Zombie Rush 2 Read online

  ***

  “Help me with these,” Krupp said, and the two climbed into the boat. Lu eyed him, calculating what a man like this could offer, while Stanley practically whimpered from fear of what Krupp was capable of. When they were done, Krupp flipped a tray down from behind the console and pulled a series of keys out.

  “How did you know about that?” Lu asked, amazed by the man’s resourcefulness.

  “It’s my boat; I know everything about it,” Krupp said as he focused on the control panel.

  ***

  Lu found herself wondering Why them? What made him keep her and Stanley around yet kill those four? Lu shuddered as she recalled how coldly he had finished the girl off. She would have to be careful and find a way to tie herself to this man. Her survival depended on it.

  ***

  The growl of a large four-stroke outboard purred to life, and the lights in the cabin and on deck lit up brightly before Krupp could turn the sensors from auto to manual. He left one spotlight on as he headed across the lake at a slow troll … watchful … ready.

  Chapter Two

  Cat

  Lisa walked through the Bed Bath and Beyond store where many of the equipment operators, who had been doing the heavy lifting, were asleep. It was important that they rested. They carried the bulk of the battle to the zombies without training or mental conditioning. Lisa counted on there being PTSD issues eventually and everyone was going to suffer from it. The operators had been in reaction mode and were sure to be suffering from a semi-state of shock.

  She expected snores after all of the hard work they had done in keeping the zombies from overwhelming the makeshift compound, but the showroom was quiet. Men sat within impenetrable globes of their own silence, staring blankly at a wall or the floor, rubbing or picking at their hands or worrying their face.

  That was when it hit—these men were more than just tired; they were tapped and falling into a mental funk. It was calm, quiet, and controlled, so why did the warning lights in her head start flashing in panic? She backed out the door quickly—well, as quickly as her throbbing head would allow after getting blasted with a chunk of rebar. Her instincts told her that, as tired as these men were, they should not be alone right now.

  As she headed over to a group that was cleaning up after the last phase of meals, an idea sprouted in her perpetually active mind. When people arrived at the compound, a lot of them fell into their most comfortable roles so a lot of cooks took over the kitchens and servers took over where they could best contribute.

  She pulled the servers, bartenders, and cooks from their seemingly never-ending jobs and spoke with them.

  “I need all of you to just be yourselves. We need to keep everyone healthy and on an even keel if we are going to survive this, so just be how you are and start talking to these people.”

  Confused at first, the hard-working crew entered the showroom and instantly felt the gloom that hung heavily in the air. It didn’t take long for the pros to start mingling amongst the weary men with warm smiles, drinks, and even the offer of a joint here and there. Lisa smiled; they knew she couldn’t give a fuck about marijuana right now. Not that she gave a fuck about it before the world went to shit, but she had done her job when it came to enforcing the laws concerning weed.

  The scene did not become one of revelry or a party by any means, but it was a much-needed respite. With a couple of shots and some good conversation, the mood in the room lightened a bit. The professionals casually chewed the fat with the equipment men, who were the backbone in this fight. Some wept as they released their pent up emotions. A lot of them knew each other, or at least had found common ground, and the room started to group together, their pain shared as they worked through what they could.

  Lisa wore a small, resigned smile as she headed for the door, when a shout from one of the operators caught her attention. The man held a bottle of whiskey up with the neck pointed right at her. He slowly stood, preparing to say something. His face was filled with so much emotion that she didn’t know if she should run away, or what. Her hand unconsciously slipped down to the Glock in her holster.

  “You!” he said, and waited to make sure everyone was paying attention. “Lieutenant Reynolds … saved us all.” There was only a slight slur to his words as he stenciled the air with the mouth of the bottle.

  “Get some sleep, bud. We got a lot of work ahead of us,” Lisa said, and was about to turn away when the man spoke again.

  “So what did the Army man tell you?”

  The question was so clearly spoken and precise that it stopped her in her tracks. She vaguely recalled the conversation she had with …? Captain? Colonel maybe? She knew it wasn’t a general, and his name was nothing but fog. Damn it, why did Skit have to hit her so hard with that rebar? Her memory was still there, but that particular situation was dimming. She remembered a few things but …

  “Tell me about what, exactly?” Lisa stalled, trying to recollect something that she could give them.

  “I don’t know … about the world? Or Little Rock, at least?” he asked, naming the larger city to the east. “Where is the Army, and when are we going to get some help here?” he continued, genuinely curious and patiently waiting for just a little bit of information. And they deserved it.

  “It’s not good out there. Regular Army for a lot of states was deployed a couple of days ago and are nowhere near us. Little Rock is burning and the dead are feasting.” She paused to let the gravity of her words sink in. “National Guard and others might be trickling in from time to time, but as far as any help, I don’t think there is anybody else.”

  “So what are we going to do?” a female’s voice from somewhere behind asked. A veil was lifted within her mind, and she knew what she needed to tell them. She only hoped that they would take it in a positive light.

  “He told us to take back this city and get ready.”

  “Ready? Ready for what?”

  “People.”

  “People? Come on, you gotta give us more than that.”

  “There is nowhere else for them to go, and there is not much more to give you. To his knowledge, there is nowhere else where they have fared as well as we have. Our radio broadcast has gone viral and is being played on computers, radios, and phones across the nation. They are all trying to come here, and we have to get ready.” She could tell by the looks on their faces that they weren’t quite getting it. They understood her words but were still confused.

  “How are we going to stop them?” someone asked, and it was Lisa’s turn to be confused.

  “Stop who?”

  “The people who are coming to take our town,” someone else said, as if it were obvious.

  “Take our town? They aren’t coming to take our town. They are coming to join with us because we are it: the last bastion, humanity’s hope. We need them and they need us; without that, we will have nothing. We have to join together and fight the millions of dead who want to make a meal of us.”

  “But how will we feed them all? Not to mention, house them.”

  “We just had a city empty out and there are tons of stores, warehouses, and semis filled with food. The farmers are already organizing to help and be a part of what we’re doing.” Lisa paused as she tried to collect herself and control the rage that was starting to simmer within her. It galled her that these people, who were themselves rescued and provided with a haven, would deny that to someone else. She eased her breathing and looked at the crowd, not wanting to know who had made the last statement. She started slowly maintaining her calm.

  “From my understanding, billions of people around the world have fallen victim to an unknown sickness that kills then re-animates. Hundreds more have died in order to see that we few survived. How do we repay that sacrifice? Those lives that were lost? We re-start. We do whatever we can to see that humanity as a whole has a chance to survive. We don’t do that by fighting amongst the living or being selfish and creating divisive factions over food or weapons. We join toget
her and fight those things that want us dead. We are not food, nor are we rats who squabble over every last crumb. The time of selfishness is over; now is the time to be selfless. All races and religions are welcome here. If that doesn’t work for you, there will be rations—enough to last a couple of days—provided for you at the gate as you leave.” She looked over the crowd and saw most nodding their heads in agreement, but there were a few …

  “Get some sleep … we have a lot to do,” she said with a small smile, not really sure where they stood and distressed that someone was already thinking of isolation.

  She walked out into the parking lot, wondering how many would be on board with what they were planning—with what they had to do. How much should she tell people? What exactly did they need to know? Should they be voting on something like this? Did people even know what they want? Could anybody truly be denied refuge? Something told her that pushing away the future refugees would turn out a lot worse than opening the doors for them, but it would have to be done in a way that people would accept it.

  Lisa suddenly felt dirty. She wondered if a politician ever felt dirty as they manipulated opinion toward what they felt was in the best interests of the people … or in this case, humanity. The realization that more was needed here hit her like a wet rug across the face. They couldn’t be a fortress; this had to be a city with free trade and laws or it in itself would crumble to the laws of the jungle. Only the strong survive in the wild but within humanity as a whole, this was not the case. This was the primal difference between man and beast. Man had the ability and desire within them to help those who can’t help themselves. It was the most beautiful of human qualities and must be salvaged.

  Another portion of fog lifted from her conversation with the mysterious major. In America, we have a citizen army. Welcome to the Army. “Fuck!” she said to no one as she started off in search of Benson or Bret Junior, feeling trapped by a morality she didn’t even know she had.

  “Lisa!” The small, excited voice came to her from across the parking lot where Cat was hurrying toward her. She wondered how her father, Ed Krupp, a man who despised her for such petty reasons, could have such a cool daughter. The girl reminded her of the girl she always wanted to be while growing up … with family, activities, and friends. Lisa pushed the useless thought away and smiled as the young woman approached.

  “Hey, Shooter! Did ya get some sleep?”

  “Yeah, slept like a rock over in one of the hospital meeting rooms that they converted into bunk dorms. I wanted to give you your rifle back,” Cat said.

  “Are you nuts? The way you shoot, I’d be a fool to take that from you. Unless, of course, you wanted something bigger,” Lisa replied.

  “No, no, this is perfect for close-in fighting. Now if you wanted to set me up on a wall and take some distance shots, I would want a .308 or something a little bigger,” Cat said in a casual way, but Lisa was able to detect intent behind the innocence.

  “Exactly how good of a shot are you, Cat?”

  “I was two-time national teen champion for rifle a few years ago and held the skeet title all through high school. I was a little slow on the sidearm comps but still placed third or fourth consistently.” Again, she tried to be casual, but she couldn’t help but show pride in her tone and she had every right.

  “Tell ya what, I am going to find Benson, and we’ll see if I can hook you up.” Lisa draped an arm around the shoulder of the young lady and suddenly felt vulnerable. It was as if she walked from a warm, dry room into an extremely cold, blowing world, where she was exposed to everyone’s scrutiny. There was really no way to explain it with exception of being a ten-point buck stuck in the peep sights of an archer’s string.

  She looked around, trusting in her instincts and pulling Cat in closer in case she had to cover her, but there was nothing. No one was looking toward them or toward anything threatening. Lisa reached up and touched the bandage on her head, reminding herself that she might not be processing certain things properly yet, but it felt so real …

  The rumble of diesel engines outside filled the air with their comforting sounds as the compound repelled another surge while others slept or worked. It was a picture of normality that probably shouldn’t exist within a zombie apocalypse, yet it did.

  “What are you doing up and about?” Benson said as he sat in front of his tent eating with his kids and obviously just out of bed.

  “Hey, who is manning the fort?” Lisa asked, concerned that neither one of them were out there conducting things.

  “Bret Junior. Just like he has been doing since the moment he met you. People think you’re in charge bu—”

  “Do we really want to go down that bullshit road again, Benson? Christ!” Lisa said, not even realizing that their last conversation had hurt. Him implying that she was getting some kind of rush from being the go-to on all of this.

  “Potty mouth, potty mouth, potty mouth,” Danny sang while prancing around with a half-eaten sandwich in his hand, making Lisa’s stomach growl.

  “No, I mean … I wasn’t going there. I meant that he really took over. We’d be lost without him and his old man.”

  “Oh, sorry. I agree, he has to stay with the game plan or we’re screwed.” Lisa instantly calmed down when she realized he wasn’t dredging up the bad blood from their earlier conversation. “So what is our game plan? I mean, exactly.”

  “What, did that bump on your head rattle you up a little too much?” Benson replied as Cat stayed behind as a silent witness. She learned a long time ago with her parents that staying quiet and out of the line of sight is the best way to learn what is really going on.

  “Yeah, it did actually, and most things seem to be more of a blur than anything else—not to mention the headache that comes with it.”

  “You should still be in bed, you know,” Benson said, to which she waved off dismissively. “The whole day and night yesterday seems like a blur to me. The only plan I had was to find a place to hole up and get some fighters together. That has obviously morphed into much more.”

  “I know, but how much more can we do? And I think we have to have a meeting, but who should we have come?”

  “I think we should try to get reps from all of the groups here so that we can best understand what we can do and who is willing to go through it with us. No more than ten though, I would think,” Benson replied.

  “Then we have to tell everyone and give them some options in case they don’t want in and wish to go it alone.”

  “Options? You’re either in or you’re out; those are your options.”

  “Rather shortsighted on that one, Art, but we’ll discuss that at the meeting. You get five and I’ll get five and we’ll meet in one hour. Cat here is going to represent the youth faction for me.”

  “Hi Cat, I didn’t see you there,” Benson said to his coworker’s daughter, who was well known around the shooting range. “Shortsighted? How?”

  “To quote a long-dead king, ‘A kingdom with only internal eyes never will see what is coming.’ We need people on the outside too. To cast them out without a contingency for their well-being will only turn them into criminals. Also, after last night, they earned some consideration,” Lisa said, and reflected upon how desperate their situation had been up until the loaders and skiddies showed up. “Oh, and Cat is going to need a .308 and some good ammo; she is going to give some sniper support from the walls.”

  “Not a problem. See you in an hour,” he said with a smirk as she walked away with Cat by her side.

  “Did I come off as being in charge back there?” Lisa asked when they were far enough away.

  “Uh … yeah; aren’t you?”

  “No, we’re a team; equals … co-conspirators.”

  “Right, except you have the balls.”

  “Well, aren’t you just the little fucking shit?”

  “You do have a potty mouth,” Cat said, and was suddenly interrupted by her cell phone ringing.

  ****

  Cha
rlie watched his dad as he slept with a mixture of emotions on his face. There was hate and loathing. There had always been loathing, as it is with most teenagers, dreading the next time they see a parent and hear their useless questions. The hate came from what his dad forced him to do at the house yesterday.

  “It’s for your own good, Charlie,” his dad told him. “You have to learn to kill these things. Even if it’s me, you will have to be able to pull the trigger; your life depends on it.” Dean’s tone left no doubts as to how serious he was. He handed Charlie the knife, that had been reduced to scraper, from the tool drawer and pointed toward his mother still pinned to the floor with Shaaka through her foot.

  Charlie shook his head back and forth, not believing he could do it, but his father insisted, saying it was the perfect opportunity for him to break the ice. That this one act would turn a switch inside his head that would enable him to survive. Even Lester, who had always liked Mom, was in on it and encouraged Charlie to do it. They kept saying pull the trigger, you gotta pull the trigger, but all they gave him was a knife. An old battered knife whose point had become more rounded with time than it was sharp.

  Charlie had had enough; he couldn’t stand it anymore. It wasn’t like he would actually be killing his mother. She was already dead. He forced it into his own mind that he was releasing her, letting her actually die so that her soul could go to Heaven—if there was such a place. Charlie didn’t know, but his mom believed it, so that was what he clung to as he threw the piece of crap knife across the room and grabbed his dad’s spear.

  The two men reacted as if they were going to stop him, but once he had the weapon in hand, all that they could do was back off as the boy pointed the spear at each man in turn. He lingered on his father for a little longer but knew that his mother, the zombie, was too close to take too long.