Zombie Revolution Read online

  “I think you’re right.” Damon said into the black speaker.

  “We could take one of these turns and see what we find, but that would be a waste of fuel if we don’t find anything useful.”

  “Nah, I don’t want to venture too far. I want to get to the prison before dark, and don’t want to get stranded.”

  “Lead on then.” Harper grunted through the walkie-talkie. Damon set the black walkie-talkie in the cup holder. Just as soon as they rolled in Eagle, they were on their way out. He checked the directions again and figured they had another hour and half before they got to the prison. The clock in the dash read 11:00AM. At least they would be able to get some work done before the sun fell.

  Chapter 16

  The truck rolled down a dusty highway and parked in front of a sign that read LIMON CORRECTIONAL FACILITY. They finally had arrived to their destination by the time the sun hung askew in the pale blue sky. The evergreen trees and mountains had given way to cinnamon tipped grass and dust. The prison was huge and surrounded by ample chain-link ready to be donated to Damon’s cause. He wished briefly that he had more men to get the job done. It was going to take them longer than a day to gather the amount they needed.

  Damon was surprised at the design of the prison; it wasn’t the stereotypical block shaped fortress with gargantuan gray walls made from the thickest stone. The red brick tower loomed over the diamond shaped compound in silence. Damon raised his chin to the octagon shaped window that wrapped around the tower for a 360o view of the compound. The thick windowpane was shattered and lay on the pavement below in thousands of glittering pieces. The cause of the damage laying amongst them, a man dressed in a brown guard uniform. His head was a dried raisin. Damon could only guess at what happened at the prison after zombies started walking the planet. Damon turned his gaze away from the body to get a better look at the compound. Behind the tower two walls jutted off at right angles and connected two smaller towers. All were constructed with the small red brick. The entire area was surrounded by tall fencing that Damon intended to take. He clapped his hands together. “Alright, I think it’s time we start this.” He said inside the cab. Damon and Harper pulled the trailers next to the ten foot high fencing topped with another foot of razor wire. He pushed the red button again. “Let’s do a quick drive around the compound to make sure the coast is clear.” They hopped out and dropped the trailers.

  “Ten-four good buddy.” Riley replied through the black speaker. With the blazer in tow of the Silverado, Damon circled the diamond shaped complex. As soon as the truck turned around the western corner of the prison, Damon’s hope for a humdrum event was dashed. At the edge of the grounds were two metal storage sheds. The one of the right was small about half the size of his garage, which Damon figured housed the landscaping equipment. On the left was another shed that stood probably five feet taller and was three times the size and was surrounded by about fifty zombies. More than the mechanic wanted to deal with today. He slapped his calloused hand down his face thinking the same word Chloe muttered. He snatched up the walkie-talkie again and squeezed the button. “Looks like we’d better clean house first.”

  “Yup.” Riley responded. Damon didn’t have to see the marine’s face to know he was smiling. Chloe shifted in the front seat. Her emerald eyes studied the mass of zombies pawing over one another to get into the metal building. The dead hands pounded so loudly the two could hear it in the Silverado. Only a handful of stragglers noticed their presence and changed direction for the vehicles. The shambling zombies wiggled and lurched in line like a sick dance video. Damon was surprised when Michael Jackson didn’t pop out and scream “THRILLER!” Chloe finally said “I wonder what’s in that shed they want so badly.” Her voice was quiet while she continued to stare.

  “Don’t know, don’t care. I just want to get the shit and go.” He handled the walkie again. “Don’t suppose you want to volunteer to run those bastards down do ya? Good way to save ammunition and now we have a use for your big ass truck.”

  It was Harper who responded this time. His voice rough and deep like usual. “Well, alright. Sounds like a plan.” He said slowly. Damon could never tell if he was excited about a plan or not. He usually just went along without questioning it. Harper steered the big blazer around the Silverado and revved the engine. The blazer tore off leaving Damon in a choking cloud of dust. He heard the rocks spray his windshield. The mechanic shifted the truck into drive and followed Harper at a slower pace so not to enter the fray blindly.

  After the dust cleared he saw the blazer mowing zombies down mercilessly. They fell left and right in front of the four foot high bumper. Skulls were crushed by the dozens under then 44 inch Super Swampers. Dark blood smeared over the ground and over the matte gray spray paint on the blazer. Damon watched as Harper turned the blazer around for another go. A troop of zombies stood defiantly in front of the blazer. The big marine revved the engine again, exhaust plumed from the tail pipe. He hit the gas and slammed into them sending them flying like broken birds through the dry air. Damon saw Riley lurch forward in the passenger seat, and he thought he heard a WooHoo from the walkie. More zombies ventured out to the path but not far enough away from the shed for Harper to run over. The blazer teetered over a stack of zombies on its way back to starting position. Before the big marine could have another go, Damon pressed the button again. “Stop with the crunching. It’s taking too long and I don’t want you to roll over.”

  “Come on Damon this is easier than shooting fish in a barrel.” Riley pleaded.

  “Don’t you want some target practice? I bet you’re getting rusty.”

  “Am not! Harper, turn this bitch around.” Riley’s voice faded as he sat the walkie down. Damon watched as Harper steered the blazer away from the mess he made and came towards them. Red goo slipped and slopped to the dead grass from the wheel wells as the tires turned. Harper pulled the blazer behind the Silverado. “What now, Boss?” Riley asked through the speaker.

  Damon felt awkward when Riley called him that. He didn’t think of himself as a boss. “Shoot the rest.” He said unlatching his seatbelt. He opened the door, got out and stuffed the pistol in his pants and hefted the shotgun in his right arm. “Stay in the truck.” He said to the teenager.

  “As if I would let you three have all the fun.” She said already opening the door, and then she was gone. She trotted back to blazer and waited for Riley to jump out of the passenger side. At least the height of the vehicle made him use the door instead of the window.

  Damon swore but didn’t argue. It was hard living with the new teen at times. He took another look at the advancing zombies before joining the others back at the blazer. Riley’s footsteps echoed on the blazer’s fiberglass topper as he positioned the sniper rifle. Effortlessly, the marine took out even the most shaking and wobbling zombie in the bunch. He fired the gun again. He inhaled puffing his chest out. “Aaahhh…I love that smell in the morning.” He sniffed again. “Oh not that smell…” He already caught the scent of the dead. Damon could smell them too, and he nodded up to Riley. The tall marine fired a few more times before climbing down from the roof, trading his sniper rifle for his M16.

  The four of them moved as one advancing line to stand against the groaning zombies. More had made their way around the shed and joined the crowd heading towards the group. Damon underestimated the number of the dead. It was well passed fifty. Harper and the blazer had killed a vast majority of them. They moved at the group of rippling waves of dark colors. The closer they got to the zombies; Damon wished that they would have just run them all down regardless of how long it would have taken. More zombies were turning towards them. Most were dried up husks of meat, looking more like beef jerky than corpses. The maggots didn’t even want them anymore. Their decaying bodies moved slower than the freshly turned zombies, which worked to the group’s advantage. Riley and Harper started firing as soon as most of them were in range. He could scarcely hear the chorus of moans over the rifle fire. Chloe fl
inched but only for a second, and then lined up her first shot. Head shot. Good girl. Damon thought to himself as he raised his own weapon. It was time he got in on the action. Damon had a feeling at the end of this there would be a, I killed more than you contest. Damon pulled the trigger aiming for the mangled face of an advancing inmate. It was tall, broad shouldered with short cropped hair. It was once a man, he surmised, even though there was hardly a face remaining. In the blink of an eye, or a shotgun blast, it was gone.

  More zombies fell under the deafening blasts of gun fire. Bodies piled up and zombies tripped over dead ones trying to get to them only to meet the same fate. When the last shot was fired the group stood in front of the flesh barricade. Damon waited for his ears to stop ringing, “At least that’s done.” He barely could hear himself talk.

  “Good shooting.” Riley said to Chloe, slapping her on the back. The teen glimmered with pride from the compliment, flashing a bright smile at the tall marine and then to Damon. Told you so, was what her face said to Damon.

  “Thanks. Same to you.” Chloe nudged Riley in the gut.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Harper interjected. “I killed more than he did.”

  Riley’s mouth dropped open. “Ta hell you did. You were hitting the shed the whole time.”

  “You know I’m a better shot.” Harper joked. His deep voice rumbled over the dusty plains.

  “Yeah fucking right.” Damon pushed the two from behind. “Shit! Does it really fucking matter?” He pushed through the space between them. “We got more important things to worry about.”

  Harper shook his head. Riley bent down to Chloe. “I guess we know who hit the shed the most...Sorry Harper.” Chloe snickered and followed closely behind Damon with the marines trailing behind like a looming shadow. “Don’t make me regret taking you.”

  “I won’t. Could you stop worrying?” Too late . The group had to pass over the stack of bodies, breaking one of Damon’s fateful rules. Don’t walk over the presumed dead bodies of zombies. Damon nearly jumped out of his skin when he leapt over the stack. He turned waiting for Chloe inwardly biting his nails. She hopped scotched over the backs and heads of decomposing bodies. Stepping on the back of a damn-near fully dismembered inmate, Chloe felt the rotten spine snap and give way. When she shifted her weight to regain her footing she tripped over the arm of another. The uneven pile made it impossible for the teenager to stay on her feet. Before she knew it, she was lying flat on a pile of stinky zombies. She felt movement from the beneath her. The teen let out a yelp and scrambled forward, her hand caved into the torso of what used to be a guard. She didn’t stop. Damon reached her for, and he clasped his hand over her goo covered wrist and yanked her to him. A scream left her throat when she felt something grab her left ankle. She shook her leg violently, but the grip was a vise. A shot rang out. Screaming, Chloe felt the grip slack. Chloe was clutched against Damon’s heaving chest, and the body of a smallish kind of man laid sprawled out with his arm outstretched towards the teen. A red hole was drilled into the back of his once blond head. Damon’s eyes met those of Harper. A wisp of smoke snaked out of the barrel of his rifle. His eyes were haunted by the danger they were all in, Damon didn’t need to hear the words Harper would never speak because they were being said inside his own skull.

  “Eeew! It got its goo on me.” Chloe interrupted his mental thoughts with her complaints. She desperately tried to wipe away the blood on her jeans.

  Damon swallowed his anger with unknown strength. “Chloe…” He choked out. His voice was raspy but filled with warning.

  “Sorry. I know that was really, really close.” She looked to Harper who was crunching his way over the bodies. “Thanks, Harper!” A skull turned to dust under his heavy boot with a poof. He gave the teen a stiff nod. Chloe ran to him and gave him a tight hug around his thick waist and received a pat on the back in return.

  “Anything for you, Chloe.” His deep voice said when he let her go. The fatherly instinct to protect her overwhelmed him at times, this time included, even though she wasn’t his biological child.

  Riley bounced over the stack of zombies with his long legs acting like he was holding a dress. Even as he joked the marine’s eyes never left the pile of bodies.

  Clang! Clang! Metal rang in Damon’s ears. Four guns snapped up to the metal door of the building ready for more zombies to come spilling out. No move was made or sound uttered. Clang! Clang! Clang! “Anyone out there?!”

  Chapter 17

  Damon was just as shocked as the others when he heard the voice. “Come on I know someone’s out there!” It shouted. “You kill ‘em all Homes?!”

  Snapping out of his daze Damon spoke. “You infected?” He asked awkwardly, not sure what question to ask first. So many questions ran through his brain.

  “Nah we ain’t infected. You gonna let us out of here or what Ese?” By his smooth Latin accent Damon could tell the man that was talking was definitely was Latino.

  Riley stepped up to the door. “Why don’t you let yourselves out?” “The door’s jammed! Probably from all those maggot bags that were out there! Now you ain’t gonna shoot us when the door gets open?”

  Damon shouldered his shotgun and walked closer to the door. He looked back at Riley and Harper who didn’t lower their weapons. They gave him a quick nod. “That depends. You try anything, and my friends will put you out faster than jackrabbit on a hot day.” He thought again. “How many are there of you?”

  “Three, now hurry up we’re going loco in here, man.” He turned to the guys. “Cover me.” Damon handled the latch and strained his muscles against the door. He heard metal groan as he inched the door open. He pulled harder, veins spidered up his neck. Finally the door came free. Light spilled into the dark abyss. A short black haired man with golden brown skin stood in the doorway no taller than Damon’s chin. Under his left eye was a tattoo of a tear, and the Virgin Mother was tattooed on his right bicep. He had a tribal tattooed up his neck and onto his left cheek. He squinted his dark brown eyes against the blinding light and took a step forward.

  “Come out slowly!” Riley warned taking a step at him with his rifle raised.

  The inmate stopped. “Hey, hey. I thought we had a deal, Homes.”

  “You’d be the first to know if we started shooting.” Riley said smartly.

  Damon ignored the marine and kept his eyes on the inmate. “What’s your name?” He broke eye contact with Riley and shrugged his thin shoulders. “9354110, Marco Valenzuela,” He looked Damon over smiling at the black leather. “You must be the leader of this biker gang, huh?”

  Damon laughed slightly. “Gotta stay safe any way we can. I’m Damon Marshall. That smartass over there is Riley and the big guy is Harper-”

  “And I’m Chloe…” The teen interrupted, saluting with her pistol. “No sarcastic comments about my age or the fact that I’m a girl.” She slanted her eyes. “Or you’ll be sorry.” Marco held up his hands in surrender not wanting to anger the teenager.

  “Who else you got in there?” Two other men appeared in the blue and white doorway, each one looking rougher than the next. The first inmate stood over six feet tall even with his hunchback like posture. He looked more like a scarecrow than a man, in Chloe’s opinion. His greasy black hair hung in strings around his gaunt face. Black eyes darted between the live bodies until they landed hungrily on Chloe. Damon quick glanced at Harper and Riley without the inmate seeing. Each nodded in agreement. They were going to have to watch him. The inmate looked away from Chloe when Riley stepped protectively in between her and the inmate. The tall marine helped Chloe back over pile of zombies before the last inmate was introduced. The next convict was rough to say the least. He was hunched over clutching his abdomen; every step was an obvious challenge. The sun hit his gray skin as he winced heaving himself up to look at Damon. His blue eyes were glassy. Damon could see the pain in them. He scanned the young man and noticed a dark spot on his green jumpsuit.

  Marco pointed at t
he tall scarecrow. “This is Vincent and that over there is James.” The one known as James heard the rifle click as a round entered the chamber and his eyes shot open. His hands flew in the air. “Don’t shoot! I’m not infected.” Damon didn’t believe him and neither did Harper. “I’m not! I’m not!” His left knee collapsed under him. He sent up a cloud of dust when he hit the earth.

  “Whatcya bleeding for then?” Damon waved Harper off for now. The injured inmate’s chest heaved his eyes closed briefly. “Well when the shit hit the fan inside the pen. I fucked up my ankle climbing out a window. I hit the ground hard but had to keep moving. Those fuckers don’t stop yanno. I had to make it over that fence over there.” He elusively pointed to the far fence to Damon’s right. “Anyway the razor wire got me when I was going over. Right in the gut. As you can see I didn’t get very far.” He looked at Marco and Vincent. “We didn’t get very far.”

  “Yeah I saw the poor bastard crawling on the ground and drug ‘em into the shed. Vincent was already here when we showed up. There were too many of those deaders to make a getaway. We planned to each find a car and go our separate ways when they forgot about us. But they never did.”

  Damon dropped his head. “They never do. You guys the only ones who made it out?” “Can’t be sure. Everyone that tried getting out the same time as I did turned into one of those things. I never looked back. Probably some are in that big ass pile.”

  James pulled himself back to his feet after trying to get help from Vincent but got nothing more than a cold shoulder. “What do we do now? You guys got some place to go? I mean what brought you guys way out here?”