Pandora (Book 5): Behold A Pale Horse Read online

  “There is a large fire a couple of miles down the road,” Mike said, “and it seems to be driving this horde of zombies into our area. I keep counting more and more of them as the day progresses. I’m afraid that we may be inundated with the undead by the time you get here. If that happens, you will never be able to get to me and we’ll have no choice but to run to cover in the shelter.”

  Shaking his head in frustration, Patrick replied, “Right now we are on these small local roads. I’ll try to reconfigure the route using a highway or two. That should shave off some time, but it will put us back where most of the infected are gathered.”

  “I don’t think there’s any choice now, bro,” Mike said. “I just don’t like how this area is looking right now.”

  “Okay,” said Patrick, “I’ll reroute ourselves and call you when we’re near.”

  Hanging up, Patrick picked up the map again and reconfigured their trip. There was a state highway close and he decided to take that down to his brother’s house.

  “All right, everyone,” he said aloud, “let’s get back inside the SUV and continue our little road trip.”

  Patrick sat on the driver seat as Dwayne opened his door and plopped himself down.

  Looking back, Patrick asked, “Where is Greta?”

  “She didn’t get back yet,” Erica said.

  Dwayne and his father looked at each other. Pat then reached into his backpack and pulled out the Taurus. “Take the bat,” he told Dwayne.

  As Patrick got out of the Toyota and walked around the SUV, he could smell the wet rain in the air. It had a fresh and earthy odor. Dwayne came up beside him and they walked past the pumps to the far end of the building. Nearing the corner, they saw a car pulled over to the side that they didn’t notice before. It was parked on an angle, like the owner was in a hurry. The driver’s side door was wide open and the seats and door panel soaked by the heavy rain. As he peered inside, Patrick noticed that the seat and floorboard were stained with dried blood, now diluted by the shower. The small travel bag lay on the passenger seat.

  Straightening up, Patrick turned to the building again. The restroom door had a blue and white unisex symbol in its center. A smeared red handprint marred the surface. Long rivulets of blood ran down the door from the print. Dwayne stared at it, biting his lower lip.

  Placing his hand on the door handle, Patrick glanced over at his son and nodded his head. He swung the door open and pointed the gun inside. Around a short wall in the entranceway, Patrick saw a large amount of blood splattered on the floor. He quickly stepped inside and around the wall.

  Greta lay on her back, splayed out near the sinks. Her throat had been ripped open, her blood pooling on the grimy white tiles. A growl from his right made Patrick spin around. Standing in front of one of the toilet stall doors was a large, male zombie in a soiled, brown sport coat. The dark strands of his receding hairline was matted and tousled. As he snarled again, the zombie opened his mouth wide, revealing red, snaggle teeth dripping gore down his filthy, patterned shirt.

  Patrick stuck the gun in his face and pulled the trigger. Blood and brain matter flew out the back of his head and the zombie crashed through the door and onto the toilet, cracking the tank and flooding the floor with water.

  “Dad?” Dwayne called from the doorway.

  “I’m all right,” Patrick said, still staring at the zombie draped across the toilet. “Don’t come in.”

  He then turned to Greta. Her eyes were already clouded over in a milky haze, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and sadly shook his head. We were so close, he thought. We were almost there.

  Opening his eyes, he jumped in shock. Greta’s head was now turned toward him. As he stared in morbid fascination, her eyes seemed to regain focus. Her left leg, which had been folded under her, straightened and she moved her arm. Then, she opened her mouth and moaned. Red bubbles rose and popped from the ragged hole in her throat as the gurgling sound echoed off of the tiles. Eyes filling, Patrick pointed the gun and shot her in the forehead.

  §§§

  Mike closed the trap door to the bomb shelter and then walked out of the shed. The original shelter entrance was just a set of concrete stairs dug in the ground at the back of his property. These led to the main shelter door underground. Back then, they didn’t think to hide the shelter from prying eyes because the main reason for was to survive a nuclear attack. There was nothing to hide from with no one else alive on the surface. But that rationale changed over the years, as fear of anything from anarchy and rampant civil unrest to outright civil war began to raise the zeitgeist of paranoia in America. Add to that the theories of alien invasion, race war, World War III or even, God forbid, a zombie apocalypse and you have the perfect reason to keep your underground “safe room” hidden from anyone or anything that might wander by.

  That was why Mike chose to erect a backyard shed over the stairway and add the trap door. The ventilation shaft was about twenty feet away, hidden among the trees in back of the property. He also had a window in the large shed so he would be able to venture out and see what was around him without being seen himself. The only Achilles’ heel to the whole set up was the large generator installed in the room off of the shelter itself. He soundproofed it as best he could but, on a quiet day if you were standing above it, the sound was noticeable. Not much, but enough to cause concern. Still and all, Mike didn’t think anyone would be wandering around in that part of his property.

  While he was standing outside of the shed, three military jets flew over his house. He had noticed these flybys occurring more frequently. He figured that they must be coming from the Stratton Air National Guard Base that was closest to his area. Mike had hoped that they were doing reconnaissance on the zombies for possible army rescue missions. He knew that Fort Drum had been one of the destinations for overseas military personnel.

  Mike was just about to enter his back door, when he saw his neighbor, Jimmy Flynn, hurrying across his property. He was carrying his hunting rifle. Walking up to meet him, he said, “What’s the rush, Jimmy?”

  “I just heard from a friend of mine,” the lanky, gray-haired, seventy-two-year-old ex-Marine said. “We’ve got trouble coming our way.”

  “That zombie horde?” Mike asked.

  “No,” Jimmy said, “not yet. But remember that gang of home invaders that have been breaking into houses around here? Well, they’ve been spotted coming into these parts. The guy I know said they just hit his neighborhood. He lives a couple of streets away.”

  “Great,” Mike said disgustedly. “What about the increased number of undead in the streets? Doesn’t that deter them?”

  “I guess not,” Jimmy replied. “There are two cars of them now. They just find a house they like and break in. They used to pick only the houses that were marked with DEAD INSIDE symbols, but now they just don’t care. They kill anyone inside, dead or alive. They’re animals

  “You think they’ll come here?” Mike said.

  Jimmy shrugged, “Who knows? But, if they do, I’m going to start killing a few of them myself. Trash like that doesn’t deserve to live.”

  “Sam and I will help you with that,” Mike said. “We have weapons in the house.”

  Jimmy nodded. “Good,” he said. “If they come here to our little cul-de-sac, we’ll be waiting.”

  “Okay,” said Mike, “but, I don’t think we should start anything unless they actually stop and get out of their cars. We don’t need a firefight on our front lawns to attract any more zombies here than we already have.”

  “Good thinking, Mike,” said Jimmy. They shook hands and Jimmy jogged back to his own house.

  Mike watched the career Marine leave. “Now, there is one tough, sonofabitch,” Mike said admiringly.

  §§§

  Patrick and company drove in stony silence. Erica was still sniffling. She was devastated by Greta’s loss. They had grown close over the preceding weeks. Dwayne and Billy were upset, also. Patrick thought that B
illy might have had a little crush on her. Her loss brought home the brutal reality that no one was immune to death. Any one of them could be killed at any time. That was now just the new way of life. In this apocalyptic world, the opportunities for death were everywhere. One moment of neglect, one unwise decision could mean the difference between going to sleep that night or dying a horrible, brutal death of teeth and nails.

  Looking at his watch, Patrick said aloud, “Probably only another hour to go. Maybe less, if we’re lucky.”

  He winced painfully at his unfortunate choice of words.

  §§§

  Eight… nine... ten. Mike nodded his head in agreement with himself. Ten zombies roaming around in our cul-de-sac. The same number was an hour ago. Maybe that horde will pass us by after all. Mike gave that thought a little smile. He reached down next to him and grabbed a few cheddar cheese crackers from the box beside him. Sam had made them both a plate of the crackers with Spam spread on them. He was eating the rest of the crackers to get the taste of the mystery meat out of his mouth. God, that was vile stuff.

  Just then, two black SUVs pulled into their street. They paused for a second as if waiting for something. The zombies began to turn and shamble toward them. Then, a hand reached out of the open sunroof of the lead vehicle and made a motion forward. They hit the gas and flew up the short street. As it widened into the cul-de-sac circle, they separated, each one running over as many zombies as they could. Then both vehicles screeched to a halt in front of Jimmy Flynn’s house.

  Hearing the commotion outside, Sam came running into the living room carrying two Smith and Wesson M&P 15-22 rifles, both with 25-round magazines. Mike knew that the .22 didn’t have a lot of stopping power, but they were inexpensive and perfect for killing zombies. The low velocity bullet wouldn’t pass through the head, but would rattle around in the skull making mincemeat of the brain. Exactly what was needed to stop a zombie.

  Mike opened the windows and they positioned themselves on either side. He looked over at his wife and smiled nervously. When he had started his prepping a few years ago, she had at first thought he had lost his mind. But when he acquired some of his weapons, she became curious and decided to go to the range with him and learn how to shoot. That initial curiosity turned into an avid hobby. She really enjoyed shooting and was actually now an even better shot than he was.

  She returned his smile and then turned to the two SUVs outside. Sam hoped that she wouldn’t freeze. Just look at them as targets, not people, she told herself.

  The eight doors opened on the two black SUVs and ten people got out of the vehicles. All of them were armed; although only five of them had visible firearms. Mike saw that all of them young, the oldest was probably in his mid-twenties. Two of them were girls. The four zombies that were left standing came shambling to them. Three of the gang stepped up to meet them. The first was a heavyset kid carrying an axe. He took a few steps to the nearest zombie and swung it like a bat. It hit the creature in the neck and took his head off. The next two ran at the zombies with flailing weapons. One had golf club, while the other had a baseball bat that was spiked with long nails sticking out of the working end.

  The young thugs were whooping and hollering as the four zombies were easily dispatched. They laughed and high-fived each other afterwards. Then the driver of the lead vehicle, who is also the oldest member of the crew, pointed at Jimmy Flynn’s house. They yelled their approval while one of the gang when running up his lawn waving a machete.

  Suddenly, there was a crack and the machete wielding thug went sprawling on the grass. They all froze in place, stunned. Two more quick shots rang out. The heavyset kid with axe fell to the sidewalk, a plume of red on his chest. Next, the windshield shattered on the lead SUV as the leader ducked down behind his open door. The five gang members on with rifles and handguns began firing at Jimmy’s house. The sound of breaking glass filled the air.

  Mike sighted one of the shooters crouching behind the back hatch. As he stood to fire again, Mike pulled the trigger and hit him in the neck. The shooter collapsed in the street, rolling around and screaming. Sam then fired, hitting another shooter in the shoulder. The gang in the street started to split their fire between the two houses. Mike and Sam crouched down as the living room windows blew inward. Bullets were flying everywhere.

  One of the girls, holding a butcher knife, was crouched down behind the left passenger door of the first vehicle. She scrambled up and made a mad dash for the far side of Jimmy’s house. She was apparently hoping to do an end run around and try to get inside through the back door. She made it to about six feet away from the corner of the house when the old Marine shot her in the side. She went down, tried to get up and Jimmy shot her again. This time she didn’t move.

  Mike noticed that three more zombies had just entered their street. They were making their way toward the two black vehicles and moaning. Because of all the shooting, they were so far unnoticed.

  One of the gang opened the rear hatch of the second vehicle. The other girl joined him. Sam put a round through the rear window, but hit no one. Because of the angle they couldn’t see from the house what they were doing. A long-haired kid stood up and sprayed Jimmy’s front window with an assault rifle on full automatic. He emptied the entire clip, shattering any remaining panes left in his living room windows. As the kid finished, he gave out a loud rebel yell. Sam put a bullet directly into his right eye.

  Using that as a distraction, the remaining girl ran out from behind the open rear hatch. She had a Molotov cocktail in her hand. The protruding piece of cloth was already lit. She ran behind the lead SUV and threw it overhand at Jimmy’s house. If flew in the air toward his door. Jimmy fired at the flaming bottle, but missed. Fortunately, she didn’t possess the strength to reach the door, and the bottle shattered on his paved walkway. There was a bright burst of flame that soon died.

  The minute that she threw the incendiary device, another kid ran out from the other side of the hatch. He, too, had a flaming Molotov cocktail in his hand. He headed straight for Mike’s house. He didn’t get further than three steps, when Mike and Sam both fired at him. Mike shot him in the stomach, but Sam’s bullet hit the bottle. It shattered in his hand. There was an explosion of framing gasoline in the young man immediately went up in a huge burst of flame. He ran screaming; first into the street waving his arms and then, turning, he ran toward the SUV again. By then a moving, fiery ball of orange flames, he bounced off of the open car door and fell back into the SUV. The entire vehicle then burst into flames.

  With all of the shooting and yelling, five more zombies had entered the road. There were only four remaining gang members left. One of them was lying against the back of the lead SUV, shot in the shoulder. As the girl ran back to the open hatch to grab another Molotov cocktail, the first three zombies reached the vehicle also. She ran right into them. They pounced on her as she tried to beat them off. Then the four of them fell into the open back hatch. Just then, the SUV was rocked with a violent explosion that lifted the vehicle into the air.

  The leader of the home invasion gang dove into the front seat and started the car up. Another member jumped into the back seat when he heard the engine rev. As the wounded kid came around from the back, holding onto the SUV as he struggled to make his way to the open door, the driver threw the shift into reverse. With a screech of rubber, the vehicle shot backwards and spun around. As it did, the open door slammed into the wounded man and sent him flying backwards. He hit the asphalt and went bouncing head over heels, until he hit a parked car.

  The remaining SUV then darted forward racing for the end of the block. Mike, Sam and Jimmy continued to fire at the fleeing vehicle. Their accurate shots shattered the windows of the vehicle and the SUV slammed into a mailbox at the end of the street. The driver side door swung open and he fell out onto the road.

  The five new zombies converged onto the bullet-pocked, black SUV. They fell upon the driver and swarmed the vehicle. Half of the doors were still open an
d, as they reached inside, a high-pitched scream emerged from the last living gang member. It seemed to go on forever.

  §§§

  It was early afternoon when the Toyota Highlander passed the city limits sign for Mike’s town. They had to swing around and enter from the opposite direction because of a huge mass of undead traveling the streets on their original path. Patrick thought that it might be the horde that his brother had talked about.

  But as they crested the hill, they had to stop. There was a wall of fire and smoke in front of them. This part of town was engulfed in flames. Rows of houses on both sides of the street were aflame. Patrick didn’t know how much of the town was burning and didn’t want to drive through it, in fear of becoming trapped in the inferno.

  Banging the steering wheel in frustration, Patrick said, “We’ll have to go around this.”

  “But, that will again put us among the zombies. We will be heading in the same direction that they are going in,” Dwayne stated.

  “I’m going to stay as close to the fire as possible,” Patrick said. “Once we get near Uncle Mike’s street, I’ll just have to make a mad dash and shoot through them to his house.”