Run (Nola Zombies Book 1) (2 page)

“The reports about small outbreaks and hardly any fatalities from the government are obviously wrong because this is not a small outbreak and that man down there was just eaten.
 
EATEN!” The camera pulled back and focused on the reporter. The reporter’s face was flushed and she looked like she might have hurled herself as her mouth had a few chunks of something vile around it and her hair was a mess.
 

“We at WYUI are urging our viewing audience to seek shelter and…” The broadcast cut out and was replaced with a blue screen and some ridiculous high-pitched sound.
 

“We should probably go to a safe place.
 
I don’t think it’s safe here, the French Quarter is only a few minutes from this building.” I told the girl next to me.

“Yeah, home.
 
I should go home, you’re Alexis right? From the 14th floor?” She asked, switching topics.
 

“Yeah, that’s me.
 
Home.
 
Good idea.
 
You want to go to the garage together?” I suggested.
 
“Grab your purse, and do you have something you can use as a weapon? A stick, or maybe a big knife?”

“Pepper spray.” She shook her head and shrugged.

“I don’t think that is going to be very effective.
 
C’mon, let’s get out of here.” I went to the door and she followed me.
 

We double-timed it to the entrance of the parking garage.
 
My car was right there, so close. We could do this.

Pushing the door open slowly resulted in a loud screech that had me gritting my teeth.
 
I heard the sound of feet almost immediately.
 
The pace wasn’t fast and my heart sank at what I knew was coming.
 
There was a shadow to the right of me and it was heading in our direction.
 
Only one, but at the speed it was going, it would intercept us before we got to our cars.
 

“Oh my God!” My new friend gasped as it became obvious that it was the security guard and she didn’t look good at all.
 
Her shirt was torn open and it looked like her intestines were hanging from her protruding belly.
 
She was covered in blood, and half of her face was a mess of swollen flesh and hanging meat.
 
She was coming directly at us in a weird shuffle step that was faster than I would have expected.
 

“Where is your car?” I hissed at the girl.

“Over there.” She said pointing to where she was parked on the opposite side of the garage.

“Go, run.”

“I can’t just leave you.”

“Yes, you can.
 
I have an ax.
 
Go home.
 
Survive.” She made no more arguments.
 
She took off and the zombie made to follow but I whistled and called, “Come on, you nasty bitch!” And her horrendous, bleeding eyes focused back on me.
 
I took a step forward and took one swing at her, the ax coming down hard on her neck.
 
She was short so it worked well for me.
 
The girl’s head came clean off of her body.
 
I had no idea I had the upper body strength to do that.
 

I should have ran then, but I couldn’t stop staring at the decapitated head.
 
The thing was still alive! Its mouth was working, its teeth were chomping, and its eyes were rolling around, looking for me.
 
“Ermagawd, that is messed up,” I hissed.
 
I took the ax and planted it directly into the zombie’s brain.
 

The zombie didn’t move after that.
 

“Hell yeah, something went right.”
 

Headshots.
 
Go for the brain.
 
I heard the peel of tires as my friend sped out of the garage.
 
I decided that was a very good idea and booked it to my car.
 
Time to get the fuck out of here.

TWO | Strong, Independent Women Need Not Apply

My building was located on Poydras Avenue in downtown New Orleans, near the Warehouse District. I managed to speed out of the garage and make it Uptown and not interact with anyone living or dead. That all changed the moment I turned down Tchoupitoulas Street. There was just no other way out of the area. It was either turn around and head back into the outskirts of the French Quarter or through Uptown, via Tchoupitoulas or St. Charles Avenue, both congested and highly trafficked areas. Why couldn’t I work in the ‘burbs by my house?

People were driving like lunatics; they were driving on the wrong side of the road to avoid hitting people that were wandering in the middle of the road. I assumed those people were more zombies since they were walking like they were drunk and had little concern for passing cars. Zombies or people in shock. Who knows? I wasn’t going to stop and ask them if they were dead. There were also groups of people in packs walking in a shuffling gait that were obviously of the zombie persuasion. These groups were prowling along the sidewalks, speeding up when they saw movement. I watched as one of those packs spotted a man as he got out of his car to run into a corner grocery store. The pack sped up their pace and I prayed the man made it inside in time.
What was he thinking?
As I watched, he made it in, but the pack surrounded the door, banging on it like irate rioters.
 

How would he get out now?
 

Not my problem.
 

Traffic in front of me had slowed to a crawl and I watched in horror as one car didn’t stop at the cross street and slammed into another, spinning it into a third car. Chaos erupted. A man got out of his car and went to the car that had run the stop sign to offer assistance. Being a Good Samaritan didn’t work well in this new zombie world. The moment he opened her door to try and help her get out, she jumped at him and sank her teeth into his neck. I had never seen as much blood in my life as I was seeing today.
 

There was blood everywhere. It was spurting from the man like in a bad B-movie flick. My stomach heaved. The world was crumbling and there was nothing I could do about it except to watch in horror.
 

If people weren’t freaking out before, they were now in full on riot mode. The zombie pack moved away from the front of the store and started weaving in-between the cars. Some drivers began hitting them with their cars, but they just got back up, broken legs hobbling them but not stopping them. The sight of them getting back up and dragging their broken limbs behind them further exacerbated the fight or flight mentality that was gripping the crowded street.
 
A few terror-stricken people ran from their cars, only to be jumped upon by the dead. The lady in the car next to me was panicking, she was screaming her ever-loving head off. She slammed on her gas and ran into the car in front of her, trying to move the traffic forward by sheer force of will, and car. She was in a little sedan and it only aided in fucking up the car in front of her and causing her car to stall.

Fucking idiot.

Her actions started a chain reaction of stupidity and the final result − no one was going anywhere. I was screwed. This traffic wasn’t moving. Other cars were trying to force their way through but it was just making a big mess. People were running through the streets, trying to break into the businesses and homes in the area. One car rode up on the sidewalk until he slammed into a post, ending that little genius attempt at escape. Another path blocked.
 

I had to find a way out and it didn’t look like I would be driving my way home. I thought maybe I could pull into one of the warehouses that ran along the river, or I could run the levee all the way home, I just wasn’t too hip on making that trek on foot. I wanted metal around me, you couldn’t bite through metal.
 

Fuck it. I was just going to wing it. There was only one lane of cars between me and the entrance to what looked like the Harbor police station. Everyone was driving west, heading out of the city, there was no incoming traffic so people were driving in both lanes. I was blocked in, but I drove a sturdy car, it was nothing to “squeeze” between the Prius and Malibu that blocked my way. I only scratched them a bit, well maybe more than a bit, it definitely didn’t warrant the Prius guy’s ridiculous cursing and honking at me, especially in the insanity that was going on around us.
 

“Bill me you dick.” I called out the window.
 

The Harbor Police was located on the river side of the levee protection, outside of the levee walls. To gain entrance you had to go through one of the flood gates that were kept open, unless there was an imminent flood. They also had a secondary gate that was there to secure the area. I wouldn’t have been able to bust through the flood gate, but the chain link would be much easier.

I was going at a fast clip by the time I got to the gate and I didn’t slow as I slammed into it. The gate wasn’t designed to protect against an impact of that nature so I plowed right through it and sailed over the railroad tracks with hardly any resistance. I was in the parking lot, and on the other side of the sea wall in just a few seconds. But now that I had gotten here should I drive the tracks, or get out and go on foot?

The tracks ran the length of the levee until the Jefferson Parish line. I could probably make it pretty far. But, then again, I had no idea what type of resistance I would run in. Along the river and tracks there was a lot of commercial traffic and warehouses. There could be any number of obstacles and could my car even make it riding on the tracks?
 

I heard the crunch of tires and saw a truck pull in behind me. Blocking me in. Panic seized me, but a quick calming breath had me realizing that I could easily go forward, make a quick turn and get out the same way I came. This person must think I knew what I was doing, but sorry for them, I had no clue.

The Harbor police station looked abandoned.
 
It was located on the Mississippi River for easy access to the Port of New Orleans. There was only one car in the parking lot; I guess they took the weekends off too. I had two choices at this point, enter the station and hole up or take my chances on the railway that ran between the river and Tchoupitoulas. I was hesitant to take the rail because I didn’t know how far it went or where it led. I was pretty sure it just dead-ended in the rail yard about a mile down −
 
which was one mile further than I could get out on the street. This seemed like the best choice.
 

Before I could pull out and get on the service road, I saw the occupant of the other truck get out and sling a backpack over his very well defined shoulders.

Holy zombie balls, I hadn’t seen a man this pretty in real life before. I expected a sudden gust of wind to billow his longish brown hair, or a quick downpour to soak his too-tight tee so he would have to pull it off and reveal his rock-hard abs. I was drooling.
 

I know it wasn’t the right time, but I couldn’t help but stare. It’s not every day that you see a jaw-dropping, beautiful man. His hair was a little long for my taste, almost to his shoulders, but it gave him a sexy rocker look that had my imagination running wild. He looked like the strong silent type. His dark good looks, paired with a hard stare sent shivers down my spine.
 
He had this look about him, like he had seen the world and didn’t like it one bit.
 
It both scared and excited me at the same time.

We made eye contact and he smiled. It’s the zombie apocalypse and his manners were still intact. I liked him already. I wanted to tell him, ”Let’s go find a bed and get to know each other.” Then my brain kicked in. He could be a hot psychopath. Wasn’t Ted Bundy a hottie or something?
 

He was walking over to me, but I didn’t want to get out or put myself at risk, so I just stayed behind the wheel all awkward like.
Real smooth, Alexis
. I felt and probably looked like a scared rabbit. It wasn’t until he knocked on my window that my manners kicked in and I rolled it down, a “Can I help you?” look on my face.

“Hey, you got a plan?”
Well, he was to the point.
 

“I was going to drive up the tracks to the rail yard, take the service road if possible, my car could do it and it would avoid the traffic jam.”

“If there’s a train on the tracks?” Logical.
Well that screwed that plan.

“That would suck,” I pouted.

“I might have a better plan. Where you headed?”
 

“River Road, past the hospital.”

“Same here. Your house far from the river?”

“A block.”

“My name’s Blake, by the way. What’s yours?”

“Alexis. What’s your plan?” I liked hot men with plans. I had no qualms about that. Shit, I would have liked an ugly woman with a plan at this point. I just wouldn’t have wanted to lick her ear.

“The Harbor police have boats. We take a boat up the river. Resupply, figure out what the fuck is going on. That’s about as far as my plan goes.”

“How are we going to get the keys?” I asked.

“They should be inside the station. We just have to poke around.”

“Poke around. Sure,” I laughed. It sounded a little hysterical and Blake with the plan looked at me funny. I just shrugged. “You got a weapon?”

“Yeah, you?” I picked up the ax from the seat next to me and he raised his eyes at the obvious blood on its blade.
 

“I like you already. Come on.” He said with another one of those panty melting smiles and drew a handgun from a holster that I had failed to notice.
 

Dumb
, I chastised myself. I had to notice things like that now. This guy could have been dangerous and I would have been screwed. He still could be dangerous. I shook my head. He didn’t have to include me in his plans, right? Anyway, I had a good feeling about him. He was like a white knight and I was the cute damsel in distress. Scratch that, I was the idiot that was about to get eaten by a zombie while having lewd fantasies about a total stranger.