Zompoc Survivor: Chronicle: A Zompoc Survivor Boxed Set

by Ben Reeder

  “We need to clear the garage first,” I told her. “But once we make sure no one’s waiting to bite you, sure.”

  “Why didn’t you do that before you brought us here?” she demanded. “I thought you were taking us someplace safe.”

  “Why don’t you shut the hell up,” the Asian man said. “You’ve done nothing but bitch since we left. As far as I’m concerned, he should have thrown you out the first time you opened your mouth.”

  “Kids, play nice,” I said as I walked between the two of them. “I never told you that coming with me was the safe bet. Just be patient for a little longer.” Before she could answer me, I opened the door and stepped out. The woman who’d taken the shotgun and the dark haired man who’d led the raid on the armory were standing beside Kaplan as I came around the side of the vehicle.

  “Natives getting restless?” the dark haired man asked. I nodded.

  “Yeah. We’re going to need a bigger boat.” The older woman laughed but neither of the two men seemed to get the quote.

  “Okay, Ruth, stay with me. Phil, go with Stewart. We’ll clear this level and move up, then block off the entrance.” Kaplan headed to his left, leaving Phil and I to head the other direction. Phil fell in behind me and to my right as I slung the rifle and pulled the SOCOM out. I switched the LAM’s tac light on and kept the gun up to light the way.

  “You handle a pistol like you know what to do with it. Were you in the military?” I asked.

  “Police,” he said softly. “Five years this December. I was going to take my detective exam next week. What about you?”

  “Air Force, six years. Spent about a year in Iraq, got out about four years ago. And the past couple of days have been pretty interesting.”

  “Shouldn’t we be trying to stay quiet?” he asked as we paced along through the mostly empty garage.

  “We’re not trying to avoid zombies, we’re trying to find them. Call me lazy, but I figure why settle for just looking for them when we have the perfect zombie call?” We reached the end and saw Kaplan and Ruth headed our way. They moved to one side, and Phil and I stayed on the left to keep our lines of fire clear.

  “This level’s clear,” Kaplan said to me when we met up in the middle next to the ramp leading up. “I’ll bet the two above us are, too.”

  “We’ve always seen them grouped at the bottom of buildings and hills,” I said.

  “Not that they won’t go uphill to grab a bite out of you,” Ruth said. “Neurologically, they act like animals. Path of least resistance.”

  “So, up?” I said. Kaplan nodded. We turned to head up the ramp when movement caught my eye, and I brought the gun up. The light fell on a soft drink logo and a bright spot of light. I lowered the gun and the light across from me came down as well. I gave a silent laugh and shook my head. I’d nearly blown away my own reflection on an innocent pair of vending machines.

  The next two levels were equally empty, with only a few dusty cars and another set of vending machines on each of the lower levels. The topmost level was barren, and we didn’t stay up any longer than it took to turn a full circle and trot back down the ramp. With that taken care of, it was time to secure the level. A few cars pushed across the ramp made a fairly effective blockade, and with a dozen hands, some more willing than others, it was fairly quick work.

  “What are we going to do about food?” Miss MBA said in a tone that seemed to say that she wanted to know what someone else was going to do about it. Most of what we’d raided from the grocery store needed to be prepared over a heat source, and all we had was the makings of two hobo stoves.

  “What’s your name, ma’am?” I asked.

  “Beth Simmons.” She put her hands on her hips and gave me a determined look. I pulled the prybar from my belt and tossed it to her.

  “There are vending machines on this level and the two above us. It isn’t much, but it’ll get you through the next hour or so while we get some food ready.” Hernandez handed her crowbar to Phil and the rest of the refugees headed off for the vending machines. We heard the sound of heavy impacts, then the crack of plastic shattering and the chaotic cries of hungry people descending on their helpless prey. The silence bothered me, and I looked around as I realized I was waiting for Amy to make a comment. I saw her standing in front of the Stryker, her eyes on the two buildings across the street. Making sure I made enough noise to be heard, I walked over to stand a few feet away from her. For a few moments, she didn’t say a thing, and I didn’t say a word.

  “Daddy used to bring me with him during the summer when he had cases up here,” she finally said. “We’d drive up The Paseo, eat lunch at the sandwich shop downstairs, and I’d watch him when he was in court. Then he’d take me shopping or to the movies, and we’d have dinner at a barbecue place.” I stayed where I was, not sure if I should have been offering her a shoulder, or if just talking this out was enough. She sniffled and I started to move toward her when she started talking again. “He never complained about Mom while we were up here. The first couple of years after they got divorced, I used to imagine we’d come home and Mom would be waiting. Now, I keep looking at the courthouse doors, hoping he’ll come out. Why the hell did he go? Why him?” I turned to face her with my eyes stinging, knowing full well why he’d done it. You’re her best chance to survive. His words rang in my ears.

  “I was going to do the same thing,” I told her, my voice cracking.

  “Why the hell didn’t you?” she snapped at me.

  “Because he wouldn’t let me!” I yelled at her. “I was your best chance at surviving, and he wouldn’t let me. If I could have taken his place, I would have.” I lowered my head and bit my tongue, afraid I’d say something that I could never take back.

  “I didn’t ask for that,” she said and turned away. Reflexively, I grabbed her and turned her to face me.

  “It was the only choice he could make, Amy,” I said, suddenly certain of what I needed to tell her. “Of all the people on that chopper, he knew he was the only person who could make that sacrifice without endangering you. It was him or you, and there was no way he was going to let it be you.” Her lower lip trembled and I saw her eyes watering up again.

  “I get it,” she said as tears started coursing down her face. “It’s my fault he’s gone.”

  “No, Amy, it isn’t. It’s not your fault, or his, or anyone’s. It’s just what happened. He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself. He made that choice because you were the most important person in the world to him. You were a gift to him, Amy, and saving your life was his gift to you. No strings, no conditions. He died happy knowing that his little girl was going to make it.”

  “You don’t know that,” she hissed. I grabbed both shoulders and looked her in the eye.

  “I do know it,” I whispered to her. “I feel the same way.” She pulled back with a sharp breath, then bit her lip and pulled herself free of my grasp. This time I let her go. Maya never seemed to push things more than twice, and I wasn’t about to ignore that. I turned and walked back to where Kaplan and Hernandez were standing. The group of refugees was standing in front of them, and Miss MBA was pointing at something, a bag of chips in one hand and a soda in the hand she was pointing with. On the floor between them was a pile of snacks and neatly stacked cans of soda.

  “Why not use the cars?” she asked. “I mean, a couple of us could sleep in the front seats with a third in the back, and there was a mini-van over there that could handle at least four people. The big armored car thing looked like it could sleep a couple of people, too. The van and two or three cars would probably do the trick.” The two Marines exchanged a look before Kaplan nodded.

  “Good thinking, Beth,” he said. “Let’s get on that.” He led the way toward a parked car and the rest followed him. I frowned as I stepped up beside a bemused looking Hernandez.

  “Who the hell was that and where did she come from?” I said.

  “Dunno,” Hernandez said with laughter in her voice. “I think the
y were a little cranky from hunger. As soon as they got some food in them, it was like they were different people almost.”

  “I like this version. Can we keep ‘em?” I said.

  “God, I hope so. How’s the kid?”

  “Angry,” I told her. “I guess I should have expected that, but I thought I’d get to deal with denial first.”

  “What about you?” she asked. I looked over at her. “Dude, I spent two tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan. I know what it’s like losing friends. And I know survivor’s guilt when I hear it.”

  “Look, as much as I hate to admit it, he was right,” I said. I heard a little heat creep into my voice, but I couldn’t stop it. “Ever since we crashed in this fucking hellhole, I’ve been proving he made the best choice.”

  “And you still think the better man died back in Nevada,” she countered. I didn’t have a comeback for that. “You gotta stow that bullshit thinking, Stewart. All that crap about him giving his little girl a gift that you told her? He gave it to you, too. Someone gives you something like that, you show some goddamn gratitude, and you prove you were worth it every damn day. You got that?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said slowly. “I got it.” She turned and grabbed a can of Sprite from the stack on the floor and tossed it to me.

  “Good. Have a soda.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Do I need to prove I’m worthy of this?”

  “Nah,” she said as she grabbed a can of her own. “I think you already earned that one.” I laughed and popped the top. Just the smell of soda, even after only a couple of days, was a pleasure all its own. And even lukewarm, it was pure nectar to my taste buds. My first impulse was to gulp it down as fast as I could, but I had no idea how long it might be before I’d get another taste of it, so I forced myself to take it slow. With the memory of how casually I’d dumped Porsche’s soda out a few days ago suddenly replaying itself in my head, I reached down and grabbed a can of Dr. Pepper and a couple of cans of Coke, then grabbed a bag of peanut M&M’s, Amy’s favorite.

  Once I’d stashed the Dr. Pepper and one of the cans of Coke in my backpack, I went looking for Amy. She hadn’t gone far; she was sitting with her back against the Humvee’s driver’s side front tire. Her eyes came up to look at me through her dark bangs as I set the candy and the drink down beside her, but she didn’t say anything. I searched for words, but nothing seemed right.

  “I uh…um..” I started to say, but whatever brilliant statement I’d had in mind died somewhere between my brain and my tongue.

  “Me, too,” she answered. My lips pursed together and I nodded, then I started to head back to the opening where I could see City Hall. “Thanks, Dave,” she said as I passed. I looked back at her and for some reason I was surprised when she wasn’t holding up what I’d left for her.

  “Any time,” I said. Feeling like we’d just had an hour long conversation, I went to the front of the Stryker and leaned against it. As I sipped my soda. I tried to figure out what exactly we’d just said to each other, and if I’d heard the same things Amy had.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Stewart?” I heard Miss MBA’s voice from my left. I looked that way to see her poking her head around the side of the Stryker’s nose. When I didn’t open fire on her either verbally or literally, she stepped into view and flashed a thousand dollars of dental work at me.

  “You can call me Dave,” I said and gave her a half smile of my own, figuring being nice couldn’t hurt, especially if she was going to do what I thought she was.

  “Uh, look, I’m really sorry about how I treated you earlier,” she said. If she had left it at that, I would have been happy, but she went on. “It’s been a really bad few days. I watched my husband turn into a zombie, my whole world just came to an end, and until you showed up and helped us get out of there I had two choices open to me. Neither one was very pleasant, if you get my drift.”

  “Hard labor or being someone’s whore,” I said. “Neither one is very appealing. And it’s cool, I get it. The world just ended. I’m sorry about pulling the gun, but you get how it is when someone’s threatening your kid.” She ducked her head and tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear before she looked back at me and took a step closer.

  “I also wanted to…thank you. I mean, for rescuing me…us,” she said. She laid her hand on my chest and closed the distance between us until our bodies were almost touching. Even through my shirt, I could feel the warmth of her through my clothes, and I could feel her breast brushing up against my arm. “You got shot at trying to save us. That at least deserves a kiss.” She leaned in close and turned her face up to me, then her lips were pressed against mine. As kisses went, it should have rated a lot higher than it did. Her mouth was soft and warm against mine, and her skin was hot as she pressed her curves against me. My body noticed a hundred things. The way her breasts pressed against my chest, how she ran her hand down my side, how her hip pressed against my crotch. For a few seconds, I was too stunned to move. For that moment, the kiss was just a kiss. Then her other hand wrapped around my waist and slid up my back, and her lips parted to let her tongue probe against my mouth. My hands came up to her face…and I pulled away, much to my libido’s disappointment.

  “Miss Simmons,” I said.

  “Call me Beth,” she whispered. Her eyes were half closed and she’d parted her lips again, making them look very kissable.

  “Miss Simmons. No.” She blinked and stared at me, her jaw slack in disbelief. “That isn’t how I work. Even if I wasn’t in love with Amy’s mom, I couldn’t do that.” Her eyes went wide and she backed up a step.

  “I can’t believe I just did that,” she gasped. Her hand went to her lips as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just been doing with them. “I thought…because it was just you and the girl…”

  “It’s cool,” I said with a smile. “No harm, no foul. I probably should have said something sooner.”

  “I’m sorry, I’ve never done anything like that before,” she said quickly, then turned and hurried back around the side of the Stryker. I let her go, not sure what I’d say that wouldn’t make things worse.

  For the next couple of hours our refugees slowly settled in, and Kaplan set up watches in pairs. I grabbed a couple of ibuprofen tablets from the stash of over the counter pharmaceuticals we’d grabbed from the store and racked out on one of the Stryker’s padded benches a couple of hours before the first watch was scheduled to begin. Almost as soon as I laid my head back on the bench, it seemed like someone was shaking my foot to wake me up. Hernandez’s grinning face greeted me as I raised my head, and I flipped her off. Still I sat up and yawned, then grabbed my armor and my rifle. I was still rubbing sleep out of my eyes when I stumbled out the back of the vehicle to find Hernandez waiting with an equally bleary eyed Phil.

  “It’s been pretty quiet,” she told me as I shrugged into my armor. “No walkers, no survivors. Radio traffic’s died down, too. The Disciples just have a couple of patrols out. Sounds like they lost one that was coming this way.”

  “What’s it like inside the wire?” I asked.

  “Little more active,” she said with a bemused smile. “Few folks wandered off and got busy in a couple of the bigger cars over on the south side. Had to break up a couple of arguments before everyone got settled; been quiet since then. Kaplan wants one person on the barricade at all times. Grab some snacks and a couple of sodas for your shift and keep an eye on each other.” We nodded and headed for the barricade after we grabbed snacks and a couple of cans of Dr. Pepper each. Ruth was waiting by the barricade with the shotgun slung and a pistol belted on over her silk blouse. A bandolier of shotgun shells was draped across her shoulder. Her gaze was fixed on the west side of the garage as we approached, and she didn’t seem to notice us until we were almost to the barricade.

  “Take a load off,” Phil said. Ruth turned to look at us and gave us a nod, but she didn’t move.

  “Something doesn’t feel right,” she said softly, as much to herself
as to us.

  “It’s been a long day, Ruth,” Phil said gently. “Get some rest. I promise you, a few hours’ sleep and you’ll be a whole new woman.” She turned her gaze on him, the same blank look I was sure I often had when someone didn’t get what I was talking about. Her eyes turned to me, and I nodded to her.

  “Be careful,” she said as she walked back toward the row of cars that had been turned into makeshift bunks. Phil leaned up against one of the cars and looked down the ramp, then turned to me. In the uncertain light of the fires outside, his grin was a white slash across his face.

  “So, you turned Beth down,” he said casually. I turned to him with a frown on my face and a slack jaw.

  “What?” I said when I regained the power of speech.

  “She came back from her little talk with you saying you were queer,” he said. “So, I figure she made a pass at you and you turned her down.” I shook my head. I hadn’t intended to talk about it, but it sounded like she’d made it public knowledge with her remarks on my sexuality.

  “She didn’t know my girlfriend was still alive,” I said, still trying to defend her dignity for some weird reason. “That’s all.”

  “That’s some serious dedication, brother,” he laughed. “I’m not sure if I could have passed up getting some well-earned hero sex.”

  “Easier than you’d think,” I said thoughtfully. “Getting laid isn’t something I think you earn.”

  “Man, you have got to be kidding!” Phil said. “I didn’t do half what you guys did, and I’ve already had three girls offer to ‘thank’ me ‘til my balls fall off! After we get done here, I’m gonna see how much gratitude I can handle.”

  “Just not the way I work,” I said.

  “Whatever, man. More for the rest of us.”

  Like Amy, Phil was able to talk about nothing endlessly. Unlike Amy, he didn’t seem to have an off switch for it. For the next hour, he talked and I made listening noises. I learned about both of his marriages and divorces, and most of the time he was on the Kansas City Police force. And his favorite place to get barbecue, his favorite beer, his favorite everything. He was just getting to the climax of a story about kicking down a door of what he thought was a domestic violence situation, only to find a professional domme and her client in the middle of a session, when his voice faltered and he looked behind me. I turned to see Amy shuffling our way, rubbing her eyes with one hand and cradling a soda can with the other.