Dying Days 4

by Armand Rosamilia

  The pair got to an intersection and heard the unmistakable sound of something being dragged, from the darkness ahead, toward them.

  "It sounds like one," Bryan said.

  "But it could be a trick." Jeff knew the intelligent zombies used the mindless ones as decoys in their attacks sometimes, sending them out ahead while they outflanked the target. "You go ahead and I'm going to watch our backs."

  Bryan dutifully moved ahead, the flashlight beam leading his way and his baseball bat at the ready.

  Jeff hefted his bat and spun in a circle, making sure nothing was sneaking up on them. He needed to find another sporting goods store or a rec center so he could find more baseball bats and hockey sticks. Anything heavy they could use to fight with, without having to shoot a gun and draw attention.

  Something heavy fell in the next aisle, close to the intersection.

  "I think we have company," Jeff said quietly, hoping Bryan heard him. Jeff didn’t want to lose sight of Bryan, but he didn't want to stand by and get attacked from another direction. He took two steps to his right and put a damaged stall in his way, so when a zombie came around the corner he might not immediately see him.

  Nothing else moved. Jeff kept looking behind him, making sure he wasn't being suckered. He heard the hard thuds of Bryan's baseball bat as it met rotting flesh down the aisle. Six shots later and it stopped.

  "Clear," Bryan said.

  "Back this way."

  Bryan came up, flashlight aimed at the floor. "What's the matter? It looks like a clear path to the next three intersections."

  Jeff pointed. "Something fell."

  "What?"

  Jeff shook his head. "I don't know. That's why I called you back, dumb-ass. We need to go find out."

  "I'll go around to the right," Bryan said.

  Jeff nodded and watched him go before shuffling forward, the beam of light leading his way. Most of the stall supports had collapsed but the wood could be salvaged in places to create weapons. Jeff made a note of several pieces he'd have to come back for at some point, or send a team back tomorrow to collect them. They only had their bikes today, and they couldn't carry much of this. Maybe they'd at least salvage the good stuff and make an easy pile for later.

  "Come out," Bryan said from around the corner.

  Jeff picked up the pace, ready to swing the bat and destroy a zombie or two. When he came around the corner, he stopped short. Bryan was standing with a young boy, who was still alive. He looked like shit, face caked in dirt and filthy clothes, but he was still breathing. "What do you have?"

  Bryan smiled. "I found this little dude hiding under the table. It looks like he's been eating grass and bugs and things. Kid has been surviving."

  "For how long?" Jeff asked the boy.

  The boy was scared but finally spoke. "I don't know. Weeks, maybe months. My parents were killed in the mini-van and I ran away."

  "Where?"

  "I don't know. A long way from here. We got trapped and zombies surrounded us, but then a smart zombie killed them to get to my family." The boy's eyes welled up with tears. "I just ran and ran."

  "Great story, kid." Jeff turned to Bryan. "Let's keep moving."

  "What about him?" Bryan asked.

  Jeff looked at the dirty little kid. He couldn't be more than ten. "What about him? He seems to be doing well for himself. I'm sure he'll be fine. We have a job to do."

  Bryan walked a few feet away and motioned for Jeff to join him.

  "We don't need any dead weight," Jeff said and grinned at his stupid pun. "This kid is a survivor. We'll clear the zombies from the flea market and he'll be safe."

  "No way. He's coming with us," Bryan said.

  Jeff was about to argue when he sighed. What did it really matter anyway? Another damn mouth to feed, but this kid could also be another donation to the Lich Lord. He did like the young kids for some reason. He'd kill and drain this boy within the week. It was easier than trying to capture other survivors. "Fine, but he's your responsibility until we return to Main Street. If anything happens it will be your ass, and if the kid gets in the way he'll be sorry."

  "Not a problem," Bryan said. "Do you know the layout of the flea market, kid?"

  The boy nodded. "My name is Toby. I hid a bunch of guns under a table but I'm too scared to use them. I also have cans of chicken soup."

  Jeff laughed. "So far you're being very helpful, kid. I like it. Lead us to your cache of weapons and your feast of soup."

  Chapter Six

  Three zombies walked to the deck but didn't go up the steps, staring at the upstairs window and smiling. There were quite a few standing in the street, watching in obvious amusement.

  John had not seen this many zombies in one place in a long time, and he was scared. He didn't want to look at his dad or Darlene right now, preferring to stare out the window and watch instead of letting them see his fear.

  Darlene came to him and put a hand on his back, leaning against John and the wall. "What are we going to do? I can hardly move, and you know Murph isn't too fast."

  "I can still outrun you, plumper," Murph said from the bed, where he was sitting. "I may be old but I can still hear."

  Darlene turned to John's father and smiled. "Call me plumper again and I'll box your damn ears off, understand?"

  Murph put his fists up and shadow-boxed the air. "I think I can still take ya."

  "Will you two children shut up for a second? We have a real problem and it's about to get worse," John said. "There's no way out of this apartment. We can't shimmy down the back drain or fall to the back deck without killing ourselves. We're screwed."

  "I just want to feel the love of a good woman once more before I die," Murph said.

  Even John had to laugh at the comment. They'd been through these situations so many times since this mess began, and they always fell back on making jokes and goofing on each other at the most inappropriate times. The only other option was to break down and cry. They'd done that countless times. "Old man, if a woman so much as touched your privates, they'd turn to dust."

  "But in her hand, and that's all I'm looking for."

  "Gross," Darlene said.

  "I'll go down and draw them away from you. Then start heading south," John said. "I'll catch up."

  Murph snorted. "By the time I get down those steps with the help of this plumper, er, preggo, it will be tomorrow. And even if we made it onto the steps we aren't going far. You could run them into next week and we still wouldn't be further than a block. In case my good-looks are fooling you, I'm fucking old. I'm too old to go down those steps except if I fall or in a body bag. You two kids need to escape. Let them come up and I'll brain as many of them as I can. I'm getting sick of listening to you two trying to do the nasty every chance you get and thinking I can't hear."

  "Again… gross," Darlene said. "Maybe if we let them up one at a time we can kill them?"

  "With what? Some broken furniture? No way. If they start coming up we're screwed. We'd be in trouble if a few stupid zombies came at us. These look to be intelligent ones, and they're going to take their time. We need food and water. They don't. We might be under siege. We'll never walk out of this apartment alive," John said.

  "Aren't you a buzz-kill? I say we rip the shit out of the walls and beat them with it," Murph said. "If I'm going to die, it's going to be with a hard-on and blood on my hands."

  "What a horrible picture in my head now. Thanks," Darlene said. She looked back out of the window. "What the fuck are they doing?" She put her head out the window before John could stop her. Darlene threw up her hands. "What are you bitches waiting for?"

  One of the zombies waved at her and the ones around him laughed.

  "Come out and play," another zombie said. "It would be mighty nice of you to come down and let us hold the baby. Maybe we can help you name him?"

  Darlene gave them the finger and let John pull her back inside.

  "What are you doing?" he asked her.

  "If I'm goin
g to die, I'm not going to cry about it. I say we take some chair legs and wait for them to attack. What else can we do?" Darlene tried to bend over to pick up one of the broken chair legs on the floor but she couldn’t get down far enough. She glanced at Murph. "Say one word and I'll kick you in your shrunken nuts."

  "Stop looking at me naked," Murph said. He was grinning. "Need some help?"

  Darlene scoffed. "If you bend over, you'll fall apart."

  "True. John-John, you'll need to arm us."

  "Heaven help us. This is not going to be pretty." John handed each of them a wooden chair leg and went to the door. "I'm going to go down and see if I can kill a couple before they know I'm coming."

  "That is the stupidest idea you've ever had, and you've had some bad ones," Murph said. "What will it prove? The best case scenario: you kill two or three of them out of the fifty outside. Worst case: you just left a plumper and an old man to die."

  Darlene lifted the chair leg. "I swear, call me a plumper one more time and I'm going to end you, old man."

  Before they could keep going, they heard a knock on the door.

  "As much as we like standing out here and working on our suntans, I think it's time for the lot of you to come down and take a beating like men. And a woman," one of the zombies yelled. "We promise to do it quickly. We'll even kill you before we feast on the baby. How does that sound? I think it's fair."

  Darlene picked up her empty Desert Eagle. "I so wish I had some ammo."

  "I wish I had a cheeseburger," Murph said.

  One of the zombies kicked the door at the bottom of the landing but it didn't crack open.

  "Here they come," John said quietly. He gripped the chair leg.

  Darlene came up next to him.

  "Stay behind me," John said.

  "Go to hell. You can’t fight them on your own."

  "I can and I will have to. I'm not going to let them get inside," John said, and opened the door. "I’d rather face them as they come up the steps. I have the advantage of higher ground. I don't intend to let a zombie set foot in this apartment."

  "Neither do I," Darlene said.

  John saw the door below shudder as it took another kick but held.

  Then he heard the gunshots.

  Chapter Seven

  "The hot redhead called me Cowboy. I like that. I think I'm going to tell people my name is Cowboy from now on."

  "Your name is Ernie," Doug said. "It was ridiculous of her to call you Cowboy." He grinned. "But she sure was hot. That's the second time I've run into her and both times she had a gun aimed at my head. She's on my short list of chicks I need to bang before I die."

  "I guess it wouldn't have been smart to remind her where you met the last time, eh?"

  "Nope. I was glad she couldn't remember. The last encounter was when we tried to take over St. Augustine. What a mess that ended up being." Doug looked out the window as Ernie drove. He wasn't going to call him Cowboy. The guy didn’t deserve a cool nickname. He was just another pawn in this game of survival. No matter what happened, Doug wasn't going to lose sleep over this guy eventually going away. And he wasn't going to let Ernie get in his way when the fighting began, and he always did.

  "You never told me about that."

  "I've only known you a few weeks. Why would I tell you my life story?" Doug asked, annoyed. "Let's just get down the road and see if this magical city exists where we can be safe."

  "You got it, partner."

  "I'm not your partner. I'm currently the guy riding shotgun with you until something better comes along." Doug sighed. "I'm so sick of Florida. I wish I were back in Buffalo."

  "You're from the Northeast? Ha. A damn Yankee in my SUV," Ernie said. "Who woulda thought?"

  "It’s not your SUV. But I like the Yankees comment, since they're my favorite baseball team. I even have a number 2 inked on my shoulder, for my favorite player."

  "Baseball is boring. So slow. I'm a football fan, but only college. I went to Texas A&M."

  "I don’t care."

  "You know what I miss most?"

  Doug looked out the window as they went past abandoned house after abandoned house, most torched at some point in the past. So much waste. He wondered where the people who used to live in these houses were, only because he wanted their stuff. Doug was sick of being hungry and sick of having to scratch and claw for each new meal. He'd been halfway to Miami before the zombies got too thick and he was forced to turn back north. He should've kept going.

  "Milkshakes. I fucking want a DQ Blizzard." Ernie smacked the steering wheel. "I’d give my left nut for a cold one. Shit, I'd take a warm one."

  Doug was just about to shout at Ernie when he saw the group of zombies a block from A1A, across the park. "What's going on?"

  "Who cares?"

  "Pull over," Doug said.

  "Why? It's not our business. You let the redhead steal our food already. I'm not going to deal with anyone else. Let's just get to the safe zone," Ernie said.

  "Stop," Doug growled.

  Ernie complied, pulling over next to the Flagler Pier. "I don’t like this."

  "I don't really give a fuck what you like or don't like. Get the rifles and extra ammo. There's a reason these idiots are massing and I want to find out why."

  "Not our problem," Ernie mumbled, but he grabbed the weapons and handed Doug a loaded rifle. "Let's do this before it gets dark."

  The two men jogged down the block, a torched bank to their left. They crossed a weed-choked parking lot and passed several rotting cars, coming onto South Central Street a few doors down from the fading teal two-story building. At least fifteen zombies were standing around the entrance.

  "Someone is upstairs," Doug said. When a pregnant woman stuck her head out and began shouting down, he couldn’t believe his eyes. "Impossible."

  "What?"

  "I know her," Doug said. "But there is no way she's still alive."

  "You know every chick around," Ernie said and laughed. "Did you knock her up?"

  "No, but I tried." Doug surveyed the zombies again. "We need to clear this area."

  "Bullshit."

  "Let's do this so we can get south," Doug said. "And we need to do this quickly, before more zombies hear the shooting."

  Doug didn’t wait for Ernie to answer because he didn’t care enough about the guy. He'd follow his lead. Or he'd die getting in the way.

  The first three shots found their marks, ripping through the heads of zombies. Doug took five steps before setting and firing another burst, dropping more opponents. He was about to turn on Ernie when the man started shooting, clearing a path as they moved.

  "There's too many of them," Ernie said. "We'll run out of ammo."

  "Then we run out of ammo," Doug said as he kept moving forward, setting and firing. All of the zombies were set around the building, and as they began coming at the pair, they were cut down with clean headshots.

  Some of the smarter zombies he'd faced lately had riot helmets and anything else they could find to cover their heads, but they still took a face shot and died… again.

  They made it up to the drive between Kokomo's Café and the torched building to the left, still firing. The area was clearing and Doug noticed more than a few of the zombies walking or running away. They were now intelligent enough to know they didn't want to get shot in the head.

  The mindless ones kept coming and were quickly killed.

  As Doug got near the deck, he stopped and turned to Ernie. "Make sure nothing cuts us off from escape and the SUV."

  "You got it," Ernie said. "I hope she's worth all this."

  She just might be, Doug thought. "Hello up there. We've come to rescue you."

  He heard arguing before she pushed her head out of the window again, a Desert Eagle aimed at his head.

  "I see you found your gun, Darlene," Doug said with a smile. He put his hands up. "I'm not here to fight. I'm here to help. Come with us to safety."

  "Are you high?" Darlene yelled. "I'm about
to shoot you in the fucking head." She lowered the Desert Eagle slightly. "Or better yet… I'm going to shoot you in the balls and let the zombies rip you apart, you piece of shit."

  Doug shook his head. "If you were going to shoot me, you would've pulled the trigger already. You're either growing soft in your old age or the preggo hormones are fucking with your head, or you're more than likely out of ammo." Doug glanced to his right and shot a zombie as it stumbled closer. "As you can see, I'm not out."

  "I'll die before I trust you. The last time we met you tried to destroy a city just for fun," Darlene said. "The first time I met you, you had the balls to try and rape me. Guess what? I am looking forward to cutting you into pieces. I won't waste a bullet on you. I want to get up close and personal and watch you die, you fucker."

  "What a potty mouth, Darlene. You're going to be a mommy soon. I would tone down on the profanity. You don't want Little Dougie to hear mommy talking like that."

  Ernie was firing again. "Doug, we need to go. They're coming from all around us."

  Doug looked at the multitude of zombies as they approached the area. "Last chance to let me help you. I'm not kidding. You have my word."

  "Your word is worth shit," Darlene said and waved the gun. "I swear, if I had one lousy bullet, I'd shoot you."

  Doug waved at her before shooting again. "I have no doubt you would, but some day soon we'll meet again and you'll thank me for clearing the zombies and allowing you to escape. I'll draw them away so you can waddle down the stairs."

  "Go to hell."

  Doug laughed and began walking away. "We're all already in hell, sweetheart. We're heading about fifteen miles down A1A. I suggest you start heading south yourself, because this area is fucked."

  Darlene was staring at him with such obvious hatred he had to smile.

  "I'll see you in Daytona Beach. We'll have lunch," Doug said. He glanced at Ernie. "Let's move back to the SUV but draw these zombies with us so my future ex-wife can escape."