Zombie Rehab (10 page)

Chapter 21

Institute, WV

W
HAM!

Tori screamed. Henry stepped in front of her. He could hear the unceasing chorus of the zombies: ravenous and violent. It was only a matter of time before they made their way through the doors, unless they broke them down first. He cringed at the thought. The zombies were strong enough, but with the XT Serum they would be even stronger than before.

“Fire Team One to Command. What’s your status?”

Horrified, Rudy grabbed Rod’s radio and screamed, “We’re going to die! Get over here! Get over here now! That’s an order!”

Whap.

Rod slapped the man and took back his radio.

“We need a way out of here. Any suggestions?”

WHAM!

WHAM!

WHAM!

“Try the fire escapes. We’ll give you cover. It’s all clear on our side. Over.”

Rudy knocked down Weege as he bolted from the group.

Henry yelled after him, “Rudy! Stay with the group!”

As the man’s bushy head disappeared down the hall, Henry had a sinking feeling. Everyone’s eyes fell to him. Myrtle was picking Weege’s shaking form up from the floor. They followed him over and looked down the hall on the opposite end of the main entrance. Rod and Myrtle were standing their ground, shotgun barrels leveled toward the sound of the hungry zombies on the other side of the doors. Everyone’s expression was filled with fear.

He heard the door groan somewhere near the elevator’s foyer. He expected the zombies to pour through at any second.

“DAMMIT! DAMMIT!” Rudy was yelling, running back down the corridor. “We’re trapped. It’s sealed! The fire doors are sealed! We’re gonna die, Henry! Do something!”

He was afraid of that. The magnetic locks were engaged, making sure nobody was getting in or out. It was his biggest fear. Just like his brother Jimmy, someone, somewhere was calling the shots. He searched for the cameras near the ceilings and noticed a tiny red light burning on the top of each and every one. Someone, somewhere was watching.
Bastards!
But he couldn’t say a word. Despair filled him from his chin to his knees.

“Henry,” Tori grabbed his face, “Henry, don’t you give up. Turn on that brain of yours, and get us out of here. We need you, Henry! I need you. I don’t want to die like this!”

At that moment, the pounding stopped, but the moans and the numma-nummas remained. Henry was so sick of that sound that his despair began to melt away and harden like iron.

“Everyone, get your masks on. Just because we don’t have a door doesn’t mean we can’t take the window.”

“What! We’re three stories up! I ain’t jumping. I hate heights,” Rod said.

WHAM!

“Look, I’ll cover you crazy people, but I’m not jumping out some window.”

“I’m with you,” Myrtle added. The short woman looked and walked like an Ewok in her zombie suit.

“Let me have your radio, Rod,” he said. “Fire Team One, this is Henry. We’re gonna have to make our own door. Do we have anything below us to jump on?”

“You’ve got to say over, Dude?” Rudy slurred.

“Shut up!” Weege said, slapping Rudy in the head. “And put your mask on!”

“Everyone be quiet! Shush!” Myrtle said. “Do you hear that?”

Their necks all tilted. He could hear the sound of the metal doors groaning and popping. The moaning became louder with every creaking sound.

“There’s a utility building about 5 feet out from the wing. The jump doesn’t look so bad. Better than being zombie chow anyway. Over.”

Henry rushed over to the window as the zombies filled the hallway.
Where’s that utility building?
The windows were large panes of heavy glass that didn’t open or close.

Numma-numma.

Boom! Boom!

A symphony of thunder had entered the room.

Henry’s head whipped around just in time to see the first wave of the invading hoard. Four zombies were charging into the room on stiff legs. Rod’s and Myrtle’s shotguns rang out and knocked a zombie backward onto the floor.

“Get us out of here, Henry!” shouted Rod. “They’re getting back up!”

“Reload!” Myrtle shouted, handing the man more shells.

The zombie lurched back up, mouth clutching open and shut. The metal mask seemed to restore a small portion of its humanity, but its intent seemed more deadly.

Henry lowered his shotgun and blasted out the window. He jumped up on top of the desk alongside the window ledge and shouted for Tori.

“Come on!” She reached out, and he pulled her up. She clutched at his chest as she looked over his shoulder. The sound of the shotgun blasts was deafening, and she was shaking her head.

“You’ve got to jump!”

“I can’t! It’s too high.”

Weege and Rudy were at his side.

Weege looked outside and said, “Just hang over the ledge — like this!” The little man tossed his shotgun out the window and swung his body over the ledge. “The glass can’t cut you through the suit!” he yelled, clutching the jagged edge of the window with his gloved fingertips. “Come on, I’ll catch you. Better this than being zombie food!” He dropped down, landed on his feet, and fell flat on his back. “See!”

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

Rod was shouting.

“GET MOVING, HENRY! We can’t reload fast enough! Damn things keep coming!”

Henry grabbed Tori and lowered her to the ledge.

“Hurry up, Dude!” Rudy screamed as he forced himself to the ledge.

Somebody was screaming. Henry looked over his shoulder and saw Myrtle’s squat figure ramming the stock of her gun into the face of a zombie. Behind the fray, more zombies were coming.

“LET GO, TORI!” He shouted, rushing to Myrtle’s aid, shotgun blasting at everything moving his way.

“Get out of here, Henry!” Rod shoved him back. “I got this!”

Myrtle was pinned under two zombies now, each tearing at her suit. He saw the woman stuff a pistol in one of the creature’s mouths and fire away. It slumped over as another bit into her arm. Rod opened up a barrage into the creature’s back. Another half dozen zombies were closing in. Some were crawling from the impact of their wounds, but they still came. Myrtle screamed a curse at the zombies, then she screamed no more. Henry felt sick.

“Henry, go! Take care of the others!”

He looked back at the widow, and Tori and Rudy were gone. Rod was the only thing between him and the zombies tearing him to shreds. The big man looked like a super hero in his suit as he fired into the zombies. Henry’s fear consumed him as he backpedaled to the window. He could hear Tori screaming for him from down below. He took one last glance at Rod—the bravest man he ever saw—mumbled a prayer, and jumped.

Chapter 22

Washington, D.C.

“S
o … Do you have your checkbook with you, Uncle Don?” Jack asked in a mocking tone.

Don laughed. It was a better than revealing what he really wanted to do to his demented nephew. He cleared his throat.

“Don’t you worry about the money, Jack. I’ve got plenty of that.”

“I don’t suppose you want to increase your wager then, double or nothing?”

Even though Don’s stomach was recoiling inside him, he was still enthralled with what he was watching. The zombie vision was much more effective than he ever would have imagined. The views kept changing in order to keep their eyes closer to the action. It reminded him of all the camera angles in sports that seemed to be everywhere at once. The picture on his screen went from one zombie point of view to another, and he couldn’t help but wonder what the other people behind all of this were thinking. Were they just as sadistic as his nephew had become?

“I think we can leave things as they are, Jack. I’m not as willing to part with my money as you might be, especially when the deck is stacked against me.”

“Okay then.” Jack typed a few more commands on his screen. “Watch these things go! They are so relentless.”

The zombies had made their way into a stairwell and began pounding at the doors that barred their path. Don still had the sound muted on his machine, but he could hear the zombies pounding and moaning on Jack’s.

“Watch this. I’m going to try and get this zombie to open the door. They just need to push that thumb lever down on the handle. Ah, it’s not working. They’re all too bunched together.”

“Won’t the people inside just take the fire escape?”

“All of the perimeter doors are sealed.”

“Can’t you open the interior doors?”

“No. Just good old fashioned fire doors. The kind your generation probably made by hand.” Jack chuckled. “The main goal was to keep zombies from getting in or out.”

Years ago, Don had plenty of relatives, many of which he hadn’t spent much time with, but they had all been amiable folk. Up until today, Jack had been one of his favorites, but the young man’s callous behavior had him making mental alterations to his will.
This has got to be stopped.
What could he do, though? His nephew was just executing orders, and he would be obligated to do the same if he was given those same orders. There would be a difference had he been given the same charge though. He wouldn’t be enjoying it.

He was holding his screen in both hands when the zombies made their push through.

“Yes!” Jack exclaimed.

Damn!
Don had already watched two of the three remaining security fire teams fall into the clutches of the charged-up zombies. He was certain he would have nightmares for the rest of his life after this. It was like watching a horror movie from the monster’s point of view.

The sounds of screaming voices and cracks of gunfire now filled the air, along with the sounds of the moaning zombies. Don felt a sliver of hope when he noticed that the men and women in the room were clad in full zombie suits and were fully armed for battle. The image on his screen shook and tumbled downward, only to be switched over to another point of view a moment later. A man had blasted out a window, drawing a curse from his nephew’s lips.
Yes!

“Ah, don’t get too excited, Uncle. They won’t be going anywhere on broken legs.”

“Maybe so, but the sunrise is still getting closer.”

“Huh …”

A stumpy figure in a zombie suit stuffed a pistol in a zombie’s face and fired. Don and Jack dropped their screens as they both jumped from their seats. Don’s heart was pounding inside his chest as Oliver made his way over to help him back on the bench.

“You okay, Sir?”

Don looked up into the man’s stone face and felt relief. Oliver reminded him he was still a part of humanity. He said, “Thanks, Oliver, I’m okay. Whew!”

Oliver handed him a handkerchief. “You’re sweating, Sir.”

Jack was back in his seat, laughing. “That was awesome! Hey Oliver, you need to go. You can’t see this. I’ll take care of Uncle Don. You just keep his coffee warm. It’ll be over soon.”

Don didn’t like the condescending tone in his nephew’s voice.

“Oliver works for me, not you, Jack. Mind your tongue.”

“Yeah, whatever …”

“I’m alright, Oliver. Best you go.”

Oliver frowned as he glanced over at Jack before he walked away.

“I hope you don’t treat most people that way,” Don said.

Jack didn’t respond, his face was intent on his screen.

Don picked his computer up with a sigh. Two more figures were no longer in the room he viewed, leaving only two standing. One was a large man, he figured, based off the view he had of the zombies looking up. A shotgun was blasting into all of them. He heard the large man yell, “Henry, go! Take care of the others!”

Ah … Henry Bawkula lives.
A thrill went through him. He knew enough about Henry to know that he was a capable man. Don had seen all the footage from what happened at WHS Facility 111, the Zombie Day Care.
I wonder if he’s still with that Italian girl who lost her arm. She was something.
The big man in the room was holding off the zombies when Henry jumped from the window. The butt of a rifle slammed into his screen, causing his finger tips to tingle. The view was gone.

“Dammit!” Jack cried, shaking his screen like an angry child.

Don chuckled. “Time’s ticking.”

Another view popped up that was closing in on the big man tossing away his shotgun and reaching for another. Jack was pounding his hand into his screen. “I think we lost sound. Damn. I wanted hear this big man scream!”

Don felt a chill as he watched the throng of zombies rush after the man.

Chapter 23

Institute, WV

R
od. He had been known as one of the biggest and baddest fighters on the Eastern Seaboard. For over 15 years he had fought in anything from a cage to a parking lot. Never once had he shown fear or shed a tear. He’d been known as the Black Python in the Octagon. He’d kicked like a mule and punched like a heavy weight. He was big, fast, fluid, and feared. He’d had that advantage over his opponents because they were living. This fight was different. His adversaries were dead.

He let off his last round, imploding the face of his latest attacker. It sagged to the ground as another stiff creature took its place, arms clutching at his neck. Two automatic pistols were blazing in his hands. The bullets punched into the bodies of the undead, slowing them a tad.
Head shot! Head shot! Head shot!
The rounds ricocheted from the metal foreheads as the relentless gang surged forward. Rod dove behind a counter and reloaded.

BLAM!

He caught one in the knee, sending it reeling to the ground.

“Yeah baby!”

Ka-Blam! Ka-Blam!

Two more dropped, but they were still crawling. The others were closing in from all directions.

He glanced at the window. Henry was gone.
I’ve got to get out of here!

“Ugh!”

Something heavy slammed into him. The stench of the dead filled his nostrils. He fired a series of rounds over his shoulder, every bullet lethal. No effect. A zombie was biting into his suit, and another was pulling him down.

“NO!”

Fear assailed him. If bullets couldn’t stop his enemies, then what would?

“NO!”

Rod wasn’t going to die like this. He was the Black Python.

“NO!” He flipped the zombie from his back.

Octagon Legend.

“NO!” His boot crushed another’s jaw.

As anger coursed through his big body so did the adrenaline. He had started fighting when he was ten. 25 years of training hadn’t prepared him for a day like this … but it would have to do.

The zombies were fast. The zombies were strong … unyielding. But, the zombies couldn’t fight worth a shit.

“Come on, you dead bastards!”

A roundhouse kick sent one staggering to the floor.

“You can’t touch me!”

Two more crashed into each other as Rod jumped away. Another clutched at his neck. Rod snapped its wrist. He stuffed its fist inside its own mouth and swept its legs from underneath it. The zombies were writhing all around him now as he jumped, dodged, and dived. The zombies were inferior in size, average men, nowhere close to his height or weight. The death match was becoming a mismatch.

“Let go, you—urk!”

He cracked his head as he was pulled to the ground. Warm blood was seeping into his eyes and the hoard went into a frenzy. The mangled mass became a creeping doom. Rod twisted away from the clutches of two disabled zombies and dashed towards the stairwell. Two zombies cut off his path as they closed in.

“Damn!”

His chest was burning now. He scanned around in the dim light, looking for a weapon of any kind. He bolted into the security room, grabbed a chair, and slung it into the zombies. One toppled over. The other came on. Its fingers tried to tear off his mask. Rod snatched the monster up, hurled it into the others, and yelled.

Now one was hanging on his leg, biting into his ankle. It felt like his leg was in a vice. He screamed. Reaching down, he grabbed the back of its head and tore off its mask. He couldn’t see much in the darkness, but there was a skull. He ripped his hunting knife from his belt and plunged it into the back of its skull. He pulled it out just in time to thrust it under the chin of another. He lost his grip

“R-Rah!” he bellowed as he tore through the hoard and headed for the window. The zombie suit was the only thing saving him from being ripped to shreds. There must have been four hundred pounds of zombies tearing into him as he fought for every step. The window was only ten feet away. He could hear voices screaming from down below.

“I’M COMING!”

Like wild animals, the zombies clawed at him and bit into his suit. It held, but the skin and muscles underneath were getting torn. Rod’s body was on fire, and the pain was blinding. Sweat and blood seeped into his eyes.
NO! I can’t die like this!

The window was only five feet away from his outstretched grasp.

“Gotta! … Keep! … Moving!”

He made another step, dragging a zombie like an angry child. He was so close now, but his body didn’t have the energy to make another step. Just one more step.
Please Lord, give me the strength.

From down below they all gasped at the sight. Rod’s massive frame appeared in the window, clutching at the ledge. Henry shouted helplessly as the zombies covering the man
began pulling him back in. The big man held on, his big gloved hands digging into the metal window pane.

“Come on, Rod!”

Henry thought he heard his friend say
‘Run’
as he was pulled back into the darkness.