Zombie Dawn Exodus by Michael G. Thomas Page A

Marines had set up the defensive position.
The monitor flashed each time a weapon was discharged.
    “Sir, we’ve got company here. Multiple targets,
shit, Sir!” came the voice on the radio.
    A dull thump indicated the use of a grenade followed
by more rapid fire, presumably that of automatic weapons and
machine-guns. Captain Black turned to Dr Garcia only to find her
and her two guards already packing up her gear. He spoke into his
microphone.
    “Hold steady, son, we’re coming for you,” he
said.
    He grabbed his carbine and moved for the door. Dr
Garcia reached out, trying to stop him.
    “We need to get the rest of the supplies off the
ship!” she ordered.
    “No, you need to. My men will be on the forecastle
in five minutes. Be there or get left behind,” he barked and he
stormed out.
    In the distance the gunfire was louder and the sound
of machine-gun fire increased. Dr Garcia looked at her two guards,
one of them shrugged then cocked his weapon.
    “Come on, follow him,” she said.
     
    * * *
     
    Inside the ship Fernanda’s group made their way
towards the front of the vessel. Having moved out from the Grand
Lobby they had already passed through the planetarium and were
almost halfway back when they found the container. It was about
fifteen feet long and big enough to park a medium sized truck
inside.
    Armstrong moved to the back of the container,
noticing one part was open. He looked inside, moving his torch
first one way then back again.
    “Uh, Sarge, you need to take a look at this!” he
shouted.
    Fernanda moved towards him, but signalled for the
rest of the group to keep moving. Once she reached the container
she peered around the corner to look at whatever Armstrong had
found. Inside were several shelves, each with a series of metallic
cases, one portable computer and lots of blood.
    “Holy shit. What is this?” she said.
    “No idea, I bet the doc would want some of it
though,” he replied.
    “Yeah, good idea. Bag what you can then follow us.
We need to keep moving.”
    An explosion rocked the ship, sending some of the
Marines hard against the walls of the corridor. Kowalski hit a
pillar hard, stunning him and knocking him to the ground. One of
the doors twisted and then fell down sending a fireball streaming
to the group. Two of the Marines took the full force of the blast,
their clothing and equipment catching alight and sending them
screaming to the ground. Another blast shook ahead as part of the
ceiling collapsed, blocking their route.
    Fernanda lifted herself up, wiping the dust from her
face as she surveyed the scene. The two Marines were down, their
smouldering bodies needed no checking. The rest of the unit was
coming back to their senses when she spotted movement off into the
distance, it was the horde.
    “Come on, we need to take the staircase, follow me!”
she shouted.
    She turned back towards the container and tore open
the doorway that led to the staircase. Apart from the smoke and
dust it appeared clear. She moved inside first and started making
her way up the stairs, the rest of the group staggered behind
her.
    “Captain Black, are you receiving, over,” she called
on the radio.
    A voice came back but it was hard to hear, it
sounded like a broken voice, punctuated by noise. It went silent
then the voice came back.
    “Sergeant, good to hear your voice. We’re under
attack near the bridge!” he shouted.
    The audio crackled from the sound of small arms fire
in the background. There was shouting and screams before the calmer
voice of the Captain came back.
    “We’re evacuating the area, falling back to the
forecastle. Can you make it there?” he asked.
    Three zombies appeared on the staircase, staggering
towards her. She lifted her carbine and pulled the trigger. The
weapon clicked but jammed. Without hesitating she withdrew her
Beretta M9 9mm pistol and emptied six rounds into them. The first
two were knocked down but the third kept on coming. Armstrong
pushed past her and