What Zombies Fear 4: Fracture Read online

  As the note reached the dome, Kris felt the pitch bounce against every square inch of the dome, getting progressively louder and louder.

  Faux-Hawk popped up to the right of Kris but was immediately thrown to the ground. Even with his hands over his ears, it didn’t take long for his eardrums to rupture. Lines of dark blood ran down the sides of his face, and he began to convulse on the ground. Kris pulled the sphere closer to him, tighter around his head. She focused all of the amplified sound inside his head. Blood trickled out of his nose and then his tear ducts as he shook even more violently.

  He lay on the ground, writhing in agony, for over a minute. He was screaming, but no sound could escape the bubble around his head, and his screams only added to the volume, reverberating against Kris’ shield, amplifying and changing frequency. His eyes swelled in his head and popped like over-ripe grapes. Seconds later, his head burst like a water balloon. The now-liquid portions of his brain smeared against the small bubble that was around what used to be his head.

  With a flick of her hand, she lifted the ball into the air and pushed it far down the field. Kris waited until every solid portion of his skull and brain was 100% liquefied before she collapsed the sphere on itself, extinguishing the sound trapped inside. The blood exploded into the air with a PUFF and then rained down onto the field below.

  Kris stood in the field, horrified at what she’d just seen and at what she’d just done. Minutes passed, and Kris couldn’t even move. “Move, baby. You need to move.” Kris shook her head, trying to bring herself back to the present. A single thought of Alicia crossed her mind, and she knew what she had to do. Kris turned on her heel and began running towards the sounds of gunshots in the square of Thompson’s Station.

  Chapter 18

  The Spark

  Renee found the dorm without much trouble. It was exactly as Caleb described; the entire front of the building was covered in plywood. The blonde woman looked for a way in, but the boards denied any access through the front. She crept around to the back, where she found two guards on either side of a single steel fire door. Renee sat down on the grass about thirty feet away and watched as several soldiers came and went. Any time someone was going in, the guards extended their arms across the doorway, fingertips almost touching. The soldier pushed through the guard’s arms as if they were the swinging doors to an old-west saloon. When the soldier was through the guards extended their arms again directly behind him. It took Renee several minutes to realize they were keeping invisible people out. She could keep people from seeing, hearing, or smelling her, but she couldn't do anything about their sense of touch.

  She moved over towards the side to watch some more. This was the only way in or out, and it was well guarded. The men were about eighteen inches out from the door. Just enough room, if I get lucky, she thought, crawling towards the doorway on her hands and knees.

  When she was directly between the guards, she crouched down as small as she could and pushed her back against the hinge-side of the door, hoping that whoever came or went in next would walk in on the handle side. And she waited so long her legs cramped. Finally, someone opened the door. Renee rolled inwards as the door opened. Her back pushed the door open, but she hoped the man inside thought it was just a gust of wind. Twenty people in five minutes, and then I have to wait half an hour, she thought to herself as she got to her feet, undetected and on the inside of the ladies’ dormitory. I guess I got lucky.

  The building smelled of cigarette smoke, stale beer, and sex. It was dimly lit but warm inside. The first floor had been converted to a lounge of sorts. There were two pool tables, a couple of beer kegs, and a juke box playing end-of-the-world hits while several men sat around drinking beer or playing pool. Off to one side on a couch, a man and a woman in lingerie sat talking, both of them holding a beer. The woman looked pretty drunk, but Renee had a hard time faulting her for that. The man reached over and grabbed a handful of her hair and pushed her head down into his lap. Renee chose to move out of that room before she was forced to kill him.

  She followed the hallway out of the lounge room and up the stairs. On the second floor, she paused at door after door listening for the sounds of grunting men. Occasionally, she heard a women sobbing quietly between the grunts.

  There were twelve men in the lounge on the first floor, and she'd counted seven more on this second floor before heading upstairs to the top floor. The top floor was different; there was a steel fire door at the top of the stairs. It was standing open now, but there was a double steel bar across the stair side. This door could be closed, and two steel bars threaded through the frame of the door, locking everyone inside. This will be the women's quarters, she thought, walking through the doorway. The halls were full of women, and empty liquor bottles and full ashtrays were sitting everywhere. The women were all naked or in some kind of lingerie. All of them had very heavy makeup on.

  There were two that would have been considered attractive by most men. Both had bleach-blonde hair, very obvious breast implants, and were very thin. Aside from those two smiling women, most of them looked like they'd been mothers and grandmothers, teachers or professionals. Renee's blood boiled at the thought of what this place was. She resisted the urge to knock liquor bottles out of everyone's hands and burn the place down. Instead, she focused on finding the right woman for the job she had in mind.

  Renee looked inside every room with an open door, hoping to find a woman alone that she could talk to. She shimmied past all of the women in the halls, careful not to touch any of them, before finding exactly what she was looking for. Inside the second to last room on the floor was a woman with a couple of tattoos and close-cropped hair. She was sitting on the bed, and she looked angry as she looked at herself in a small mirror.

  Renee walked into the room and stood directly behind the woman. She spoke softly into the woman's ear. "How would you like a chance to get back at them?"

  "Who are you?" asked the woman quietly, tensing up at an unfamiliar voice in her ear.

  "My name is Renee, and I'm here to help you get out of here, if you want."

  "There's no escape. There are too many of them to even get out of the building, and then what would we do? There is nothing in this place that could be used as a weapon."

  "What's your name?"

  "Jordan. I've looked; they don't even let us have clothes. I was just thinking about breaking this mirror, but I doubt I could get a piece big enough to do any damage to one of those fucks."

  "Jordan, I can get us out of here, but I'm looking for three children, a boy and two little girls. Do you know where they'd be kept?"

  "I don't know, and I haven't heard anything. Most of the women here had children, but we haven't seen them in weeks."

  Renee put one knee on the bed, causing it to squeak. "Do you have any idea where they would be? Any guess even?"

  "Maybe the General's house? He would want to keep them close. How did you escape?"

  Renee realized that Jordan hadn't ever turned around to look at her. She had just barely tensed up when she spoke the first time.

  "Jordan, I'm going to leave you a knife. But I need you to wait until I get back to do anything. Can you do that? If I don't make it back by seven o’clock tonight, then do what you have to." Renee slid one of her two KA-BAR knives out of the small of her back and put it on the bed beside Jordan. "Where can you hide this that they won't find it?"

  "I have a good place. I'll hold off until seven, but after that, I'm taking as many of them as I can with me."

  "Thank you. I'll see you later, and hopefully you won't have to take them with you. I'm going to try to get you out of here. All of you. Do you know where Lightfoot's house is?"

  "It's the huge house at the end of the road we're on. He had a bunch of us there a few nights ago for some of his favorites to fuck."

  "Last question. Have you ever heard of soldiers here who might be planning a rebellion?"

  "No. I don't believe it. I think it's something people tal
k about, but no one could pull it off."

  "Okay. Not before seven," Renee whispered, stepping out of the room.

  Renee contemplated what she'd just done as she snuck out of the dorm. Jordan was likely to die tonight, but at least she'd go out giving some payback to those who had taken everything from her, one small glimmer to hold on to as she set about the business of destroying this place. She followed one of the men down the stairs and out the door, crawling under the arms of the soldiers as she left. Once she was out of range of the door guards, she ran as fast as she could down Battalion Avenue, towards a huge colonial-style brick house. The front columns were three stories high. At least two dozen men sat around the front porch around big round tables, playing cards or dominoes and drinking beer. All of the men were in solid black fatigues, with black berets either on their heads or beside them.

  Just as Renee reached the driveway, a truck bounced off the asphalt onto the street, missing her by inches. As she dodged, she caught sight of the kids in the back beside a man holding a gun on them. In three steps, Renee had stopped her forward momentum and reversed it, and she tore off after the truck at lightning speed.

  -----

  Victor thought about Reggie's message as he ran. He knew in his head that biding his time was the right thing. Sometimes humans had the luxury of long-range planning, and sometimes they just needed to survive until tomorrow.

  Sometimes, someone needs to stand up for everyone who can't stand up for themselves, he said to himself as he trotted along beside his friends. That thought had a much more familiar ring to it.

  Victor lost himself in his memories to dull the pain in his side. Max was about three years old, just a few months before the end of the world. Vic had stopped by the day care to pick him up that afternoon. He walked into the daycare and immediately knew something was wrong. Max always saw him coming and ran over to him. On that day, Max had kept his head down and continued coloring.

  Victor walked over to his son and knelt down beside the table. "Want to tell me about it, Max?" he said.

  "No," was Max's only reply, worried that he would disappoint his father.

  "Max, we have to talk about it. The sooner we discuss it, the sooner it can be over and we can move on. What color day did you have?" The school that Max went to color-coded days based on the children's behavior. Green days were for when the child was well behaved, yellow days for if they had some problems listening or doing what they were supposed to, and red days for when they were really troublesome.

  "Red," Max said flatly.

  "Why was it red, Bud?" asked his father.

  "I hit my friend Tyson."

  "Why did you hit Tyson?"

  "He pushed me down outside. It was my turn to climb up the slide, but he pushed me down and went first."

  "So you hit him," asked Victor patiently, still knelt down beside the table.

  "Yes, it wasn't his turn."

  Victor looked at his son in the eyes and said, "Do we hit our friends?"

  "No."

  "Why don't we hit our friends, Max?"

  "Because I protect my friends."

  The Tookes family was made up of large men. Even before his infection, Marshall was six-four. Their little brother was six-six, and Victor was the runt of the family at six-one. Max was looking to take after the average Tookes male; his doctor said he was going to be around six-three.

  "That's right. We're always going to be bigger than our friends are. We're always going to be tougher and stronger. It's easy to get angry and hit them, but we have to remember that it is up to the strong to protect the weak."

  "I know, Daddy. I have to protect those who are smaller than me."

  "So no more hitting our friends, right, Max?"

  "Right, Dad. Can we go home now? I want to watch Spiderman."

  "No TV tonight, Max. We never have TV on red days."

  "Aw, just one show?"

  "No, buddy. There are consequences to our actions. Red days mean no TV. But I'm sure we can find something else to do after I make supper."

  Max slipped his hand into his father’s, and the two Tookes men walked out of the school.

  "Vic! Vic! Look up,” John whispered, interrupting Tookes' memory.

  They had just come out of the woods and were heading back to the grandstand. There were three children standing there, holding hands. Victor couldn't make out the children's faces, but he immediately knew from the size and mannerisms that it was Max, Holly, and Maya, paraded out in front of him to show him what cooperation gets him.

  The memory of Max saying, "I have to protect those who are smaller than me," played through Victor's head.

  Chapter 19

  Hydrogen

  Renee got to the parade grounds about a minute after the truck with the children arrived. The kids were already out and being carried towards the center area, where the ground was still black with blood from the earlier executions. Soldiers surrounded the children. She saw her family run out of the woods towards the stands. Something was happening, but she couldn't figure out what. The plan she'd been orchestrating since she got there was not quite ready. She needed time to try to find some of the rebellion that Caleb had told her about, but she had to act now, before they had a chance to hurt the children.

  As Victor came up over the rise in front of the grandstand, Renee was taking off towards the house she had resided in the previous night. And as her brother saw the three children standing on a raised stage in front of the assembled men, Renee was scouring through the kitchen for cleaning chemicals.

  Tearing open the cabinet doors, she began tossing the various bottles around the room until she got to the back of the cabinet. There, she found a bottle of extra strength crystallized drain cleaner. Moving as quickly as she could, Renee grabbed a trash bag from under the cabinet and then started looking for the rest of her ingredients she would need. Years of college chemistry taught her that drain cleaners had the highest concentration of sodium hydroxide, the primary ingredient in her plan.

  She grabbed the aluminum foil from the cabinet beside the stove, leaving the cabinet door wide open, and hastily tore it into small pieces. Two aluminum molecules from the aluminum foil will bind with six sodium hydroxide molecules from the drain cleaner, creating three hydrogen molecules and three sodium aluminate molecules, she thought as she crumpled the small aluminum foil bits into balls. In most cases, the sodium aluminate was the goal. It was used to treat and purify drinking water, but this time, she was after the highly flammable hydrogen gas.

  She needed a couple more things from the kitchen. In a high cabinet, she found a delicate glass vase that worked to hold the chemicals. Because the reaction was endothermic, plastic couldn’t be used. The heat generated would melt a plastic container. Duct tape took her the longest to find, but she finally found a roll in the garage.

  After pouring the entire can of drain cleaner crystals into the bottom of the vase, she then placed a dozen crumpled pieces of aluminum foil into the drain cleaner. She took a sip of water from a bottle of water she had and then set the bottle of water inside the vase with the cap off.

  She squeezed all the air out of the trash bag and duct-taped it to the top of the vase. Then she carefully reached into the vase and lifted the water bottle out inside the trash bag.

  Renee found herself holding her breath, hoping that everything worked correctly. The hope was that when she dumped the water into the vase, hydrogen gas would be created. The volume of gas would inflate the trash bag. Her goal was that the hydrogen would lift the entire container off the ground and up into the air. All she needed now was an ignition source, and her mini Hindenburg would be complete.

  In the garage, she found a can with a couple of ounces of kerosene. She poured the kerosene into a plastic tennis ball can and grabbed the grill lighter off the bench. Renee had everything she needed now, and with any luck, her plan would work.

  Renee ran for all she was worth towards the ladies’ dorm, careful not to shake any of the
water out of the bottle inside the trash bag into the vase. It was tricky running, but she made it without prematurely inflating the trash bag. As she ran, she glanced at her watch. It was 6:48 pm. If she was going to save the women inside the dorm, she needed to do it now. On the side of the building, Renee carefully set her device on the ground behind the bushes. She had positioned it so that it leaned slightly against the brick wall.

  Renee grabbed the water bottle through the plastic trash bag and dumped it into the vase. Almost immediately, the plastic trash bag started filling like a hot air balloon. When it was three-quarters full, she pulled out the tennis ball can and threw it as hard as she could at the side of the building. The can exploded at the second-floor level, dripping kerosene down the wall. As the balloon started to rise, Renee waited. Slowly, the hydrogen balloon crept its way up the side of the wall on the windless night. When it was almost to the biggest spot of kerosene, Renee lit the fuel that had dripped down the building and stepped back about ten feet. The fire climbed up the wall, just as the pressure inside the trash bag blew the seam. The hydrogen gas exploded violently, throwing Renee back onto her back a dozen feet away. Chunks of cement and brick burst high into the air, showering the whole area with bits of stone.

  When Renee opened her eyes, she saw a huge hole in the brick wall that exposed the stairwell within. Her eyes widened in shock. She honestly couldn’t believe that it actually worked. As she pushed herself off the ground, the two men guarding the door came running around the corner, exactly as the invisible woman was hoping they would. They never saw or felt a thing. Renee moved silently between them and slit both of their throats at the same time, her trusty kitchen knife from the Chinese restaurant in one hand and her KA-BAR in the other. Both men let out a slight gurgling sound as they collapsed to the ground, blood running down their jackets. Quickly, Renee carted them over into the bushes.