Joel leapt on top of a HUMVEE and fired while we stayed behind cover. He took out a few but they were gaining on our tired asses. I was so tired I seriously considered just becoming one of them so I wouldn’t have to be scared and exhausted any more.
I scrambled up the side of a transport and swung myself onto the roof. I’d fired my last round and hefted my wrench. The first shuffler that came after me got a face full of steel.
Walowitz and Gunny dove into a transport and shut the door. The vehicle was soon surrounded. Joel and I backed up as Gunny saluted us. A few seconds later the engine roared to life and they backed up. Gunny rolled down the window an inch and shouted at us. “Try for the park in two days at eleven PM.”
His truck came to a halt as more and more of them piled on. He shrugged, saluted again, and roared into the crowd. Gunny rolled down his window a few more inches, stuck out his arm, and pounded the side of the cab. “Come on you fuckers!” he yelled.
We didn’t wait around to see how far he got.
Reynolds and another Marine joined us as we crawled on top of trucks and then slid down the other sides. The Marine — whose name may have been Jonas — slipped and fell off the side of a truck. He cried out, but before we could get him he was covered in Z’s.
They were on all sides now as we stood in the flatbed of a truck that had been used as some kind of transport. Joel tossed his gun and picked up another. I found a handgun but didn’t pay attention to the make. I just yanked it out of an unused holster, ignoring the corpse it was attached to, and shot the first dead fuck that fell under my sights.
Reynolds kicked one in the face but she latched onto his leg and her mouth darted in to bite him. I thought the fabric of his camo gear may have protected him, but he kicked her again and backed up in horror.
“We are so screwed!” Joel said.
The rest had reached the truck. A hundred clawing hands on every side.
I don’t know if it was the stress of the dying Marines, the loss of Gunny, or just the culmination of the entire day. More than likely, it was the bite. Reynolds got this wild look in his eye and told us to get ready.
I thought he meant that we should get ready to die. Reynolds grabbed a bandolier covered in green balls and slung it around his waist. He took a couple off and handed them to Joel.
Joel Kelly took them and flipped Reynolds a questioning look, then shot a Z in the face.
Reynolds ran to the end of the flat bed and leapt like he was going to crowd-surf. His fingers worked at his belt as he went, and when he came off the truck he left behind a tinkling pile of clips.
“DOWN!” Joel yelled and pushed me to the floor.
It was the most incredible act of heroism I have ever seen. Reynolds threw himself into the maelstrom and saved us.
The blast was immense. What was left wasn’t fit to bury. It would need to be scooped up and burned.
We used the explosion as cover and ran through the fresh passageway. When a pair of the dead came around a corner, Joel blasted one in half and then threw the empty assault rifle at the other. I didn’t look, but I knew Joel was close to losing it.
Joel and I ran until I was gasping for air and shaking like a leaf. We’d left the mass behind but we were in a new part of the city, somewhere I’d never seen before.
An hour later we found the partially boarded up two-story house and founded Fortress.
05:45 hours approximate
Undead Central, San Diego CA — Roz’s Roof
That’s enough for today. It’s early morning and I’d love to get some more shuteye, but the sun is rising. One of the shufflers keeps throwing himself at the side of the garage. I wish Joel would get up and shoot the fucker between the eyes.
Craig and Christy look miserable. They’ve already eaten the few snacks they managed to get out of the house. I didn’t say anything, but I had nothing stashed in my bag except this log, a few magazines, and my wrench.
Noise to the north. I think it’s a chopper. If it comes anywhere near us, I’m giving up the hiding technique and jumping up and down like a maniac.
This is Machinist Mate First Class Jackson Creed and I am still alive.
Free Ride
11:25 hours approximate
Location: Undead Central, San Diego CA — Roz’s Roof
Supplies:
Food: zip
Weapons: almost zip
Attitude: messy
I tried to sleep. Tried.
It was a losing battle. The moment I closed my eyes all I heard were the dead. They milled, staggered, walked into the garage wall, and every five to ten minutes a shuffler launched itself at the roof.
The truth was that I was too damn scared to sleep. If I were really tired enough I’d have dozed off hours ago. Instead, adrenalin kicked my nerves up a notch. A side effect was that I felt like shit. My muscles ached from being clenched and my mind was filled with all the horrible things I’d seen over the course of two weeks. From a narrow escape aboard the USS McClusky to fighting for our lives in the very garage we were stranded on, and all of the terrible shit in between.
Roz huddled up next to Joel Kelly. I didn’t take it as a slight, even though I’d saved her life. Joel had saved my life quite a few times and I’d saved his. I think. Yeah, I probably pulled his ass out of a few bad situations. Kinda hard to survive in this ridiculous world if you aren’t helping keep your best buddy from becoming zombie chow.
She didn’t exactly invite him she just happened to lay down next to him. Joel was snoring away and rolled onto his side. She was close and they ended up with their arms over each other. How she could sleep through his snoring was beyond me. How any of us could sleep.
I didn’t get jealous. Why should I? It’s not like she and I were together. We had that little hug and ass grab yesterday in the garage, but we both thought we were about to die. Even if we had made it back inside, I doubted I had the balls to go after her. They were too busy being shrunk up inside my gut in fear.
I rolled over again and tried to fix the lumps that made up my backpack. Then I tried to doze on my arm but it fell asleep. I rolled onto my stomach and got a face full of leaves and dirt. If I wasn’t mistaken, there was even a layer of moss up here that I was now inhaling.
“Can you eat moss?” I asked, voice low.
“Gross, dude,” Craig said.
“I’m starving, man and pretty soon a bowl of moss stew might look good to you too,” I said. “Maybe a bowl of moss stew with pork belly to add some salt.”
“Pork belly? Sounds just as gross,” he whispered back.
“It’s just another name for bacon.”
“I’d kill a guy for some bacon.”
My stomach rumbled in response.
Hours passed and I may have dozed. My ankle ached like a bitch and the rest of my body wasn’t much better. The next time I run into a fucking zombie apocalypse, I plan to bring some serious painkillers to the party. Not to mention a duffle bag filled with Twinkies and MREs. Yeah, I’d eat the hell out of some MREs right now.
We had quite a few of them. The problem? They were in a house filled with the dead, so that idea was just as fucking dead. Going back into the house wasn’t happening unless we figured out a way to go in Ironman-style, complete with metal suit and weaponry. The way these undead assholes acted, they’d probably drag us down, iron suit or not.
I don’t remember when, but I finally fell asleep and got an hour or two of REM. Good for fucking me.
06:00 hours approximate