Apocalyptic Beginnings Box Set

by M. D. Massey

  I looked past them and saw the source of the blood. Not ten feet beyond, an overweight middle-aged woman was sprawled face down on the ground, her guts and intestines fanned out around her. There was a shotgun and a scattering of shells on the ground beside where she had fallen, and I could see that the back of her head had been blown clean away. The girl noticed me and lunged, but she stumbled and fell. I noticed then that she had a sturdy length of climbing rope around her leg, as did the boy and the man. They were all leashed to the trees that surrounded a primitive campsite, which appeared to have been hastily assembled in the clearing before me.

  It didn’t take long to deduce what had happened. One of the kids had probably gotten infected and turned, so the parents tied them up in the hopes that they’d get better. Then, someone else had gotten bit, maybe trying to care for the first one who had turned. Finally, another family member had gotten infected, and mom had been the last one left. Maybe she just couldn’t take it, or perhaps she had sacrificed herself to feed her kids. Either way, it was tragic as hell.

  I didn’t have the heart to kill them, so I snuck back through the trees to where I’d left Dan and his family. I holstered my Glock before I walked over to them, and gave Dan and his wife a stern warning with my eyes that said, Don’t go back there. Dan’s wife nodded once, and then she told the kids to find something for the dog to eat.

  I motioned Dan and his wife over to the cab of my truck and spoke so the kids wouldn’t hear. “Don’t ask me what I saw back there, because you don’t want to know. Now, are you two armed?”

  Dan spoke up first. “No, we don’t believe in violence.” His wife remained silent, and watched me carefully. I reached inside the glove box and pulled out the revolver and the box of shells I’d gotten from the truck driver the day before, then I turned and offered them to the couple. Dan raised his hands in the air and backed away a half-step. “Oh, we don’t believe in guns. Please, put that away before the kids see it.”

  His wife, on the other hand, grabbed the pistol out of my hands, snapped the cylinder open to see if it was loaded, checked the bore, and then dumped the rounds out in her hand. She spun the cylinder and snapped it back in, then aimed off into the distance and dry fired it once to see how it functioned. And for the first time since I’d arrived, her husband stood speechless while she calmly and expertly reloaded the pistol.

  Sarah turned to him and frowned. “Oh Dan, don’t look so surprised. I grew up around guns, and quite frankly the kids are going to be around them a lot in the coming weeks after we get to my parent’s place. You might not want them in our house, but we can’t afford the luxury of pacifism anymore, not with everything that’s been going on.”

  Dan stood there for a moment, stunned. Then, he lowered his head, resigned. “I suppose you’re right. I keep thinking the way I did before the bombs fell, even though I know things have changed, maybe permanently.” He turned to look at me. “Thanks, for everything.”

  Sarah pocketed the pistol in the back of her mom jeans and held out her hand, making confident eye contact as she did so. “Yes, thank you, Sully. You might very well have saved our lives. If you’re ever out in Rocksprings, look us up. Sam and Nancy Greer are my parents, and their place is just northwest of Rocksprings on old Sonora Road. Just look for the Greer Kennel signs.”

  “You’re welcome, and I will.” I tipped my baseball cap at them. “Dan. Sarah. Be safe.” As I turned to leave, one of the kids ran up and hugged me around my leg. It was their little girl.

  “Thanks for the dog, Mr. Sully. We’re naming her Buttercup.” Then she ran back off to where her brother was playing with the dog. I smiled, but all I could think about was the pair of little deaders who were tied up just fifty feet away.

  I shook it off as I hopped in my truck, speaking to the couple through the window. “Remember, north to 41 and take that west, and you should have smooth sailing.”

  I waved and headed out, praying that they’d have a safe trip home.

  7

  Skirmishers

  While I felt great about helping Dan and Sarah and their kids, I was facing a conundrum regarding my gas situation. I didn’t feel comfortable driving all the way to Austin without a few cans of gas in the back for emergencies, and that meant I’d need to gas up those cans pronto. Ingram looked like it was going to be my best bet, although with it being so close to I-10, I wasn’t so sure it’d have escaped the infection.

  I figured I’d just play it by ear and check the gas stations first, then try to siphon from some cars if I couldn’t get it from the source. Cars seemed like the easier play, but I wanted speed over simplicity, since I’d be exposed the whole time I gassed up. Siphoning took a whole helluva lot longer than a gas pump, so if the power was on in Ingram I’d take my chances at a station.

  I kept my rifle handy and made sure I had my trouble detector on full alert as I pulled into the little town. Now, this is something strange, I thought to myself as I rolled through the main drag. Not a soul in sight, anywhere. Huh. There wasn’t a deader to be seen, nor were there any people milling about or ducking behind curtains or cars or what have you to avoid notice.

  It rattled my cage a little that it was so quiet, considering the local population was roughly four times that of Leakey, but I decided that I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. I circled the first gas station and convenience store I saw about three times slowly, checking inside and out for threats. Seeing nothing suspicious, I pulled up to the doors and parked so my truck door covered me in one direction, and the truck bed and camper would be covering me in another. Then I stepped out with my rifle to try the door, only to find it locked. Shit.

  My next step was to try to jimmy the doors open. I suspected it’d be easier to use a crowbar to pry the doors apart than it would to smash the glass. Most of these gas stations used hurricane-proof glass in the doors, to make it harder for smash and grab criminals to ply their trade. That also made it safer for the night crew, should they be open 24-7 and doing business through a banker’s drawer. I dug around behind the seat of the truck looking for my Fat Max demo tool, then I heard a voice behind me and to my left.

  “There’s an easier way to get in, you know.”

  I drew my sidearm and turned quickly, only to see a kid of about 11 or 12 years old staring at me from the other side of the truck window. He had a shock of unruly dirty blond hair and was wearing an old Army jacket, torn up jeans, and a pair of Doc Martens that had seen better days. I looked around to see if he was alone, but kept the pistol on him just the same. “Kind of dangerous, sneaking up on people like that.”

  He chewed his lip and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. Haven’t seen too many people come through here, not since yesterday, anyway. I guess we’re a little out of the way.”

  “You alone, kid?”

  “You mean am I working with someone to distract you and steal all your stuff? No. Or, I guess yeah. Meaning I’m alone and not working with someone else.”

  I gave the kid a raised eyebrow. “Hmm. Say I believe you—so where are your parents?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Is this where you tell me I shouldn’t be out by myself, all alone during a zombie outbreak? Don’t worry, it hasn’t really reached us yet, so things are still pretty safe. Most people are staying indoors, working on nailing everything down. Or, they already left town.”

  I nodded. “Fair enough. You still didn’t tell me where your parents are.”

  The kid threw his hands in the air. “Fine. My dad was getting drunk, the last time I saw him. And my mom works in San Antonio. I don’t know when she’s going to be back.”

  The words, “if at all” were implied in that statement. I nodded again. “Okay, I guess I’ll just take you at your word. Now, you mentioned there was an easier way to get in here. Do you folks still have power?”

  “Yep. So far, although it’s been kind of fading in and out. Pumps still work though. I had to get some gas for my dad earlier. You just have to turn on one of the pump
s from the inside.”

  “Okay, so how about you go inside and turn on a pump for me?”

  The kid screwed his face up. “Well, about that. I may have made it harder to get in there when I went in earlier.”

  This time it was my turn to roll my eyes. “Seriously, kid? You’re not just scamming me?”

  He snickered. “Man, you really aren’t the trusting sort. Here, I’ll show you.” He rolled under the car door and stood up next to me, then he banged on the door hard three times. Almost immediately, I heard the low moaning of two or three voices, and I saw figures shuffling from the back of the store towards the door. The kid grinned. “See, they were locked up in the back earlier, only I didn’t know it. I went in there looking for supplies, like cigarettes for my dad, real food for the house, stuff like that, because the owners moved all that stuff in the back before they locked it up. So, I accidentally let them out when I was looking around for stuff.”

  I rubbed my chin for a minute, eyeing the deaders who were pawing at the glass and snapping their teeth at us. “How did you say you were getting in and out of this place again?”

  The kid pointed up. “The roof. There’s an access ladder on the other side, and I found a way to get up there that nobody knows about. So long as no one sees me, the place is all mine right now.”

  “Okay, so if I can go in there and kill these things, you think you can go inside and turn a pump on for me so I can gas up and be on my way?”

  The kid crossed his arms and squinted. “What’s in it for me?”

  Somehow, I knew he was going to say that. I pointed at the window. “Well, for starters your motherload is pretty much locked down right now, considering that those deaders in there aren’t going to take too kindly to you sneaking in and out of their home. I figure you’d make a pretty handy snack for one or all three of them. Doesn’t sound like the best option for a young enterprising man like yourself, to end up as chow for those freaks.” I paused for effect. “Or, I could take care of your zombie problem. I help you, you help me, your old man gets his cancer sticks, and everyone lives happily ever after.”

  The kid acted like he was thinking about it for a moment, then he stuck out his hand. When I reached for it, he snatched it back. “Okay, but only on one condition.”

  “Whatever you say, kid. Hit me with it.”

  “All Hostess products are off limits when you go inside.”

  I held out my hand. “Deal. Now, show me how to get up there.”

  The kid’s route up was really simple, to be honest. If I’d have thought about it, I would have gone in that way instead of messing with the doors. Almost all of these places had some sort of roof access, and it wasn’t a stretch to think that they might have external and internal access routes. We walked around the side of the building away from the street, and the kid showed me a makeshift ladder he’d made out of three of old shipping pallets. Nothing fancy, but it’d do.

  After he showed me how he planned to get on the roof, I pulled my truck up to one of the pumps, just in case I needed to make a fast getaway. Then I followed the kid up to the roof. Once we were topside, he steered me to an access hatch with a huge hardened lock on it. “Tell me that you have the key for that, kid.”

  “Duh. Who do you think put that lock on there, one of those things downstairs?” He held up a set of keys that looked like they once belonged to a janitor. I knew immediately what I was looking at; there were a ton of keys for soda machines and other vending machines, which would make it easy to steal change and the contents of any such machine, whenever and wherever you wanted. I knew, because I’d done the same thing when I was a kid. I also saw some bump keys, and a small case that I assumed held a set of lockpicks.

  I smiled and shook my head. “Well, you’re just full of surprises. So, how did you like juvie, kid?”

  He shrugged. “It was okay. Once the older kids figured out that I could get them anything they wanted, they pretty much left me alone.”

  “Sorry I asked. Why don’t you go ahead and pop that thing open so I can gas up and get the hell out of here?”

  He smirked at me. “Alright, alright—chillax, dude.” He selected a key from his keyring and opened the hatch. “After you.”

  I sighed and headed down into the darkness of the store, whispering to him before I dropped. “You could have left some lights on in here.”

  The kid looked at me like I was nuts. “What, and attract attention to the place? No way, man. This stuff has to last me a while, at least until I can figure out a way to get it all to our trailer.”

  I didn’t even bother gracing that with a response, thinking hard about some deader sneaking up and gnawing on my dangling legs. I lowered myself as far as I could, then I dropped down inside the place, landing on a stack of boxes and making enough noise to wake the dead, literally.

  “Sorry about that!” I heard the kid whisper from above. I heard a chorus of groans and moans coming from the front of the store, so I ignored him and switched on the taclight I had mounted to the front rail of my rifle. Dead or not, I didn’t want to shoot anyone if I didn’t have to, so I decided to see if they’d come looking for me. Sure enough, the first one popped around the corner in short order, a girl of about 17 wearing a black and red polyester smock that said, “Traci” in cursive red letters. The predatory look in her rheumy eyes and the way she snapped her jaws at me allowed me to instantly overcome any hesitation I might have about killing these poor bastards.

  “Sorry Traci, but I think you’d probably thank me for this if you could.” Feeling a slight twinge or regret, I planted a round right between her eyes and she went out like a light. As she dropped I moved forward rapidly, remembering seeing three of them through the window and wanting to avoid getting boxed in. I rounded the corner toward the door where the kid had attracted them earlier, and saw one still rocking back and forth and banging lightly on the glass. I shot him in the head, and then scanned around to see where the third one had gone.

  Nowhere to be found. Shit. I started to pivot around to scan my six, but before I could make the turn I felt a hand grab my shoulder with a near superhuman grip to pull me backward. So, I went with it and struck back behind me with the butt end of my rifle, making contact with the thing square in the face and knocking it back a bit. Unfortunately, it somehow managed to snag my one-point sling as it stumbled back, wrenching the rifle from my hands as it fell.

  I staggered back away from it, backpedaling as I drew my Glock. The thing discarded my rifle with a clatter, then it stood and rushed toward me faster than I’d seen any of these things move so far. It was almost human-like in its movements, and definitely not the garden-variety deader I’d been accustomed to. I drew a bead on it and fired, but it zigged right and scuttled off sideways down the cooler aisle.

  The kid shouted down at me from the hatch. “Are you done in there yet?”

  “I’m little busy kid, so zip it!” I shouted back, scanning left and right and listening for movement, while also trying to spot it using the anti-theft mirrors in the corners of the store. Unfortunately, it was getting dark outside, so there were a lot of dark spots where the rapidly fading light outside couldn’t reach.

  I squatted down so it couldn’t spot me and backed up to the shelves behind me, figuring it’d have to come at me from the left or right. I waited and listened, but this thing had either been a ninja in its former life, or it was sitting just as still as I was and waiting for me to make my move. After a minute or so I got tired of waiting, and reached back to grab a can of Fix-a-Flat off the shelf. I tossed it over to the corner, just to see if the thing would react to the noise.

  Sure enough, I soon heard the soft squeak of a rubber-soled shoe on linoleum. I snuck around the corner of the aisle toward the sound. As I turned the corner in a low crouch, I sliced the pie rapidly—only to find nothing there.

  I caught just the flicker of a shadow cast from behind me, and did a forward roll to avoid being caught like the last time. I felt somethin
g brush my shoulder as I rolled, and came up in a shooting crouch while pivoting to face my assailant. He was almost on top of me as I fired, blowing brains and blood all over the drop ceiling in the store. The deader immediately collapsed on me, his momentum carrying me down underneath him. I was pulling myself out from under the corpse as the kid walked up and squatted down next to us.

  “I was wondering what took you so long, but I guess you were humping them after you killed them. That’s sick, man.”

  I gave the kid a dirty look and rolled the corpse over toward him, enjoying the look of betrayal on his face as he scuttled and scrambled away from the thing.

  I stood up and offered him a hand. “C’mon, let’s get me some gas. Daylight is burning.”

  The kid turned to look back at me over his shoulder as he led the way to the front counter. “Rayden. You never asked my name. It’s Rayden.”

  “You must be shitting me. Like the character from Mortal Combat? Either your parents hated you, or they were some dumb, country-ass sumbitches.” He looked back at me with hurt in his eyes, which I knew was mostly for show. “Oh, c’mon—you think I’m buying that doe-eyed bullshit? Please.”

  “Well, at least it’s better than having some stupid city-boy name. What, I bet you’re probably a Tanner, or a Gavin, or a Tristan. I bet the girls must love that.” He made smoochy noises at me over his shoulder. “Ohhh, Tristan, read some poetry for me.” He sniggered as he jumped up and butt-vaulted the counter.

  This kid was annoying the shit out of me, for sure, but I had to admit he was a funny little bastard. “It’s Aidan, I’ll have you know. But most folks call me Sully.”

  He laughed. “Oh, like Aidan is any better than Rayden. Heck, our names practically rhyme. Here you are making fun of my name, and yours is just one consonant away from mine. Not to mention that Aidan is pretty gay for a boy’s name.”