Zombie Squad Read online

  “What about people that were infected while traveling?” Nick asked.

  Rabkin shrugged. “It’s impossible to tell. It would be interesting to locate a rambler we knew had been a significant distance away from their home and see if they are heading home or walking around within that twenty mile radius the others seem to stick to. Of course, we don’t have the resources for such things.”

  “Okay,” Nick said. “So I know about the headshots, burning, and maybe being electrocuted. I also know they can’t swim. What else?”

  “They can’t swim?” Rabkin asked?

  “No. I watched a few sink on the lake trying to get to my houseboat.”

  “Interesting,” Rabkin said. “But no, those are the only things we know for certain. There have been no indications that they can smell humans or sense us in hiding. Also, we are fairly certain that their eyesight is poor.”

  Nick nodded, looking around the fourth level. “Are there any in captivity right now?”

  “No,” Griffith said. “Fortunately, the only people we are holding here as of this moment are the three people that were successfully cured by the vaccine.”

  “About that vaccine,” Nick asked. “How does it work?”

  “I’ll explain that to you before you leave,” Rabkin said. “I believe the way we’ll run this is have you go back up to visit with our surveillance guys and we’ll find out where to find McAllister and Laslo.”

  “That will be pretty easy,” Nick said.

  “How so?” Griffith asked.

  “I can damn near guarantee you that they weren’t infected.”

  “Are you that sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How can you be so confident?” Rabkin asked.

  “Because James McAllister was one of those paranoid prepper guys and an expert survivalist. He had a contingency plan for everything—from alien invasion to global floods.”

  “And Katherine Laslo?” Griffith asked.

  “She’ll be unharmed, too.”

  “How do you know?” Griffith asked.

  “Because she knew this was coming and started planning for it months before it hit.”

  TWO YEARS AGO

  8

  The trip to Bethesda was not an easy one. There were distractions inside the President’s Humvee but the carnage that was raging outside was like watching images of Hell through a Viewfinder. Nick had been through a lot in the course of his career, but never anything as tense as this.

  He held his Sig to the President’s head as four secret service agents sat within inches of him, their hands on their weapons and eager to shoot. His heart beat like a bass drum in his heart. He could feel it in his head, pounding furiously.

  Outside the truck, the roads were clogged with traffic jams and clusters of ramblers. The ramblers were attacking—or feeding, or whatever the hell it was that they did—on anyone that dared to get out of their cars. Nick saw a few of them slapping stupidly at the jammed vehicles, looking for a way in.

  The tension within the Humvee was beyond anything Nick had ever experienced. One twitchy nerve or even an ill-time jolt from outside the vehicle, and the interior would be filled with gunshots, gore, and dead bodies in a fraction of a second.

  The only thing that kept Nick from losing his mind and their tense little group moving ahead was the fact that the National Guard had been actively keeping the major roadways in something close to working order. The furthest lane to the left on the Beltway was being kept open for all military, law enforcement, and emergency responder vehicles.

  The President’s driver kept his hands tight on the steering wheel as he crept along through the single lane of traffic. The man was sweating and clearly just as nervous as everyone else within the Humvee.

  Nick looked out of the window, trying to keep track of where they were. They were closing in on Bethesda, but not nearly fast enough for Nick’s liking. The scenes that they rolled by seemed to make the trip even slower, like some broken elevator that was heading straight to hell and some smartass had pushed every single button on the control panel.

  To the right, members of the local police were working with soldiers to fend off the ramblers as best they could. Nick learned quickly that the ramblers weren’t stupid. This was evident in the way the scene played out. They would start ambling towards the armed personnel and then, once a great number of their kind had been slaughtered, would retreat at that awkward striding pace they only seemed to be capable of. Spooked by the gunfire and watching other ramblers die, they would turn their attention elsewhere, namely to the people that had been unlucky enough to get trapped in the massive traffic jams. The military and police tried their best to keep these people safe, but it was pointless.

  Nick wondered just how long it would take one of the larger groups of ramblers to understand that they outnumbered the armed forces by a great deal. If they ever did come to this realization, Nick wondered just how long the military was going to be able to fend them off.

  This is going to end quickly, Nick thought as he held the gun steadfastly to the President’s head. And we’re going to lose. We don’t stand a chance.

  It was hard to fathom this as he stared several of them down through the windows. They walked as if their limbs were stiff, usually dragging their feet rather than lifting them. Their eyes were hazed over, their mouths usually open in an expression that made them look flat-out stupid.

  That, Nick thought, was probably how they had gotten the upper hand so quickly. Their slow speed and stumbling stature had caused people to underestimate their potential danger. It was not something Nick was about to let himself fall victim to.

  “I don’t understand this,” President Ames said. His eyes were looking sharply to the right, in the direction of the gun that was pressed against the side of his head. “What do you think you could possibly achieve by taking me hostage at a moment like this?”

  Nick’s first reaction was to stay quiet and let the President and his men stew in the fear of the moment. However, there was another half an hour to go before they reached his apartment where Valerie and Mary were waiting. Usually, it would take no more than ten minutes or so from where they currently were, but the single line of traffic was creeping along too damn slowly.

  “This isn’t about taking you hostage,” Nick said. “This is simply about running out of options.”

  “What options?”

  “There’s something I need,” Nick said, “and quite frankly, you were the easiest way for me to get it. The fact that I had easy access to you made it a no-brainer.”

  “What is it that you want?”

  Nick smiled nervously. “The same everything wants. I want safe refuge for my family.”

  “And you think you’ll get that by putting a gun to my head?”

  “It seems to be working so far,” Nick said.

  Silence filled the Humvee again. The muffled sound of gunfire from outside was constant, like a sick sort of metronome. Nick looked out the window, and saw the absolute devastation over the shoulders and bunched bodies of military personnel and the shells of their armored Jeeps. He watched as five ramblers reached into an open car, attacking a woman that from the look on her face, had simply given up. She wasn’t even screaming as a hole was ripped into her stomach and her blue shirt became an impossibly dark shade of red.

  “Even if this works,” one of the President’s armed men said, “you won’t be allowed to stay in whatever quarters we end up taking the President. You’ll be ousted and thrown to the wolves.”

  “Throw me wherever you want,” Nick said. “I just want my wife and daughter to survive this.”

  “What the hell makes you more special than those people getting slaughtered out there?” the driver asked. He sounded angry—so angry that he was close to tears.

  “Nothing. I will note, though, that I know for a fact that the family members of a suspected terrorist organization known as Zeta Four are currently being taken to safety. I also know that a retire
d NFL quarterback paid millions of dollars to have his family placed in safe quarters.”

  “How the hell do you know that?” one of the President’s men asked.

  Nick ignored the question. “Now you tell me,” he said. “Other than shady deals made in back rooms to protect them for their ties to weapons, oil, and intel, why does a terrorist deserve a place over my family? Or a washed up athlete, albeit a rich one?”

  Ames looked as if he had been slapped. “How did you know about that?” he repeated.

  Nick shook his head. “Maybe you’ve forgotten who I am and what I did for this joke of a country. I have my own ways of getting information.”

  “How did this happen to you?” Ames asked. “You used to serve me, by God.”

  “Yes. Working as a secret service agent for you was deplorable. It was the last straw. I couldn’t stand the bad taste your administration was putting in my mouth.”

  Ames shook his head slowly, showing true fear for the first time.

  “This will be over in half an hour,” Nick said, “and this is how it’s going to work. Two of your men are going to come with me into my apartment. We’re going to rescue my wife and my daughter. After that, your decision as to what to do with me is your call. But God have mercy on you if you purposely separate a father from his family…especially during a time like this.”

  There was a mixture of fury and a very slight understanding on the faces of the men in the Humvee. Ames seemed to relax a bit, understanding that he was in no real danger as long as he went along with Nick’s orders.

  They crept on as more and more ramblers were gunned down to the right. The gunfire and screams mingled together into a hellacious sort of thunder that never seemed to stop. Nick watched the ramblers fall over, most of them hitting the ground like planks of wood. Even in death—when they knew they had been killed and their time here was over—there was not a single trace of humanity on their faces.

  “Take this next exit,” Nick said.

  The driver nodded curtly and did as he was asked. Traffic on the exit wasn’t nearly as thick as the Beltway, allowing the driver to speed up significantly. The speed didn’t last long, though. Once they reached the four-lane and the streets that ran parallel to it, it was clear that most of the city was in a state of mass chaos.

  There were groups of people running, carrying luggage, backpacks, and children. Any vehicles that had tried to escape had come to a forced stop, as it had all been gridlocked at some point further up the road.

  There was just enough space left on the road for the driver to bring the Humvee out and turn off of the exit. Seeing that the condition of the roads wouldn’t allow them to go anywhere, he slammed his hands hard on the steering wheel.

  “Now what, genius?” he asked, shooting a hateful look towards Nick.

  “Now we get out and go to my apartment.”

  He reached for the door handle but was stopped when the security guard beside him slapped his hand away.

  “Bullshit,” the solider said, clearly furious. “Steve, turn around and go back up the exit. Stay on the breakdown lane and—”

  “Steve, you do it and I’ll shoot you in the head,” Nick said.

  The President’s eyes started going back and forth as the argument escalated. He sat back in his seat, nearly cringing.

  Nick was waiting for one of the guards to fire and put a hole in his head. It could happen at any minute and no matter what his threats against them had been, it would all be over.

  “How far up is your apartment?” Ames asked.

  “Three blocks.”

  “Just do it, men,” Ames said.

  “But Mr. President, he—”

  “Do it,” Ames hissed through clenched teeth. “That’s a direct order.”

  And like that, every man in the vehicle felt the power shift to Nick. Still, he kept his gun aimed at the President’s head, not taking any chances. He kept it trained there even after all of the guards holstered their weapons.

  “Get the heavy fire out,” Nick told them. “Unlock the secret compartment in the back.”

  The driver and the guards looked at one another, as if dazed.

  “I told you,” Nick said. “I know everything you do. I once did your jobs. So stop looking surprised. Just go now. Do it.”

  The driver opened the door and took a quick look around outside. Nick followed his gaze and saw that there didn’t seem to be any ramblers in the vicinity.

  The driver and one of the guards ran to the back of the Humvee and popped the back hatch. Within seconds, Nick heard the small hydraulic controls of the hidden compartment that he was pretty sure contained a shotgun, two Sig Sauers, and an AK-47. If this vehicle had always been intended as an escape of sorts for the President, there was probably much more than that back there.

  “There’s a shotgun back there, correct?” Nick asked.

  “Yeah,” the driver said.

  “Is there a strap on it?”

  “No.”

  “Anything with a strap?”

  “An MP5.”

  “Bring that to me.”

  There was a moment where the driver looked to the President for confirmation. Ames nodded grimly and the driver did as asked.

  “You guys armed?” Nick asked as he studied the rifle and slung it over his shoulder. It had been forever since he had used a weapon of this caliber. It felt good to have it slung over his shoulder.

  “Yes,” they answered reluctantly.

  “Good. Take the lead in a flanking position, three in front. Ames and I will be behind you. I want the last person behind us, bringing up the rear.”

  The driver nodded, as did one of the guards. The other two were already looking out towards the waiting carnage. The small popping sounds of gunfire sounded out further off. Horns blared and people screamed. Every single noise that the streets produced seemed to have been created to warn people to head back, to turn away.

  Nick tapped his Sig barrel at Ames’s head.

  “Out. Open the door.

  Ames opened the rear driver’s side door and stepped out. Instinctively, one of the guards went to his side.

  Nick slid out beside them, knowing that if the guards were going to attempt to take him out, it would be right there and then. Nevertheless, they kept the President’s orders. As far as they were concerned, Nick was in charge now even though he was sure it was like burning acid in their stomachs.

  “Someone give the President a weapon,” Nick ordered. “The more active weapons we have, the better shot we have of getting to my apartment unscathed.”

  The looks of the faces of the guards and the driver were the very definition of hatred. Reluctantly, the guard closest to Ames un-holstered his glock and handed it to the President. Ames took it and looked at it as if it were a large bug that was about to bite him.

  Nick looked ahead and then back to the President. He straightened the MP5 on his shoulder and tightened the grip on the Sig in his hand.

  “Ready when you are, Mr. President,” Nick said. “Which is your best man?”

  “Steve. Without a doubt.”

  The other men looked perplexed for a moment, but their confusion was short-lived.

  Ames raised the glock that he had just been given and placed a bullet between the eyes of the guard that had given it to him.

  At that same moment, Nick raised his Sig and took two quick shots, taking down the two other guards.

  Steve, the driver, was the only man left standing. His eyes grew wide and he took two steps back, only stopping because he had backed into the side of the Humvee.

  “What the fuck is this?” he breathed, looking at Ames as if he had sprouted a second head.

  “Your choice,” Ames said. “Stay and help, or run.”

  “Mr. President, I don’t understand…,”

  “And we don’t have time to explain,” Nick interrupted.

  “You knew about this?” Steve asked, looking squarely at the President. The tone in his voice was one o
f heartbreak. “This was s set-up?”

  “Yes,” Ames said. “And it was necessary. So either stay here on your own or come with us. I trust you, Steve. I did not trust these other men, but I do trust you, and I need your help. We need your help,” he added, nodding towards Nick.

  Steve took a deep breath, clearly confused. He then shrugged, unsure of what to do, and nodded. As he tried to get his head around what was happening, Nick gathered up as many weapons as he could. He took the service Sig Sauers from the agents and the AK-47. He opted for the shotgun, giving the AK5 to Ames.

  Apparently, Nick collecting a small arsenal helped clear Steve’s head.

  “Okay,” he said, looking distrustfully at Nick. “What’s going on?”

  “We’ll explain it on the way,” Nick said, already starting towards the carnage that had enveloped Bethesda. “For right now, we need to get to my family.”

  He handed one of the extra handguns to Steve. He took it like a man working on autopilot, only picking up the gun because it was there. As soon as it was in his possession, Nick started heading away from the Humvee.

  Ames followed behind him without question. Then, after a few moments of hesitation, Steve did the same.

  The three men forged ahead, squeezing between the gridlocked cars and dead bodies, into the screams and violence of a city that was being ripped apart.

  PRESENT DAY

  9

  The longer Nick remained in the hideaway in Langley, the more impressed he was at the level of equipment they had managed to salvage. From what he gathered¸ acquiring fuel had become a tricky process over the last two years, so unless it was absolutely necessary, air travel was next to impossible to get approved. That meant that Nick would be traveling in one of the armored trucks that were very similar to the one Griffith had picked him up in.