by Javan Bonds
About twenty years ago, this Kmart had become one of those Big K superstores when they tried to become like Walmart. It didn’t sell fresh meat, but this Kmart had a few aisles of groceries.
Not that it would feed hundreds of people for an extended period of time, but it’d be a decent haul for a small group to live on. It would be especially if that group supplemented the stockpile with materials stolen from other survivors. A band of raiders could settle down here indefinitely. That is until they pissed me off.
Looking up at the roof of the superstore, we could see where a shooter had been camping, using the top of the sign that crested over the roof as cover. He had been lying down behind it, peeking his head and rifle around the corner of the arch. Now, his rifle poked out, and we could see the shoulders and nothing else. What was left of his skull and brains were now spattered on the sign to his left. Chunks of grey matter and pieces of bone plastered in rapidly congealing blood clung to the sign. My copilot had clearly pulled off an expert headshot.
On the other side of the sign, not as noticeable, was another orbless corpse. The remains of the poor bastard's cranium must have been littering the roof behind the body and down on the ground. Devin had popped at least two of the weasels hiding above, and there were undoubtedly more bodies I wasn’t able to see from my angle. I needed to look for a barcode on the back of his head! Was he a professional assassin?
Landers came wheeling around the corner of China King. “Clear. Move!”
☠☠☠
Indiana “Benji” Jones, Ghost Rider “Devin,” and the four survivors sleuthed around the Domino’s Pizza building and came up to the corner of the Kmart. Well, Indiana Jones and the four survivors sleuthed. Ghost Rider walked single file behind me, his M4 hung lose in its sling, obviously feeling no need to be stealthy. He walked casually as if this were any other day. He acted as if there were no naked cannibals that had overtaken the world, nor were there any villains waiting with guns just around every corner.
If Devin didn’t want it to appear that he had an advance copy of the damn script, he needed to start pretending to be less omnipotent! God controlled our fates. That’s what I always believed. Now, if it was God, he had been watching some seriously fucked-up movies.
We stayed against the wall pressed up to a line of coke machines. I stopped and waited for my copilot to do something. There was no point in even asking. He would do something even if I just froze.
Devin again proved he had already seen this movie. Waiting no longer than a heartbeat, he walked around me with a sigh. I would’ve called it stupid if anyone else had done it. My copilot stood right in front of the glass entryway without even raising his weapon and pulled open one of the side doors… which was of course, conveniently unlocked.
This Kmart was old enough that while it did have automatic sliding entrance and exit doors, there were also doors that simply pulled open. I wouldn’t have expected the Kmart manager to have locked the doors back in May, but I figured the Marauders holding out in Kmart would have found the damn keys by now!
He held the door all the way open and waved his arm, gesturing for us to enter. He stared stupidly at me. “Well?”
If he wasn’t with me, there’s no way I would do it. There was no need to worry about getting shot. I exhaled, smiled, let my carbine hang on the sling, and walked to the door my friend was holding open. “Thank you kindly, sir.” I smiled back at him and walked on through.
There were now three choices, the automatic sliding exit to my left, the automatic sliding entrance in front and to the right, or the hinged door in front of me. For a second, I wasn’t sure what to do and paused. Landers made an agreeable noise when I moved to the door in front of me.
We both stood in the building proper. The only light in the building was the occasional skylight. The large building was utterly quiet. Just like any busy day at Kmart pre-apocalypse!
The two of us stood in the musty opening, waiting for our reinforcements. After several minutes of standing still and peering around, they came behind us at a snail’s pace. Was every buccaneer taken out on the roof? Our comrades also saw nothing in the gloom.
In the few minutes we had to talk, I learned that the names of our new acquaintances. Eddie and Mike were the older two, while Toby and Tony were young teenagers.
“I guess we got ‘em all!” Toby spoke entirely too loud, walking toward the back of the store.
I screamed a whisper. “What the fuck is wrong with you, kid? Get bac–“
My warning was abruptly cut off by more than one rifle firing. The shots came from somewhere on the other side of the jewelry counter. Both bullets caught Toby in his left ribs. Bone was shattered and fragments of white speckled the torrent of crimson that spilled from the boy. Immediately his lungs were punctured when everything from the left of his sternum caved in. Toby didn’t even get a chance to fire back; he just fell to a pile on the floor, screaming and sobbing.
Mike and Eddie propped their rifles on the closest checkout counter, scanning for enemies. I dropped down where I was. Waiting there I looked behind me; it was clear Landers had quietly stepped back until his heels were against the door and squatted.
Why would he allow an innocent young man to walk into a bullet? If he knew it was going to happen, couldn’t he have stopped it? Perhaps it was supposed to be. Maybe it would’ve been me dying on the floor if Toby hadn’t played his part.
Tony started running toward where he thought the gunfire had originated. Squeezing his trigger repeatedly, he screamed, “I’ll kill every one of you! That was my brother!” I would never have a chance to ask Tony if he and Toby had just been close, or were actually blood-related.
As expected, multiple rounds ripped into him. Tony sank to his knees as the bullets started flying. Just as the boy began to tip backward, one more shot rang out. It hit him in the chin. There was no way to know if he was alive when he hit his knees, but that final round ceased any brain activity along with concerns on retrieving him for medical attention. Colors were dull in the weak light, and we were not able to see the rainbow geyser from the ragged stump where his head used to be.
I’m not sure if Mike or Eddie was either of the boy’s fathers, but they remained calm. No screaming, no rounds fired in insane vengefulness, not even a whimper. Whether or not any of them were related, they had survived this long together, so they had to be close. Perhaps not blood kin, but family all the same. Most would call their stoic acceptance of their loss cold. Really, I thought it just seemed professional. They must have been former military. At least I hoped so. Otherwise, they were Texas Chainsaw-style serial killers to be so calm.
I opened my mouth to ask when Eddie let one round fly from his scoped 30.06. From my vantage point, nothing happened. The round sunk into the blackness and quietly disappeared. We just waited in silence.
Finally, from somewhere near the back of the building, a voice was heard. “Wilbanks?” There was a long pause before more frantic whispering could be heard. “Shit! Wilbanks is down. They got a sniper!”
It had been so long since I’d been in this building that I didn’t know the state of the sporting goods section. Hell, for all I knew, any item that could inflict pain has since been removed to appease the easily bruised offense-glands snowflakes seem to have. They probably followed the footsteps of Wal-Mart and removed their evil black rifles. Camouflage might even have been banned from sporting goods on the grounds it incites violence!
Regardless, these guys probably had a National Guard’s sized Armory worth of arms. At least they didn’t get it from the Armory in Albertville. I heard the story of that band of former military loonies that used it as a base. The guy in charge sounded pretty villainous! The surviving soldiers from that group swore allegiance to Guntersville after their boss was killed, and they had since cleaned the Armory out of all its supplies.
I really didn’t want to walk into a face full of machine gun bullets. With Devin Landers at my side, however, that seemed impossibl
e. Mike and Eddie might be murdered in grotesque fashions, but I knew at least I would see another day. Maybe I would be cast as The Hero in my cousin, Mo’s, stead. The Hero doesn’t die; he saves the day and gets the girl. I’d still like a designation that sounds cooler. Maybe The Badass or The Stunner. What was that line from The Sandlot; Heroes get remembered, but legends never die.
☠☠☠
Mike, who had been crouching on the other side of Eddie, managed to sneak around the line of checkout counters. He had silently vanished. In the dim interior of the building, I could make out a shadowy figure, hugging against the large shelving unit holding tobacco products.
Well, it at one time held tobacco. Being occupied by typical Marauders, I’m sure anything containing nicotine has been spent; except possibly the Nicorette patches in the pharmacy section. I’ll bet any of that gum was gone the first day they got here!
After that point, I could no longer see Mike. The man completely disappeared in the distant darkness. It would be the last time I would see him. There was no way for me to know what actually happened during his self-sacrificing action. The heroic final deed of a man I didn’t even know the last name of, saved the life of his daughter that day.
☠☠☠
Mike rounded the shelving unit that once held tobacco products, moving into what appeared to be a section containing clothing. He was freer to move. There were racks and tables lined with apparel between him and his enemies that were not only muffling the ambient sound but blocking line-of-sight.
There were no shouts of alarm, nor cries of surprise. The survivor was creeping up on the enemy completely undetected. Tense whispering could be picked up nearby. They might know there was an enemy somewhere, but they wouldn’t be able to zero in on him. The Marauders weren’t even watching for an attack from that direction.
“How the hell would I know how many there are? They heard us both fire, so for all they know, there could be more than just two of us.” Mike heard harshly whispered words between two deviants.
There were only two of them. That is, in this immediate area at least. Who knew how many more were in the back rooms behind them or even in the loading bay? They had to be defending something. If they were merely maintaining ownership of the building, one would think their defensive line would have been closer to the front. Or maybe they had no former military training and just hid in the back like most cowards. The former Navy man’s wife and daughters must have been what lay behind them. No quarter will be given to any of the bastards!
Mike was so close enough now that he thought he could hear their heartbeats. At the moment, Mike could see the man only feet away from him, but the earlier whispered conversation told him there were still only two. God willing, there would be no more surprises.
Seeking to rescue his family even if it cost him his own life, Mike was willing to sacrifice more than just these idiots. He held down the spoon on the grenade and pulled the pin. If he wasn’t walking away with his loved ones, neither would they.
Mike launched himself up to stand behind a squat, pudgy man with long dirty hair. In the instant it took him to rise, he could see the other kidnapper to his left, pointing a rifle to where they had shot Toby. He put his arm around Hostile Hillbilly Redneck #1’s neck before quickly turning to face Hostile Hillbilly Redneck #2 with his gun arm extended.
Neither of them had time to act. Mike had the opportunity to simply end them both before the conflict could even start. Being a civilized, fair person, he at least wanted to give them a chance to redeem themselves. Had he understood the pathetic, twisted minds he was dealing with, Mike would have killed them both right then and there.
“Tell me where they are!” he screamed at the surprised man in his pistol sights.
Hostile Hillbilly Redneck #2 turned to Mike and his hostage. “Who?” the man asked stupidly.
Fearing for the lives of his family, Mike responded with incredulity in his voice. “My girls, you dumbass!”
Hostile Hillbilly Redneck #2 rolled his head to the left. “I reckon they’re still back there.” He spat a stream of foul-smelling brown tar-like liquid from his cotton-candy purple lips to his side and smiled wickedly. “That is unless Gumby got done with them.”
Mike was enraged and spoke through gritted teeth. “If any of you hurt my family, I’ll kill you all!”
Just then, a monster of a man came out of the back room. He stood at least six and a half feet tall wearing what appeared to be a butcher’s apron covered in blood and gore. Gumby obviously hadn’t realized they had company. “Whut wus that shootin’? Is somebody–”
Shaken for only an instant, Mike turned to his left to face Gumby. With the pistol pointed away from him, Hostile Hillbilly Redneck #2 took the chance fate had given him and shot Mike in the side. The bullet tore through his arm above the elbow and dug through his ribs. The arm around Hostile Hillbilly Redneck #1 was now only attached by a few stringy tendons and skin. Nerves lost contact with the brain and released the live frag in his hand.
In the few milliseconds it took for the high-powered rifle round to tear through Mike's lung and other vitals, the shock forced Mike to squeeze his trigger finger. Gumby would definitely not be walking away from here. Serves the bastards right!
The hollow point magnum round sank squarely into Gumby’s throat under the chin. Arteries, windpipe, spinal column, and all connections from body to brain were irrevocably severed, sending blood gushing outwards while simultaneously drowning Gumby in a lung-filled ocean of blood. The giant’s body spasmed a few times before collapsing into a wet heap.
Even without his little gift basket, Mike knew he was done for. Three lives for one, not bad. Smiling as he dropped to his side, The Sacrifice was more than willing to pay any price for his family. He would give his life a million times over to save any of his girls.
The grenade rolled in front of Hostile Hillbilly Redneck #1. Eyes going wide in realization, he shouted to Hostile Hillbilly Redneck #2. “Dude! He’s got a–“ the exclamation was abruptly cut off by a superheated fireball. Due to the gunshot, Mike had received, he was, fortunately, very dead before the explosion erupted. It would seem The Screenwriter had a penchant for sparing the lives of those it deemed Heroic.
☠☠☠
A few minutes after Mike had disappeared we heard some indistinguishable shouting between what must have been Mike and the Marauders. There were two gunshots, one rifle, and one pistol. There were a few more shouts than an expanding ball of blinding flame consumed the area from where the gunfire came. Instinctively, I knew this was a fragmentation grenade explosion. Maybe it was the color or the fact that the eruption was confined to a tight circle. It was doubtful Mike would only throw a grenade just for the fun of it. At least we had been far enough when the grenade went off that the shrapnel blowback seemed to be tightly confined.
I also had a gut feeling the grenade may have been a last-ditch, kamikaze play for the man trying to save his family. It might surely have taken out some of the bad guys, but Mike undoubtedly perished with them. He just made the ultimate sacrifice. I would make sure the price wasn’t paid in vain.
Looking back over my shoulder at Landers, I noticed he was now standing, propping against the closed sliding doors behind him. I now knew where Mike had gotten the explosive device, and I stared at him incredulously. He shrugged grimly. “I had to.”
The three of us moved up to the slumped and punctured bodies of Toby and Tony. Eddie silently stared at the mangled corpses with no emotion.
Kneeling, I turned to face the direction of the explosion. Leaning back like my superstar quarterback cousin Easy, I spiraled a flare to the back of the building. It impacted, rolled, and finally stopped so we could see a cleared, charred, still smoking crater.
There were no bodies to be seen. There weren’t even blood splatters or chips of bone. The area was just a blackened hole of emptiness. It was without question that someone or something had been in this location at one time. Now though, it was nothin
g but a void. But as we watched, a giant candy display setting on the edge of the void toppled and crashed into the spot. It was a cardboard display for Mikes & Ike’s. The flimsy sign bent in the middle leaving only the top half showing within the smoking hole. It now resembled a makeshift grave marker that read “MIKE” in playful block lettering.
I gestured to my left. Eddie crept forward from that direction. I took the right, keeping my senses on high alert.
We came to the scorched rift at nearly the same moment. I glanced over my shoulder to see my co-pilot standing casually, completely unafraid. What the fuck? Maybe he should’ve been the one to take point; it would’ve saved a lot of time. Hell, you’d think I would’ve learned that by now! Just send the guy that already knows what’s going to happen ahead first. It’d save me time and heart palpitations.
Devin came walking squarely down the aisle without glancing to either side, basically yelling. “You know, you made getting from back there to here look pretty intense. It was well choreographed.”
I disgustedly laughed. “Well, be sure the choreographer is nominated for an Oscar!” Wait, do choreographers win Oscars?
He cocked his head as if contemplating. Landers opened his mouth to respond when Eddie ran from the swinging doors to the rear of us, gagging and retching. I looked over at the man crying and vomiting and then back to my co-pilot. He shrugged and began moving, mechanically.
Eddie looked up as we approached. He wheezed and waved his arm. “Melanie and Lacy.”
I looked at him confusedly and then walked around him. After taking a peek in the door he opened and ran away from, I knew exactly why he reacted that way. Anyone who knew these women, or what was left of them, would have reacted just as he did.
Shit, I didn’t even know them, but the fact that they were remains of human beings nearly made me lose my lunch. I was amazed he could even recognize the destroyed faces of the deceased people in that first small dark room. Maybe it was more of an instinctual and familial know who the corpses used to be. These memoirs would obviously be rated R, but I can’t even begin to describe what I saw. I especially wasn’t going to contemplate what had been done to these unfortunate individuals. The closest thing I can compare it to is when you drop a jar of homemade chunky strawberry jam onto a cement floor. Now multiply that by several pallets of the sticky, red ichor.
