by Brown, TW
The eight massive earthmovers and dump trucks were in a line. The only thing wrong with that was that there should be twelve; but that had nothing to do with Jamie’s reaction. Strapped to the grills of each of the four lead trucks was a single figure. She could not take her eyes off the man lashed to the front of second truck.
It was Kevin Staley.
***
Kevin pushed the big loading bay cart down the aisle and started pulling off every can, stacking them in a plastic crate. As soon as he filled one, he set it neatly and then moved the next one into position. He could not help but hum and sing softly as he worked; the song Master of Puppets providing the soundtrack to his task.
He could not believe that these backwater idiots could be so gullible. They had put him and the other three on a twelve person detail to the local grocery store. They were supposed to empty out the entire place and load everything that was still good into the open bays of three big delivery trucks that had been put on loan from that ridiculous barricade they were trying to create.
At the moment, his only concern was that they would have to find new Harleys. He’d become rather fond of his bike and did not like leaving it behind. Also, they would still have to head back towards the town.
The good news was that they would be on the very outskirts of the safe zone. Apparently the morons in charge had decided to use some vinyl door and window manufacturing building as the armory. The building was just inside the northern border of what they were trying to secure. A massive amount of ammunition was being stashed in a smaller detached building in the very back. They would actually be able to drive right up to it.
The bad news was that the main building was being converted into dorms just like the high school. There was a lot of activity at this place. Also, apparently they had decided to put a guard on duty. Of course, the person was more of an inventory clerk who was responsible for signing in any ammo being dropped off to add to their stockpile. By the time that person realized what was going on, they would be spraying blood from a slit throat.
They would load as much as they could in as short of a time as possible, and then roll out. People would still be wiping the tears from their eyes by the time he and the fellas were a hundred miles away. Today was going to be busy; but it was also going to be one very long adrenaline rush.
As he reached the end of the aisle, he paused to take a drink of water. Glancing in both directions, he spotted Bob emerging from his aisle. The man gave him a nod and then pushed his big trolley out the front doors. This was the last load. It was time for the fun to begin.
He pushed his own cart out, following a woman who looked like she belonged behind the counter at the local library more than she did out here where the zombies had started to take note of their presence. Four of the members of the team had been put outside to deal with the walkers that were converging on the huge open parking lot of this little strip mall with its grocery store, pizza joint, haircut place, nail salon, and fitness center. That was up from just one when they had first gotten here yesterday, two first thing this morning, and now up to the four that were currently running around, jabbing their long spears into the heads of every zombie that came their way.
Joe had volunteered this morning which, while not really the plan, came as no surprise considering his hard-on for killing zombies. As Kevin exited the store with his last load, he saw Joe dancing past one of the members of the team to take down a zombie that would have most likely gotten its hand on the older man.
He shoulda just let the zombie do some of the dirty work, Kevin thought as he pushed up to the open doors of the trailer that looked to be over three-quarters of the way full. Bob had already walked away from his cart, oblivious to the dirty looks and scowls of the two men that he’d left to do all the grunt work of loading the haul up into the truck. Until this last load, he and everybody else had stayed with his or her cart and helped hand the content up into the trailers. Kevin watched as Bob vanished back inside the store.
He did not envy whomever it was that Bob Capka met next. Of course, that first person might have the luxury of a quick death. The rest might not fare so well.
A scream brought Kevin out from behind the back of the truck where he was in the middle of handing his crates up to the large, librarian-looking woman inside. He’d been wondering at that exact moment if this woman would have been pretty in a few months after the zombie apocalypse forced her to cut down on the snack foods.
A smile split Kevin’s face when he discovered the source of the scream. Joe had run the man he’d just saved clean through with his spear and was guiding his struggling victim towards a throng of seven or eight zombies. He continued to watch as the man was grabbed by the first walker to get close enough and then jerked free of the spear and dragged to the ground where he was pounced on by the others.
Joe wasn’t foolish enough to think his actions had gone unnoticed and spun just as the other two people who had been charged with keeping the lot secure came rushing for him with their spears raised. They were screaming for him to get on the ground as they closed from almost halfway across the huge asphalt wasteland that was strewn with corpses from the past two days of killing.
It almost reminded Kevin of the scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark. The rule had been made very clear that guns were a last resort. With the undead not posing what was considered a serious threat or coming in large enough numbers to merit concern, nobody had seen fit to carry one.
Well, Kevin thought, almost no one.
Joe drew a semi-automatic .45 caliber from where he’d kept it tucked against his spine and under his loose denim shirt. The first shot hit the woman that had been charging, catching her solidly in the right thigh. She buckled and fell hard, bouncing off the concrete with an audible smack. Joe was actually kinder to the man. Two shots to the chest dropped him.
By then, the people in the back of the truck were emerging to see what was going on.
Kevin turned and stepped into the first one. It had been the pudgy woman with the pretty face. He already had his big KA-BAR in hand and drove it up and into her flabby belly. She gasped and blood spewed from her open mouth as he gave it an extra twist before pulling it free.
The man who was right on her heels ended up stumbling backwards as he caught on rather quickly as to what was happening. He landed on his side, fumbling for the blade he was carrying on his own belt.
“Ah-ah-ah,” Kevin taunted, wagging a finger at the man as he stepped over and stood over his body.
Reaching down, he grabbed the man by the hair and drove his still dripping blade into a mouth that was open and poised to scream. There was a gagging gurgle and the guy flailed while death came with painful slowness. Kevin left the KA-BAR jutting from the man’s mouth as he snatched the blade that had been intended for him from the ground. His victim’s hand clutched open and shut impotently as Kevin looked down on the man’s final death throes.
“I’ll have my knife back,” he sneered as he placed his boot on the man’s forehead and yanked his KA-BAR free while shifting his newest acquisition to his left hand.
A scream from within the store made him hurry his pace as he returned inside. Just as he entered the open front doors, he winced out of reflex. A body hurled past on his right and slammed into one of the thick plate windows, sending a spider web of cracks racing across its surface.
“Dammit, Trunk!” Kevin snapped. “How about giving a call of heads-up.”
“Sorry,” Mark apologized as he stalked over to the stunned figure sprawled on the floor where she’d slid after being thrown. Leaning down, he stomped into her chest once and then grabbed her head with both hands and jerked hard to the right until there was an audible crack. Looking up, he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Snapping necks is harder than it looks in them Stallone movies.”
“Where’s Bob?” Kevin asked, his eyes scanning the interior of the store.
“Saw him back in the pharmacy with that brother and sister.�
�� Mark pointed to the rear of the store.
Kevin nodded and headed towards the back. “Get Joe and have the trucks ready to roll. I’ll get Bob.”
He picked up a lantern that was sitting on the floor. They had placed several throughout the store and had them lit even during the day since it was deceptively dark not too far past the checkout lanes. He had come down the far left of the store and turned the corner when he heard a peculiar sound.
Raising the lantern, he saw a figure hanging from what looked like an extension cord. The cord was secured to an overhead pipe in the ceiling and now swung back and forth as the figure at the end kicked and struggled. He continued forward, but had slowed considerably. By the time he was close enough to make out the details, the body had ceased its struggle and simply dangled limply.
Bob was standing behind the sister of the pair. He was resting his chin on her shoulder and his lips were moving, but Kevin could not make out what was being said. The sister was staring in open shock and horror up at her brother and, by this point, Kevin seriously doubted that she heard anything that Bob was saying either.
“Time to go, Bob,” Kevin called.
The man looked up through the long hair dangling in his eyes. That was the only indication that he had heard anything. For just a moment, Kevin felt fear try to creep into his belly as he looked into Bob’s dark gaze.
There was a flash of something metal and then Bob stepped from behind the twenty-something woman who was still so transfixed on the image of her brother hanging from the ceiling that she did not react. Blood sprayed from her throat in time with her beating heart, and at last she realized her fate. Staggering back, the woman dropped to her knees, hands trying in desperate futility to staunch the flow of blood.
Despite the voice in his head that screamed in warning, Kevin turned his back to the scene, which included Bob, and started for the front of the store. He stepped out into the late afternoon sun and sucked in a breath of clean air.
“Okay, boys, let’s swing by that little armory they got going, grab what we can as fast as possible, and then hit the road.” Kevin climbed into a truck and flinched as Bob chose to join him.
The three large trucks pulled out of the parking lot and hung a right on Main Street, following it around the dog leg as they cruised towards their ultimate destination.
***
Chief Gilstrap climbed up into the big dump truck. This one would be parked someplace where he could get to it if there ever came a need. It was a tank minus a gun turret and would probably be able to mow through a pretty massive horde of the undead if it ever came to that.
He was coming up on the market where he thought he might check in and offer some help if the salvage team was still working on getting everything loaded up. He was just passing a body shop on the right when he saw the big eighteen-wheelers pulling out of the market’s parking lot.
“Looks like we might have almost everybody home for dinner,” the chief said with a smile.
Having the store emptied out was a huge event. This would give them a clear idea of how much food they would have as they got the gardens up. Between hunting, fishing, and farming, they would hopefully be able to sustain themselves. Of course, he hadn’t eliminated the possibility of sending out teams to forage and scavenge abroad. There was no sense in letting things go to waste.
He was coming up on the market when a figure that was definitely not a zombie darted out in the road ahead and began waving his arms around like a maniac. He put on the brakes and was surprised to see Jonathan Patterson standing in the middle of the road. There was a look on his face that put Chief Gilstrap on high alert.
As he climbed out of the massive dump truck, his head was on a swivel as he looked everywhere at once while still keeping Patterson in his field of vision. Something was definitely wrong.
“They killed ‘em!” the young man blurted, pointing back towards the market parking lot. “Killed all of ‘em and they are leaving with the food!”
“Wait,” Chief Gilstrap barked, silencing the man. “Who killed who and who is leaving with the food?”
“Those bikers that arrived a few days ago. I tried to warn you guys, but nobody wanted to believe me.”
“What the blazes are you going on about?” The chief was close enough now that he could get a whiff. Nope, no signs that the kid was drunk.
Jonathan Patterson shoved a cell phone at the chief. “It’s here. Not everything, but enough. Just look!”
“Phones haven’t been working for days, young man,” the chief ignored the device being thrust at him.
“Sure, but my battery powered cameras are working just fine. I had the feeds tethered to my phone and it is all on film. Just look, for crying out loud.”
Chief Gilstrap was tired. He had no idea what this kid was babbling about, but if looking at some grainy video would shut him up, then it would be a small price to pay to return home, wipe himself down with a warm, wet towel, and then sleep for about twenty hours. Of course he doubted that he would get anything close to that amount of sleep, but a man had to have dreams.
He took the cell phone and tapped the sideways triangle that would start the video rolling. The first thing he noticed was that the footage was far from grainy. In fact, the picture was clearer than what he saw on his own home television.
He watched as a few of the store’s salvage team were moving around to deal with approaching zombies. Then he saw one of them walk over and thrust his spear through the chest of one of the other team members. The picture zoomed in and he instantly recognized the victim…and the killer. The problem was that he knew the victim’s first and last name. He had played softball with him in the park during Fourth of July picnics.
The killer’s name escaped him. All he knew was that it was one of those four men who had just arrived on motorcycles—one of the four men that Jonathan Patterson had tried to warn him about. He only watched a few more seconds of the video. He didn’t need to see anymore.
“They just headed for town in the trucks with all the supplies,” Jonathan said in a rush.
Why would they head towards town? Chief Gilstrap thought. Surely it could not be simply to get their motorcycles. They could break in to any shop in the country now and take the bike of their choosing. Then it hit him. He knew exactly why they would be headed towards town. At this precise moment, Chief Adam Gilstrap felt like an idiot. He had allowed strangers to come into his town. He had not said a word against them just signing on for one of the most important salvage operations of the town’s lives.
In short; he had acted like a rookie…or worse.
Turning to face the rest of his team that had joined him on this truck acquisition, he took off his hat and wrung it in his hands as he spoke.
“I don’t have a lot of time to explain, but we have four very bad men about to swoop in and probably take at least half of our ammunition. This is not a game, and I will warn you that if you come with me, you may have to shoot and kill a living human being. That is not a thing that you should take lightly. If you come, be prepared for the worst, and if you choose to sit this one out, there will be no man or woman who thinks less of you.”
Chief Gilstrap climbed up into the truck and was not surprised to see Jonathan climb into the passenger’s side. What did surprise him a little was to see all of the trucks in his convoy follow him as he turned left on Maplecroft Street instead of Peachtree Street.
As the trucks neared the entrance to the vinyl door and window manufacturing facility, the sound of a single gunshot was able to be heard over the roar of the massive engine of the dump truck.
“Dammit,” Chief Gilstrap cursed.
11
Casualties
Kevin brought the lead truck to a stop at the end of the long entry drive that led to the farthest rear end of the door and window facility. He turned so that they were facing out to aid in their departure; not that he expected anything to go wrong. Bob was already climbing out before they came to a complete sto
p. Kevin set the brake as the other two members of his gang jogged up. They had parked out on the street just before the right turn onto South Norman Street.
He had not bothered to concern himself with setting the safety on his handgun as he approached the large, detached storage shed where the ammo had been gathered. He still could not believe their luck. These people were still so stuck in civilization and the way things were that they could not see the reality. This was a new world akin to the days of warlords and kings.
Kevin Staley would be both. He would secure his place with a ruthless selfishness. He and his three friends would create an empire from the ruins and sit atop it like lords. They would have people throwing themselves under the umbrella of their rule willingly. For that to happen, they needed some necessities. This haul would set them up perfectly.
He sort of wished that Jamie chick would have come along, but he hadn’t even considered asking. She was entrenched in that small town mindset. She’d even quoted some silly sentiment about Liberty being “where neighbors become friends” or some such nonsense. He had not even tried to make her an offer. She would have probably run off and told that relic of a cop that really seemed to be running the show.
Unfortunately for the people of this town, the cop wasn’t really on the ball. He was just as slow in realizing that the world had not begun a slow decline into chaos; it was already here in full effect. Not that Kevin was complaining. It had made their job that much easier.
In a way, he might be doing these folks a favor. After this little disaster, maybe they would learn their lesson and become more capable of survival. Either that or they would all starve and die before the end of the first winter. It made no difference either way as far as Kevin and the others were concerned.
