by Brown, TW
“Says the guy in the truck full of stuff that we heisted from Home Depot,” Ken snorted.
Jason glanced at the man and saw the slightest quirk in the corner of his mouth. He guessed that was supposed to pass as a joke. Well, it was pretty lame, but at least the guy had some sense of humor.
“So what do we do?” Jason sat back; the house was burning to the point that they would be unlikely to put it out.
“That barn is pretty big. It might not be loaded with creature comforts, but it is something.” Ken pointed to the huge building well away from the house where they had thankfully stashed the guns and ammo. It looked undisturbed and was far enough back to most likely remain safe from the conflagration.
They pulled up to the gate and Jason got out. They’d been smart enough back at Home Depot to put the chain and locks on the top of everything that they’d loaded into the back of the truck. He grabbed the chain and locks out and then, after the truck drove through, he secured the heavy metal gate.
They drove up to the barn and everybody climbed out. Jason watched Mary Simpson, he’d seen the nasty scratch on her arm and actually felt sorry for Ken. The man would more than likely have to put his own mother down after watching her die and turn. Maybe he would talk to the man later and make the offer. He had no doubt that it would be refused, but at least he would feel good about having asked. Still, he was also very aware that those dark tracers in the eyes were a definite indicator that the person was infected. Mary Simpson had no such symptom. Her eyes were just as white and normal as anybody’s.
They unloaded everything, and right away, he and Ken grabbed some of the supplies and headed to the breach in the fence. They had to stop a few times in order to take down the occasional zombie, but for Jason, it was sort of like the old days. He felt comfortable with tools in his hands.
By the time that the sun was starting to disappear behind the trees, they had repaired the breach and gotten a good start on the solid planking that would shore up the front of the property. Jason had no doubt that they would have to go out several more times if they intended to shore up the entire property, but for now, the priority was the part that was bordered by the road.
That night, they came to a new realization. The food had been inside the house. Fortunately, the water was still on, so they had plenty to drink, but a chorus of growls from all four stomachs made it clear that they would need to remedy the food situation first thing in the morning.
Juanita had insisted on taking the first watch, and when she woke Jason for his turn, he was thankful for the little sleep he’d gotten. As he patrolled the area, he was very cognizant of the fact that they could not maintain this pace much longer. This was made even more apparent during one moment when he was walking along the fence line for an undetermined amount of time without realizing that a zombie was moving along beside him, occasionally taking a swipe over the fence. When they reached the area that was still only barbed wire, the zombie had lunged and fallen partway over. Of course Jason had ended it quickly, but he also went to the pump and splashed some water on his face, doing so each time he passed by for the duration of his watch.
The other thing that he noticed was the quiet. Sure, there was the occasional moan, groan, or cry, but that was basically it. He only heard one gunshot. That could mean a number of things. One of them could be that people realized that shooting a gun was like ringing a dinner bell. It brought more zombies from all over.
He was just about ready to wake up Ken for his watch when a sound behind him in the grass made him freeze. Turning with his weapon drawn, it took him a few seconds to make out the dark figure, but there was no mistaking once it moved and the little bit of moonlight there was shone on the white fur.
“Hey, Imp!” Jason whispered.
The dog scurried to him, head down, but tail wagging furiously. Kneeling, Jason gave the dog a scratch behind the ears and actually felt something in him that seemed to melt as he accepted the gentle nudges and even a few swipes of the tongue by the black and white Border Collie.
“Where have you been, boy?” Jason whispered, removing his gloves and running his hands over the dog just to be sure there were no injuries. “Well, let’s get you back inside with the people.”
The dog followed, taking time to sniff and hike his leg every so often. When they passed the house, the dog gave it a wide berth and even made a low rumble in his chest. Jason cataloged the response, recalling how the dog showed such hatred for the undead.
After waking Ken and making sure that he was aware of Imp’s return, Jason found a spot to lie down. He could not keep the smile from his lips as the dog made a tight circle and then flopped to the ground, rolling into him and exhaling with a loud huff. Jason fell asleep running his hands down the side of the Border Collie that actually fell asleep first and began to snore softly.
***
Ken watched the sun rise on the horizon. He cast a wary eye skyward and took in the clouds that were already rolling in. Without the local news, he had no idea how bad the storm would be, but he had no doubt that rain was on the way.
His mind wandered a bit as he considered the reappearance of the black and white dog that had belonged to Rose. That had made him wonder where the Golden Retriever had wandered off to in all this madness. Had the dog suffered some terrible fate? He was surprised at the fact that he seemed to actually care.
By the time that everybody else was awake, Ken had scoured the property, his eyes peeled the entire time, looking for any sign of the dog. When Jason woke and then suggested that he and Juanita make a food run, Ken took a few moments to realize that the man was intentionally making arrangements so that he and his mother were alone together.
Ken checked his mother, surprised to discover that there was still no sign of the tracers in her eyes. He handed his keys over to Jason and told the man to perhaps see if he might find some sort of walkie-talkie as well as a generator.
“Anything else you would like me to see if I just happen to find?” the man said with just a hint of sarcasm.
Ken felt a stinging retort on his lips, but he saw the man’s point. This was a food run. He was going out with Juanita, and while it might not have been a popular thing to say in the overly politically correct society that was gasping in its death throes at the moment, women and men were different. He and Jason would be a more formidable team out in that insanity than would Jason and Juanita.
Ken watched as the truck rumbled to the gate. He waited until Jason had locked it and driven away before heading back to the barn where his mother waited. He felt a sense of dread every single time he turned his attention to her. He knew in his gut that it was just a matter of time before those black tracers showed themselves in her eyes.
He shoved away the feelings of guilt and shame that threatened to overwhelm him. He’d actually considered just going inside and doing her in while she slept. He seriously did not know if he had the ability to watch another person that he loved as they were devoured from within by a horrific sickness that would leave them as little more than a shell of what they had once been.
“Kenny!” Mary Simpson’s voice cut through his morose thoughts and he took off for the barn at a sprint.
Bursting in, he found his mother seated on a large bale of hay. She was stroking a Golden Retriever that gave him only a quick glance before returning its attention to the woman who was ruffling the fur around the neck and giving scratches behind the ears.
“Hey, ma,” Ken said through a few deep gasps that were reminders as to just how out of shape he’d allowed himself to become.
“I thought we had a black and white dog,” the woman said with a look of confusion on her face.
***
“We go in and out. I will have the truck backed up as close as possible. You stay by my side and push the cart. I trust you to grab all the right food. I will have my gun out and be watching our back,” Jason explained as they pulled into the parking lot of the Safeway grocery store.
“N
o problem.” Juanita checked her own pistol and shoved it behind her back as she climbed out of the truck.
Walking inside, it was obvious that this place had already been hit pretty hard. Even worse, the smell of death mixed with the stench of undeath. A few shadows moved around in the gloom. Since the power was still on in the area, Jason had to figure that somebody had shut this place down, only a few of the security lights were actually on. Maybe it was a manager trying to save the store, or maybe people who did not want to be revealed by the brightness of the overhead fluorescents had found the switches and shut everything off at some point.
The first zombie that they took down was an older woman with her gray hair still managing to be held back in a tight bun that gave her eyes a slight upturn. She was wearing the tattered remains of an evening gown and Jason had to guess that she had probably not seen the inside of a grocery store in a while. This was the kind of woman that had people do the shopping for her. He was surprised when he allowed himself a little chuckle as he pulled his machete free from the woman’s head.
“Care to let me in on the joke?” Juanita asked.
“Just thinking about a few things,” Jason said with a lilt of humor lacing his words. “Just the fact that this is that great equalizer people have been screaming for these past few years. I wonder if anybody is gonna survive long enough to enjoy it.”
“Okay.” Juanita sort of let that word draw out a bit. “So tell me again which part of that was supposed to be funny?”
Jason shot her a look as they grabbed a cart and headed down the closest aisle. “Not sayin’ that it was funny in a stand-up comedy sort of way, more that it is just a really big case of being careful what you wish for. It was like how people were always saying things like how they were having the worst day, and could it get any worse. I always thought that the answer to that question was a big fat yes. Looks like I was correct.”
“Good for you.” Juanita gave a shake of her head as she grabbed some of the scattered and meager remains that were on the shelves, or, in some cases, the floor.
Jason kept looking over their shoulders, and every so often, he would jog ahead to the end of the aisle to take out whatever might be waiting or heading their direction.
They were down to the last aisle and barely had three-quarters of a cart when Jason held up his hand to get Juanita to freeze. She heard it as soon as she stopped; it was the sound of soft whimpering. Jason held up a hand and crept the last few yards to investigate.
He’d already encountered zombies that could mimic the sound of a baby’s cry. That had creeped him out to no end. He had no reason to doubt that this could be just another trick or ploy.
Peering around the endcap display that was nothing more than empty shelving with one broken jar of ready-made pasta sauce that had already begun to attract flies, Jason readied himself for anything. What he found made his heart hurt.
Sitting on the floor was a child no older than four. How the child had survived up to this point was a miracle. While the place had not been crawling with the undead—he’d only had to put down three—they had none the less been present here in the store. Unfortunately, the child had not managed to escape unscathed. The child was holding his left arm to his chest, and even in the gloom, Jason could see the dark smears of blood.
“Dammit,” he hissed. This had caused the child to look up and cry out, scooting away as fast as it could.
“Whoa!” Jason held his hands up in a gesture of peace. This only caused the child to cry out even louder.
“Put that thing down!” Juanita hissed as she shoved past Jason, knocking down the arm with the hand that held the machete.
Jason winced and dropped the offending limb. Meanwhile, Juanita moved to the child and bent down once she was about five or ten feet away. Holding out her arms, she beckoned for the child to come to her.
After a series of sniffles and more than a few wary glances past Juanita to where Jason stood feeling every bit like the boogeyman, the child climbed to its feet and came tentatively to the woman. When the child stepped into a narrow shaft of light, Jason was able to get a better look at him. He had sandy colored hair and was wearing pajamas with some yellow cartoon character that he wasn’t familiar with. There were a few rips in his clothing, the most notable being the right sleeve which was practically torn completely off. The exposed arm had one fairly nasty bite as well as a few deep imprints that were now mouth-shaped bruises.
“It’s okay,” Juanita cooed, causing Jason to think that it was going to be anything but. He moved back out into the aisle that ran the length of the back of the store and made absolutely certain that there were no more zombies coming their way. He would allow Juanita to see to the child despite knowing full well that the little boy was doomed; his fate sealed with that first bite.
“The reapers are coming,” the boy whispered.
Jason returned his attention to the youngster, his blood going a few degrees colder in an instant. His mind raced through several of the zombie apocalypse books and movies that he’d read. A few were the sort that went off on some kind of supernatural tangent. He never liked those much. He didn’t think that zombies needed anything to make them even that much scarier, like mind-controlling necromancers or other equally preposterous things.
Any time that he stumbled across a story like that, he immediately, fair or otherwise, shoved it into the category of “books that stole blatantly from Stephen King’s The Stand.” While that was admittedly one of his all-time favorite stories, and imitation was supposed to be the most sincere form of flattery, he could not help but see such things as cheesy.
“The reapers?” Juanita asked, beating Jason to the punch.
The little boy nodded and began to sway back and forth a bit as if to some unheard rhythm. Whether it was due to the poor lighting, or simply to the fact that he had been stretched about as far as he could over the past few days, Jason could not suppress a shiver.
“They come with fire,” the boy whispered.
“That’s all I need to hear.” Jason tossed his head, indicating that they move for the doors.
Juanita scowled, but she took the boy’s hand. “My name is Juanita, what’s your name?”
“Gabriel James Prentiss,” the boy replied, accepting Juanita’s hand and following along.
“That is a pretty neat name,” Juanita said with enthusiastic appreciation.
“My mommy said I am named for an angel and my granddaddy.” The little boy edged around one of the corpses that littered the floor as he spoke, and Jason had to admit that he was handling all of this very well.
They were almost at the front of the store when Jason heard what sounded like music. It was distant at first, but as they froze in place and waited, it became louder.
“Reaper,” Gabriel whispered.
Jason turned his attention back to the street that ran the length of the front of the grocery store. It was actually a business loop for Highway 26, and thus, very wide. He had to hope that whomever this might be, they would simply continue to drive past.
No such luck. As the strains to “Don’t Fear the Reaper” by Blue Oyster Cult blared from the large, red vehicle…
“Is that a school bus?” Juanita asked, leaning forward over Jason’s shoulder.
“Looks like it used to be.”
“It’s hideous.”
Jason had to agree. It had been painted red, but in such a way that it looked like somebody had just thrown buckets of paint at the side of the bus. The top of the bus was an ugly shade of sky blue with a yellow trim. There was aluminum foil over all of the windows that ran the length, and the tall windows of the door where passengers would board were painted black. Additionally, giant letters in white were painted all over. Most of them were garden variety profanity, but a couple were actually several word phrases that were vile.
The bus stopped, and then it turned right, swinging wide and coming into the parking lot. The music ceased with an audible click, and a voice came o
ver some sort of PA. “Attention whoever is in the store…the owner of the pickup truck, we have claimed this area and you are considered to be trespassing. Come out and give yourself up and we will let you go with a warning.”
Just as the voice stopped, somebody else could be heard in the background. It sounded like the second person was laughing. Not that he needed any special reason to openly defy and disobey this request, but that was the nail in the coffin.
Turning to Juanita, Jason took her by the arms and looked her in the eyes. “We have no idea how many there are in that bus, or what they might actually intend to do. What we are not going to do is just give up to these people.” The woman nodded in agreement.
“Good.” Jason shot a look over his shoulder and out the window of the grocery store, watching as the bus slowed and then came to a stop where it effectively blocked the exit that the truck would need to use. “I have a plan.”
***
“You think I’m gonna die pretty soon, don’tcha?” Mary Simpson practically cackled. The Golden Retriever swung its head around and gave him a look like it was just as anxious to hear his answer.
Ken stood in the door to the barn. He’d sworn that he heard gunshots a few minutes ago. Of all times for a pair of zoms to show up and get that black and white dog all riled up to the point where it was barking its fool head off, it had to be this exact moment.
“You hear me, Kenny?” Mary Simpson called.
“Huh?” Ken turned to face his mom. His gaze immediately locked on her eyes.
Still no signs of the tracers. It seemed unlikely that she would go this long and not show any of the evidence that she was sick with whatever it was that turned people into the walking dead. Yet, here she was, days after a bite and still nothing.
“I said,” she stressed that second word, “that you think I am going to die pretty soon.”
“What?” Ken shook his head a made a ‘pssh’ sound in dismissal. “Of course not.”
“Kenny, I am not stupid. I see the way that you are looking at me. It is like every single time I manage to catch you, you have that look on your face like you are expecting to see a flattened puppy.”
