“Oh, fuck me running!” Reynolds said.
I echoed his sentiment in my head.
There had to be fifty of them massed around the remains of the barricade. Bodies were pressing against the corners and they weren’t interested in the fence, because they were eating — Fucking eating — the soldiers.
“Oh no you don’t!” Reynolds yelled.
He started shooting. The booming of his assault rifle was ridiculously loud. Joel Kelly took a wide stance and also started popping guys in the head, neck, and body. He practically ripped a guy’s arm off with a couple of shots, then a beauty of a blast took the guy right through the temple as he tried to turn on us.
I raised my own gun to take aim, and then I couldn’t pull the trigger. The uniformed person that fell under my aim was a woman about my age. She was slight and had a head of blonde hair. I would have given her a second and third look if we passed each other on the street.
Now she was covered in her own blood—or someone else’s. Her shirt was ripped away, revealing lots of pale flesh, but I was not interested in the slightest. One of her breasts was practically torn away. Talk about the opposite of a little blue pill.
I turned to gag. Kelly, seeing me in distress, shot her twice. The first shot was off to her shoulder but he snapped the gun up and put one through her nose. She collapsed without a sound.
“Fuck this!” That was it for me. I shuddered in revulsion and considered jumping back into the ocean.
“Get it together, man!” Joel Kelly said, and I thought he was going to hit me.
Reynolds stayed in the fight and fired as quickly as he could focus in on targets. Joel moved to assist, so I decided it was time to man the fuck up.
I put an advancing soldier that slobbered and drooled blood between my cross hairs and shot him three times. The first two went to his chest; those just backed him up. I knew how this shit worked, so I shot him in the head as my brain caught up with the rest of my body.
Then a tide of them came at us. It was like the flood gates had opened. Holy shit, there were a lot of the undead bastards. They poured out of buildings, side roads, out of stopped vehicles, and God knew where else. I said a prayer, but Joel had a better idea.
“Fall back. Let’s head for the barracks.”
Reynolds followed him but I took a few seconds to shoot the lead Z a couple of times, and then my gun ran empty. I pulled the trigger on the Smith and Wesson but it just clicked. Kelly was the one to break me out of my daze by smacking me upside the head.
“Don’t touch me!” I screamed.
“Get your head in the game, man. Let’s go!”
He was right. There were ten or fifteen of them for each one of us and more coming. The only thing stopping them from overrunning our position were the remains of the barricade. We could make a valiant stand and take a shit load of them with us.
Or we could do something else. We could haul ass.
We did the latter.
12:25 hours approximate
Location: Undead Central, San Diego CA — Roz’s Place
It’s been a week since that day, and I still think about it maybe more than everything else that’s happened since. But I’ll have to get to that later.
Joel’s back from his little trip to Fortress and he isn’t alone. He brought a couple of teenagers with him. Were these the little shits that broke into our house?
Joel had knocked on the door three times and then once. He’d paused and done it again, so Roz opened the door. She took one look at him and at the two dirty faced behind him, and she didn’t seem annoyed or put out at all. She just motioned for them to come inside.
Roz took one look at them and motioned for them to join us.
“Fortress?” I asked.
“Gone, but we got bigger problems.”
“Bigger? What’s bigger than losing our home?”
“Losing everything. That’s a hell of a lot bigger.”
“What do you mean?”
Joel turned to the kids — a boy and girl — and nodded. The girl was fifteen at the most. She tried to look brave but she was a mess. Her hair was a pale bird’s nest that pointed in every direction. The boy was older by a few years and he was well armed. He had a small bat slung over his back. The strap was a piece of rope but I noticed right away it would be easy to swing it under his arm and have it at the ready.
He had a pair of knives tucked into his belt and a snub nose revolver in a holster at his waist. Call this kid Dirty Harry.
“I’m Christie and this is Craig.”
“Hey.” Craig nodded.
He had a deep voice for such a skinny kid. If he weighed a buck ten I’d be surprised. But he was gangly and I bet he could swing that little baseball bat with devastating force. They were both dressed in clothes that had seen better days a week ago. Now they were practically rags and covered in dirt. Neither one smelled all that great, but who was I to judge? Joel and I had lived in our own sweat for ten or eleven days now.
“So you took over our home?”
“Wasn’t us. Someone came before and searched it. We just moved in after they left. Thought you guys were gone.”
“Was that you I heard rummaging around the night before?”
“Yeah. Sorry about that. We were so hungry but we waited until you were gone. We were just going to eat some food and leave, but the other guys got there first. Not us. We went in later. Got a few scraps.”
Roz went to the kitchen and cracked open some packages. She brought them both bottled water and a “meal ready to eat” apiece. They tore into it like it was a number 3 at McDonalds.
“So who took our shit?”
“Some dudes that looked like they were ready for war. Looked tougher than you guys.”
Joel burst into laughter.
“We do alright,” I protested.
Craig looked us over but clearly wasn’t impressed.
I stared at the kid for a minute while that processed. A helicopter overhead rattled the windows, giving me a scare and a half.
Joel moved to the window and cracked open the blinds to look up. He craned his neck around but shook his head after a few seconds.
“We’re saved?” I asked Joel.
“Can’t tell, man, but it can’t be worse than a city full of fucking zombies.”
Roz ‘hmphed’ and looked toward the kids.
“Sorry. Gosh darned zombies.”
Both of the young ones snickered.
“What else could it be?” I asked.
The answer to that question would come soon because Joel was gearing up, and that meant we were going to reconnoiter. I thought about my swollen ankle and decided that if he was going out, I was going along as well. Enough of this sitting around.
I’d have to wrap it tight and take my chances, because I was not letting the Marine go out there without me. I’ll finish up the story of how we got off the base and founded Fortress later.
This is Machinist Mate First Class Jackson Creed and I am still alive.
Fight and Flight
19:45 hours approximate
Location: Undead Central, San Diego CA — Roz’s Roof
Supplies
Food: a few protein bars
Weapons: almost zip
Worst. Day. Ever.
My dad was a big guy who didn’t talk much. He was in the Army and told me that the military wasn’t the best place for a kid like me. He said I’d be better suited for a blue-collar job like construction or sanitation where I didn’t have someone constantly telling me when to wipe my ass. I said that would be funny if I was in sanitation. He smacked me upside the head.