by Lee, Damien
He tapped the steering wheel as the two women finished loading the sports car in front of him. Blood continued to flow from his finger. If he was infected, he knew it was only a matter of time before he turned into a zombie. Yet, he felt completely fine. He had no reason to believe his fate was sealed apart from the open wound.
He eyed the cut once again. The fresh trickle of blood ran down the side of his hand, settling on the steering wheel. The wound itself had adopted a purple hue. With a hefty sigh, he looked ahead as the two women disappeared into the car. He started the ignition, conscious that his finger was beginning to itch.
26
“What the fuck do you want?”
One of the hooded thugs stepped forward as Frank and Ben jumped from the van. They approached the store cautiously, holding up their hands, conscious of the four guns aimed at them.
“We’re just trying to survive, friend,” Frank replied.
“Yeah? Well, go survive somewhere else.”
“We need weapons.”
“So do we!” One of the other looters shouted. He was smaller than the rest, his voice tinged with the squeak of adolescence.
“There are enough guns to go round,” Ben said, “Let us grab some, and a few boxes of bullets, and we’ll be out of your hair.”
The first looter strode forward, aiming a semi-automatic shotgun at the two men.
“I told you to go somewhere else. Now leave, or you die.”
“We’re not leaving without those weapons.”
“Then you give me no choice.”
“You won’t pull the trigger,” Frank sneered. He stared unblinking as the gunman stepped closer.
“Won’t I?”
“Nope. One gunshot will bring every zombie within a mile here. And I’ll hazard a guess that you lot haven’t even held a gun in your life. I mean, look at that kid back there; he’s shitting himself.”
Frank waited for the thug to look over his shoulder before making his move. He grabbed the barrel of the shotgun and tugged it aside. The startled gunman pulled the trigger, blasting a hole in a nearby bus stop. He tried to regain control of the weapon, but a quick elbow to the face sent him reeling. As soon as the thug was out of their line of sight, the other men opened fire.
“Down!” Frank yelled, dragging Ben to the ground.
The bullets sprayed the side of the prison van as the two men retreated around its sturdy frame.
“Brilliant plan,” Ben snapped.
“Hey, it got us a gun, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, and three blokes shooting at us.”
Frank leaned against the door of the van as the firing ceased.
“You might want to come up with another plan,” Ben said, “Guy number four is back on his feet.”
Frank dashed to the end of the van where Ben was peering around the side. Sure enough, the man was arming himself with another weapon.
“Shit.”
Frank checked the chamber of the shotgun before lowering himself to the ground. “Cover me,” he ordered.
“With what?”
“Your eyes! Keep a look out for zombies.”
“What about that lot?”
“I’ll take care of them.”
Frank shuffled underneath the van, eyeing the three pairs of legs in the ruined shop. He wondered where the fourth gunman could be until a foot stepped right in front of him. He watched the looter creep alongside the van. As he reached the edge, Frank pulled the trigger. With an agonised scream, the man fell to the ground as his legs exploded in a crimson haze. His squeals subsided when a second bullet tore open his chest. The impact sent him sprawling backward. His body twitched as the others looked on.
“Cooper!” One of them yelled, firing at the van once more. Frank quickly shuffled out of sight, waiting for the bullets to stop.
“Ben!” he yelled over the gunfire.
“What?”
“Take this.”
He pushed the shotgun down past his legs and kicked it out at his feet. He heard Ben retrieve the weapon as the gunfire ceased.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Fire it!”
He heard Ben emerge from his hiding place, firing shot after shot at the startled trio. Using the distraction to his advantage, Frank crawled forward. He reached out and snatched the dead man’s rifle.
“I’m out!” Ben yelled as the gunmen returned fire.
The bullets pounded the van’s metal frame, shattering the windows and deflating one of the tyres.
Frank hissed as a bullet ricocheted off the ground nearby. He checked the magazine of the rifle. He had four bullets. Squinting down the scope, he saw none of the men in view. He guessed they were all under cover until his sight picked up another dead body lying prone on the ground.
“You got one?”
“You sound surprised.”
“I thought you city boys were all talk?”
He swept his sight back and forth across the store, waiting for one of the men to appear.
“Yeah, well, I’m not a city boy.”
“Coulda fooled me.”
He grinned when he saw movement in the corner of his eye. The hooded teenager briefly came into view before disappearing behind the counter.
“Gotcha.”
He lined his shot over the wooden surface, picturing the man crouched behind it. Once he was sure of his target, he pulled the trigger. Fragments erupted from the counter as the bullet smashed through, striking the teenager. The young man cried out as the shot tore through his ribs. Unfazed, Frank swept his view over to the other side of the room as the commotion stirred the final gunman.
As soon as the man’s head came into view, Frank fired. His aim was slightly off, but the bullet still removed a sizeable section of the man’s face. He fell to the ground, leaving the store vacant.
“I think we better go,” Ben urged, kicking Frank’s legs as he shambled out from beneath the van.
“I know, the zombies might’ve heard.”
“There’s no might about it.”
Frank rose to his feet, staring at the mass of undead at the end of the street. Some sprinted towards them, others shambled slowly on fractured limbs. He looked at the other end of the road and found more zombies closing in.
“Good job we’re at a gun shop, huh?” he said, as they ran through the dilapidated storefront.
“Where are the bullets?” Ben searched the shattered display cases, swiping the glass aside. Frank ignored him as he strode towards the back room. “Where are you going? We need weapons.”
“Yeah, but they’ll be chewing your arse before you can load them. Get over here.”
The first zombie rounded into the store emitting a gleeful screech. Ben darted into the back room after Frank and slammed the door shut. He propped his shoulder against the frame as Frank scanned their surroundings.
“A little help?” Ben snapped as the bulk of undead flesh and bone crashed into the other side of the door.
Frank looked back as the horde struck again. “I’m thinking.”
He turned and made his way around the room. Various boxes of ammo were stacked neatly along the shelves. Frank’s eyes widened when he caught sight of a semi-automatic handgun.
“Holy shit, what’s going on here?” he mused as he grabbed a box of bullets. “Looks like our gun shop’s dabbling in illegal arms.”
He filled the magazine and resumed his search, ignoring the angry wails and thunderous strikes against the door.
“Oh, ho. Look at these!” He laughed when his gaze fell on a mounted display of shotguns.
“What are you doing? We need to barricade the door!” Ben urged.
“We don’t need to do shit.”
He pried one of the weapons from the wall and rushed over to a box of bullets. Another thud sounded throughout the room. The zombies struck the door harder, this time almost hurling Ben aside.
“What are you doing?”
“This is a ten gauge, pump-action shotgun, my frie
nd. I’m surprised to see one of these here. Must be an American import.”
“How’s that gonna help us block the door?”
Frank dismissed him and scanned the array of boxes on the shelf, reading them aloud. “Twelve, twelve, twelve, ten!”
He grabbed a box and dug inside, feeding the shells into the chamber. He cocked the shotgun as the door emitted a snapping sound.
“They’re getting in!” Ben watched Frank approach. He propped the shotgun against his shoulder and aimed the weapon at him.
“Move.”
Before Ben could protest, the final assault caused the wood to give way. He jumped aside as the door swung open and the bodies stumbled forward.
Frank fired, striking the first woman in the chest. The impact caused her to crash back into the others, sending many of them staggering aside. Taking a step forward, he fired again. The boom of the shotgun thundered around the room. The blast devastated everything in its path. With each shot, the wave of zombies fell back further and further. Frank followed, directing the gun at the nearest body and reducing it to pulp.
“There’s no way we can take them all!” Ben yelled from the storeroom.
“Maybe. But it’ll be fun finding out.”
The reloading of the shotgun began to sound rhythmic until he fired his last cartridge. All at once, the zombies retaliated. Those crippled from the shotgun crawled towards him. Those with their legs intact raced forward. Throwing the empty weapon aside, Frank wasted no time in retrieving the handgun. He brought the weapon up to meet the nearest face and fired. The gunshots began again, with Frank picking off those nearest to him. The point-blank range guaranteed a headshot, but he knew he didn’t have enough bullets.
He continued to pull the trigger until a clicking sound replaced the gunfire.
“I’m out!”
He hurled the handgun at the nearest zombie. The impact only rocked the mutilated corpse as it lunged forward.
“Get down!”
He obeyed Ben’s command as a shotgun boomed. The blast overhead created a high-pitched ringing in his ears as he hit the ground. He jerked back as searing gunpowder drifted onto the nape of his neck. He tried to complain, but the gunfire drowned his words.
“How many guns did you load?” Frank yelled between the bursts of shotgun fire.
“The same as you.”
Frank looked up from his prone position, straight into the wide eyes of an elderly woman. The corpse grinned as it crawled towards him, paying no heed to its shattered legs. Frank lurched away, crawling back until he found his discarded shotgun. He turned and swung the butt of the weapon down onto the zombie’s forehead. The impact sent it crashing to the ground. Before it could rise, Frank struck again. The boom of the shotgun diminished the dull thud, but he knew he had smashed through its skull. Not wanting to take any chances, he struck again, and again.
Jumping to his feet, Frank darted back into the storeroom, noting that Ben no longer fired the shotgun. Instead, the cracks of a handgun resounded through the blood-spattered store.
“There’s still too many!” Ben yelled over his shoulder.
Frank looked out and estimated at least a dozen more undead creatures standing in the main store. He turned back to the box of bullets and reloaded. The sound of Ben’s gunfire still echoed around the room.
“I’m out!”
Frank rushed back to the storefront as Ben retreated. Seven zombies stood glaring at him. They charged forward, but the carpet of bodies slowed them down. Frank glanced at his feet. Satisfied there were no crawlers, he turned his attention to those still standing. He braced the shotgun against his shoulder and fired. Four out of the seven zombies fell in quick succession. He aimed at the fifth, but found the slide had jammed. He tried to rack it again. It was stuck.
“C’mon,”
He stepped back into the storeroom, looking between Ben and the remaining creatures. Ben snapped the magazine into his handgun and walked to the doorway. Three shots later, he turned back to Frank.
“Thank God,” Ben gasped, throwing the weapon down onto the counter.
“I told you we’d do it.”
“Yeah, well, we still need to hurry. There’ll be more on their way.”
“At least now we have time to barricade the door. C’mon, let’s get to it.”
Frank walked past Ben toward the row of shelves next to the doorway. After testing the sturdiness of the metal structure, he pushed hard on the side until it tipped. A loud clatter accompanied the landing of the shelves as they blocked the entrance.
“There. Now nothing can get in.”
Frank gave the shelves a harsh tug to verify his statement. The barricade remained still, completely blocking the doorway.
“Yeah, and we can’t get out,” Ben said.
“Why would we want to do that?”
“So we can load the van.”
“Have you not been here for the last ten minutes? The van is shot to hell. There’s no way we can get away in that.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
Ben followed Frank’s gaze towards a row of heavy shutters. He looked back and shrugged.
“That’s where the crates get unloaded,” Frank said. “All we have to do is go find another car, grab the guns and ammo and get the fuck out of here.”
“And it’s gonna be that easy? How do we know there aren’t hundreds of them behind those shutters?”
“We don’t, that’s why we load as much firepower as we can first.”
The pair stopped talking when a growl emerged from the barricaded doorway. They looked through the metal shelves, but the source remained a mystery amongst the scattered bodies.
“Let’s just do this,” Ben sighed.
They loaded the weapons in silence, each choosing two shotguns and two handguns. Once they had finished, Frank grabbed the chain operating the shutters.
“Are you ready?”
Before Ben could answer, he tugged hard, rolling the metal shutters up and out of sight. He jumped back, expecting to see a crowd of flesh-hungry faces staring up at him. What they saw was the back of an LGV.
“You must be blessed or something,” Frank laughed. “I’ve never had so much luck.”
He jumped off the ledge and down into the loading bay, approaching the driver’s side as Ben looked on.
“How am I blessed?” He watched as Frank tugged the door. It swung wide, allowing him entry. “So far we’ve been shot at by looters, had our van destroyed, and re-enacted World War two. There’s no divine force looking out for me,” he continued.
“Oh, no?”
Frank reappeared, dangling a set of keys from his finger. He jumped from the van, returning to Ben in the storeroom.
“Let me tell you something,” Frank said as he climbed back onto the ledge. “There’s no way God is rewarding me. I’m the scum of the earth. I care for nobody but myself. I’d happily let the world go to shit as long as I’m still breathing at the end. I was in prison because I’m a murderer. I beat my wife to death, and d’ya know what? I don’t regret a single thing. I’d do it again and again and again, a thousand times over if given the chance. I should have been the first to die when this shit happened.”
Ben watched him as he approached the work surface where they had loaded the weapons. He scanned their haul.
“Sorry pal, but whether you like it or not, it’s you who God favours.” Frank continued.
Before Ben could answer, a growling noise at the barricade caught their attention. Only this time they could see the source.
“To be honest, I don’t think there is a God,” Ben muttered as they looked on.
“No?”
“No. After all, what kind of God would let this happen?”
They both stared in silence as the little boy at the barricade reached through a gap. His blood-soaked romper suit revealed a hollowed-out torso as he pressed against the barrier. He growled quietly, eyeing the pair with an unwavering hunger and a tireless determination.
>
27
Lisa stepped out into the dark hallway. Despite the rifle in her hands, she couldn’t help but feel vulnerable in the darkness. She continued down the corridor, glancing at the closed doors as she passed. Curiosity steered her towards the rooms, but seven bullets in the rifle kept her on track. If they were going to survive the ordeal, she knew she would have to shoot only when necessary. She reached the end of the hallway and found the top of a staircase. The foot of the stairs was a lot brighter. Apprehension displaced her relief when she considered the source of the light. If it was a window, they would be in trouble if a zombie stumbled across it.
She crept down the stairs, aiming the rifle ahead. She reached the bottom without incident. Yet, a quiet shuffling nearby caused her heart to race. Somebody was round the corner. With an intake of breath, she propped the rifle against her shoulder and turned. She yelped in alarm as a hand seized the weapon.
“Wait, it’s us!” Tina urged. She released the gun as Simon appeared behind her.
Lisa exhaled, shaking her head at the pair. “I almost killed you.”
“Well, open your eyes next time,” the teenager retorted. She turned and pushed past Simon, walking back down the corridor.
“You know that alarm is going to be the death of us,” Simon said.
“Relax, you can hardly hear it.” She went to walk past, but the man’s outstretched arm stopped her.
“It’s quiet in here, but it’s still screeching out there.”
“We’ll deal with it. Now get out of my way” She made to move again, but the man grasped her shoulder.
“I told you not to smash the window,” he said.
“And I told you to get out of my way.” She threw the rifle aside and grabbed him by the shirt. He gasped in alarm as Lisa slammed him into the wall, pressing her forearm against his neck. “Touch me again and I’ll blow your fucking head off, understand?”
Before Simon could respond, Tina turned the corner.
“Are you coming or—” She stopped mid-sentence as she observed the tense standoff.
