Zombie Rush 2 Read online

  He prayed that she still lived, though he knew the odds of two from one family surviving were very slim. Once he got to his storage locker, he would be able to equip himself with what he needed in order to search for her amongst the dead. Her last location was at the apartment of that loser who she insisted was her boyfriend, but he knew that could never last. His angel would never get stuck with a piece of trash who had nothing to offer. He would put him down whether he was infected or not.

  He thought of calling her but was afraid of what would be on the other end. If she was still alive, she would need secrecy in order to stay that way, and a phone call at the wrong time could ruin that. No, best to leave it be until he could see that she was in a safe place.

  He hung his head in thought. How far had he fallen in just a few short hours that he would contemplate the murder of her boyfriend? He’s not a murderer; that’s not his job. He would find a way to get rid of her boyfriend without having to do that. He hadn’t fallen that far yet.

  He moved to the broken-out window as the last of the stragglers passed by, leaving the two with him locked within the stench of their own fear. They wanted him to stay, he could feel it, but they just weren’t worth his time. He took refuge, not out of fear, but out of necessity to avoid a horde too large for him to eliminate. He had one goal and when he was done, he was done. End of story. And he would welcome that end with open arms.

  He crept out to the street, but when he heard the others follow him, he stopped and pushed them back.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he said.

  “We’re coming with you.” The young male who spoke was dirty… dirtier than just a day’s worth of buildup, which was as long as it had been since the zombies first arrived.

  Sixteen hours ago, he showed up for another shift at the grind, unaware that his wife was being partially eaten by his party-hopping son at that same moment.

  “You don’t want to come with me; trust me on that.”

  The woman spoke up. “Well, you’re a cop and you got a gun. You’re supposed to protect us, and we all need to get to the compound.”

  Looking closer, he noticed that her clothing didn’t mesh with her companion’s ensemble, other than they were both dirty. Her face looked as if it had a fresh layer of makeup that morning, which had become streaked with tears and sweat. Her coat was fashionable, though ragged from the events of the day, and her shoes were by no means suitable for the situation.

  The man, on the other hand, screamed wannabe rocker, complete with a Hot Licks t-shirt, grubby jeans enveloping dated Converse high tops, and a three-day growth on his lip and chin. Krupp felt some compassion for the woman, who appeared to be close to his own age, and he softened his attitude just a little.

  “Look, I only have one round left and I’m saving it. Where I am going is not a place you want to be, okay?”

  “How many bullets are in a round?” the guy asked, and the woman rolled her eyes. She shook her head and leaned in.

  “Look, Officer Krupp is it? You can’t leave me with him, okay? We won’t make it two blocks, let alone to the compound.”

  “Compound? What compound are you talking about?” he asked, having heard her mention it before.

  “A lady cop with the Army, or something, has set up a compound in the Sam’s Club. It’s true. It was on the radio, on that AM jazz station.”

  “A lady cop, huh?”

  “Yeah, you probably know her.”

  “I doubt it,” he lied. “There are lots of lady cops in the world, and the ones I know are dead. I guess you can tag along for a bit, although I have some stops to make first.”

  He knew her; who else could it be? Who else would still be stealing his thunder? Lieutenant Reynolds should be dead by now … but no. Not yet, anyway.

  “Stops? What kind of stops can you have during a zombie invasion?” This came from the scruffy punk.

  “One bullet is a round … what is your name?” Krupp said to the guy, ignoring his question.

  “Ludwig.”

  “Ludwig, huh? Now what’s your real name, and you’d better be straight with me or you stay here.”

  “Stanley.”

  “Well, Stanley, you can run a couple of errands with me, or you can cross the river yourself. It’s up to you.”

  Stanley looked around nervously. They all knew they had to cross the river in order to get to the compound. Stanley’s eyes landed on the female.

  “Don’t look at me. I’m going to run errands with Officer Krupp here. My name is Lu.” She perked up and held her hand out in greeting.

  ***

  His storage locker was easy to get to. The zombies all seemed to be moving toward the lake and bridges into Hot Springs proper, leaving Rockwell virtually empty. The zombies moved slowly, mainly in herds, and could be heard—and smelled—from a distance. Krupp found them easy to avoid but was getting tired of keeping Stanley from trying to feed himself to them. He shook his head in wonder countless times at how Stanley was oblivious to everything around him. Stanley’s senses had been cut off due to lack of exposure to the natural world, combined with the societal demands of the twenty-first century.

  His ears seemed virtually useless and as far as Krupp could tell, he had never used his nose before other than trying to sniff a hit of reefer—or whatever they chose to use and call it these days. He saw pretty well but never trusted what he saw and often waited until it was too late to figure out what he was seeing. The guy was a burden and could get them into trouble. He could tell that Lu wasn’t excited about his inability to discern potential dangers either. She also didn’t make the mistakes he did; Lu was quieter in heels than Stanley was in sneakers. Stanley was a liability, and Krupp wouldn’t feel right until he got the S.O.B. to this so-called compound and out of his hair.

  He used the bullet he had been saving to shoot through the hasp of the padlock and only noticed a couple of Z’s attracted to the sound. In this heavy industrial area, there were not enough people around to attract the zombies. He would be able to take care of them once he got to his safe. Thankfully, he kept a key to the safe stashed in the locker for impromptu visits.

  “Why are we breaking into a storage locker?” Stanley asked, not grasping that they had traveled for several blocks with the sole purpose of reaching this one particular locker.

  “Shut up, Stanley. Just be quiet for once, okay? Let Krupp do what he needs to do.” Lu didn’t try to hide her exasperation.

  “It’s mine. I left my personal keys in my locker at the station. There are some things in here we need.”

  “Is that a boat?” Lu asked as she looked at the flat bottom of an aluminum rectangle.

  “It’s my duck boat. It will make it across the river with three of us but not much more than that.” Krupp sorted through a drawer of extra paddle locks, cable, and other assorted brick-a-brack.

  Stanley stood nervously by the entrance, ready to bolt if the zombies came much closer. They had made it through the gate and were walking directly toward them. Krupp looked at Stanley and shook his head in disgust. Fear has a scent, a subtle underlying reek of malevolence that one becomes accustomed to. Absolute terror is a stench that strips the bearer of dignity and robs them of the ability to react. It was stench that permeated the air now as Stanley stared out in abject horror. Lu, however, stood out of the way watching Krupp’s every move. Pensive and nervous with the need to hurry, but not fear; she was just ready.

  Krupp found the key and went to a multiple-door cabinet that covered the entire back wall. The door on the far right was open, exposing a small, solid door on the face of a fire safe. He grabbed one of the assault rifles from inside. Inserting a magazine, he charged it and met Stanley at the overhead door while installing a suppressor on to the end of the barrel.

  “You’re going to have to smarten up, Stanley,” he said. “You’ll have to toughen up too, but before that will happen, you’re going to have to smarten up. I am not the type of person who tries to be an asshole;
it just comes natural. But there is truth to the things that I say, or I don’t bother saying it.” He wasn’t sure if his words were heeded because Stanley was focused on the zombies not thirty feet away. “Christ, where were you when they passed out balls?” Again, Krupp felt that his words fell on deaf ears. The terror that filled Stanley right now only let him focus on one thing: the zombies that approached.

  Several more had shown up at the gate and were making their way toward the group; Stanley wanted to run and get as far away as he could, but the calm demeanor of the police officer in front of him kept him there. He forced himself to keep thinking of Krupp as the police officer for fear that he would slip into his wannabe thug life persona and call him out for the fucking pig that he is. Stanley knew that he was a pig; he saw it in the redneck, gun-toting style that was prevalent in this part of the country, but Stanley needed him … for now.

  ***

  Krupp was almost casual as he took out the six in sight, his suppressed M4 barely making a sound. He returned to his cabinet and started opening more drawers and doors.

  “Do you know how to work this?” he asked as he handed a 9mm over to Lu.

  “I think I can figure it out.” She turned the gun over in her hand. “My Glock doesn’t have a safety switch.”

  “This Smith & Wesson does. Right here,” Krupp said as he showed her how to disengage it. He closed up the cabinet, leaving Stanley waiting expectantly for a weapon.

  “Sorry, Stanley, you need your hands free to pull the boat.” Krupp gestured toward the small set of wheels strapped to the hull. Krupp threw a few more things into the boat before shutting down the door and fixing it with a fresh padlock.

  “I’ll take point, you follow up. Keep your eyes and ears open and don’t shoot anything.”

  “Okay,” she said and watched Krupp turn around with Stanley following, pushing the boat. She deftly reached in and plucked out a boot dagger from a pile she had been eyeing while making sure the other two didn’t see.

  Krupp quietly directed them around the buildings while avoiding the bulk of the herds roaming the streets. He saw pockets of people who looked as if they wanted to follow, but he only had the one boat and couldn’t afford the crowd, so he kept them at bay by displaying his souped-up M4. He felt no regret and would shoot them if they persisted.

  There were no cops and robbers anymore, no good guys or bad guys. There were only survivors, which is what he planned on being; at least until he found Cat. After that, he didn’t know or care. His daughter, and last remaining blood, would be released from her walking tomb before he left this world. That was the only promise that he had made to himself, his only goal and reason to survive. Maybe she was at this compound, maybe not. He would find out before he searched elsewhere.

  Krupp’s thoughts were violent and suicidal—or so he thought—yet, apparent by having locked the locker and checking for possible witnesses before they left, his subconscious was on a different level.

  They reached the water’s edge and slipped the boat quietly in, deciding to paddle out to the center of the lake where they could catch the current and drift while he secured the motor to the stern. He wasn’t comfortable doing it on shore where zombies and more people had access to them.

  Thankful that the wind was down, he got to work as the boat slowly drifted. They were quite a distance southwest of downtown; it was going to take a while with the little nine-horsepower motor. The Mercury was small and quiet, not only good for duck hunting but also good for avoiding zombies. They had to negotiate around several islands in the lower portion of the lake, all of which seemed to be teeming with zombies. Even the uninhabited islands were lined with the dead; it was as if they simply washed up there and were waiting for … whatever. The moans and stench of fecal matter drifted heavily upon the water. He assumed that in a few days, the smell of decomposition would mix in with that stench, maybe even as early as tomorrow.

  Groups of boats sat anchored off the southern tip of the lake, which Krupp ignored—with the exception of one that he recognized. He and the duty officer, Tanner, were fishing partners and they had gone in on a sweet all-weather rig—solid in the roughest river water, and a jet outboard to handle the shallowest areas.

  He couldn’t get to the boat himself since it was on the opposite side of the lake, but he was relieved that his friend was able to get to it. He pulled up alongside the craft, knowing that he probably wasn’t noticed in the early dawn light. He grabbed hold of the swim ladder and quietly tied his boat off while telling the other two to wait for him. He was going to surprise his buddy, and knowing his experience, there was only a small risk of getting shot. What Krupp couldn’t know was that Tanner had met his fate earlier, a few miles north, and thirty feet up on a bridge.

  Krupp kept the M4 slung vertically down his back so as not to bump it and to keep it out of sight—if he surprised someone, the assault rifle would likely be all they’d see. He heard muted voices from inside and was surprised that no one was on deck keeping watch. Tanner should know better. He knocked on the door and waited as the voices inside ceased. A female’s voice he didn’t recognize broke the silence.

  “Take what you want out there. If you try to come in, you will be shot,” she said.

  As soon as the woman spoke, Krupp knew that his partner was not on the boat. He also didn’t smell gas or fumes of any kind, so he doubted that they got the boat running or had found the other key stashed on board. He pulled his M4 around in front as he pressed himself against the cabin next to the door.

  “This is stolen property, miss. I have to ask you and your friends to step out onto the back deck with your hands where I can see them.”

  “Don’t even try to pretend that you’re a cop. We didn’t steal anything; it was abandoned.”

  “I highly doubt that, ma’am; not only am I a police officer, but I am also the owner of this boat. Now, please, step out onto the back deck and leave any weapons inside the cabin,” he said sternly.

  He waited as they continued to discuss the situation for a few seconds before the back cabin door slowly opened just enough to let a young man and two young women exit.

  They held their hands out shakily when they saw the man in uniform with an assault rifle trained on them. Krupp was not thinking clearly and speculated that Tanner, his best friend, was probably dead and these punks may have had something to do with it.

  “Where’s Tanner?”

  “Who?”

  “Tanner … the man who owns the other half of this boat.”

  “Hey man, there never was anyone else here. Dude, you said that you owned the boat. The gates were smashed at the marina, and we just unhooked the first boat we came to and drifted.” The younger, athletic-looking man who spoke reminded him of his daughter’s boyfriend … prideful, nervous, and all wrong.

  He lowered his rifle just a touch, when a body hurled itself from inside the cabin, landing on his gun barrel, and knocking it downward. The action caused Krupp to pull on the trigger enough to leave an athletic-looking man curled into a ball with a 5.56 round in his stomach.

  Krupp pulled his barrel away as he blocked another attack with a whirling elbow. He caught the one he was speaking to on the shoulder, sending him to the ground. He didn’t know if the man had one of the firearms that they had threatened him with, so he took the safest, smartest course by putting two rounds center mass as he lay prone on the ground.

  The girl on the left sprang for Krupp with a scream of rage, and Krupp reacted by sidestepping and kicking her in the knee, sending her to the deck. She didn’t stop as she twisted and grabbed the barrel of the M4. As soon as she touched steel, the look on her face said she realized her mistake, and twin rounds ripped through her chest.

  The scene stopped; everything was suddenly frozen in place, giving the living a second to think their adrenaline-fueled thoughts. The initial attacker had stopped moving, his belly distending as it filled with blood. Two others were also dead—or soon would be—as panting heaved
the woman’s chest wildly in her last gasps for air. He looked at the girl still standing and staring him in the eye, pleading. She shrugged and Krupp looked down. She shook her head when Krupp looked back up at her, and tears started to flow.

  “No,” she whimpered.

  Krupp gave the slightest nod, as if he had made up his mind about something. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, please.”

  He pulled the trigger once and marveled at the perfect dot that appeared upon the young woman’s forehead. She fell into the lake. When he looked back at his companions, he could tell they were trying to appear as if they hadn’t seen what happened, but he knew better. Stanley would be out for blood at the atrocities he was forced to witness … if there was still something resembling a civilized society, that is. But now, here on this lake, with the situation they were in, Stanley would look away and keep his mouth shut. Because he was a coward and his existence depended on it. Lu, though … she was another story, and Krupp wasn’t ready to make determinations about what she was capable of.

  He questioned himself though. What had changed in him to make him think that what he’d done was acceptable? Was it the loss of so much? That he would rather kill an innocent young woman than have to face … what? An inquiry? There weren’t any inquires anymore; those days were gone.

  Overnight, the world had changed to a kill or be killed existence. Eat or be eaten. Do unto others before they do unto you. Down the road, that girl would have been trouble for him; he knew it. Just like Stanley was going to be. But could they really affect him in what the world has become? Are there still those who would prosecute such crimes?

  ***

  A pair of binoculars, which had risen at the first sounds of rifle fire, lowered to the rail of the darkened boat. He had seen the small boat tying up to the larger one not twenty yards away and thought nothing of it … until he heard the rifle shots. He shook his head with regret over the fate of the young woman. Who could he turn to if even the police needed to be feared? He pulled his head down and stayed still in hopes of not being seen by the man with the gun on the other boat.