them and the crowd.
“I’m surprised it’s taken this long,” Tom said. A Glock had appeared from somewhere.
“Uh, oh,” Faith said, gesturing to the side. More zombies were coming out of the trees. Lots of zombies. And they were moving fast. “Uncle Tom?”
“I don’t think tasers are going to do it,” Tom said. “DURANTE! MULTIPLES.
Durante had already tasered the two zombies and injected one. He dropped his injector as he was preparing to inject the second and switched to the Saiga.
“See?” Steve said. “I told you this was a bad idea.” He had his 1911 in a two handed grip and Stacey had his back holding a Sig Sauer.
“Cell service is out,” Tom said. “Shit. Engage at will.”
“On it,” Faith said, drifting right. Durante had gone left to engage the first two. Moving right she was closer to covering Sophia. She and the group with her were apparently completely oblivious to the approaching threat.
Faith put her eye to the point and shoot scope on the Saiga and targeted the first approaching zombie.
“
CHAPTER 14
Sophia spun around and saw Faith fire at one of the fast approaching infecteds. The fiftyish woman was thrown back with her chest opened up by the twelve gauge round. But she wasn’t the only one inbound for the concert goers.
Sophia didn’t even hesitate. Her father had run her through too many tactical ranges and her actions were muscle memory. She’d been standing towards the back of the group and now stepped forward, covering their rear, and ripped her 1911 from its holster. Taking a two handed grip she targeted the closest zombie, putting two.45 rounds into his chest. She was using polymer-tipped expanding hollowpoints, which on impact spread out to make not a.45 inch hole but a nearly inch wide one. The “lab tech” had recently been getting an eclectic masters level course in biology including mammalian anatomy and physiology. She could practically recite the blood vessels her rounds took out without doing the autopsy. The infected took two more steps and dropped.
She’d been carrying a round in the chamber and a full magazine for the 1911. If she’d been in the earlier argument with her sister she would have pointed out, didactically, that that way a 1911 can carry
But there were more.
* * *
“This job fucking sucks.”
Specialist Cameron “Gunner” Randall, New York Army National Guard, was tired, aggravated and frustrated. He was a fricking 13Foxtrot: a fire support specialist. He was supposed to be calling for artillery fire. Not roaming the streets of New York “enforcing the curfew.” Among other things, they
What they really were were roaming zombie collectors. They carried their issue M4s but so far all they’d used were Tasers. Taser the zombie, inject, call for pickup. Tell people there was a curfew.
It really, really sucked. He never thought that a deployment in the states would suck more than the Stan. But this
“Well, at least it’s a slow night.”
SGT James R. “Worf” Copley thought their current job was idiotic on so many levels it wasn’t funny. Among other things, since “zombieitis” whatever they were calling it this week was incurable, the “care facilities” were not only getting overrun with infected they’d started as nightmares and just gotten worse. Killing them, sad as it was, would have been a mercy. And if they were going to have a curfew it should be enforced. But this was New York City. The city that never slept. And even with occasional power outages, food shortages and zombies it was going to go right on being “The City That Never Sleeps” until things blew over or it all went to shit.
“Maybe all the zombies are at the concert,” Private Patricia Astroga said, wistfully. “I don’t suppose we could stop by just for a bit to…ensure security?”
“I’m not really into alternative…” Sergeant Copley said. “Besides…” He paused as he heard the distinctive boom of a shotgun from the direction of the concert followed by a series of shotgun and pistol blasts. What amazed him was that whoever was caterwauling keep right on singing over what was working up to a full-fledged firefight.
“On the other hand,” Randall said.
“Let’s roll,” Copley replied. “
* * *
Sophia was reloading, visually tracking another inbound target, when her arm was grabbed from behind.
“What are you doing?” Christine asked. “You can’t shoot those zombies!”
“‘Can’t,’ ‘may not’ and ‘shouldn’t’ are three different things,” Sophia said, seating the magazine and letting the slide go forward. “And what I’m doing is
“They come every night,” Todd said. “It’s their concert.”
“What?” Sophia asked, her eyes wide. “Don’t they…? Don’t you get attacked?”
“They bite some people,” Christine said. “Sometimes they eat. I’ve been waiting to get bitten. But they haven’t taken me, yet.”
“WHAT?” Sophia screamed. The infected was inside fifteen meters so she put two rounds in her chest and turned back, keeping her weapon pointed downrange and looking over her shoulder. “
“There’s nothing to be afraid of if you’re a zombie,” Christine said, starting to cry. “You just are. You just exist. It’s like…”
“It’s like zen, you know?” Todd said, swaying back and forth. “You just exist in the moment, man. There’s no stress. No school, no work, just eat or be eaten. It’s like Rousseau’s noble savage, the beast inside every man.”
“You are absolutely batshit fucking nuts,” Sophia said, looking back to the target zone. Another inbound. “I am
“You just don’t get it,” Todd said. “Myrmidon.”
“Idiot,” Sophia said, double tapping the next inbound. She looked around and had time so she quickly reloaded her magazines.
“And now you’ve brought the fucking soldiers here,” Christine said, disgustedly. “They’re going to just blow us
“You want to be a zombie?” Sophia asked. She grabbed Todd by the arm and walked him over to the nearest fresh corpse. Then she pulled out a clasp knife. “Cut your arm. Wipe some of the blood on it. Instant zombie.”
“I…” Todd said. “Let go of me…”
“You’re not going to because you’re afraid,” Sophia said, holding the knife up to his eye-level. “You’re afraid
