The Apocalypse Fugitives by Peter Meredith

Author:Peter Meredith [Meredith, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Science Fiction, Adventure, Dystopian, Post-Apocalyptic
ISBN: 9780990522232
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Peter Meredith
Published: 2014-10-04T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

Deanna Russell

Southern Illinois

From ground level the zombie threat wasn't as dire appearing as it was from Deanna's point of view. The soldiers mistakenly thought they were facing only a dribbling of zombies coming at them in a slow parade one or two at a time where in truth they were facing an army of them. Deanna almost warned the soldiers of the flood heading their way, she even raised her hand and pointed, but just in time she bit back her cry.

It wasn't a miracle she was seeing, it was retribution, maybe God's retribution, and she wasn't about to get in the way of that. With a last glance at the unnumbered horde lumbering toward the church, she turned and fled back down the tiny stair to the balcony.

"Forget the fire!" she cried, she then lowered her voice to conspiratorial whisper. "Zombies are coming, like thousands of them." The whisper was unnecessary. The gunfire out front had picked up in intensity sounding like fireworks to those inside the church.

"If there's zombies we have to get out of here," Connie said, desperately. "We could go with the men. They'd take us back, right?"

Veronica gave her a look that suggested Connie was a simpleton. "They'll shoot us if we go down those stairs. I think…I think we should barricade the stairs. That's probably our only option."

The idea was a good one, the implementation was impossible. There were three rows of pews on the balcony level and unlike the ones below in the church proper these were attached to the floor with heavy slag bolts.

Seeing this, Veronica started shooing everyone to one side of the first pew. "If we all pull at the same…"

The sound of the gunfire suddenly changed and everyone stopped. At the top of the stairs, Connie said, "It sounds like the soldiers are leaving. Oh my God, They're leaving us here."

All ears were cocked listening to the focal point of the firing retreat ever so slightly from the foyer of the church and into the parking lot. Then they heard, intermingled with the shooting someone yelling orders at the top of his lungs, "Back inside! There's too many. Back inside."

Seconds later there came the sound of boots pounding on the pavement and desperate gunshots sounding pitifully thin compared to the wave of moans that washed over the church. Above all of this however were the screams of a man being eaten alive—they sent goose bumps flashing in a wave across Deanna's skin.

Below them Major Grant was yelling, "The pews! Get them back in the doorway. Forget Hanson, he's dead."

The women sat as if listening to an old time radio show; they could easily imagine what was happening in the foyer: zombies piling at the doorway fighting relentlessly to get in and the soldiers fighting with equal determination to keep them out. Next there a came a thrumming, a vibration along the walls stretching down the length of the building.

Joslyn, her brown eyes wide, her forehead creased with worry lines asked, "What the hell is that?"

As answer one of the stained glass windows came crashing in.

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