Zombie Battle (Books 1-3): Trinity Page 10

  “Lil, don’t . . .”

  Lil opened the door. Morgan stood with his back facing her. “Hey, Morgan, Jack’s on the phone, he . . .”

  Morgan spun around. His arms flailing lifelessly as he did. His graying eyes caught hers, his face was one of death, and he opened his mouth, lunging with a growl. Lil shrieked and slammed the door, locking it as she did.

  “Jack. Jack. Morgan’s . . .”

  There were two long, thin panes of glass on each side of the door, Morgan’s fist sailed through the glass shattering it and causing Lil to scream again.

  “Get out of the house!” Jack shouted.

  Lil heard that, wanted to responded but didn’t. Although the door windows were only about seven inches wide, Morgan was trying his best to squeeze through, chards of glass searing into him.

  Muttering out, ‘how stupid could I be?’ Lil tossed her phone in her purse, swept her keys from the table, reached down, grabbed her revolver and fired at Morgan.

  She didn’t aim well. The bullet hit into his throat and he stumbled back. Still clutching her gun, she grabbed the duffle and raced to the back of the house to use the kitchen door.

  Wanting to play it smart, Lil cautiously peeked out. No one was in the yard. But there was a problem. Her car was out front and she had to get around the house. It sounded quiet and Morgan was her only obstacle. Quietly she stepped out, back against the house, gun ready, and she inched her way to the edge of the house and peeked.

  Clear.

  Making a run for it, she spotted her vehicle, no one was around it. In the distance she heard screeching tires, people yelling. The commotion grew louder.

  Her first thought was that someone heard her fire the gun and the Military Police were coming.

  She as she emerged from the back of the house, she was greeted with the barrel of an M-4. The soldier who was aiming it lowered it some and stepped back. “ma’am.”

  Lil breathed heavier, lowering her own gun,

  “Ma’am, we are securing the area. You have to get back in the house,” he ordered.

  Was he nuts? Did he see the front of her house?

  “I want to get to my car,” she said.

  “Ma’am, I need you to get back ...”

  A blood curdling growl rang out, almost a split second before Morgan plowed into the solider, taking him by surprise and knocking him to the ground. Immediately, Morgan dug ferociously into the soldier’s stomach, ripping flesh and innards from him.

  The soldier screamed. Lil fired.

  This time she hit Morgan directly in the head, he flew back and dropped.

  Body convulsing in pain, the soldier’s voice cracked as he called out and reached for Lil. “Help me.”

  Lil Froze. As she was about to crouch to him, she spotted two more, like Morgan, heading her way. “I’m ...I’m sorry,” she said to the soldier. “I’m so sorry.” With that, and arms boggled with belongings, Lil flew to her car.

  The two things neared her and she tossed her items inside, still clutching her gun and purse over her shoulder.

  It was dumb, she knew it, she should have dropped everything, but she didn’t.

  Hands slammed to her car window the moment she shut the door.

  Grateful she was holding her keys, without fumbling, Lil started the car and sped out, she released a sigh when she heard the auto locks shift into to place with the shift of the gear.

  There wasn’t as much activity the further down the road she drove. A military jeep tried to flag her down, but she raced around them and kept going.

  She made it out of the housing plan and onto the main road. Another mile and a half she’d be off of base. Driving faster than she should have, Lil didn’t care. She just wanted to get out.

  The moment she did. The moment she drove through those gates, things seemed normal. Traffic moved normally, almost as if no one had a clue.

  She switched on the radio and was greeted with music.

  No special alerts. No news.

  That was a good sign. But Lil knew that would change. Her heart raced, her breathing was heavy, and she had to calm down.

  The normalcy outside of the base made her feel as if everything that occurred at her house was surreal, a bad dream. She knew she had to get in touch with Jack.

  Slipping her purse from her shoulder, she tossed it on the passenger’s seat and reached in blindly for her phone. She found it, lifted it and dialed Jack. It went immediately to voice mail.

  After a quick disconnect, Lil, went to the last call she received. The unrecognized number. She called that number.

  ‘You have reached the Centers for Disease Control Atlanta, Please listen closely for our menu has changed. Press . . .’

  Lil hung up and placed down the phone.

  “Centers for Disease control?” she spoke aloud.

  It made sense. And as the exit for the highways neared, Lil made a fast change of plans. She veered for the exit. Although she was supposed to be going to Garrick’s, until Lil heard from Jack, she decided to go south and find him.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Atlanta, GA

  Twice Lil’s phone went directly to voicemail. Jack rationalized that she was trying to make calls and would give it another minute.

  Saul stood by. Concern played over his face for Jack. “Keep trying. She’s fine.”

  “I know. I feel it.” Jack lifted the phone again. He had gotten five numbers into dialing when a panicked Powers raced in.

  “We have a problem.” He breathed heavily. “Secretary on the second floor is hiding in an office. Said people are going nuts trying to get her. It has to be our virus.”

  Saul’s head lowered. “Dear God.

  Jack brushed by. “Security room. Saul, come with me. Powers, find me Captain Long,” he yelled as he raced down the long hall.

  It was a special room with eight security monitors showing the floors above. Jack was the first one there. A security guard was monitoring the activity.

  “Second floor?” Jack asked. “Supposed to be activity up there.”

  A few clicks of his finger and the security guard brought up a monitor. “There.” He pointed. “That has to be it.”

  Ten, maybe fifteen people pounded relentlessly at one office.

  Saul arrived out of breath. “Did you locate her? What’s going on?”

  Jack motioned his head to the screen. “It’s them.” He checked his pistol for ammo. “I wish. I had more.”

  “What are you doing?” Saul asked.

  “I’m going up there to get that secretary.”

  “Against that?” Saul asked. “With just a pistol?”

  The security guard handed Jack his revolver. “Two.”

  “Thanks,” Jack said, checking the clip on that as well. He then lifted a brad power gun. “And this, I should be good. I gotta go.” He turned again to the security guard. “Lock it all behind me. If you see anyone but me get on that elevator, power it down.”

  “Will do.”

  Jack grabbed a radio. “I’ll be in touch.” He turned quickly, and headed to the door. Just then Powers arrived. “Where’s Long?” Jack asked.

  “Gone.” Powers replied. “And so is the boy.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Interstate 85,

  33 Miles South of Columbia South Carolina

  Just to remain inconspicuous, Steve pulled off a lesser taken exit onto a secondary road, finding a gas station a mile down the road. The less people the better. After all, it was easy to see that something wasn’t right with Juan.

  He knew with every bit of his heart that taking Juan wasn’t the right thing to do, but he had to. Things were exploding all around and quickly, too. He didn’t fear repercussion from superiors as much as he feared repercussions from God for abandoning a child, who, Steve swore, still had remnants of a soul.

  With a clear conscious, Steve couldn’t end the child’s Life. He just could not do that. Knowing eventually the child would die, Steve wanted to take him far away, to
the woods, and let him relinquish his life there.

  Juan was a bright boy, and probably super special at one time. Steve could see it. He imagined the boy having quite the creative side, losing time and thought in playing with this cars and soldiers. A typical boy who loved the sun, playing running, and most of all loved his father.

  But there was a bit more than just a twisted desire to not finish off the child. It had a lot to do with Steve’s own little brother. When Steve was thirteen and his younger brother Jimmy was six, just like Juan, Jimmy was hit by a car. For weeks, he lay in a coma. For weeks his parents agonized. Finally, they stopped life support. Steve didn’t understand it, he really didn’t. He swore up and down that Jimmy was still in there, that he wasn’t a vegetable, that he had life. His arguments to his parents were futile and they sided with the doctors. A second before Jimmy’s heart monitor went flat, the boy squeezed his mother’s hand and a single tear rolled down his face.

  Jimmy was in there. He was screaming ‘no’, but it was too late.

  It was a guilt Steve’s mother carried with her for a long time. A guilt he swore killed her.

  Perhaps Juan was a second chance with Jimmy. Steve didn’t know, but he did know he couldn’t just put a two inch brad into the boy’s skull and not think twice about it.

  He told Juan to ‘stay put and down’. No one else was using the small station. The owner was inside playing with his phone and a golden retriever was chained next to the garage. ‘Stay put, stay down’, there was no reason for Juan not to listen. After all, he didn’t display any signs of trying to escape at the CDC, nor did he even attempt to leave the room. Steve left him in the back of the car. After swiping his credit car, locking the gas pump, Steve waved to the owner, a big thick man, and darted to the side rest room for a quick leak.

  When he returned all was quiet, and the gas pump was still going. Safe.

  No worries.

  Until he heard the cry of the owner. “Oh, God, what happened to my dog?”

  Hand removing the nozzle, Steve jolted. The dog, still on the chain convulsed in a pool of blood. Juan covered in blood and fur, looking like a demented pet himself, stood a few feet from the car. The owner was so engrossed in his dog’s demise, that he didn’t see Juan.

  He cried out, unchaining the dog.

  With wide eyes, Steve flew to Juan, grabbed the boy, swept him up and raced to the car, tossing him inside.

  Ignoring the shouts from the owner, Steve started the car. “No,” he scolded Juan. “We don’t eat people’s pets.” With that parental warning, and just wanting to get out of there, Steve sped away.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Atlanta, GA

  Sara Klein was a young mother. She had little Jerry when she was merely twenty years old. Jerry’s father was in the Marines and stationed in the Middle East. Both Sara and her husband were so young, that was one of the excuses Irma used for being over protective of little Jerry. But truth be known, Irma adored that little boy and her ho hum life lit up with meaning the day he was born.

  The longest she went without seeing Jerry was two days, never longer.

  There were no arguments from Sara when her mother showed up to get her and the baby. Irma rarely over reacted to news, and when Sara was told that her father said to leave and go north, there was no hesitation.

  That’s why she didn’t understand why her mother was driving the opposite direction.

  “I need to see your father. I just need to see him, just in case this thing gets out of control,” Irma told her. “We’ll only stay a moment.”

  Thinking about it, Sara could only agree. If her father, the head of the CDC, was warning them, then it was big. Sara, like her mother needed to see her father.

  It would only take a few moments. What would it hurt?

  <><><><>

  “Aim for the head. Save bullets,” Saul instructed over the radio.

  Jack knew this from Peru.

  He also knew he didn’t have enough ammo for what he had to face. Not that there were hundreds, but the virus certainly took hold of dozens. All of which were on the second floor, surrounding and blocking the door to the office, as if the petite, older secretary were a free buffet.

  The adrenaline tremors he felt rush through his body were similar to those he felt while serving in the war.

  And Jack took that same mindset.

  It was war. But instead of a battlefield in the Middle East, he was in an office building.

  Getting off the elevator on the second floor was not an option. Jack didn’t know for sure whether the undead heard, saw, smelled . . . he just knew he couldn’t take a chance.

  Knowing the first floor was clear, Jack stepped off of the elevator there and sneakily made his way up the stairs.

  Just before entering the floor, he grabbed the fire ax that hung on the wall just inside the stairwell. It was in the more-than-likely event he ran out of ammunition.

  A revolver and brad power gun tucked in the waistband of his pants, a gun in his hand, ax behind his back, Jack radioed. “Heading onto the floor. How’s it looking? Over.”

  “Good. They’re all still gathered at the records’ office.”

  Jack opened the door just an inch and peeked out. He could see them about fifty feet away, down the hall. Focused. Relentless.

  Foot holding open the door, Jack braced his revolver. With a purchased stance in that doorframe, precision aim, he fired. A simple crack and one went down.

  The others didn’t seem to notice.

  Jack was an expert shot. A marksman and picking them off, one by one wasn’t even a challenge.

  As they dropped unaware of what was happening around them, Jack wondered how it even got to that point. How did it slightly get out of control at Fort Bragg? There was no way. Not when Jack, by himself, was taking out two dozen.

  He kept telling himself, one person could bite ten people before they were stopped. If any of those in the CDC building escaped, how many did they bite? Jack had them contained. Like mice in a maze. The cheese was behind that records’ office door.

  With only four remaining, Jack ran out of ammunition in both clips. He secured his weapons in his belt, took a deep breath and charged forward.

  He was within a few feet when one of them finally saw him. Wielding the ax, Jack hit the first one. It didn’t cut through, it jammed in the head and the zombie went down. Through his peripheral vision he caught another one coming. Fast, he grabbed the brad gun with his left hand, extended it out, popped a brad, and it sailed directly into the temple of the undead.

  She, too, dropped to the floor.

  Not letting go of the ax, Jack’s arm followed the weight of the zombie to the floor. Using his foot, he braced the zombie, lifted the ax from the skull, and tossed it hard. It sailed handle over blade, hitting the face of a charging undead, sinking straight through the flesh and bone.

  One more came at him, and with ease, using the power tool, Jack dropped him.

  Situation was secure. Bodies of the undead sprawled about the hallway, overlapping.

  The one with the facial ax still twitched. Jack removed the ax, put the brad gun flush against the flesh of the temple, and pulled the trigger.

  That did the trick.

  Jack grabbed the radio. “All clear, I’m going in. Watch the elevator for me and keep me posted of anything else. Over.”

  Saul released a brief sigh of relief when he saw Jack, via the security monitors; emerge from the office with the secretary. He nodded in gratefulness. Preparing to tell Jack that the elevator was clear, Saul felt his world sink as he watched monitor two. He had to tell Jack something else. The elevator was indeed clear, but he had to get to the lobby. Saul’s family was walking in the door.

  After radioing Jack, there wasn’t any hesitation in Saul. He grabbed one of the power tools and headed toward the security office door.

  “Where are you going?” Powers asked.

  “Up there.”

  “But Sgt. Edwards is there.�
�

  “Yes, well, as much as I trust him. My family’s fate has to be in my hands as well. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  Knowing he didn’t have much time, and even though things looked free and clear of the undead, Saul couldn’t take that chance. He rushed from the security of the basement.

  “Mom?” Sara whispered with question, holding Jerry on her hip as they entered the silent CDC building.

  “I know.”

  “Something is not right.”

  “I know.” Irma repeated, leading them to the security desk.” Where’s the guard?”

  The desk was tall, mid chest, and as Irma reached for the phone that sat on top, she saw the security guard, head down on the desk, surrounded by a pool of blood. “Oh, dear God.”

  Sara shrieked, just slightly, shielding the baby from the vision. “Mom? You think Dad is. ..”

  “Daddy’s fine, I feel it.” Irma again reached to lift the reviewer, doing so, over Sara’s should, she spotted her. “Oh, there’s Ashley. We’ll ask her if . . .” Irma noticed. Something was wrong.

  Barely did Sara have time to make a quizzical face at the lack of Irma’s finished question, that Ashley bolted over pummeling into Sara’s back and sinking her teeth into her shoulder.

  Had she not jolted Sara, Ashley would have gotten two for one and bitten Jerry as well. But the toddler toppled from Sara’s grip.

  It seemed in slow motion to Irma, she screamed out, hands extended, catching Jerry before he hit the ground. Fumbling with the toddler who began to scream in fear as well, Irma cried out.

  She didn’t know what to do.

  Sara calling, ‘Mom! Help me!’, the baby in her arms. Ashley attacking her own flesh and blood. Quickly, she darted around to the back of Sara, trying to block out the agonizing cries. Clutching Jerry, Irma reached with her other hand and pulled Ashley’s hair.

  Ashley wouldn’t budge.

  Irma tried as hard as she could, pulling and pulling, then through the corner of her eye, she caught Jack racing her way.