Insurgent Z: A Zombie Novel Read online

  “Trying to bite you? I—wait, do you think she has rabies? I’ve read that if you have rabies it can make you want to bite people.”

  “That’s possible, I guess. Never really given it much thought, but that could be the case.”

  “What about Eli. Do you think she hurt him, or worse?”

  “Eli gets up at 4 AM to start his fishing day. I’ll hop in the car and drive over there. If his boat’s gone, then he’s not going to have a clue as to what happened to his wife.”

  “What about Mrs. Jarreau? The phones are out, so we can’t call for an ambulance. There’s no way you’re going to leave her here with me. Just looking at her makes me afraid.”

  A shadow fell on Skylar’s peripheral. Something blocked the light coming in the front door. Skylar looked up and screamed. Troy rolled on his stomach with his arms outstretched and pistol pointed.

  Eli Jarreau had not gone fishing that morning. He was standing in the doorway. His left arm was missing the hand, and white bone stuck out from the elbow as if a wild animal had stripped it of flesh. Intestines hung from his abdomen and had been dragging on the ground leaving a trail of muck on the porch.

  Troy fired twice. One bullet missed. The other hit the zombie in the chest. The round had little effect. Eli stepped forward, dragging its intestines, and let out another of those God-awful moans.

  Skylar sprang up, and backed away, until she crashed into the set of fireplace tools by the wall.

  A shot to the chest like that would have dropped anyone. Feeling vulnerable, sprawled on the floor, Troy hopped on his knees and began to stand when the zombie reached out and grabbed the gun. Troy fired two more times as he struggled to free it, hitting a lamp made from a stuffed albino squirrel on a table.

  The zombie slipped on its intestines and stumbled to the floor. It retained its grip on the gun and pulled Troy alongside with it. The gun wrenched out of his hand during the fall.

  Troy had his arm pinned by the weight of his undead neighbor. The back of its head was against his face. The unnatural moans emanating from it rattled the inside of Troy’s chest. Teeth snapped into empty air. Some sort of goo mixed with bile poured from its mouth, wetting Troy’s arm, and giving off a terrible stench.

  That was more than he could handle. He felt his breakfast climb to his throat and force its way out.

  An iron poker came crashing down on the zombie’s skull. Troy pushed himself away as far as he could, as Skylar bashed the neighbor’s skull in. Bone crunched. Droplets of blood and brain fluid sprayed into the air, a complement to the sickening thunks and wet-sounding splatters.

  Troy felt the zombie’s grip relax. He jerked his arm free and rolled clear of the gory rain.

  Skylar continued her frenzied motion, pounding the zombie’s skull in.

  “He’s dead. I think he’s dead,” Troy called out.

  No response. The poker continued to rise and fall. Skylar wore a frozen expression of indifference on her face, as if her mind had gone somewhere else while she continued her relentless attack on her neighbor.

  “Sky!”

  The head now looked like a pile of raw hamburger meat that had been thrown up.

  A hand grabbed her wrist before she could bring the poker down again. “Sky. Stop. You can stop now.” Troy pried the poker from her grasp.

  She remained in a daze for a moment. Finally, she turned and pressed her head against his chest. Skylar let the tears flow and clung tightly to her husband.

  “It’s okay, honey. It’s okay.” Troy caressed the back of her hair and kissed her head. The smell of lavender from her shampoo mixed with the stench of the undead.

  After a few minutes, Skylar relaxed her embrace and stepped back. “What are we going to do? What’s happening?”

  “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I do know one thing. I’m getting these bodies out of our living room right now.”

  “I’ll help.”

  “No. I got this. Go get some stuff to clean up. I don’t give a damn about procedure. This is our house, and I want it cleaned now.” He picked up his pistol from the floor and returned it to the holster.

  With one final look at Eli Jarreau, Skylar nodded, and headed for the kitchen.

  The mess that Mrs. Jarreau left on the wall and ceiling was nothing compared to what was on the floor. It would just be easier to shovel up what remained of Eli’s head and put it in a garbage bag. So, that’s what Troy did, using the shovel from the fireplace tools, and the bag from the small trash can in the laundry room.

  After that task was complete, he wrapped the body in an old sheet, and pulled it outside on the porch. Moans of discontent startled him as he reached the porch’s edge.

  He turned and saw three stupefied people not far away ambling in his direction. Behind them, others followed.

  “Oh, my God.” He ran into the house. “Sky! There’s more! Come quick.”

  Skylar popped out from the kitchen, wearing purple cleaning gloves, and carrying a pail of soapy water.

  “Put that down! Get upstairs.”

  She let the pail slip from her grasp as the first zombie entered the doorway. It formed an expression that resembled agony mixed with delight.

  Troy grabbed her by the arm, pulled her in front of him, and pushed her toward the stairs. The first three zombies had entered the house by the time the couple made it to the sanctuary of the bedroom.

  The bedroom door slammed, and Troy pushed the button on the lock. “This is bad. This is really bad.”

  “Do you think they can get us in here?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what they’re capable of.”

  Glass breaking came from downstairs. Troy ran to the window that overlooked the back of the house. “They’re busting through the rear door. The Jarreau’s put up a better fight than I expected from people that old. Whatever’s wrong with them seems to make them stronger.”

  “How can they be sick and get stronger too?”

  “I don’t know. It must affect their brain somehow. It’s scrambled all their rationale. Crazy people, or people on drugs, get that way sometimes. They get super strong. Their brain no longer limits adrenaline, or something, to protect them. It’s all systems full speed ahead. Maybe that’s what’s happening to these people.”

  “So, we’re not safe here?”

  “Probably not. This is just a cheap-ass hollow core door that a twelve year old could punch through. Let’s move the dresser over.”

  Troy pulled as Skylar pushed the ancient cherry stained dresser toward the door.

  “Even this thing isn’t very solid. Probably made of particle board.” He wished he had come into some money sooner and had a new, heavier dresser to use as a barricade. A fist hit the door from the other side by Troy’s head right when he reached it. “Oh, shit. They’re here. Hurry up!”

  Cries and gurgles mixed with the now-familiar wailings of the stricken people. More fists pounded against the thin barrier, panic electrified the room.

  “They’re going to break through! We’re gonna die. We’re gonna die!” Skylar swooned and fell to one knee.

  Troy ran to the window and opened it. An asparagus fern in a rectangular pot drooped down past the plant shelf it set on. It was even with the windowsill. The shelf wasn’t designed to hold the weight of a person. It was old, but the hardware appeared to be in good shape. “Come here. We’re going to the roof.”

  Skylar didn’t hesitate to his call and hurried by his side. “How are we going to get on the roof?”

  “Stand on the plant shelf and pull yourself up.”

  “Is that thing going to hold me?”

  “I’m going to help support it.”

  A fist punched through the door. The fingers from the hand squirmed wildly as if to grab something.

  “We don’t have any other choice. Come on.” Troy tossed the fern to the ground and moved out of the way. Skylar backed into the window opening and sat on the windowsill. Then, he leaned out the window and placed a tight
grip on the shelf. “Okay, stand on the shelf and climb up.”

  She moved her legs and feet to the shelf as she clung to the window molding with her fingers. Her knees quivered as she stepped on Troy’s back and pulled herself to the roof.

  Troy exhaled loudly when her foot left the shelf, and he no longer had to help support her weight. The shelf didn’t give way much, which made him feel better about his chances.

  A hole had been punched in the middle of the door so big that he saw the crazed faces of the monsters trying to break in. Wood splintered on the door facing, and the dresser rocked.

  “You okay up there?”

  “Yes. Can I help you up?”

  Troy stuck his upper body through the window and twisted around so that he sat with his weight on the windowsill. Skylar looked from above with large, pleading eyes. He smiled. “I don’t think you can help.”

  The dresser skidded across the oak floors telling him time was almost out. He pulled his feet on the windowsill and grabbed onto the molding. With a grunt, he managed to stand. The roof was almost even with the top of his head, but his body was at an awkward angle. It would be an easy task if only he could take a step back and be able to jump straight up from the plant stand.

  “Grab my hand.” Skylar reached down.

  Troy unholstered his pistol and handed it to her. “Take this, now back away. I’m coming up.” The gun left his hand, and Troy made his move.

  The shelf felt solid as he tested it with his weight. He bent his knees and sprang upward. Immediately, the shelf tore from its brackets and crashed to the ground. Troy had managed to propel himself up to his chest with both elbows firmly on the roof. He brought his left leg onto the roof and was almost home free.

  A hand reached from the window and grabbed onto his boot. Troy nearly fell but redoubled his efforts to hang on. His fingers clawed desperately at the shingles for a hold. “They got me!”

  Skylar scooted over and held on to his hand, as Troy kicked to free himself. The thing that had him didn’t have a firm grip. It slipped off the boot and held on only by the shoestrings.

  With Skylar as an anchor, Troy managed to kick himself free and pull his leg up to safety. He took a minute to catch his breath. Skylar ran her fingers gently through his hair.

  “I . . . I think we’re okay. For now.” Troy sat up and brushed the aggregate from the roof off the side of his face. A mass of people, young and old, had invaded his yard. Some were children. All lurched about with a slow, unsure gait. From his vantage point, he could see a broken trail of more heading toward the house. “These people are from the Azalea Gardens trailer park down the road. Whatever happened to the Jarreaus, happened to them, too.”

  “What do you think it is making them act this way? Something like the flu, something airborne?”

  “God, I hope not. That means we’re sure to be next. I don’t think its rabies, and something about all of this just doesn’t add up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” Troy paused and wiped his nose, “the eyes. Mrs. Jarreau, Eli too, both had a strange look to them. I’ve . . . I’ve seen it before.”

  “Before? When?”

  Troy turned his gaze to Skylar. “The dead. I’ve seen that same look in dead people. It creeps me out every time I have to deal with a dead body. There isn’t anything behind the eyes. These things here affect me the same way.”

  “They’re not dead, they’re alive. It must be something else.”

  “I was close enough to both of them when we were struggling. I was huffing like a freight train during the fight. I didn’t see them breathing at all. Even when I was on the floor with Eli, I never felt his chest move.”

  Skylar gasped. “This is from the Bible. This is the end of the world!”

  “I don’t think this is the end of the world, honey. There haven’t been any plagues, or four horsemen riding through the sky. It would have been on the news.”

  “The Bible says that in the last days, the dead will rise.”

  Troy raised his hands. “Let’s think this out. I don’t see anyone down there now dressed in some burial outfit. These are just regular people that were going about their daily business when something happened to them. These aren’t the resurrected dead like in the Bible.”

  She thought a moment, and nodded. “Still, things aren’t looking good for us. We’re trapped up here with no food, no water, between the hot sun and a bunch of blood thirsty maniacs.”

  After mentioning the sun, Troy became aware that it was burning into the back of his neck. He had lost his cap during the first struggle. “Let’s move to the front of the house. There’s a little bit of shade on the corner from that pine tree.”

  As the two climbed to the other side, the zombies below followed them. Most had gathered right under the roof where they sat. Their arms lifted in an unholy invitation to come down and join them.

  “We’re fucked,” Skylar said.

  Troy couldn’t help but chuckle. Skylar had to be pretty frustrated to use a word like that. He looked down the road and got a delightful surprise. “Maybe not, look!” He stood and pointed at the truck speeding down the road.

  “What? A car? Do you think they can see us?”

  This was better than he hoped. Nothing short of a prayer answered. It was Sheriff Mason. “It’s the sheriff! He’s coming here to find us!”

  “Thank the Lord. Thank the Lord.” Skylar jumped up and down on her tiptoes and clapped her hands. “How’s he going to rescue us? There must be 30 or 40 of those things down there.”

  “He’ll figure something out.” Troy’s hopes dipped some. Mason wouldn’t be carrying more bullets than what was in his gun and one spare clip. He was down to three bullets and a clip. They would have to get a kill for each shot even to have a chance of escape.

  The truck slowed and turned up the driveway. It swerved left and right avoiding bodies, although Troy thought that might be one way to take more of the monsters out. He knew though that Mason couldn’t risk damaging the truck, not unless it was a final option.

  “What’s he going to do?” Skylar asked as she waved her arms.

  “I’m not sure.” Troy moved to the edge of the roof and waved his arms wildly.

  Mason turned and drove parallel to the front of the house. His window was down, and he gave them a thumbs-up as he sped around the side.

  Troy climbed up to the top of the roof, and followed the truck, as it made a complete circle around the house.

  Mason returned to the front and hollered out the window. “Go to the back! Go to the back!” He continued around the side again.

  Skylar carefully climbed up to meet Troy. Just as he grabbed onto her hand, four shotgun blasts rang out.

  Mason had already come to a stop and dropped three zombies. “Get down here! Most of them are in the front!”

  It was a good 20 feet to the bottom from the roof. Troy helped Skylar down to the lattice at the roof’s edge to begin her climb down. She had bitched and moaned for two weeks before he gave in and built that thing for her ivy to grow on. He was glad he had given in now. She was halfway down when two more gun blasts went off.

  “Hurry up! They’re coming!” Mason yelled, before dropping two more.

  Troy lowered his legs and held onto the roof. He reached one hand out and gripped the lattice. Then, let go of the roof with the other hand and latched it on to the lattice, too.

  He had descended a few feet before the lattice broke free from the house and bent forward. Skylar had just reached the ground and rolled to the side when she saw Troy falling toward her.

  Fortunately, the lattice was flexible enough that Troy essentially rode it slowly to the ground. It didn’t break until his feet hit the earth.

  “Move it! Move it! Move it!” Mason had one of his pistols up and blasted away in a Weaver stance. Zombie heads exploded like water balloons at the carnival.

  Skylar climbed in the back door, and Troy ran to the passenger’s side.

&n
bsp; Mason backed his way to the truck and got in. He threw it into gear and ran over two zombies that had just turned from around the corner.

  The passengers’ heads nearly hit the roof as the tires mashed meat and crunched bone. One of the back tires spun in mashed up guts, abruptly jerking the truck. Once past that, it was smooth sailing toward the road, as Mason swung wide through the pasture to avoid the undead menace.

  Chapter 11

  It Rolls Down Hill

  Hart turned back to the serviceman who informed him of the jailbreak at Paradis. His bottom lip covered his top lip in a frown. “Private, who called from the prison?”

  The young man’s face went blank for a moment, and then he said, “He didn’t identify himself, sir.”

  “You don’t know who called? What if the call was a prank? I just gave out the lockdown order. What in blazes did this guy say?”

  “He . . . he asked to speak to that, ‘low life, good for nothing, Colonel Hart,’ sir.”

  “Burl,” Hart said to himself. “What next?”

  “He said the inmates were dropping like flies and are waking up pissed. That’s when he said they were breaking out of jail and attacking the guards. He asked for backup, sir. I heard gunshots, and then the call ended.”

  Hart pointed a wrinkled finger at Lieutenant Reid. “How many men can we spare?”

  “No more than ten, Colonel.”

  “Get them to Paradis, ASAP. Tell them to arm to the teeth and to kill any resisters. The troops will be grossly outnumbered and can’t afford to take any chances.”

  “Yes, sir.” Reid saluted and headed for the door.

  Gottlieb had become a piece of furniture by the wall. His eyes shifted from left to right as his gaze transfixed to the floor.

  Hart waited for the doctor to come up for air. When he’d used up his last ounce of patience waiting, he stepped over, and bellied up to Gottlieb.

  The scientist broke free of his trance with a start.