seconds, she was beside me rather than behind. The
armored vehicle was an arm’s length away now. We could make it.

Jerking
my head for a quick glance back, I saw three of the Z kids closing ground fast.
Twenty seconds max and that would have to be enough time. Whipping the rifle
around on its sling, I flipped the switch to semi-auto.

“Get
inside!” Pushing Chris into the relative protection of the truck, I faced the
enemy and brought the rifle to bear.

Three
rounds.

Three
clean kills.
Don’t waste ammo. Not if you can help it. Aim true.
I shook
my head vigorously, brought myself back to the moment.

The
third monster fell just a mere yard from me; it’s head came to rest only inches
from my boot. I knew it wasn’t finished—not by a long shot. I couldn’t see the
chute and Dumpster anymore, but I had little doubt more were on the way. Their
muted, bestial cries carried to my ears from multiple directions.

It was
going to be like the damn Alamo.
Hope to hell this ends better for us than
it did for Bowie and Crocket.