Xombies: Apocalypso by Greatshell Walter

Author:Greatshell, Walter [Greatshell, Walter]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Ace
Published: 2011-02-21T22:00:00+00:00

The city was quiet at night—quiet and dark and bitter cold. In that deep silence, any noise would have been loud, and this was a loud noise to begin with: the rumble of an electronic garage door. Pulled by a chain drive, heavy steel slats were raised and wrapped around a rotating drum, making an almighty racket. Even before the door was all the way up, a huge black SUV blazed through and up the exit ramp.

Barreling in zigzags down the empty streets, the car met no obstacles, no opposition from living or dead. It was just too cold. Hurtling down an alley, the vehicle slowed as it approached a glowing tarpaulin at the end—a big tent blocking the way. Shadows could be seen moving inside, sentries roused by the sound of approaching vehicles.

“Guards!” Brenda yelled. “Go back, go back!”

“I’m trying!” Apollo said. “We’re blocked from behind.”

Ray and Brenda craned their necks, horrified to see a large vehicle coming up fast. It was not an ordinary truck but an armored riot vehicle stenciled with daggerlike crucifixes dripping blood. A six-wheeled Deathmobile.

“Then go forward!” Brenda cried.

“You got it.” Apollo hit the gas and plowed through the canvas wall. There was a burst of orange embers as the Escalade struck a flaming trash barrel, then a violent crash that caused the air bags to deploy. A loud alarm started going off.

“Shi-i-it,” Ray said, pushing away the air bag and feeling his nose for blood.

They had struck a concrete barricade. The force of the crash had knocked one of the blocks over and dragged it under the car for a good ten feet.

Apollo shouted, “Get out! Get out now!”

As they abandoned the car, a blaze of tracer fire erupted from the approaching vehicle, cutting through the Escalade’s armor plating as if it were sliced provolone. Windows blew out, tires exploded, and Apollo grunted as he was shot to pieces. Ray braced himself to die, but miraculously no bullet struck him. His sister, however, was hit.

“Brenda! Oh shit!” He dove to help her, propping her upright against the concrete slab as though it were a chaise. Her face was pale and her eyes very bright, but she didn’t seem to be in pain. Her injury was hidden somewhere under her clothes, just a spreading dark stain running down her side. “Can you walk? We gotta go!”

Apologetically, she said, “I don’t think I can, Ray. You have to go without me.”

“No way! You’re coming, if I have to carry you!” He tried to pick her up, but she cried out in sudden agony, shaking her head no. He hurriedly let her down, his sleeves soaked with her steaming-hot blood. He didn’t know what to do. His bare hands had touched the enormous rip in her flesh, feeling the slimy tissue hanging out, and he shuddered in terror and grief. Brenda was dying. His big sister was dying. The sister who was his only relative in the world, who had been as much a mother as a sister to him, and whom he had never imagined living without .

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