Zombie Fallout 8: An Old Beginning (8 page)

“And I thought Mike was a bad driver,” she mumbled, still holding a minor grievance for her Jeep he’d ruined on day one. More than once, Gary launched Tracy so high in her seat that her hair had scraped the roof of the cab. She couldn’t even imagine what was going on in back of the truck.

“When did we rent a bouncy house?” Trip asked as he landed roughly on BT’s stomach. He was laughing hysterically.

Justin had an arm wrapped around Henry and an iron grip on a strut from the small wooden bench that ran down the length of the inside of the truck.

“You need help?” Travis asked him.

“I got him, just hold on.” They were both sitting on the floor.

Travis would never admit it, but he was thankful his brother was back and looking out for him.

“Trip, honey, come over here and hold on with me,” Stephanie pleaded as she saw the angry look BT gave Trip every time he went airborne and somehow, like a magnet, found his way back to land on some part of BT.

“Hold on? Why? I haven’t had this much fun since I went up in that plane and experienced zero-gees.”

“He’s serious,” Stephanie told BT.

Zombies kept spilling out from the woods.

“Where are they all coming from?” Tracy asked.

Gary kept nervously looking down at his speedometer, the needle slowing with every contact. If they didn’t get past the zombies soon, they were in danger of being stopped. The road ahead was
filling up rapidly.

“Gary?”

“I see them. I don’t know what to do though.” To the right was brush and then trees, to the left was a drop off he had no chance of navigating as the truck would roll over long before he got to the bottom. He stomped down on the gas and became alarmed when the large machine did not gain speed but only held steady. “We’re in trouble.”

The zombies nearest the truck took notice, but the ones up ahead seemed completely oblivious as they crossed over the road and down the ditch. Some were even heading off into the field.

“They look like they’re going to meet up with the rest of the group,” Tracy said. The bumps and jostles had slowed down considerably, but surprisingly enough, that was not a good thing.

“Why aren’t they in stasis?” Gary asked. Their speed had dropped to under ten miles an hour. Any slower, and the zombies would be able to outpace the truck with a power walk.

A valid question for which Tracy did not have an answer.

“Tracy, I’m not going to be able to push them out of the way much longer.”

“I know.” She was busy slamming bullets into her magazine.

The trucked rocked to the side.

“What the hell was that, Mom?!” Travis asked. He had to shout over the cacophony of the zombies snarling and the whining of the engine as it fought harder and harder, only to move slower and slower.

“Oh, God, it’s bulkers!” She braced for impact, the side of her door dented inwards as a behemoth of a zombie thumped into it.

“Bulkers?” Gary’s face got long as he thought on that one word. The last time he’d heard it, his father had died. The truck took another direct hit. Tracy wasn’t sure, but she would have bet money that her side had raised up off the ground. Loose bullets fell from her lap as she came back down.

“Round two!” Trip yelled joyously.

Bulkers were crushing regular zombies as they hurtled themselves into the truck. One had impacted the front tire guard and pushed the heavy metal into the tire, making it shred like an apple corer. The front dipped down as the tire lost air and dropped down onto the thick rubber of the “run-flat”, a modification specifically designed for military vehicles to be able to keep moving should the tires ever be shot out.

The ride, which had already felt like a teenager’s first go with a clutch, was quickly devolving into something more along the lines of a rider-less stagecoach being pulled by rabid horses. The truck somehow was being nearly imperceptibly moved a fraction of an inch at a time to the precipice on their right.

“I think they’re trying to roll us.” Gary kept looking from the front to his side.

“I know this goes without saying, Gary, but
do something.” Tracy was doing her best to try and stay calm.

Gary cut the wheel hard to the right and was standing on the accelerator. The truck was moving as much
forwards as it was sideways. “This can
’
t be happening,” he murmured. “I’m trying, Tracy.”

Tracy was just about to roll down her window and start blasting when she saw a subtle shift in the zombies—something she didn’t think Gary had quite taken note of yet. The zombies directly in front of them were quickly moving to the sides of the truck, leaving an opening directly ahead. The truck leapt forward when it came free. It was with horror that Tracy realized what had just happened. The wheels of the truck were cut so far over that, when it began to move again, it
was headed straight for the trees.

Gary had not eased up on the gas pedal yet, but was frantically trying to right the ship; he was having about as much luck as the Titanic when it had tried to dodge an iceberg.

“Shit.” Tracy braced her legs against the dashboard as the tree line dominated their view.

The truck swung to the left just as the wheels dropped off the side of the road and on to the soft shoulder, nearly ripping the steering wheel from Gary’s grip.

“Shit,” he echoed Tracy.

The hard rubber dug deeply into the gravel and dirt, making it impossible for Gary to regain control. The rear wheels dropped off the
roadway as well, brush scraping along the side of the vehicle with larger and larger branches thwacking the front end and windshield.

“Brace for impact!” Gary hadn’t finished the word “impact” when they struck something solid enough to crumple the front end. Tracy’s body lurched forward. She was pretty sure she
was going to be sore for days if they survived. That was a problem she would have to deal with later…if she got the chance.

“Everyone alright?” Tracy yelled out over the groans of the engine. In truth, it was a low-velocity impact, punishing to the body to be sure, but not deadly—at least the initial part of it. What happened after was very much up in the air.

“We’re good! What happened?” BT yelled from the back.

“Gary had a Mike moment!”

“Can we get out of here?” Travis asked.

Tracy looked to Gary who shook his head. He was too embarrassed or disappointed with himself to answer with words.

“Engine is dying.” And as if Gary was the second coming of Nostradamus, the truck shuddered and lay still. The hissing of zombies overtook the popping protests of the heated cylinder block.

“Everyone up top!” Tracy shouted as rifles began to fire behind her.

“Up top?” Justin was looking at the canvas covering the truck bed. The canvas was plenty strong to hold their accumulated weight…the thin metal supports holding the canvas up…well, that was potentially a different story.

“You heard the lady, let’s go!” BT was crouched over and had shoved a blade through the canvas, opening a hole wide enough for a person to fit through. “You okay?” He looked to Travis and Justin who were holding the encroaching horde at bay for the moment.

“We got this, get them up,” Travis told him.

“I feel like I’m being born again!” Trip said as he was pushed up through the breach.

BT could only shake his head. They all looked up for a moment as they saw Trip’s outline on top of them.

“That going to hold?” Travis asked.

“Sure,” Justin told him.

“Is that like a Dad “sure”, where he’s really trying to figure it out himself, or do you know for real?”

“Sure,” Justin repeated.

“Thought so. Five more shots and I need to reload.”

“Do it now, I have ten.”

“Boys, one of you needs to come up,” BT said after he got Stephanie up and handed Henry to her.

“Trip, NO! This is not still the bouncy house!” Stephanie shrieked. Justin looked up and could clearly see Trip’s feet outlined above his head as the man had stood and was preparing to jump.

“Justin, I’ve got a full mag, go,” Travis said hastily as he shoved the last bullet in.

Justin would have argued but they didn’t have the time as zombies were at the edge of the truck with some even pulling themselves in. “Hurry up.” And with that Justin let BT propel him into the air.

“Your turn.”

Travis turned when BT spoke. A vise-like hand wrapped around his ankle and pulled him to the ground. His gun went skittering away as he landed on his hands.

“Travis!” BT roared, moving to grab the boy’s outstretched hand even as he was being pulled toward the rear of the truck and out.

Justin poked his head through the hole, and without a moment’s hesitation, dropped back down. BT dove and wrapped his hands around Travis.

“Please don’t let me go,” Travis said as he looked at BT.

“You go, I go, I promise,” BT told him as he reached out and grabbed onto the seats.

“No one’s going anywhere, especially without inviting me,” Justin said as he reached down, grabbed a magazine from the bed of the truck, and shoved it into his magazine well. He quickly pulled the charging handle back and roared rounds through it, the first ones coming dangerously close to Travis’s ankle.

Justin was nearly leaning outside of the truck, placing the barrel of his weapon directly against the skulls of the zombies. He kept pulling the trigger until he heard BT tell him Travis was free.

“Come on, boy!” BT was yelling
, it could have been at him or his brother.

“FUCK YOU!” Justin was shouting to the zombies as bits of brain and blood splattered up and on to him. “NOT NOW, NOT EVER!” His bolt slammed open as he fired his last round. The trigger was impotently frozen. “AHHHHHH!” he yelled as he flipped the rifle around and started pounding on the zombies’ skulls, who seemed to clamor for more and more of the damage he doled out as if they were masochists thriving on the punishment.

“Just got you back, boy, not going to go through this again.” BT physically removed him from his spot and ran to the front of the truck.

Trip was poking his head through.
“You two coming? It’s such a beautiful day!”

“Trip, move!” BT was already sending Justin up.
Dennis grabbed the boy and moved him to the side in preparation for BT’s ascent.

Gary’s side had thankfully been clear as he opened his door. He wrenched his sister-in-law over and somehow got her through his door before he actually exited. She stepped onto the roof of the truck and then onto the canvas, Gary quickly following her.

The truck swayed as zombies and bulkers ran into it. Gary, Stephanie, Dennis, Justin, Travis, Tracy, and BT, who was holding Henry, sat precariously on the thin cover supports. They all held on for dear life as the truck moved. Trip had been walking on the canvas, wondering why he wasn’t getting the bouncing sensation he desired until BT’s glare made Stephanie reach out and pull him down. Zombies had now entered the cab and the open bay, fingers and hands attempting to push through the thick, green fabric. At first they’d moved their feet every time a zombie had touched them through the canvas, but now it happened so often that they would have had to keep their feet constantly in their air. That would have been fairly impractical given the width of the area they were perched on.

Zombies still flooded past to the front and rear of the truck, going to an as yet unknown destination, but
at least a few hundred had stopped for an afternoon snack.

“Maybe they’ll move and try to catch up with the other zombies,” Justin said hopefully.

Nobody answered. It was what they all desired, but there was no way to tell if it would happen or not. Once zombies got fixated on food, they were rarely persuaded to leave it. BT was closest to the hole in the canvas, far enough that the hands poking through couldn’t reach him, but close enough to feel a certain level of anxiety as those plague-filled extremities sought purchase. He wasn’t too concerned initially, as the zombies’ fingers had been sticking straight out. Then, something subtly changed as those same fingers began to curl, and not only curl, but do so with a purpose as they gripped the lip of the fabric.

“We’ve got to go,” BT said. He’d thought about standing, but the bulkers were still ramming the truck and he was afraid he’d pitch off to the side.

“Go? Go where, BT?” Tracy asked. “I think Justin is right, maybe we should just wait them out.” Anything more she had to say was cut short by a tear in the very fabric that held their existence in place.

Travis moved closer to BT to see what was going on. He then did a quick look around him. “The trees—we can make it to the trees,” he said, looking at the large one the truck’s front end was resting against.

BT saw it as well and hastily glanced down to the package in his arms. Unless Henry became a jungle cat and quickly, his short limbs were going to be an extreme hindrance to climbing. “Everyone give me whatever clothing you can spare.” In a normal situation, such an odd request might generate a half a dozen questions. But questions meant time, and that was something they had little of. The next few moments had everyone pulling off various articles of clothing, most of it socks, although Tracy and Stephanie both had a top on under a heavier shirt. Trip, for whatever reason, handed BT his pants. He was now proudly standing there in his underwear.