Love in an Undead Age, A.M. Geever [best contemporary novels txt] 📗

as she passed Doug. His feet stuck out from under the rear bumper. Mike was around the corner beside the rear tire, half under the Humvee feet first, kicking.

“We’ve almost got it,” Mike grunted. “Come on, you SOB.”

Miranda nodded, even though they could not see. She glanced in the window of the rear door. Mario leaned back in his seat, eyes closed. Even though the night-vision goggles washed out details, she could see dark rings beneath his eyes. His head was cocked toward Naomi. Whatever she said was amusing, to judge from his grin.

He doesn’t waste any time… Already yukking it up with the twenty-three-year-old, Miranda thought.

“We’ve got company on my side,” Seffie said. “We need to move it, guys.”

Miranda continued circling the Humvee and stopped beside Seffie at the driver’s door. There were about twenty zombies now, and more were straggling out. Then she heard a hiss. A high whine, descending, trailing. Blistering heat, the roar of combustion, the sharp bite of debris against her skin. Miranda thumped flat on her back; the air in her lungs whooshed out. An impossibly bright light overwhelmed her retinas.

“RPG! Get down! Get down!”

A deafening chung-chung-chung-chung filled the air as the .50 cal gun on the Alpha Humvee returned fire. Miranda rolled over, ripping the useless night-vision goggles off. All she could see were bright-yellow spots. She crawled toward the Humvee, gasping, choking, drowning. She couldn’t get enough air.

As she blinked her eyes, her vision began to clear. A crater smoldered twenty feet behind the Bravo Humvee. She crawled toward it, stopping at the rear bumper. Intermittent bright flashes, fifteen at least, came from second-story shop windows in the next block.

“They’re behind us, a hundred yards,” Miranda tried to shout, but it came out as a gasp. She backed up and bumped against something. Seffie lay on the ground, moaning, blood drifting and diluting across the wet concrete from a gash on her forehead. Miranda pressed her hand on Seffie’s neck. Relief flooded through her when she felt a pulse, strong and steady, as Seffie’s eyelids began to flutter open. The door beside Miranda opened and Naomi ducked out, carrying her medic bag.

“I’ve got it,” Naomi said.

Precise shots rang out, too close for comfort. Miranda looked up to see Mario firing from the open rear door. The leading edge of zombies were ten feet away. Attracted by the commotion, scores more were behind them. She flinched away from another explosion as Doug and Mike dashed toward them. Doug shouted to be heard over the noise. “Get in there and drive! A direct hit will blow this thing up.”

Miranda nodded and scrambled up. Naomi was pulling Seffie, now semiconscious, to her feet to hand her off to Mario.

“I’ll get her,” Miranda said. She jerked her head toward the front passenger seat on the far side. “Get in!”

Before Naomi could release her grip, Miranda heard the hiss. She shoved Seffie back at Naomi. “Move!”

Miranda clamped her hand around Mario’s forearm, adrenaline and fear propelling them forward. They were halfway across the short distance between the two Humvees when the RPG hit. The thunderous blast shook the ground. A shockwave hit from behind, knocking them from their feet. Mario scrambled and jerked Miranda up.

“Keep going!” she said, shaking him off. She turned back to the towering pillar of fire that seconds ago had been the Bravo Humvee. The yellow-white flames raced skyward, fueling a funnel of oily black smoke. The air sizzled and cracked. A fine mist from the evaporating rain billowed around the burning wreck. Seffie and Naomi were crumpled on the ground, Naomi’s jacket aflame.

Oblivious to the blazing landscape, zombies closed in as Miranda sprinted to the injured women. A brown blur of furious barking and teeth darted between the wounded and the zombies as Delilah joined them. Seffie crawled to her knees. Miranda beat at the back of Naomi’s jacket with her bare hands as she rolled the young medic on her back to smother the flames. Delilah clamped on to the fallen woman’s shoulder and began to drag her.

I can’t save them both, Miranda thought. Then Connor was beside her, scooping Seffie up and hoisting her over his shoulder. Miranda did likewise, groaning as she shouldered Naomi’s weight.

The nonstop staccato of the .50 cal gun grew louder. Miranda splashed across the wet, uneven pavement. When she fell a few paces behind Delilah, the dog circled back, snapping and growling at the undead pursuers. Connor had shoved Seffie into the front of the Humvee and was already behind the wheel. Delilah vaulted across his lap to safety. Miranda shrugged Naomi into the back seat, but there was no more room. She stepped onto the running board and banged on the roof.

“Go go go,” she shouted, grabbing hold of the open door as zombies closed in from all sides.

The Humvee jerked forward, colliding and crunching over the zombies in its path. Bones popped and snapped. Miranda lost her balance when her foot slid on the slick running board, but a hand grabbed her vest. She instinctively began to slap it away before realizing it was Mario. Regaining her footing, Miranda jammed the Humvee door out to knock the undead back. She finally located the handhold inside the open door and snapped her carabiner in place.

The rain lashed Miranda’s face. She squinted her eyes almost shut while bushes and tall weeds slapped against the Humvee door. They were turning onto Highway 17 now, bumping heavily over the broken concrete. She twisted round to look behind them. She didn’t see anyone pursuing them apart from the zombies that continued to blunder across the road.

“I need a tourniquet strap!” Doug shouted from inside the Humvee.

Mario pulled on her vest. “Get in.”

Miranda collapsed into Mario’s lap and slammed the door shut. When she wiped her hand across her face, it stung as if badly sunburned. An acrid burnt smell filled the vehicle.

“I think my eyebrows are singed off,” she said. Her fingers moved over her face. They hurt as well. When she lowered her hands, she saw small blisters across her fingers and palms.

“Are they following?” Mario asked. Gabe was still up on the .50 cal gun, his feet pulled up on a footrest next to Mario’s head. Mike sat on the other side, catching his breath.

“No.”

“Mike, put your hand here and press hard.”

Doug’s voice came from behind her. He knelt over Naomi in the rear cargo area, crammed into the twelve inches of free space between the back seats and supplies. Mike reached through the space between the seats to press on the blood-soaked bandages halfway up the unconscious woman’s thigh.

“Shrapnel must have nicked her femoral artery,” Doug said. “If a tourniquet doesn’t stop the bleeding, she won’t make it.”

Mario shook his head, a grim expression filling his eyes. He was likely thinking the same thing Miranda was: seriously injured, Naomi was a liability they could not afford. Even if they got her out of her blood-soaked clothes, between blood loss and burns, her chances of survival were poor unless they got her back to San Jose, the one place they could not go. Zombies had a better sense of smell than dogs when it came to human blood. Whatever slim chance they had of getting through the mountains would vanish if Naomi was with them.

“Doug,” Miranda said. “We cannot take care of her out here.”

As if to underscore her words, the Humvee lurched. Connor swore, then backed up and tried again.

“There are doctors in Santa Cruz,” Doug said as he wrapped a strap around Naomi’s leg, just above Mike’s hand. He tied a thin metal tube into the strap and started turning it. “We only have to keep her stable until we get there.”

For the first time, Miranda noticed that Doug was not wearing his waterproof jacket. Both of his forearms were starting to blister. Doug finished twisting the tourniquet and tied it in place.

“The bleeding’s stopped,” he said, relief filling his voice. He wiped his hand across his brow, leaving a bloody streak in its wake. “There used to be houses and park buildings by the Lexington Reservoir. We’ll go there and regroup.”

Miranda nodded. “That might work. It’s not too far off the road, but far enough, in case they follow us.”

Doug raised his voice. “Get off at Bear Creek and head for the reservoir.”

Connor gave a thumbsup.

Doug looked down at his blistered arms, surprise filling his face. “Who else is hurt?”

“I’ve got burns,” Mike said through clenched teeth. “Hurts like a son of a bitch. You okay, Sef?”

“I might need a few stitches. The dog seems fine,” she added, failing to deflect a lick from Delilah.

A chorus of ‘okays’ from Miranda, Connor, and Mario completed the inventory. Doug slumped against the back of Miranda and Mario’s seat.

“What happened to your jacket?” Miranda asked.

“It caught on fire,” Doug said. “I guess that’s how I got burned.”

“The big med kit was in the other Humvee. We’ve only got the smaller one, plus whatever we’re carrying,” said Mario.

Doug’s brittle laughter filled the cramped vehicle. “That’s great. That’s just fucking great.” He rubbed at his forehead again before adding quietly, “Might try praying, guys. It can’t hurt.”