Revenge & the Zombie Apocalypse

  Cage drove until dark. The RV’s headlights were out and it was impossible to see the road. By the looks of the terrain, the landscape had turned from abundant evergreen forest to a flat, desert nothingness. Cage guided the RV off the road and away from the highway. In the dark without any lights, the giant camper wouldn't be visible from the road.

  Dry desert heat woke them the next morning. It was only ten a.m., but the temperature had already reached ninety-five degrees. A sheen of sweat covered Adam's forehead. Rachel sat next to him with a pamphlet on Vegas.

  "Learning the lay of the land?" Adam asked.

  "They have one of those Ripley's Believe It Or Not Museums. Morgan always wanted to go to one of those." Rachel frowned.

  Adam squeezed her knee.

  “I can’t believe Lindsay is dead,” Rachel whispered. “It was so sudden.”

  Adam sighed. “I know.”

  “Do you think Nicky blames himself?” Rachel asked.

  “I guarantee it. I would.” Adam gazed out the window. "Wow, look at that."

  "Beautiful, right?"

  Miles and miles of flat red dirt stretched out from the RV’s window. It looked like Mars.

  “Let’s get moving,” Rachel said. “I want to get there.”

  The others were still sleeping, so Adam drove. They weren't far from Vegas and he was as anxious as Rachel to get there.

  Adam headed south on Highway 15. The interstate was abandoned—no stalled cars, no trash, no signs of life—only crimson dirt stretching for miles on either side of the road. The RV had under half a tank of gas. Adam prayed they could make it to Vegas on what they had. The group couldn't handle any more problems. No more gas station attacks, zombies, cannibals or gang members. He wanted to drive up to Las Vegas Boulevard and start their lives at Camp Freedom Two.

  Hell, maybe he’d even play a game of blackjack with Nicky.

  Nicky rolled out of the loft and moaned. "My ear feels crusty."

  "You should wash it before it gets infected," Adam said. "I don't have any more antibiotics."

  “You don't want them thinking you've been bitten,” Finn added.

  "I sacrificed part of my ear so you guys could be free." Dark circles lined Nicky’s eyes. “If you want to send your rations this way, I’ll gladly accept them.”

  Dean stumbled out of the back room. "That asshole has a box of dynamite in the bedroom."

  Finn and Cage perked up from the loft. "Dynamite?"

  "A whole crate full."

  "Why would he need dynamite?" Cage asked.

  "Probably for traps to lure travelers," Rachel said. "More road blocks."

  Everyone lapsed into silence and stole glances at Nicky.

  Rachel moved to the passenger seat beside Adam and twisted the knob on the radio, but no station came through. Only static. It was a bad sign.

  Nicky pointed out the window. "Nellis Air force Base. That means—"

  "We’re close to Area Fifty-One," Finn finished.

  “Dude.” Nicky held up his hand. “Give me a five.”

  "Aliens?" Cage asked.

  "Top-secret government stuff," Nicky said. “Possibly alien paraphernalia depending on how paranoid you are.”

  "We’re not far from Vegas," Cage said. "Do you think any of the military is at this base?"

  "Maybe they’re testing for a cure there." Finn pressed his face against the smudged glass.

  As Adam drove past the exit, he didn’t see anything to put him at ease. No people. No cars. No government help. Only desert—red rocks and sand. A green highway sign came into view: Las Vegas 11 miles.

  Excitement filled the RV. Eleven miles. They were almost there. Small one-story buildings emerged as they reached the outskirts of Vegas. Adam kept his eyes peeled.

  Rachel leaned forward in the passenger seat. "Holy—"

  "What?" Nicky kneeled between them. "Is that the fence? Jeez. It’s huge."

  Adam pressed his foot on the brake and the RV stopped in the middle of the two-lane road. About two miles away, a fifteen-foot razor-topped wire fence wrapped around the Las Vegas strip.

  "It's Camp Freedom Two," Cage said. "It looks like it's up and running."

  Hundreds of men in green Army fatigues moved behind the fence on raised platforms.

  "How in the hell are we supposed to get inside?" Nicky asked.

  "No clue," Adam whispered.

  "Is that—?" Cage leaned closer to the giant front window.

  "Yes," Rachel whispered. "Zombies."

  Hundreds of military manned the gates from inside Camp Freedom Two, but thousands of the undead surrounded the wire fence. The zombies were ten deep and clawing to get inside.

  Camp Freedom Two was under attack.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The familiar feeling of dread didn't happen. Rachel found that odd—shouldn’t she feel something? Anything? They'd driven thousands of miles over a post-apocalyptic America crawling with zombies only to be faced with this. Their hallelujah safe spot was teeming with the undead.

  Zombies crowded the fence like water pushing against a dam. Bloody limbs clawed at the chain links as they attempted to slash through the barrier. Rachel and the others couldn’t get inside the protective gates—not with the horde surrounding the fence. It was like being lost in a desert and stumbling upon a contaminated, undrinkable oasis.

  Adam glanced sideways at Rachel. "You okay?"

  She nodded.

  "What are we going to do?" Finn asked.

  "We have to get inside that camp," Cage said simply. "We have no choice. There’s nowhere else to go. This is the last major stronghold in America."

  "But how?” Finn asked.

  "Call Sergeant Deerhorn, Nicky.” Adam hooked his finger through Rachel’s belt loop and pulled her into his lap. He lowered his lips to her ear. "Are you sure you're okay? I'm worried about you."

  He had good reason to be—Rachel felt empty. One hundred percent hollow. "I'm fine," she lied.

  “We’re going to find a way through.”

  Rachel could only nod.

  Nicky twisted the dial on the walkie-talkie. "Sergeant Deerhorn? Are you there? Over."

  Static crackled.

  "Hello?" Blood seeped through Nicky’s bandaged ear.

  Rachel watched Nicky. This was it. The defining moment. What would they do if no one answered? The old farmhouse surrounded by the cornfield flashed before her eyes. The old house would’ve been the perfect place to hole up, but it was so far away, they'd never be able to—

  "Deerhorn here. Over."

  "It's Nicky! We're here! But we can't get in. Over."

  "They closed the gates two days ago when that army of infected showed up," Deerhorn sighed. "Where are you? Over."

  "A mile from the fence."

  Deerhorn groaned. "There's word of an airstrike, but it hasn’t been confirmed yet. A squadron went to Nellis Air Force Base to find a plane to firebomb the horde, but we lost communication yesterday. I don't know what to say. We can't get you in through the front door and we don't have a helicopter to airlift you inside. Can you hole up in one of those buildings until we receive word from the squadron?"

  Rachel bit her lip—a deep maniacal laugh threatened to escape.

  "But you said no one has heard from the squadron," Nicky said. "What are you asking? That we hang out in one of these shitty-ass buildings until help possibly comes? The horde is literally down the street. Over."

  Deerhorn went silent.

  “Dude, we drove thousands of miles because you told us this place was safe,” Nicky said. “My girlfriend is dead. We’ve lost a lot of people. Don’t leave us hanging now.”

  Muffled curses floated over the static. "Give me half an hour and I'll call you back,” Deerhorn said. “Let me see what I can do. Stay out of sight. Over."

  The static went silent. Nicky slammed the walkie-talkie down.

  "Raid the cabinets," Adam said. "We’re getting behind that fence one way or another. We need to be ready. "
/>
  Adam parked behind a pharmacy while they searched the RV for supplies. The air conditioning was broken and it was sweltering. Rachel tied her hair on top of her head—the heat made it hard to do anything.

  Raiding the RV in hundred-degree heat was the equivalent of running a marathon. When they were done, everyone was covered in sweat.

  Adam sat on the concrete and leaned against the RV’s tire. "I'm hungry."

  Rachel's mouth lifted. "Me, too."

  “I’d kill for a bacon cheeseburger and a cold beer.”

  "I want a plate of spaghetti with warm breadsticks."

  "Don't talk about food." Nicky sighed. "I'd kill for a greasy bucket of chicken."

  A lone zombie wandered by. Cage killed it before the creature growled. “First one we’ve seen around here,” he said.

  “Every deadhead in town must be at the fence.” The walkie-talkie crackled in Nicky’s hand.

  Deerhorn's voice sailed over the hot air. “Nicky? Over.”

  Nicky jumped to his feet. "Talk to me, dude."

  "I may have a way to get you inside," Deerhorn said. "As long as you are okay with the sewer."

  ~ ~ ~

  "It's not full-out suicide," Nicky said. "But I’d consider it partial suicide."

  "It's a decent plan." Adam ran his finger across the stained map. "We'll be cutting it close."

  "Of course we will," Nicky said. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” His heart squeezed—Lindsay would’ve been complaining at the top of her lungs if she were here.

  "We have to do this…unless you want to make camp here or head back east." Adam glanced at Rachel.

  She shook her head, but kept her eyes on the ground. She looked defeated, which made Nicky nervous. Were they all walking to their deaths? Nicky wasn't going to deny it; he was running on pure adrenaline. He was still in shock over Lindsay’s murder. It didn’t feel real. How could it? They ate her….

  Adam tapped the map. "The closest access is E. Bonanza and S. Las Vegas Blvd. That’s where we have to go under."

  "How far is that from the horde?" Cage asked.

  "Two blocks, maybe closer." Adam turned to Rachel. "You've been quiet. What’s your take on this?"

  "Our plans never work." Rachel shrugged. "I'm in, of course, but I have a bad feeling about it."

  Everyone grew quiet.

  "Do you think we should turn back?" Adam asked.

  "No," she whispered. "I think we're screwed wherever we go."

  "That’s uplifting," Nicky said. "What happened to badass Rachel? RV cannibals chomped up my girl and I'm still fighting. I’m going down swinging."

  Rachel locked eyes with Nicky. Her shoulders shuddered as she exhaled. "I'm sorry. You're right."

  "We have nothing to lose," Cage said.

  "Just our lives," Finn added.

  "We have to get inside." Dean grabbed his bulletless AK-47 by the strap. "I'm getting in or I’ll die trying."

  Nicky burped. “Isn’t that the name of a rap song?”

  “What?” Dean asked.

  “Never mind. Let’s go.” Nicky jogged down the RV's steps and out to the inferno that was Las Vegas in the dead of summer.

  "We can do this,” Adam said.

  He had this uncanny ability to give them hope. Nicky shook his head—the guy should’ve been a war general or an actor in a war movie. Nicky could picture Adam with a cigar clamped between his teeth—

  "Move together in a cluster,” Adam said. “No one make a sound. If one zombie gets a whiff of us, then they’ll all come after us. It's too risky. No gunfire unless it’s the last resort."

  "How far do we have to go once we’re underground?" Rachel asked.

  "I counted ten blocks," Cage said.

  "Will there be zombies in the sewer?" Finn asked.

  "Possibly," Adam said.

  "Rats, too, right?"

  “Yeah.”

  “Cool,” Finn muttered.

  When they reached the edge of the pharmacy, Nicky directed Finn to the middle of the group while he took the rear with Cage. Rachel, Adam and Dean were in front. They darted across the street, moving building to building until they were at S. Las Vegas Blvd.

  A scalding, oppressive heat hammered down from above. Nicky wished he had some shades. Or an ice cream cone. He lifted his face to the sun. Despite the tough-guy attitude, he was dying inside. He couldn’t stop thinking about Lindsay. Why didn’t Tom pull his number first?

  They walked between the drive-through banking columns and crouched at the corner of the building. The street was full of strip-mall businesses—bail bonds, a liquor store and a pawnshop. This seedier part of Vegas reminded Nicky of when they were trapped on the Ann Arbor strip. It wasn't a good memory, but maybe some of these places had some hidden food? He'd never been so hungry in his life. When was the last time he’d eaten?

  "Do you think we—" Nicky started.

  "Shhh," Dean cut him off. "Get down."

  They crouched behind a bush next to the teller’s window. Nicky smelled the four deadheads from across the parking lot—the sun had baked their decayed skin.

  "I've got them." Dean stood.

  "All four?" Rachel asked.

  Dean nodded. "Can I borrow your bat?"

  “Sure.” Rachel handed him her aluminum baseball bat.

  He moved like a wild animal stalking its prey.

  Nicky crossed his arms over his chest. "Those zombies are about to get an ass whooping."

  Dean smashed all four creatures with one giant swing. The attack was so vicious that it was hard to look away. "All clear!"

  The roaring of the horde filled the hot air. How many were at the fence? A thousand? Two? How would they get into the sewers undetected? The manhole was two blocks away.

  "Call Deerhorn," Adam said to Nicky. "We might not get reception underground and if you call when we get closer, the horde might hear you."

  "Good call, dude." Nicky twisted the dial. "Deerhorn, you there? Over."

  The radio crackled. "I'm here, Nicky. Are you ready? Over."

  "We will be underground in five minutes. Over."

  "Good luck. Over and out."

  They ran to the edge of a building. Nicky sweated profusely—screw this Nevada heat. It had to be over a hundred and ten degrees without one hint of a breeze. He already missed Michigan and its cool weather. He'd probably never see the place again.

  Adam raised his hand. "There it is—after the intersection—next to that old white car. See it?"

  It was an ordinary manhole, but Nicky was stoked. All they had to do was slip underground, run a few blocks in the dirty sewage, and then they’d finally be safely inside Camp Freedom Two. He’d be playing craps by dinnertime. Hopefully, the hotels' air conditioning was working. He caught a whiff of his armpits and grimaced—a shower would be good, too.

  "What's the plan?" Cage wiped the sweat from his forehead.

  "Let's hide behind that truck,” Adam said. “Dean, can you lift the manhole cover without making a sound?"

  "No problem," Dean said.

  "We need to be careful." Adam squeezed Rachel's hand. "As soon as we hit the street, we'll be exposed."

  "Will they see us?" Finn asked. "We're so close."

  "Let's hope none of them are facing our direction," Adam said. "Is everyone ready?"

  Nicky checked over his shoulder, but there were no deadheads behind him—they were all at the fence. They raced to a garbage truck fifty feet away from the sewer and crouched behind its tires. Dean looked under the truck and swore.

  "Assholes are close, right?" Nicky looked for himself. Why did he need a mental picture? He pressed his cheek against the hot asphalt.

  The twelve-foot fence topped with barbed wire was two blocks away. Standing in between Nicky and Camp Freedom Two’s blackjack tables were too many zombies to count. It looked like a rock concert—hundreds upon hundreds crowded the fence.

  Adam nudged Nicky’s leg. "Ready?"

  "It's your move, dude."
r />   Dean did one quick check toward the fence and then jogged to the middle of the street. Adam slid beside Nicky and they watched the enormous man move as quietly as a cat.

  Waves of heat radiated off the street and distorted Nicky’s vision. Dean kneeled beside the manhole and lifted the cover. The metal groaned in protest.

  Nicky checked under the truck again—hundreds of feet faced the fence. He motioned for Finn. He wanted the kid by his side when they went underground.

  Dean placed the cover beside the opening and waved them over. Nicky and Finn went first. Nicky lowered himself into the hole—there was no telling what was down there—and descended the ladder. His sneakers safely splashed into a smelly puddle of water twelve feet below. He did a quick check, but he didn’t see any zombies.

  “Come on, Finn,” Nicky whispered.

  Finn moved like he was the king of the jungle gym.

  Nicky glanced up. Dean waved at Adam, Rachel and Cage.

  The horde’s collective snarls changed like the shifting of the wind—from a constant monotonous moan to an ear-splitting ravenous growl.

  Dean's neck snapped in the direction of the fence. His jaw slid open. "Oh, shit! Here they come! Go, go, go!"

  Chapter Twenty

  Five zombies flew around the bank’s corner, from exactly the opposite direction of the fence, and that was why they got the jump on Rachel. She’d almost reached the manhole with Adam and Cage when the small gang of flesh-eaters snarled. Rachel stopped in her tracks. Five zombies were not a big deal—the problem was the noise.

  From down the street, hundreds of sets of eyes landed on them. Almost immediately, runners from the fence took off in their direction.

  "Go!" Adam screamed. "Go!"

  Rachel snapped into action and slid down the manhole with Cage and Adam on her heels.

  "Move back!" Rachel screamed at Nicky. She raced down the ladder hand over hand. Her heart thumped in her chest. The others moved from the bottom of the ladder as Cage, Rachel and Adam found the wet ground.

  Dean fumbled with the manhole cover, but he couldn’t close it. Swarms of zombies surrounded the opening. Dean cursed, left the hole open and climbed down the ladder.