It was too much for the father to handle. He moved to the edge of the bridge without saying another word. He raised a pistol to his head, and pulled the trigger. His body fell over the side of the bridge. For a moment, everyone was stunned. Sulla could picture the man still standing there, but he was gone.

  "Here they come!" someone shouted.

  The militia of some sixty men refocused their attention on the undead. The riflemen opened fire all along the line and several zombies fell.

  Kayla, the girl’s name is Kayla, Sulla thought. All around the girl zombies fell, but she continued. Bullets flew all around her, but it was as if no one had the heart to end it. She was the last surviving member of her family. She was dead but somehow not.

  Sulla raised his gun and directed the sights to the girl's head, but someone shot her before he could pull the trigger. The old sniper put his hand on Sulla's shoulder.

  "Some things you don’t want on your conscience," the sniper said.

  The militia fired non-stop and dozens of zombies dropped in front of them. The zombies stacked up behind the first barrier and got pressed against it from the growing mass behind them. Several that were shot in the head remained erect because there was no room to fall.

  The undead flailed out with their arms and struggled against the press. Here and there, they would fall over the barrier and be taken out by militia bullets.

  In a few places, zombies pulled themselves on top of their brethren and tried to crawl forward.

  The bodies stacked on top of each other as the militia brought them to their end, again. The first barricade could no longer be seen. It was buried under a mass of dead bodies. The zombies crawled over the growing mound and pressed forward. The pile rolled forward and looked like it came alive like a slow moving blob.

  Sulla realized that they couldn’t hold the barricade; there were too many zombies coming down the road. The defenders would either run out of ammunition, or be plain over run by the horde if they continued their current defense. It was time for plan B. Sulla keyed his radio.

  "Bring the trucks and tankers up; it’s time to move everyone back," Sulla said.

  Two eighteen-wheelers carrying gasoline rumbled on to the bridge and stopped just behind the defenders. Everyone understood a bomb had just been parked up their ass, and no one lacked motivation to retreat south down the highway.

  Sulla and a couple of the sniper's stayed at the front of the rigs to cover the drivers long enough for everyone to make it to a vehicle and get up the hill behind them. The zombies were now coming over the second barricade on the bridge, feet away from Sulla. He did the sensible thing and ran for his life to a waiting truck while the dead reached out behind him.

  Halfway up the hill, the truck stopped, and everyone with a gun took aim at the tanker trucks. Everyone was scared as hell, but no one wanted to miss out on an opportunity to blow up a fuel truck.

  The first shot cracked out and found its mark. It started the chain reaction that caused liquid fuel to rapidly turn into an expanding fireball. The sky lit up. The tank burst open and engulfed the other tanker which was being pushed on its side when it too exploded. The twin shockwave pushed out in every direction. The middle span of the bridge collapsed, and everything within a hundred yards was engulfed in flames. The shockwave reached up the hill and knocked Sulla out of the bed of the truck to the ground. The windows of the vehicle shattered from the blast and scattered all over the road.

  Sulla turned over on the ground to find the camera guy, Fred, beside him. His camera was knocked loose and lay broken on the ground.

  Upthe hill, Sulla's men cheered while they took their positions at the last barricade.

  ###

  Anderson took a deep breath and kicked in the door to the stair well. Two of his troopers rushed into the well and instantly opened fire. Anderson rushed in behind them and saw one of the troopers locked up with a zombie. Anderson brought the butt of his rifle crashing into the skull of the creature, and it went slack. The trooper pushed it to the ground and stomped the head in with his boot. Shots rang out as other soldiers continued down the stairwell.

  From the floor above them, the door burst open. Anderson looked up to see a handful of survivors taking the opportunity to flee with the soldiers.

  “Stay close if you want to live,” Anderson ordered them.

  Anderson moved to the bottom of the stairwell where his men were already set up in a line to breach through the door to the main level of the hospital. The hallway outside was flooded with the undead.

  Anderson nodded at Sergeant Winters, and Winters kicked in the door. The first soldier through the door slipped on muck that was coating the floor. He sent bullets spraying out at randomly into the zombies. Three rounds went through the chest of an undead nurse in pink scrubs.

  A zombie that had been standing near the door pushed the off-balance soldier to the ground. The next guard behind him put a round through the creature’s head and moved out into the hallway. More soldiers rushed out the door and formed up back-to-back to create a multi directional line of fire. The rifles flashed out angry red flames as they green dotted the undead. Zombies fell all around them.

  The guardsmen’s semi-automatic weapons banged out in the marble lined hallway. The smoke from the weapons set off the sprinklers in the corridor making an already slick floor damn near impossible.

  Anderson led the group sliding down the hallway to an exit; behind him, the rear guard continued to fire occasional rounds as they engaged targets.

  From the exit, it was a quarter of a mile back to the armory and dozens of zombies milled about the landscape.

  “Once we start out there,” Anderson said, “we don’t stop for shit.”

  “Sir,” Winters said, “we’re pretty low on ammo.”

  “Just make do,” Anderson said. “You civilians better make sure you stay in the center of the group.”

  They moved out of the building through motion-activated sliding glass doors.

  To get back to the armory, they would have to cross two-hundred yards of empty space and then through rows of single story brick residences. Past the buildings was a tree lined dirt road that connected to the armory.

  The zombies locked onto the group, and closed in from all sides. The soldiers had to slow down because several of the civilians were struggling with injuries. They continued to drop zombie after zombie, but ammo was becoming a real issue.

  Anderson heard soldier after soldier shout, “Out of ammo.” Anderson recognized his group was about to become a moving buffet.

  “New plan,” Anderson shouted, “Grab the injured; we’re going to have to run for it.”

  Several of his men doubled up to assist in carrying the wounded. The group picked up its pace, but lacking firepower, the zombies edged closer. The group was forced to fight hand to hand battles on the run with the undead.

  Winters ran up to the nearest zombie and bludgeoned it in the face with his rifle. He kept moving toward his destination as the zombie fell to the ground.

  A guardsman on the other side of the group found his feet wrapped up with a zombie when he tried a similar move. Three other soldiers and two civilians stopped to help the downed man. They fell behind the main group, and a dozen zombies filled in the gap.

  “Don’t stop!” Anderson shouted, but it was too late.

  Unarmed, the civilians were torn to pieces leaving the soldiers to fend for themselves.

  The cut off soldiers swung their rifles like clubs hitting the zombies around them. They beat three of the undead to the ground. They tried to fight back to back, but a dozen or more of the undead came at them from all sides. They pushed in at the soldiers at the same time, and the living disappeared under the wave with screams.

  Anderson watched from a distance while his men were cut off and overwhelmed. I’ll never forgive myself, Anderson thought. He moved on with his 10 remaining troops and 30 civilians.

  They raced past the burning brick residential buildings. Smoke billowed out of broken windows. Anderson noticed a child’s big-wheel that was too close to one of the burning buildings; the wheels were half melted into the ground. The VA campus housed a fire department, but the firefighters were either with the undead, or had run off.

  The rest of the trip they ran down the dirt road that went through a patch of woods to the armory. The path was clear, and the rest of the trip went without incident.

  Anderson ordered a couple of his men to secure the gates to the armory, and he led everyone else into the main building. A number of civilians in vehicles pulled over on the highway when they saw the soldiers.

  “Sir,” Winters said, “we’ve got civilians on the highway looking for sanctuary.”

  “As long as they’re not zombies, let anybody in that we safely can,” Anderson said. “And if they can handle a weapon, give them one.”

  In the fading light, Anderson heard two large booms in the distance. “Winters,” Anderson said, “Get on the radio and find out what is going on out there.”

  The Sergeant grabbed his radio and put the speaker to his ear. “Sir, from what I can gather, Penn Township just blew up two fuel trucks. They set them off on the bridge on Route 8 to slow the zombies down. They are directing anyone who can make it to bring ammo and food the Butler County Airport.”

  “Alright, Anderson said. The back roads should still be open. Let’s pack up everything not nailed down and load it in the Strykers and Humvees. We’ll move out as soon as we have the gear and civilians squared away.”

  ###

  Peggy Davil sat in an aircraft hanger of the 911th Air Reserve Base attached to the Pittsburgh International Airport. Sulla had given her the severed zombie head in a cooler, and asked her to get it to the proper authorities. Her news chopper headed to the base that stationed the C-130 that did the over flight of Butler. The military had promptly quarantined her and her pilot in the hanger. An intelligence officer who identified himself as Major Smith sat across a table from Davil. He wore bio-chemical gear giving him inhuman proportions.

  Flanking Major Smith were two Air Police in the same gear but with the addition of rifles.

  Several medical personnel had taken blood, hair, and saliva samples of her and her pilot when they arrived on base. Since then, they returned every hour to retake samples. Major Smith updated them on their current situation.

  "The best we can tell, the head you brought us is scientifically dead,” the Major said. “Yet it continues to animate for reasons we don’t yet understand. The medicos have found no trace of infection in you or your pilot. That being said, we are going to continue to monitor you. We don’t know what we’re dealing with or how the pathology of this thing works. We’re putting the head you brought us on a transport and sending it to a secure facility out West where we can properly study it. The government is asking that the two of you go along as well. You’re already in a quarantine situation, and you have first hand knowledge of what we’re dealing with. It is very important for National Security that you cooperate."

  "What's going to happen with the people in Butler?" the pilot asked.

  The Major shifted in his seat. “The Administration is in information gathering mode. We repositioned a satellite over Western Pennsylvania at about one this morning. We got a pretty good thermal mapping of Butler County, and it showed some pretty disturbing trends. It is important to understand that thermal traces are observable for up to 24 hours after death, and our equipment can see through structures. What we estimate is that 65 percent of observable heat traces in and around the city of Butler are post mortem traces. The normal thermals appear to be clustered in buildings or in the area of the County Airport.

  The President has issued an order that he will not commit troops until we know how the contagion is spread.

  “Is Pittsburgh being secured?” Davil asked.

  “Pittsburgh,” the Major replied, “is fighting for its life as we speak.” His shoulders seem to sag a bit and he continued. “We also have reports of activity in Cleveland, Wheeling, Erie, and Harrisburg. In other words, as people are fleeing the area they are somehow spreading the infection.”

  “Listen,” the pilot explained, “I have a family I have to get to. I’m not going with you guys.”

  “If you try to leave, these soldiers have already been ordered to shoot you,” the Major said.

  “You’re not doing shit, I have rights,” the pilot responded.

  “Please,” Peggy cut in, “It’s obvious we have lives here and threats are the last thing going-”

  The pilot stood up and flipped the table in the direction of the Major and his guards. One of the guards brought up his M-16 as the pilot turned to run for the door.

  Peggy watched him flick off the safety, and she dove for the floor. The guard pulled the trigger and shot the pilot in the leg. The wound dropped the pilot who continued to slide on the floor for several feet.

  "I had hoped we could be civilized about this," the Major said. "Restrain them both, I’m not going to take any other chances, and see to it that he gets that leg looked at."

  Chapter Seven

  Alison sat in the back seat of the black Mega Cab Dodge Ram that was safely inside a closed garage bay. Hours had passed as the group had listened to the radio. Eventually, everyone had fallen asleep except for Alison and Rex. He sat in the seat on her left directly behind the driver. While they were both awake, neither had said a word in hours. Alison spun her wedding ring on her finger; the activity kept her hands busy throughout the night. A teenaged girl, Brandi, slept on Alison's right shoulder; they had rescued her from the mall parking lot.

  The radio continued to report on the spreading violence. The only safe zone in the area seemed to be the Butler County Airport.

  "Unless we can get out of the region," Rex said, "we should head to the Airport at daybreak. I know it's South of us, but if we cut through the Western edge of Butler, it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. There is an old oil town a couple miles from the bridge they blew on Route 8. It has an old one-lane iron grate bridge that goes across the creek. The bridge is only a couple of miles from the back end of the airport."

  "Do you think we can make it that far?" Alison said.

  "I’d say we have better odds than if we stay here,” Rex said. “Besides, if we’re at an airport we have better chance of getting help. If not, we can always steal a plane and get the heck out of Dodge."

  Would Mike be as calm as this guy, Alison wondered. Her mind kept coming back to her husband through out the night. She continued to play with her wedding ring as if playing with it might somehow produce the answers her mind sought.

  Yes I love him, she thought, but I love the idea of him. He is not the same guy I met all those years ago. I’ve given him everything and he’s given me whatever is left over.

  "Rex," Alison said. "What do you think is causing this?"

  "Your guess would be as good as mine,” Rex said. “Hell, it could be those Mayan prophecies of 2012 coming true.”

  "This is what the Mayans predicted?" Alison said.

  "I don’t think anyone has a real clue about what the Mayans predicted anymore," Rex said. "When the Spanish conquered that part of the world they brought the inquisition with them. The Mayan’s civilization was pretty well collapsed on its own by that time, but they had a lot of written history to draw back on. The Catholics went on a book burning spree with most of the Mayan libraries and few survived."

  "How do know all this?" Alison said.

  "I did quite a bit of traveling down there through what was once the various Mayan States. I wonder how the Mayans are going to act when they hear about the dead walking here."

  "There are still Mayans around?" Alison said. “I would have never guessed.”

  "Yep," Rex said. "We call a lot of them Mexicans. The Yucatan is full of indigenous populations of them and while they are good Catholics on the surface, the old gods still exist to some. On the one trip, I had hired a guide to take me through an abandoned Mayan complex. On the way there, I saw some ruins on the side of the highway by an overpass. I asked what kind of ruins they were and who built them. The guide responded that they were in fact not ruins but were a shrine to a local spirit. I asked him to explain further because that didn’t make any sense to me. He explained that when they constructed the overpass they tore down ruins of an ancient shrine to an old god at the site. The bridge they built cracked and fell apart with in six months of completion. So they rebuilt the bridge. Keep in mind we are talking about modern construction for heavy traffic. That bridge fell in too.”

  “That’s pretty weird,” Alison said. “Then again after tonight I would say anything is possible. What happened next?”

  They brought in the best engineers from Mexico City to build the third bridge,” Rex said. “That bridge fell in as well. One of the engineers was sitting around one day and talking with a local. It comes up in the conversation that an old shrine was torn down on the site. The government then did the only thing left to do; they rebuilt the shrine and local people made offerings to the old god. The new bridge stands to this day the guide explained to me; but of course, I can see it with my own eyes. That may sound crazy, but it’s less crazy to me now with dead people walking around trying to eat the living.”

  It’s the end of the world, Alison thought and here I am sharing it with strangers. "I wish my husband was here," Alison said.

  On the radio, the voice of Mike Carson began to speak. “I’d be happy to give you some information. My name is Doctor Mike Carson from Butler Memorial Hospital. Penn Township has established a secure zone here at the Butler County Airport. We have established emergency and medical services at the facility and encourage anyone who can safely get here to do so.

  What we are dealing with seems to be aspects of the body functioning after death. Before Butler Memorial fell, I witnessed several bite patients expire and later begin to function again. Medically speaking they are in fact dead. I have heard the term zombies thrown around quite a bit, and for the moment, it seems to be an apt description.