The Zombie Virus (Book 1) (11 page)

“No! Steven, you can’t be thinking of going
over that!” Holly cried when she spied the wrecked bridge.

“We don’t have a fuc—” I lowered my voice an
octave. “We don’t have a choice. The only other way across is in
the D.C. metro area and that would be suicide.”

“Trying that would be suicide.” She gestured
toward the span. “Maybe we should talk about going back to one of
the farms we passed and holing up there.”

I let out an exasperated breath. “That would
only buy us time. This is a peninsula with the Baltimore-Washington
corridor to our north not more than thirty miles away. How long do
you think it will be before those masses of starving monsters start
working their way south destroying every living thing in their
path?” I motioned to the bridge. “Our chances are better up
there.”

“There has to be a better way, that thing is
about ready to come crashing down,” she argued.

We had to make a decision and fast, the
idling engine of the truck was drawing the attention of some of the
nearer Loonies. I took the binoculars back and looked again hard at
the bridge.

“I think we’ll be okay. Those things are
over-engineered to withstand a lot of damage,” I said, hoping that
was true.

“Please, Papa! I don’t want to go over the
bridge,” Jeremy blurted out when he spied the structure after
taking a turn looking through the binoculars.

I looked back at my son. His eyes were wide
and he had a death grip on the Sig, the knuckles of his hand
showing white. He handed the binoculars back to me. Despite the air
conditioning I was sweating. A group of Loonies was approaching
about seventy-five yards ahead of us, not having seen us in the
truck yet. I tossed the binoculars onto the dash and gave Holly a
reassuring squeeze on her arm.

“I’m sorry,” I said, putting my hands back on
the steering wheel. “You’ll both have to trust me on this. It’s our
only choice.”

“Shit,” Holly said as the truck accelerated
down the road. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked.

“Just be ready with a gun if one of those
things tries to get in.”

I increased the speed. As we approached the
small group of infected one sprinted to get to the truck. I clipped
him hard and sped by.

I shot through the median and into the
northbound lanes to get around the stalled vehicles at the toll
plaza with its collection of Loonies. The tires squealed and the
motor revved when the wheels found pavement again, causing the
infected mass of creatures to turn as one and run toward us. We
sped past them with room to spare.

“They’re following us!” Jeremy cried from the
back.

I accelerated up the northbound lane of the
bridge, approaching the mangled section, slowing the truck to a
crawl as I got closer.

“Oh, God,” Holly uttered when she saw the
devastation before us. Pieces of twisted aircraft were lying in the
road. The fire had been so intense that it had melted the asphalt
and steel supports beneath it. A large crater nearly three yards
long and half as wide shot through the roadway. You could see the
brown waters of the Potomac running beneath it. Chunks of roadbed
hung precariously along the edges of the hole.

If I skimmed the outer barrier wall the truck
tires just might ride along the edge of the crater. The question
was would the crater walls hold?

“This shit just keeps getting deeper,” I
whispered to myself. I looked over at Holly and smiled at her.
“We’ll fit.”

She looked at me like I was insane.

“Papa, you better hurry up!” Jeremy cried,
his voice rising in fear. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw
the mass of living infected rushing up behind us. They would be on
us in seconds.

I put the Ford in four wheel drive and
punched the accelerator. The truck lurched forward on the pitched
road surface, the angle wanting to throw the truck toward the
gaping hole. I slammed the truck up against the barrier wall that
kept errant vehicles from plunging over the edge, sparks
flying.

Part of the barrier next to the hole was
missing where the aircraft had plummeted through. The truck had
three choices: shoot over the edge of the bridge, fall into the
collapsing hole or fly past to continue down the lane. I gripped
the wheel tightly when we hit the edge of the pit. The truck
lurched to the right as the edge of the crater gave way. My wife
let out a scream beside me when she looked out her window at the
water through the hole.

Then we were past. The truck bounced upright,
its rear tires fighting for purchase on the pit’s trailing edge,
and then there was clear roadway ahead of us and we raced down the
bridge. Behind us the horde of infected reached the pit at a dead
run and like lemmings over a cliff the ones in the center of the
pack fell through in a long drop to the water over a hundred feet
below.

We reached the Virginia shoreline, flying
dangerously fast down the road. Only a few abandoned vehicles
littered the two lanes of road before us.

We still had a long way to go.

CHAPTER 7

We raced down Rt. 301 past Dahlgren, easily avoiding
the few cars and infected walking around. We would have to make a
decision soon about which route to take, the back roads through
Fredericksburg or down to the I-95 corridor to Richmond where we
would pick up I-64 westbound.

I was reluctant to get anywhere near a major
city. If there was a blockage of the highway we could be stuck with
literally millions of infected surrounding us. Holly was worried
about going through the shopping strip area of Fredericksburg and I
conceded her points. State Route 3 was usually a nightmare of
traffic wending its way through the intersection for half a dozen
miles of shopping centers and strip malls.

Holly worked the GPS and it gave us an
alternative that worked its way around Fredericksburg and down to
I-64 just east of Charlottesville. The route consisted of small
back roads through the horse country of eastern Virginia. It would
add time but it would also provide safety.

We were making our way down 301 toward the
Rappahannock River where it would cross over to Port Royal and our
turnoff. The Rappahannock Bridge was a small four lane concrete
bridge that arched up over the river. We weren’t expecting any
trouble going over it as this route didn’t receive much heavy
traffic and Port Royal is a very small community.

We approached the bridge cautiously, just in
case, and were surprised to see several cars littering the top,
their doors open. I slowed down, steering over into the northbound
lanes at the foot of the bridge to avoid the vehicles. Then we
heard the gunshots, two in quick succession. In the closed truck I
couldn’t tell how far away they were or even what direction they
came from. I stopped before the top of the bridge where we were
still out of sight from the other side.

“That has to be people!” Holly said
excitedly.

“Do you think they’re sick like the others?”
Jeremy asked from the back.

“I don’t know,” I said “but we need to find
out before we go any further.” I turned the truck off and set the
parking brake.

Holly looked at me. “How do we handle
this?”

I ran my hand through my hair, running
through different scenarios in my mind. “Okay,” I said after a
moment’s pause, “I’ll get out with my rifle. You and Jeremy stay
with the truck with rifles at the ready. Keep an eye behind us for
any movement. I’m going to work my way to the top of the bridge to
try and spot who fired those shots.”

“Safeties off and sites on,” I ordered. I
turned the holographic sight on and thumbed off the safety of my
own AR-15. “Don’t let any of the infected get near and don’t
hesitate to shoot them.” I loosened the rifle and opened the truck
door. “The keys are in the ignition,” I added.

“Be careful.” Holly leaned over and kissed me
on the cheek then opened her door and got out. Jeremy was also out
and scouting the area around the stalled cars. Good boy, I thought
to myself. I got out of the truck, leaving the door open in case I
needed to get back inside in a hurry.

I walked at a low crouch up the bridge close
to the barrier wall scanning around me past the barrel of the
rifle. I could see some of the homes along the river but no
movement. I reached the top of the bridge and immediately saw why
the cars were backed up and abandoned going into Port Royal. Past
the foot of the bridge a small pickup had lost control and crossed
the center line, striking a tanker truck head on. There had been a
large fire spreading to cars on both sides of the accident. It
looked like there would be room to barely get our truck around the
burned twisted hulks.

I heard another gunshot and this time zeroed
in on the direction. Off of the northbound lanes a hundred yards
past the bridge was a small red brick building that looked like it
had been a bar or diner at one time. A mob of infected were
swarming around the building trying to get inside. The shots were
coming from a broken window in the front.

A Loony’s head exploded in a puff of red and
it dropped back from the window it was attempting to crawl through.
Someone was inside with a shotgun. I counted twenty-eight of the
infected around the building with more moving in from down the
road. Whoever was inside wasn’t going to be able to hold out
against that horde for long. I backed up quickly, crouched low so
as not to be spotted by any of the Loonies. When I was out of sight
of the building I ran the rest of the way to the truck.

“I heard the other shot. Did you see where it
came from?” Holly asked as I approached.

“There’s someone holed up in a building at
the base of the bridge. They’re being besieged by a mass of the
infected.”

“Oh God,” Holly uttered quietly “We have to
help them.”

“Yeah and soon.”

Jeremy had come up beside us. “Well, let’s
go, Papa. I’m ready.”

I smiled down at him. “I know you are,” I
replied, kneeling down and grasping his shoulder with my free hand,
“but I need you to stay here and guard the truck.”

His face dropped.

“Son, Mom and I and whoever is down there
will be coming back up here pretty fast and we don’t need any
surprises waiting for us here.” I looked him directly in the eyes.
“Can I count on you to defend this truck so we’ll be safe when we
get back?”

He smiled. “You can count on me, Papa. I
won’t let any of those things near it.”

I smiled back at him. “Good. Make sure of
your target and what’s behind it before you shoot at anything.” I
stood up.

He nodded his head in acknowledgment. “I know
that, Papa.”

“Do you have enough mags, Holly?”

“Six,” she stated, patting the vest pockets
holding the 30 rounder’s with her palm, “plus two for the Para and
one for the Beretta.”

“Okay, let’s do this.” I turned back to
Jeremy. “We won’t be long,” I told him.

Two more shots reverberated through the
air.

“Remember,” I said, looking seriously at them
both, “these things aren’t human anymore. Don’t hesitate to shoot.
They will kill you if you give them the chance.”

I kissed Holly on the lips. “Be careful and
don’t get close to them. Kill as many as you can. CNS shots,” I
said, referring to the central nervous system which, when delivered
a traumatic injury, will usually drop a person in their tracks.

We started walking up the span. “If it gets
too hot, we get out of there and we’ll figure something else out.
Don’t put yourself in any more danger than we’re already in.”

“I won’t,” Holly said. “Don’t you go playing
hero either!”

We cautiously worked our way down the slope
of the bridge, sliding over the concrete center barrier into the
southbound lanes which enabled us to use it and the burned vehicles
for concealment.

The sound of breaking glass came from the
besieged building and immediately another blast from a shotgun. The
cacophony of noise coming from the Loonies, which was a mixture of
snarling growls and keening wails, nearly drowned out the gunshot.
I motioned Holly to stay low behind the blackened car we were
concealed behind and I peeked up over the hood at the building not
more than fifty yards away.

One of the infected had run full force into
the glass doors of the old brick building, shattering them. It lay
dead at the entrance, a hole in its chest from being shot.
Undeterred, the others were pushing past en masse and into the
doorway. They all seemed to have sensed that they had breached the
building and the pitch of their growling increased. They ran toward
the entrance, pressing those before them as they fought to
enter.

There was one more shotgun blast from inside
and then no more.

“It’s time,” I said to Holly, checking down
the street to make sure we weren’t going to be flanked by any of
the creatures. “I’m going to move down about twenty yards and take
a firing position. Be ready to start firing when I do. Try not to
shoot through the doorway or windows and hit the person
inside.”

“Maybe the noise will draw those things back
out,” Holly said.

I shrugged. “Then hopefully we can kill them
all. Be careful.”

I ran at a low crouch down to another burnt
out vehicle and raised my rifle over the warped trunk, aiming at
the mass of bodies trying to get to the doorway. I was about
fifteen yards closer to the horde than Holly. We started firing
nearly simultaneously.

I pulled the trigger as fast as I could,
trying to send the rounds center mass into the group of infected.
They dropped like mowed weeds, some writhing on the ground and
howling pitifully in pain from mortal wounds. They halted in their
push forward and one by one turned to face this new
disturbance.

I completed a quick mag change. Those closest
to me finally registered my presence and charged. They screamed
their guttural call, racing the short distance between us, enraged
with bloodlust. Some had spotted Holly and sprinted into her
withering gunfire. I couldn’t help her.