“No door, really?” he groaned under his breath, and then waited for the other two to pause their firing before popping up. He shot several times as he leapt over the front of the game, hitting the ground and running up the aisle.
His opponents braved the fire and squeezed off a few shots of their own ,forcing Terrell to dart down the next aisle. As he came around the corner, he met a zombie directly in front of him. He jammed the barrel of the gun into the bottom of its jaw and fired, sending brains splattering upwards like a fireworks display. He quickly turned and regained his targets, but saw only one.
Bitch is trying to flank me, he thought, and then quickly backed up to the rear of the game, taking a knee in the corner and aiming his gun down the aisle towards the clown square. He waited, patiently, for the man to come around the corner.
Within moments the gunman appeared, noticing Terrell with just enough time to realize he was fucked. The Captain fired a three-round burst, the bullets ripping through the man’s knees. He fell to the ground, screaming in pain, trying in vain to lift his gun up to fire.
Before Terrell could deliver the killing bullet, a few zombies emerged from the square behind him, about fifteen yards away. Deciding to save his ammo, he trusted his reinforcements and ducked back around the corner to face off with the leader.
As he walked up the next aisle, he heard screams and a single shot from the man with the busted knees. Everybody down, one to go, he thought gleefully, and then leapt out into the aisle facing the concession stands.
His target had moved, so he did a quick sweep, not seeing anything other than the zombies coming up the way. He opted to run across the aisle, relieved when nobody fired at him. As he took cover, he saw the door to the funhouse was swinging open, something it hadn’t been doing a minute ago.
“Taking a page out of my book,” he muttered. “I can respect that.”
Terrell ran across the next aisle, gun trained on the entrance. As he got close, he popped off several rounds into the door. This was partially to guarantee his cover, and partially to alert the zombies that this was the direction they needed to come.
When he reached the door, he slung the rifle over his shoulder and drew his handgun. He quickly ran inside in a crouched position, gunfire erupting as soon as he crossed the threshold. His speed and tightness of his body kept him from getting hit.
Terrell returned fire to the side, towards the cash register, while diving behind a display. The room was small, about ten feet wide, dimly lit with the exception of the light coming in from the door.
“You brought all these men, and now it’s just the two of us,” the Captain taunted.
The man barked a bitter laugh. “It would appear as though I underestimated you, Terrell,” he called back.
“So you know my name, huh?” the Captain asked. “Guess that makes you one of the Boss’ bitches. For the record, I would have personalized that insult if I knew who the fuck you were.”
Another laugh. “You can call me Marco.”
Terrell rolled his eyes. “Oh, with a name like that, you’re definitely a bitch.”
“I’m no one’s bitch, as you put it,” Marco snapped. “I’m an independent contractor, paid very well for what I do.”
It was the Captain’s turn to laugh. “Here’s hoping the Boss didn’t pay up front, because I just saved him a ton of money.”
“I’ve found it best to provide a flat rate to my customers,” Marco replied, “so all you've done is increase my share.”
Terrell clucked his tongue. “Bold to assume you’re getting out of this,” he said, and then quickly popped around the corner to fire a few times, missing and ducking back to avoid return fire.
“If that’s the way you shoot, then I feel quite safe,” Marco taunted.
As they jabbered back and forth, a zombie reached the door. Marco immediately shot it in the head, dropping it to the floor.
Terrell snickered. “Hope you got more ammo,” he said, “because he ain’t alone.” He moved around the display, finding the sweet spot so that he was out of sight of both Marco and the zombies coming in the door. His opponent fired again, hitting another ghoul that entered, but stopped when several more came inside.
The creatures were drawn towards Marco due to the gunfire, leaving Terrell unnoticed. He peeked out from cover, seeing his enemy dart over to the door beside the register, leading to the funhouse.
Terrell got up, ran to the wall by the door, and waited for a zombie to get close. When it did, he grabbed it and threw it inside, ducking down and following it in. The next room had a frosted skylight, illuminating it a little. There were several wooden clowns and characters around the room.
Marco opened fire, hitting the zombie several times in the chest. Terrell shoved it forward as he leapt to the side, and his opponent was forced to use a shot to take out the ghoul as the Captain came around the corner.
Terrell slammed his shoulder into Marco’s gut, driving him to the ground. His gun clattered to the floor and he delivered two quick elbow strikes to the top of the Captain’s head, forcing him off. They got to their feet, huffing, readying for hand to hand combat.
“Not going to draw your gun?” Marco asked with a sneer.
Terrell shrugged. “Only if I need to,” he replied airily. “But I doubt I will.”
They stepped forward at the same time, exchanging punches and blocks quickly. Marco tried an uppercut, but Terrell deftly backed away from it. He countered with a straight punch to the head, but his opponent knocked it upwards before connecting with his gut.
The wind went right out of Terrell, and Marco managed to hit him in the face, blooding him with the opening. He punched again, and the force of the blow and his body weight sent them both tumbling to the ground, Marco on top.
He grabbed his knife and brought it down to Terrell’s chest, but the Captain was able to grab his wrist, and the two of them struggled, the blade dancing an inch above his heart. As they grappled, moans and footsteps echoed from the door.
Three zombies staggered towards them. Marco gave one last heave to try to kill Terrell, but the Captain was too strong. Finally as the zombies were within a few feet, he tried to break away to deal with them, but Terrell grabbed his wrist like a vice.
Marco quickly went from confident to panicked, and delivered a deft kidney punch, which caused Terrell to let go. Once free, he leapt up and gave a straight kick to the lead zombie, sending it flying back into the others.
As he stabbed the next one, Terrell kicked the back of his knees, sending him tumbling to the ground just a foot away from the fallen zombies. He scrambled for his knife and took one in the eye socket as it lunged for him, shoving it back into it’s friend. Once pinned, he stabbed it in the head and turned back to Terrell.
They looked at each other and then at the door they’d come through, easily a dozen zombies pushing their way in, with more behind them. Terrell sprinted for the door leading out of the funhouse, and Marco darted after him.
As the Captain approached the door, Marco reached out, grabbing him by the collar. Terrell responded by turning and throwing a punch, catching him on the side of the head, but not powerful enough to get him to let go.
Marco tried to hit him back, but Terrell blocked him and unleashed a few strikes to his head before grabbing his hair and pulling his face down into his knee. The impact shattered Marco’s nose, and Terrell kicked him back to the ground.
The Captain ran to the door, throwing it open as sunlight bathed the dingy room. He looked back, seeing his opponent struggle to his feet as a few dozen zombies filled the room.
“Better luck next time, motherfucker,” Terrell declared, and slammed the door shut just as Marco began to scream. There was a metal loop on the outside of the door, where a padlock would fit, so he flipped it shut, taking his knife and jamming it into the hole to lock it up.
As he walked down the small metal staircase, the door erupted in pounding, muffled screaming from inside. Gunfire echoed, one s
hot after another ringing out as Terrell walked away.
Finally it fell silent, and he grinned at the sky. “Guess you should have been a little more selective about your shots, Marco,” he said, and then headed down the aisle towards the front of the carnival.
He ducked behind some booths to stay out of sight of the milling zombies, taking several minutes to get back to the entrance with his injuries and having to be careful. As he approached the SUVs, another one sped up in the distance.
Terrell removed his assault rifle and readied it. “Fuck hand to hand,” he said to himself. “Everybody else today is getting a fuckin’ bullet.”
As the vehicle approached, the horn honked frantically. The passenger window rolled down and Miles popped his head out, putting the Captain at ease. Coleman pulled up just short of him and the soldiers hopped out.
“Holy hell, Cap, what happened to you?” the sniper blurted.
Terrell smiled through the blood on his face. “I mean, it was seven on one,” he drawled. “I think I look pretty damn good considering.”
They shared a shrill laugh, relieved at having survived the skirmish.
“We found out it was the Boss who sent these guys after us,” Miles said finally.
Terrell nodded. “Yeah, I figured that out when Marco knew my name.”
“We heard about Marco,” Coleman said. “Was he as badass as he was cracked up to be?”
“Well he did do this,” Terrell replied, pointing to his busted face, “so I’ll give him props. At least I would, if he were still breathing.”
Miles clapped him on the shoulder, and they let out a collective sigh of relief that the immediate threat was over. “So where to now?” he asked.
“Guess we could take Chucky to Florence,” Coleman replied.
Terrell glanced into the backseat. “Speaking of Chucky,” he said slowly, “where the hell is he?”
Both Miles and Coleman looked at each other with wide eyes, and then laughed.
“Ah, we may have left him cowering in an upstairs bedroom closet,” Coleman admitted, scratching the back of his head.
Terrell barked a laugh, shaking his head. “Well, let’s go get him before he shits himself in terror,” he quipped. “Not sure I want to spend eighty miles sitting next to that.”
“Trust me, we’d strap him to the hood before that happens,” Coleman replied, clapping him on the shoulder as they headed for the vehicle.
As Coleman fired up the SUV, Terrell rolled down the window to get some air. He blinked when he thought he heard a gunshot in the distance, but then shook his head. Echoes of the dead.
“You all right, Cap?” Coleman asked.
Terrell shook his head. “Yeah, it’s nothing, let’s roll.”
CHAPTER NINE
With Chucky in tow, Coleman drove the SUV along the interstate towards Florence. Miles hung his head out of the window like a happy puppy, while the portly man stayed silent, staring at his hands in his lap.
Terrell stared out his own window, eyes hard.
“What’s on your mind, Cap?” Coleman asked, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.
He took a deep breath. “Just processing the last few days,” he said. “And trying to convince myself that we’re not walking into another shitshow.”
“It is the apocalypse after all,” the sniper replied, “so a shitshow should be expected.
Terrell shook his head. “Nah, it doesn’t have to be,” he insisted. “Hell, I’m half tempted to have you drop me off on the side of the road so I can find my own way.”
“Not gonna happen,” Coleman replied. “We’ve been through too much together on too many battlefields. We’re sticking together.”
Miles nodded, pulling his head back in the window. “I’m with you too,” he declared. “I left the comfort of a quaint little town because I thought it was the right thing to do.”
“You were working for a murderous asshole,” Coleman pointed out.
Miles shrugged. “True,” he agreed, “but the town was nice.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Coleman said, “we’ll take Chucky to Florence, check it out, and whatever you want to do, we’ll do.” He glanced in the rearview at Terrell.
The Captain smiled. “Appreciate that, man,” he said. “Same to you, Miles. I just want to try to do some good, you know?”
“We will,” Coleman said firmly. “We will.” He inclined his head at the exit sign for Florence, boasting only a mile ahead. “Get yourselves ready, cause we’re here.”
Terrell and Miles readied their weapons, and Chucky wrung his hands.
“What are you guys doing?” he squeaked. “These are friendly people?”
“We hope that they are,” Terrell said. “But just in case they aren’t…”
The portly man swallowed hard, grimacing, but nodded in understanding. Coleman reached the exit and there were two large American flags flying from the top of it. The exit went up to an overpass, two trucks standing guard at the top.
“Look sharp,” Coleman instructed.
He pulled up the checkpoint, where four armed men stood guard with assault rifles. One motioned for them to stop, and another approached the window.
Coleman rolled it down. “Afternoon, boys,” he greeted.
“Hey there, I’m guessing you heard our little broadcast?” the guard asked.
The sniper inclined his head to the back seat. “Our friend Chucky here did, said we should check the town out.”
“Well we’re damn glad to have you,” the guard replied. “Frankly, we’re kind of excited to see that there are so many survivors.”
Coleman took a deep breath. “It’s been an adventure getting this far, let me tell you.”
“I have no doubt,” the guard replied, nodding. “If you want to swap some stories, we get together at Lulu’s every night. I’ll even get the first round if you come by.”
The sniper chuckled. “I’ll never say no to a free drink.”
“Very few do,” the guard agreed.
“And those who would, probably haven’t lasted this long in the apocalypse,” Coleman quipped, and they shared a laugh.
“So, if you want to hang a left here, you’ll hit our welcome center in just about half a mile,” the guard said, motioning as he spoke. “Just park wherever you can find a space, and I’ll radio ahead for one of our guides to give you a tour.”
Coleman extended his hand, and they shook. “Appreciate it,” he said sincerely. “And we’ll see you later for that drink.”
“Looking forward to it,” the guard replied with a smile.
The sniper pulled away, rolling up the window and hanging a left, driving slowly across the bridge. Up ahead there was a tree-line road, leading to a town fortified with metal sheeting. A couple dozen cars parked alongside the road, and the front gate of the town was wide open. He parked about a hundred yards away from it, and turned to Terrell.
“So, what do you think?” he asked.
The Captain took a deep breath. “I think if they wanted us dead, they had the firepower to get it done at the checkpoint,” he mused.
“Agreed,” Coleman said.
“Still,” Miles put in, “I’d rather not give up my gun.”
“Oh hell no,” Terrell agreed, “they can pry it from my cold dead fingers.”
The quartet got out of the SUV, rifles slung over their backs as they walked towards the entrance. When they reached fifty yards of the entrance, a thin older blonde lady appeared in the doorway and walked towards them.
“You must be my new friends!” she gushed brightly. “I’m Angie, welcome to Florence!”
Terrell took the lead, shaking her offered hand. “Hey there Angie,” he greeted, “I’m Terrell, this is Coleman, Miles, and Chucky.”
“Well come on in y’all,” she said with a huge smile, “let me show you around.” She led the group through the doors, the boys noticing several heavily armed guards with assault rifles.
Angie noticed Coleman and Terr
ell exchanging a pointed look and waved her hand. “Oh, don’t pay them no mind,” she said breezily, “they’re as harmless as a ladybug, so long as people behave. They haven’t allowed a hostile thing to get within a hundred yards of our little town in over two weeks now, so you can feel real safe here.”
“Good to know,” Terrell replied.
She led them into town, where it looked like an old school block party. There were tents set up with baked goods, games for kids, as well as for a few adults. Everyone seemed pretty laid back outside of the guards.
“So how big is this place?” Coleman asked.
Angie spread her arms. “We’ve been able to carve out about ten square blocks of prime real estate,” she declared proudly. “Which has been plenty for us. However, you’re the fifth group to join up since we put out that broadcast the other day, so we may need some help expanding in the near future if you’re up to ti.”
The sniper chuckled. “Trust me, we’re very much up to it.”
“Looking at you, I have no doubts in my mind,” Angie said with a wink.
Terrell suddenly felt a knot growing in his stomach as he looked around, seeing all of the innocent lives. He flashed back to Clinton, suddenly seeing a lot of similarities, and his blood running cold remember how that ended up.
“Angie, please don’t take this as me being rude, but we really need to talk to whoever is in charge,” he said.
She blinked at him, curling her hair behind her ear. “Oh, there’s plenty of time for that,” she said, “you look like you’ve had a rough day, ,why don’t you get some food and some-”
“Please,” Terrell cut in firmly. “It’s important that we speak to whoever is in charge, now.”
She pursed her lips, but nodded. “Okay, I’ll take you to Edgar right away.”
As they started to walk, Terrell turned to Chucky, putting a hand on his arm to stop him. “I’m afraid this is where you get off, buddy,” he said gently. “I don’t think you’re cut out for what we do.”
The portly man looked relieved and nodded furiously. He extended his hand to shake. “You’ll get no argument from me,” he agreed. “I can’t thank you three enough for getting me here. Without your help, I would have for sure died at the farm house.”
Dead America The Third Week Box Set | Books 7-12 Page 33
