Zombies On The Rock (Book 3): The Republic of Newfoundland Read online

  “Wait, is that Eric?” Private Byrne spoke as the ambulance approached. The engine was loud enough to drown out their conversation to anyone that may have been close by.

  Smith noticed that the dents in the fender and hood were nearly identical to the one Nick had driven behind them on the highway. The colour scheme was the same too, but the driver didn’t look like Eric, or anyone else that had been a part of his group. “I don’t think so?” The ambulance sped past them and rumbled down the street, pushing deeper into the city. “Let’s find out, keep to the shadows and follow my lead.”

  Tina stared at her fingernails. Bloody pieces of Ted’s shredded neck flesh remained lodged underneath. Her cheeks and eyes were sore and swollen, her ribs aced and her stomach was sore from the beating Ted inflicted upon her. Her head pounded and the taste of her own blood was still on her cracked lips. Several of her teeth felt loose and she had bitten a large chunk of her own tongue off during Teds assault, but no matter how much physical pain she was feeling now it failed in comparison to the mental anguish that she was dealing with. She had failed to kill Ted and now she felt helpless, locked up in a cell awaiting a trial that everyone knew she had no chance of winning.

  She prayed for her injuries to kill her, but she knew she was only going to suffer dearly for them. She was alone in a room with absolutely nothing. Industrial carpet covered the floor. It was a light colour blue, almost grey, with various shapes of different colours that didn’t match anything else in the room. The walls were covered in white wallpaper that had black and beige dots scattered all over. The ceiling looked to be recently installed; the white trimming that held the tiles in place was still shiny and the pot lights in the ceiling were extremely bright. Tina knew that that had taken her to the courthouse, but she had no idea what the room could have been used for before the outbreak.

  Mr. Willis had dropped by earlier to let her know Ted had lived through the whole ordeal and a jury would decide her fate. She doubted that the jury would be partial or unbiased and that her punishment was going to be a fate far worse than death. Tina had tried to break down the door, but she only managed to hurt her shoulder. She even tried tearing away the wall paper only to reveal solid plywood beneath the odd designs. All Tina could do was wait for until someone came to control her. She felt completely helpless. Ted had turned into a viscous monster that terrified her far worse than any of the dead creatures ever had. The sinister look in his eyes had proven to her that he was no longer human. She was terrified of what could happen at any moment. All she knew was she would stop at nothing to make sure this torment would end no matter what physical pain she would have to endure.

  Warrant Smith and Byrne moved as fast as they could, making sure to keep hidden from view. A few drunken bikers stumbled through the streets, too preoccupied with the spirits they had consumed to notice the soldiers rushing past. To keep up with the ambulance they had cut through back yards, hoped fences, and darted across streets as quickly as their tired legs would carry them.

  They pushed their way deeper into the city. The heart of Grand Falls was still vibrant and alive with the hum of electricity. While the rest of the world had fallen to the undead armies, Grand Falls had somehow become a beacon of hope in the darkness that was swallowing the world whole. There were hardly any signs that zombies had ever roamed these streets. The roads remained clean and free of abandoned cars that littered other towns. The air smelt fresh and free of the rotting, fetid stench of shit and decaying flesh. As they passed through the streets, Warrant Smith noticed that people patrolled the streets; they left paths around the perimeter of major buildings and key points throughout the city. He had only seen three actual patrols wandering their routes, but the heavily trodden paths indicated there were a significant number of guards patrolling the area.

  The ambulance stopped just outside the court house. Two bikers clad in jean jackets pulled over heavy leather coats walked down the steps to greet them. To keep themselves concealed in the darkness, Warrant Smith led them towards the old bank; it was one of the few buildings they had seen downtown with the lights still off. Keeping tight to the corner, private Byrne used the scope of his assault rifle to get a better look at what was happening in front of the court house.

  “What’s going on over there?” Warrant Smith didn’t want to show it, but he needed to catch his breath. The lack of food since leaving the military base had taken its toll on his energy reserves.

  “I think they are getting ready to bring prisoners into the court. An older guy is coming down the steps with shackles.” Private Byrne leaned back and waved his hand towards the corner. “Come have a look for yourself.”

  Warrant Smith switched places with the young private and raised his scope towards the court house steps. A man with white hair and a neatly trimmed goatee waddled down the steps with shackles dragging behind. He wore a large black coat that had been left unbuttoned. Underneath, his white collar poked out of his black dress shirt. Warrant Smith recognized the man as the priest that had taken Tina away earlier. Once Father Willis had reached the back of the ambulance, one of the bikers opened the door while the other aimed a shotgun at whoever was inside. A woman screamed as the other biker jumped up into the back of the ambulance.

  Another woman jumped out of the driver’s side of the ambulance. She had a bandanna that covered most of her face and a tight black beanie was pulled down to her eyes. She walked towards the back of the ambulance with an attitude, she had an aggressive swagger that you rarely see outside of the military ranks. He figured she was probably ex-military turned mercenary, which meant she would be dangerous. When she got to the back of the ambulance, she reached in and escorted an older lady straight onto the pavement, slamming the woman face-first into curb. The woman let out a terrible screech. A man could be heard yelling from inside the ambulance and the biker with the shot gun pumped the action before pushing inside. The mercenary jammed her knee into her subdued hostage, grabbed the woman by her short grey hair and yanked her head back. Blood gushed from the woman’s mouth and nose. Her glasses had broken and dangled down her face, the right arm completely broken off the frame. “Shut the fuck up.” Father Willis put the cuffs on the prisoners wrists. There was a loud thud as a larger man got thrown out of the back of the van. One of the bikers jumped down behind him and shoved the shot gun barrel right in the man’s face and stepped on his chest. The priest calmly walked over and placed a set of shackles on the subdued man. He secured the cuffs around his wrists and ankles before the biker hauled the man to his feet.

  “Holy shit.” Warrant Smith muttered to himself.

  “What’s going on, Warrant?” Private Byrne tried to peek his head around the corner to witness the chaos.

  “It’s Mr. and Mrs. Jones, Eric’s parents.” Warrant Smith didn’t know what was going on, but he knew he had to do something quick. He ran through all of his possible options and weighed the consequences of each in a matter of seconds.

  “What are we going to do?” Byrne asked.

  “You are going to go back and meet up with the others. We need backup. Whatever is happening in the city needs to stop.” Warrant Smith didn’t know if his plan was going to work, but he couldn’t risk doing things any other way.

  “I thought we were going to get the girl and get out?” Private Byrnes didn’t want to leave; Warrant Smith could hear it in his voice.

  “We need to save those people down there.”

  “So what’s changed? We go down, rescue the girl and everyone else. Same plan, just bigger.” Byrne switched the safety off.

  “Everything has changed. We won’t be able to get a group of people that large out of this city unnoticed.” Smith remained calm even though his heart was racing.

  Byrne cocked the action of his rifle loading a round into the chamber. “That’s what these are for.”

  Smith knew they could make it out of the city alive if it was just them. “We wouldn’t be able to get those people out safely. It would be too
risky, and if anyone dies than this would have all been for nothing.”

  “So what do we do?” The disappointment was evident in Byrne’s tone.

  “Like I said, you go get back up. Find sergeant Doucette and tell I need to be extracted.”

  “Extracted?” Now Byrne was confused.

  “I’m going to give myself up so I can get inside and keep them alive until you guys show up. Then you guys can get us all out safely.” Warrant Smith handed his weapon over to Private Byrne. “Now hurry up. We don’t have much time.” Warrant Smith rounded the corner and headed straight towards the court house.

  CHAPTER FIVE:

  FATAL DECISION

  Dana awoke on the cold bathroom tile in between the vanity and the door. She realized that she was lying in a puddle of sweat, blood, and peroxide. Her entire body felt like it was fighting against itself. Her bones felt jagged, like they were cutting through the surrounding tissues. She felt her bandage; it was soaking wet. She lifted her shirt and was surprised that very little blood had seethed through the bandage. It must have been sweat.

  She didn’t know how long she had been passed out or where Eric was, but she knew she wouldn’t last long without help. Her insides were on fire, her vision was blurred, and she had become extremely weak.

  Day light trickled in through the window, brightening the room just enough for her to notice the floral decals painted onto a light purple wall. An old fashioned bath tub with the brass legs rested beneath the window. The toilet was out of view on the other side of the vanity, but she could see the curly rug that had been placed in front to keep your feet warm. Dana knew she didn’t have enough energy to make it to the bedroom, but she managed to rest her head on the matt.

  One of the antibiotics had fallen onto the matt. She figured that it couldn’t hurt to take another one. If she didn’t get her fever under control soon, she knew her chance of survival would be slim. Rolling into the fetal position, Dana closed her eyes and let herself drift back into oblivion.

  An intense battle raged in front of Doctor Winston’s cabin. The fur-clad vikings had found themselves surrounded by the undead. A pack of the decrepit monsters had made one of the vikings’ horses their meal. They had torn the animal’s stomach apart and were feasting on the intestines and stomach lining of the once powerful beast. Strands of viscera and muscle fibres dangled from the monsters mouths. About ten zombies were content with the meal they had procured, but another hundred of them wanted human flesh to feast upon.

  The vikings swung large, heavy axes and clubs into the crowd. Each blow sent blood, teeth, and bone scattering in every direction. Eric could tell the men were running out of stamina; they were giving up ground to their enemies and running out of space quickly. The dead showed no signs of slowing down. They just kept coming relentlessly, showing no fear, their decaying flesh was covered in the blood of their dead brothers. For every corpse that couldn’t continue another took its place without hesitation.

  Eric wouldn’t be able to save them with just six bullets and a fire axe. He had to come up with another solution if he was going to help them. He searched the area for a vehicle, maybe he would be able to drive into the herd and create a path for the vikings to flee, but Eric didn’t see anything close enough that he would be able to use to clear the way.

  The vikings roared valiantly with every crushing blow. A club struck the left side of a zombie’s skull, sending a spray of blood into the wind. One of the vikings swung his axe straight over his head and back towards his target, narrowly missing the creature’s head. He cleaved the creatures arm clean off, but it didn’t even notice. The vile corpse sank his teeth deep into his exposed shoulder. The viking showed no fear either, smashing his head into the zombie’s decripit face in a viscous display of power and rage. The creatures head was crushed by the mighty blow; its legs and arms went limp. The corpse fell into the vikings grasp and he was flung back into the shambling crowd, knocking over several of the creatures. The brave warrior knew his time was nearly up. He rushed forward, sending the axe down into the fallen creatures skulls in a fury of blows. He used his boot to crush a frail zombies head. Its crushed brain matter slid out into the snow with a sickening thunk. The viking had left the defensive perimeter and was trapped in the middle of a horde of zombies who immediately swarmed the easy prey. Cold hands clutched at him from every angle, tearing at his furs and hair. Teeth sank into his flesh all over, but he refused to surrender. He threw elbows to give himself enough space to swing his axe in an effort to connect the blade with anything. The axe head sliced through a creature’s chin and burst out of the top of its head in gory explosion. More of the dead piled on top of him, tearing large chunks of flesh out of him with blackened teeth. The blood dripping from their faces seemed to call more zombies towards him, like the creatures were calling others over to share in the flesh.

  Eric knew this was the distraction he needed to save the rest of the vikings. He charged towards the fray with everything he had left. The other vikings seen him and started to shift their direction towards him. A female zombie with her hair falling out was the first of Eric’s victims. Her exposed flesh was black with frostbite and her green and red stripped blouse had become rigid with ice and frozen blood. Eric quickly swung the axe into the back of the creature’s head before she even knew what was happening. This might be much easier than Eric originally thought. All of the zombies were either headed towards the fallen viking or were fixated on the remaining three warriors headed towards them now. Eric picked off the shuffling corpses one at a time, making sure to stay behind them. With four swift strikes four corpses fell to the ground to be buried in the falling snow.

  The vikings were breathing hard now. The zombies were closing in fast from the sides as they tried to push towards Eric. The clatter of hoof prints could be heard coming from the other side of the cabin. A large brown stallion with a pristinely combed main rounded the corner. Hank MacDonald sat in the harness. He got to his feet and leapt off the horse straight into the middle of the pack. He swung his pickaroon around in a wide arc, driving the pick end into the eyes a scrawny zombie. The hook dug into the skull and Hank yanked the creature towards him. He kicked the corpse in the chest and pulled the pick straight back, yanking the side of its skull off. The corpse twitched as the brain slide out of the gaping hole and landed in the snow moments before the creature collapsed on top of it. Hank used the pick like a spear for his next target, driving the bladed end into a zombie’s mouth. The dead teenager went limp immediately. The sudden shift of the creature’s body weight caught Hank off guard, nearly causing him to fall flat on his face in the middle of the heard.

  “Hank, get out of there.” Eric called out. Hank spun his head around to find the source of his voice. With the dead eyes fixated on him now, the pack split in half and started making their way towards him now. Chaos reigned all around now, the zombies moans grew louder with the anticipation of victory. Hank struggled to pull his weapon out of the creature’s skull; the hook had gotten lodged in the creature’s mouth. When Hank dislodged the pickaroon, the jaw came with it, dangling from the hook. Blood ran down the handle and the teeth went flying when Hank swung the blade to the left, driving it into a zombie’s stomach. Hank started to push the creature into more of the undead, toppling six of them over like dominos. In a quick motion Hank pulled the pick out of the creature’s guts, tearing out its blackened intestines in one swift motion. Changing his grip, Hank drove the handle of the pickaroon into its skull sending, it crashing to the ground, twitching and convulsing from the head trauma before Hank jumped on its chest. He drove the butt end down with a sickening thud; the handle caved the ghoul’s skull in.

  Eric recognized the closest zombie by her uniform. She worked at the coffee shop on the highway and must have turned during her shift. She was still wearing her coffee-stained apron over her red polo shirt. Eric thrashed the axe down into her skull, splitting her head wide open. Her left eye rolled out of the socket and dangled down
to her neck before she toppled over backwards. Eric kept to the perimeter, making sure that he didn’t get surrounded. The vikings fought gallantly but were running out of time. The bony clutches of the dead started getting a firm grasp on their furs and armour. One zombie made a lunge for the tallest vikings back and shattered its teeth on his shield. Blood and teeth oozed out of the creature’s mouth and down on his filthy tank top.

  Eric tripped over a stump buried by the snow and fell backwards on top of it, knocking the wind from his lungs and smacking his head off the frozen ground. “Get up!” Eric heard Hank scream. He sounded so distant. Eric rolled over onto his knees and elbows. His axe had fallen into the snow. He dug through the snow for a moment, but he heard footsteps closing in on him fast. “Move, Eric!” Hank roared over the hungry moans. Eric started to crawl on his hands and knees to get some distance between himself and the herd. He felt hands grasping at his legs and boots, but he managed to keep pulling himself along the snow covered ground. “Faster Eric, get your ass out of there.” Hank screamed. Sickening thuds and wet thunks were followed by loud crashes as bodies toppled onto the ground.