Original Stories Fan Fiction / Horror Fan Fiction ❯ Plague 11: The Outbreak ❯ The Bomb Drops ( Chapter 9 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Chapter 9: The Bomb Drops
Driving with a hotwired car was not as easy of a task as Andrews thought it would be. Not only was this a general truth he soon realized, but the actual RV that they selected was almost empty as far as fuel went. They were able to get out of the city and into the country side heading south west. Not too long after they had left, the RV came to a stop infront of a small town. Andrews saw a small used car lot at the front of the town.

He pulled himself into the back of the RV and spoke to the two teenagers about getting some, as he called it, new wheels. They had to run fast and find a suitable car, then find the keys inside. After that, they could get out of harm's way. Lauren agreed quickly, having learned of the RV's useless state. John didn't speak up. He didn't nod or acknowledge the others. He was still having serious mental grief and emotional pains. He just sat in his seat and looked at the wall. Lauren glanced at John and then at Andrews. She couldn't figure out what to say. Andrews grabbed John by the shoulders and turned him so they were looking eye to eye.

"Listen, kid. I know what you're goin' through. I had a lot of my close friends die, too. And it made me feel like shit. But we need your help now. We have to get a new ride. You game?" Andrews said.

"What if we fail again. What if.... what if we don't make it this time?" John asked.

"Well that's simple." Andrews replied, "We just won't get killed."

Lauren hopped out of the RV, followed by Andrews and finally, John. They ran as fast as they possiblly could. Crossing a small chain guard, they weaved past many old cars. Dust covered them like a coat of paint. Scanning each car, John rested his eyes on a large SUV on the far end of the lot. He told Andrews and Lauren and they made their way to the car. Checking the tag, the roster number found to be #576.

Lauren checked the amount of ammunition in her pistol. She found five bullets remained. "I'll go inside and find the key. Just wait for me to get back" she said.

Venturing into the building, Lauren kept her guard up and gun ready. The zombies could be as quiet as they were loud, and as sneaky as they were obvious. She followed the signs on the dusty walls to the key room. Outside, John and Andrews and ducked next to the car, trying to stay out of sight from any of the infected that moved about the town. Andrews had his shotgun in hand, but John remianed unarmed, having unloaded his pistols at the college only a few hours earlier. This fact only threw more and more pressure on his shoulders. All he could do now was hide and wait.

Lauren entered the small key room. Inside was simply a wall a foot away with a wooden board. It had hooks all over it with small metal keys hanging still. She ran her hands across some of them. She reached into her memory for the number. She looked at the board, scanning each label. Then she saw it. Plucking the key for #576, she turned and ran toward the exit. She she rounded the corner, however, she haulted herself. Just outside the doorway was a lone zombie, wandering through the waiting room. It had its back turned toward her and was mindlessly moving toward the far wall. Lauren reached for the gun on her belt, having set it there while key hunting. She pulled it quickly, making a small snapping sound. But that small sound was just enough to alert the creature to Lauren's location. It turned toward her and took a few quick strides in her direction. Lauren didn't waste time with this. She pulled the trigger and the blast sent vibrations through her body. With a thud, the zombie's carcass landed on the ground, blood dripping from a hole in its forehead.

Outside, Andrews and John were snapped to attention by two things. The first was the sound of the gun that Lauren caused. But that was nothing compared to the next thing. It was more sounds. The sounds of feet clammering and stomping, grunts and moans, and echoes of nearly one hundred zombies stampeding toward them. Lauren came running out of the building and to the car. Andrews watched as several zombies flew through the cars. John looked around for a way out. Visions of Trent and Vicky were flowing through his mind so fast, he could hardly think. He shut his eyes and fell into a dark place. The sounds of the zombies still filled his head and all he could see was Trent being bit and Vicky falling to her death. He forced his eyes open and returned to the world.

Lauren was at the car and pushed the key into the driver side door. She pulled the door open and hit a side button that opened the others. Andrews climbed into the passanger seat and John pulled himself into the back. As he shut the door, the mass of undead monsters clammered around the car. Lauren pressed down on the acceleration and flattened some zombies in the front. She guided the SUV out of the lot and back onto the road. They passed a sign in front of the lot that read: ALL CARS GO WITH FULL GAS! Lauren checked the gas meter. It was true. They had a full tank and were once again safe, of only for a short time. There was still a long drive until they arrived in California. Crossing Nevada was going to be extremely difficult. But if they wanted to survive, the was no easy way out.
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The following four days were not what John and his friends thought they would be. In Nevada, there were no major cities on the east end. They were able to glide across the state nearly untouched. There were, however, some minor conflicts. At least twice in the three times that they had to refill on gas, they were attacked by small groups. And on the third day, they had almost become stranded in another small town. The one good thing that happened to them was finding a well suppluied gun shop. They had enough ammunition to last them a while. Food had become a gathering ritual. Upon wevery stop, they hunted and gathered any food close by. For the most part, it was a pretty smooth ride. But everything changed on the fifth day.

The SUV flew across the long state road, passing trees and hills and the occasional zombie. But after a few hours of driving, the number of infected in and on the side of the road grew larger. They sped and swerved past any debris in the road. The populated highway was filling faster than they had expected, with what seemed like infinite zombies that had come from nowhere. Andrews tried to figure out the reason for the drastic increase, and soon he found his answer. They passed a green marker sign that read: RENO- 25 MILES.

Andrews got the group's attention. "Hey, you two! We need to change our course. I am not going into Reno. No way in hell." he said.

Lauren looked at John. He closed his eyes to think. On one hand, he formulated, going around Reno would be safer. But on the other, cutting straight through the cioty would be extremely faster. He lifted his eye lids and opened his mouth. He saw Andrews looking back at him and not the road. And he saw the terrain. He saw two things instantly. One was the large hill on the side of the road. The other was an electrical pole in line with the car. "Andrews! The road! Get back on the-"

Andrews and Lauren turned around to face the windshield just in time to see the pole. Andrews cursed loudly as he yanked the the steering wheel to the right, causing the car to do the same. It swerved away from the pole and dipped. In on fast motion, the car avoided the pole and slid off the ledge right next to it. John and his friends tossed and turned, screaming as the sturdy SUV was turned into a heap of wreckage. John was jerked from his seat and smashed into the side window. Blood seeped from his temple which was cut in several places, bits of glass mixed in with the red liquid. From the inside of the car, the view outside was impossible to see. John looked at the mix of shattered glass, dirt, and blood obscuring his vision of the outside. He quickly looked around at the others, who were unconscious in their seats, and then patted himself down for injuries. Surprisingly, he was okay. John pulled himself to the door and undid the latch. He pushed the door open and let the light flood in.

Squinting his eyes, John looked into the light flowing in from outside. Then, the light faded as a silhouette of a man appeared within the light. John's eyes widened and he pushed himself back, searching the ground for a weapon. He wrapped his fingers around the handle of a pistol. John swung the gun up and pointed it at the man standing in front of him. He saw something the strange. The man grew smaller. No... John thought, It backed up.

Then something happened that John didn't expect. There came a voice. "Are you okay?" they said. John thought fast, Human!

John slid over to the door and fell out into the light. As his eyes adjusted to the bright sun, he saw he wasn't surrounded by the undead. He was surrounded by people. Normal people. Each of them carried a large weapon and were armored in what looked like a cheap knock-off of kevlar. John looked around at them. He counted six in total. One of them stepped forward. He was tall and had a deep voice that complimented his height in an almost movie star way. "I'm Walter Jones. This is my team of survivors. Are you okay?" he said.

"Um... yeah. I'm fine. But my friends are out cold. Can you help us?" John asked.

Walter turned to his band of fighters and gave out some orders. "Hanson, Dillard, Slater, get back on guard duty. Kendall and Grayson, yall are with me. Let's get these three to the safe house. Dispurse!" he commanded.

By nightfall, John, Lauren, and Andrews were safe and sound. All of their weapons had been scavanged and brought into the safe house. Their wounds were cleaned and they were filled in on the group that saved them. They had been surviving since the start of the conflict. While traveling, they discovered a burned out National Guard post, where they gathered their strong weaponry. They dubbed themselves the Vultures, based on their scavanging ways.

Andrews decided to fill them in on their plan. "We were actually headed to California. We have to get to the coast, where we can find a ship. Then we're getting out of this hell hole. Yall in?" Andrews explained.

"Get the hell out!" Walter said surprised, "We were planning to go that way too. We have the whole thing mapped out."

"Really? Everything?" Lauren asked.

"Yes, ma'am. We're gonna pliow straight through Reno and into California. We've reinforced a school bus to drive through the city. And we've got weapons out the wazoo. So we figured we'd be leaving really soon. So I guess I'll use yalls' question. You in?" Walter said.

The plan was set and soon, preparations were underway. John and Lauren helped apply metal to the bus while Andrews worked on weapons. The fforts were strenuous and tiring. But since the bus was almost complete, repairs and armoring was not too bad. At the end of the day, Walter called a group meeting. Everyone sat down and he spoke about the coming race through Reno.

"Listen up, people! Tomorrow we set out for California. We've got one bus and a lot of guns. Now I'm going to lay down some ground rules. For starters, no one exits the bus for anything. Number two, if anyone is lost or seperated, we will not come and save you. So stick with the group. We will make absolutely no stops. Third: we must make all our rations last. Are we clear? And fourth: everyone must carry a weapon. Everyone must fight. Now everyone get some sleep. Tomorrow morning, we head into Reno. And we will make it. Dismissed!"

That night everyone slept in the safe house. Everyone needed sleep for the big day. Even John was able to sleep, if only for a while. But the night wasn't quiet. The sounds of the zombies filled the night air and the dreams of the survivors. Nightmares replayed in John's head. He once again saw Trent attacked and Vicky fall. He invisioned his parents falling victim to these former humans. Everything that he'd been through replayed like a horror movie in his dreams. When the morning came, he could hardly move. John thought back about the night. He only got 2 hours of sleep.

John followed the Vultures into the armored bus. He had armed himself with an M16 machine gun and a small pistol. Andrews and Lauren joined him, both ready with weapons. After everyone was on the bus and ready, the make-shift tank roared to life and pulled into the highway. It drove down the home stretch toward Reno. It was time for one last push.

Anything that got in the way of the bus was smashed and crushed. The grew closer and closer to the city, which was now only ten miles away. More and more infected gathered in the road. The speed that the bus was going still made it impervious to their massive numbers. With every minute, they inched closer, not worrying about a speed limit or stops. Andrews watched as bodies were reduced to smushed guts. Finally, they passed under the arch that read: RENO- THE BIGGEST LITTLE CITY IN THE WORLD. It was caked in dust and no longer shined in glory. As they pulled into the city, they saw something horrible. There was death, destruction, and zombies everywhere. This is bad..., John thought.

With a loud banging sound, the bus knocked a burning car out of the way. A river of zombies ran behind the bus, keeping a steady pace. One of the members of the Vultures, Slater, looked out the back window at all of them. He called up to the front, "Walter! We've got a trail forming! Want me to shake em'?" he asked.

The leader looked around the bus and out the windows. He picked up a propane tank and rolled it over to Slater. "Burn em'!" he said, "Give em' the 'Dawn of the Dead' treatment!"

Slater nodded and grabbed the propane tank. He swung the back door open and cast the tank into the crowd. As he pulled his rifle out, an arm flung out at him. He leaned back and then righted himself, taking aim. With a single shot, he blasted a bullet into it and watched as the tank exploded in a medium sized fire ball. A single flare whipped at the bus's open doorway, burning Slater's eyes. He screamed and fell to the ground, clutching his face in agony. As he rolled about, John got up to pull him away. But just as he stood up, An arm reached into the bus and grabbed Slater. John dove for him, but only met the floor as Slater was pulled outside, into the infected crowd. John grabbed the door and pulled it closed as fast as he could. They had to keep moving.

Everyone jumped as a loud screeching sound blasted through the air, pummling their ears. As they looked through the windows, the survivors chatted in anxiety about the noise. Something caught John's eye. A quick shadow that flew across the city. He noticed some others had seen it as well, including Andrews. "What was that?" he asked aloud.

Another screeching sound entered their ears only seconds after the shadow had passed. John stood up and moved to the middle of the bus. He unlatched the top emergency escape door and pushed himself half way onto the roof. Once again, a shadow quickly whipped the terrain. This time, John looked up, into the air. He found the source. It was an army jet fighter that was slicing the sky, joining two others. There was a third loud shockwave, followed by a fourth jet. John tucked himself back into the bus as the fourth jet was followed by it's engine noises.

"What was it?" Lauren asked.

"Jets! Army planes are flying over the city." John reported.

"What would they be doing flying over Reno?" Grayson, one of the Vultures, asked.

Kendall, his friend, looked from window to window. "Maybe their looking for-"

He was interupted by a sound even louder than the shockwaves from the jets. It was the sound of an explosion. And it was close. Strong wind slammed into the bus as dirt and debris flew through the air. They looked out the windows. On the far end of the city, fire and smoke were filling the air as buildings crumbled. Dillard, the driver, looked at the destruction. He saw another plane soar across the city again, dropping a large package. He gasped when his eyes recognized it. "Oh shit! Take cover!" he yelled as another bomb hit the city, turning the sky red and buildings to dust.

The explosion's powerful waves slammed the bus hard, rocking it from side to side and shattering the windows. Walter fell over onto a seat. He called to Dillard. "Frank! Get this thing moving!"

The bus started moving. The two bombs had cleared the streets, for the most part, of any zombies. But as of now, the infected were the least of their worries. They gained speed and turned through street after street, looking for the fastest way out. Another jet flew overhead, dropping a bomb far behind them. While they escaped the fire, the force of the explosion rocked the bus viciously. John held on tightly to a seat he had fallen into. The next one, he figured, would be much closer.

Dillard slammed the gas pedal as hard as he could. They roared down one final street that led to what looked like the city limits. As they rocketed past many buildings, the forth jet flew over the city, dropping a bomb right behind them. Fired erupted from every building as rocks rained around the ruins of Reno. The explosion followed the bus across the street. As the end of the straightaway came, Dillard fell silent. It wasn't the city limit or the end of the street. It was a hill that had a large cement guard. The only way to go right. But it was too late. As fire enveloped everything and what was left of Reno was destroyed, the bus smashed through the cement guard and fell down to the real city limit street. With a crash, the vehicle slammed into the ground. Everyone inside was thrown to the floor and knocked out. The fire from above crackled as the four jets flew off. Reno lay in ruins.
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John opened his eyes. He was laying inside the destroyed bus. Pulling himself up, he moved to the front. Bodies were strewn here and there. John didn't see Lauren or Andrews. He looked down and saw a shotgun at his feet. He picked up the gun and walked to the front. The door was blasted open with Dillard's smashed body next to it. John hoisted himself out of the bus and slowly landed on the ground. It was only mid-day, but the sky was covered in smoke and clouds. John cocked the shotgun and walked around the wreckage. He caught sight of something moving on the other side. Running over, he turned toward the figure. John pointed the gun, but stopped short. Andrews stood infront of him, holding a machine gun. Lauren stood near Andrews, also holding a weapon. John took a sigh of relief. "Hey guys," he said, "that was close."

With no car or transport, all they could do was walk. And so they did. John, Lauren, and Andrews strode across the road that led to California. It was all they could do. The Nevada-California border was close enough. They still had a chance to make it. And John knew they could.