Zombie Dawn Exodus (22 page)

“There’s a bed, hey, it looks like a patient is in
there,” he said.

“I don’t like this, don’t like it one bit,” said
Greg from the doorway.

Jackson held his hand up to his mouth and whispered
to the other two.

“Listen, they’ve started the diversion.”

The sound of trucks’ engines was coming from the
direction of the main entrance and was quickly followed by gunfire,
presumably from Ford and the rest of the decoy unit. A loud clatter
from a heavy weapon indicated somebody was using machinegun
fire.

“Greg, check on the door, we don’t want any
company,” said Jackson whilst he continued trying to open the
cubicle door.

Jonathan continued reading the data on the computer
screen. The reserve power said it was on sixty seven percent, but
seemed to be dropping quite fast. He read down the chart and lists
of figures until he reached a small menu. At the top was a status
option, it was already highlighted, presumably showing the figures
further up. Below the button were two more options offering
security and support. He pressed the security button and the screen
immediately changed to a map of the downtown area.

“Hey, I’ve got something, look!” he said.

Jackson ran over, looking at the data intently. The
screen showed the warehouse area off to one side and the port area
and part of the downtown in the rest. Above the warehouse was a
designation, it said Section 3A. At the top of the screen was a
green diamond that was moving quickly down and towards the
warehouse.

“What’s this?” he asked.

Outside a loud noise signalled the arrival of
another vehicle. Almost as soon as the sound started three holes
opened up in the warehouse.

“Fuck, there’s a helicopter out there. It’s dropping
off a security unit,” shouted Greg from the doorway.

A series of bullet holes appeared along the
wall.

“Fuck, get down!” shouted Jackson as he checked his
Heckler & Koch MP7.

Greg dropped to the ground and started crawling over
to the other two. A banging of somebody’s fist on the door got
their attention. It was immediately followed by a familiar
voice.

“Jackson, it’s Ford, are you in there?” he
asked.

“Get in here!” shouted Jackson as another series of
bullets struck near the entrance.

The door swung open and in ran a man in his fifties
plus two men carrying carbines. Once inside the two other men
pushed the door shut and moved into flanking positions. The older
man smiled at Jackson as he looked around.

“Ah, I see you’ve found my supplies,” he said.

“Supplies? I thought we were getting weapons?” asked
Jackson.

“These are weapons my friend,” he answered, as he
moved up to the computer screen.

More gunfire came from outside.

“What about them?” asked Jackson as he pointed
outside.

“We should be okay for a couple of minutes. We have
two dozen men keeping them busy on the perimeter,” he answered.

Ford pressed the small display and hit several
options until a new screen appeared. In the centre was a restart
button. Without hesitating he hit it and almost immediately half of
the equipment in the warehouse switched on. First to activate was
the main lighting, quickly followed by two of the computer
terminals.

“The power won’t last long but it’s all we need,”
said Ford.

“I don’t understand,” said Greg as he watched.

“It’s pretty simple,” said Ford, as he walked over
to the nearest cubicle.

“The company has been working on some horrific
projects since the outbreak, some of them before then. I’ve
suspected for some time they were doing this though.”

“Doing what?” asked Greg.

The lights in the cubicle lit up showing the bed and
the subject lying down. It was either dead or unconscious, or
perhaps sleeping.

“Each of these people is infected from the original
outbreak in Alaska. The company has been working on them for nearly
a year now, trying to find ways to use the infection.”

“Why do they want to use the infection, why not cure
it?”

“Cure?” said Ford with a smile. “There is no cure.
They can increase the time it takes to kill the host, increase the
virulence, in some circumstances even give the infected person the
ability to demonstrate some of the traits of the undead before
finally succumbing to death and the normal zombification.”

“So what are we doing here?” asked Jonathan.

“That’s the right question,” said Ford, as he
pressed a final button.

One of the guards stepped forward and handed him a
dark object. The guard then pulled a mask out and placed it on his
face. Ford opened his bag and did the same before turning to
Jackson.

“What’s going on?” he asked suspiciously.

A bright flash came from the roof that forced the
men to the ground in pain. It was followed by at least half a dozen
shadows dropping from the ceiling to the ground.

Jackson rolled over, realising that this was
probably a stun grenade of some kind. His MP7 was lying on the
ground, just out of his reach. He pushed out as far as he could go
but it wasn’t enough. A heavy boot kicked the weapon out of the way
before rough hands lifted him up.

Jackson was surprised to see the men were two of
Ford’s guards.

“What the fuck?” he shouted, his head still
spinning.

Jonathan and Greg were up against the wall with
their hands in the air. He turned his head, watching the group of
armed men working their way around the warehouse. Jackson noticed
them pressing an unmarked pad on each cubicle that revealed a
keypad. A short flurry of presses opened the doors, revealing the
patients that lay sleeping on their beds.

“Take them to the trucks,” ordered Ford.

“Ford, what are you doing?” shouted Jackson.

Ford continued moving through the building, ignoring
the pleas from Jackson as he was taken from the warehouse. The
sound of the battle had ceased outside to be replaced by the men
shouting. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he spotted over a
dozen dead soldiers in the compound and one truck was burning near
the gate.

“They didn’t have to die!” shouted Jackson, as he
and his two men were dragged to one of the waiting pickup
trucks.

The three were thrown into the back and watched by
four men, all wearing balaclavas and each armed with automatic
weapons. Jonathan tried to get away and was hit with a rifle butt
to the back of the head.

“Keep your head down, this won’t take long,” he
said.

“Why are you doing this?” pleased Greg.

“Shut the fuck up. We’ve got our own plans for you,
and them!” he said, as he pointed to the warehouse.

From the doorway the first of the wheeled trolleys
was pushed out and towards the trucks. More trolleys appeared as
the patients were removed from the facility. Another group of men
in black tactical clothing were busy placing a series of what
looked like demolition charges on the buildings.

“You’re gonna blow the place!” said Greg
angrily.

“Why tie us up?” he added.

“Who do you think is gonna get the blame?” he said
with a laugh.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

NEW SOUTH WALES, AUSTRALIA

The chiefs had been sitting around for an hour now
trying to think of a way to sort out the situation. Some of them
wanted to drive in and attempt a roof rescue across hatches. Others
thought this would lead to more vehicles being trapped.

“Give me the Beast, I’ll manage it,” said Jake.

The Beast was what they all lovingly referred to as
the Land Train truck. The chiefs looked at Jake thoughtfully. Jake
was a man the entire group trusted, he was a tough old boot,
capable and reliable.

“You want to risk the only vehicle we have to tow
the fuel?” asked Chris.

“I know it isn’t ideal, but it has enough torque to
tear down a building, it’s the only one which has what it takes to
get the job done,” said Jake.

The men sat around the table rubbed their chins and
thought, but nobody spoke.

“Look, this is the only realistic and useful
solution that has been presented. Unless there’s a majority
objection, I’m going ahead, so either speak now or hold your
tongues,” said Jake.

The chiefs still sat silent, not wanting to commit
to a dangerous plan, but none wanting to condemn their friends
either.

“Right, Wilson, get the trailers unhooked from the
Beast, we leave in ten,” said Jake.

Ten minutes later Jake was strapping on his
equipment beside the Beast. His granddaughter Amy was beside him.
Still a teenager, she had shown herself to be as useful as her
grandfather, being accurate with a rifle and cool headed. The
trailers were now disconnected and Wilson walked around to join
Jake.

“You don’t have to come, we can handle this,” said
Jake.

“No way you’re taking my baby from me. Only one who
drives this rig is me,” said Wilson.

Jake smiled, full well appreciating the man’s
support.

“Right, mount up, let’s get going.”

They leapt into the big rig and Wilson fired up the
16.4 litre, 610hp diesel engine. The rumble of the engine was a
reassuring sound to all aboard, knowing that no mass of zombies in
the world would be able to stop them.

“So what’s the plan?” asked Wilson.

“Smash our way in, take the crew across the roofs,
and then bug out,” said Jake.

“What about Road Hog?” asked Wilson.

“Nothing we can do about that, but it’s just a
vehicle, we can find another, people are the priority,” said
Jake.

“Okidoki,” said Wilson.

The rig driver pulled a chrome .44 revolver from the
dashboard, opened the cylinder to check it was fully loaded, and
then threw the cylinder shut and put it on the dash near the
steering wheel. As the vehicle pulled away, the occupants could see
the remaining survivors watching them drive off. The faces of those
left behind were nothing but worry and sadness.

Back at the Hog, the crew of five was sitting at the
dining table, eating chocolate and swilling cans of Solo Strong.
They sat in a disturbingly calm state, all knowing they could do
nothing but wait.

“Card game anyone?” asked Connor.

“Go for it,” said Bruce.

Connor got the deck out from a side drawer. It was
heavily used, a common pastime when on the road for this crew.
Bruce, being the leader of the group, was the most concerned as all
the others would assume nothing less than a full rescue attempt by
the group, but with him missing who knows what could happen.

“You know what we need, a helicopter,” said
Connor.

“No shit, that’s really helpful,” said Dylan.

“Alright, alright! At least he’s staying positive!”
said Bruce.

“And what if no one comes for us?” asked Dylan.

“Then we’ll improvise and overcome, we aren’t going
to die here,” said Bruce.

“Nice to see someone is confident,” said Dylan.

“Yeah, what is the point in anything else? Be
positive and we have a chance, be a miserable sad bastard and you
may just die here,” said Bruce.

Dylan went silent, humiliated into shutting up. The
more he thought about Bruce’s words, the more he actually agreed,
perhaps they would get out. All around them was the ever droning
sound of the zombie groans. Their vehicle swaying ever so slightly
with the mass of creatures continually pushing and pulling at
anything they could reach.

The cards were being handed out around the table
when they heard a wrenching sound and then something break beside
them. They quickly looked over, just in time to see glass shatter
before them onto the carpet of the RV. The creatures had managed to
break some of the mesh from a side window and had smashed the
window. Hands reached up for the window frame and a creature was
already pulling itself up and into the vehicle. Bruce drew his .45
and fired immediately, the beast tumbled back onto the horde
below.

“Find something to seal the hole!” shouted
Bruce.

Dylan drew his shotgun and Connor his hand crossbow,
whilst the other two ran to the back of the vehicle to find
something. The window was fairly high on the side of the vehicle,
which was at least fortunate, meaning the creatures were
bottlenecked. Connor fired his weapon, the bolt slightly deflecting
off the next creature’s inner nose bone and sliding into the eye
socket. Blood dripped from the eye ball and socket as the body
slumped back down.

“Gordon, get a fucking shift on!” shouted Bruce.

The three men fired, more frantically now, as the
horde began to gain a stronger hold on their breach in the
vehicle’s wall. Gordon was looking around everywhere, finally he
grabbed hold of the door to Bruce’s bedroom, he pulled it hard, but
the strong hinges were too much for him. Drake drew is hammer from
his belt and smashed the hinges away from the wood they were
attached to. Shots rang out behind him as once again Bruce’s pistol
was empty.

The two men ran back to the breach of the RV to see
Dylan fire both barrels in quick succession, clearing the way.

“Out the way!” shouted Gordon.

The defenders moved back as the two with the door
ran into place and shoved it into position. Before they could get
it flush with the window frame a zombie got its fingers through.
Bruce immediately drew his machete and cut down against them,
severing three. The door went flush against the frame and the two
men put their bodyweight against it to keep it in place.

“Get anything you can to wedge this in and
strengthen it!” said Bruce.

Following Gordon’s example Connor smashed the door
off the toilet and shower room, and ran back to place it in front
of the current blockage for extra strength. Bruce ripped the table
from the seating area and wedged it between the doors at the seats
opposite, it held them in place. The rest of the men began piling
things around the barricade.