Dying Days 4

by Armand Rosamilia

  When she rounded the side of the house and heard the car engine, she sighed.

  A U-Haul van was parked in front of the house she'd been in with the engine running and five heavily-armed men and women were exiting, running into the home.

  Tosha could only watch as they carried her backpack from the house and put it in the back of the truck, which was packed with furniture, garbage bags and cans of food.

  The two guys following after her appeared two houses closer to the group, obviously looking for her, and they were spotted.

  Shots rang out and Tosha ducked back behind the house so she wasn't seen or hit with a stray bullet. The firefight was over within half a minute. She waited, counting to thirty, before peeking out.

  The two men following her were both dead and three of the men from the U-Haul were checking their bodies and picking them clean.

  "No fucking ammo," one of the men said. "Another sorry group."

  Tosha was about to find a better hiding spot to see which way they were going to go when she saw the first zombie attack, crawling under the U-Haul and pulling down one of the women standing there. Four more zombies came around the van and used a concentrated attack to pummel the group in moments, the smart zombies coordinating without a shot fired against them.

  The three men near Tosha turned and began firing, but the zombies were using their former comrades as shields and the U-Haul for protection.

  Tosha covered her mouth when five zombies appeared only feet from her on the next yard, coming up behind the three men. She didn't make a sound as the attack was quick and bloody.

  One of the zombies opened the gas cap on the U-Haul and ripped off the shirt of one of the women, stuffing it in and lighting it with a lighter. The zombies laughed and ran in different directions.

  Tosha didn't wait for the explosion. The area would be crawling with too many zombies drawn to the noise soon enough. She needed to keep moving south and hope for the best. Her only weapons were an empty gun and her anger.

  Chapter Ten

  "What do you see, Ernie?"

  "Call me Cowboy. I want to be called Cowboy."

  "I'm going to call you idiot in a second. What the fuck do you see?" Doug asked.

  "They got the place pretty solid. Barricades and a wall built with a bunch of spikes and ditches on A1A for the zombies. Two higher rooftops with dudes with rifles patrolling. This setup is really cool. I'm guessing up and down Main Street all the side streets are blocked off as well. There are fences surrounding what's called the Ocean Center. Probably a place where Def Leppard played back in the day and they had wrestling matches."

  "They don't anymore." Doug rubbed his stubbly chin. "Give me a guess on how many survivors are inside."

  Cowboy shrugged. "Hard to say. From the vantage point I had, I couldn't see down the street. But I'm guessing quite a few, since they'd need that many to protect the gate and whatever other entrance they have."

  Doug looked up at the sky through the rift in the ceiling. It would be getting dark soon. They needed to either make their presence known and hope for the best, or find a good place to hide. With all the activity on the other side of the walls, the area was crawling with zombies.

  They were situated on the third floor of what used to be a Hilton hotel. They couldn't get higher since there was nothing left above them, just charred timber and slabs of loose concrete. Only a few of the rooms on this floor were intact, and most had gaping holes in most of the walls. There wasn't much protection if they were spotted.

  "I don't think we have enough ammo to kill every guard, but we can try," Cowboy said.

  "You're an idiot. Why would we attack them? Shots will bring zombies. We're exposed out here. We need to be in there. I want to sleep safely tonight, don't you? Sometimes I wonder how you've survived this long." Doug slipped a pistol into his boot and hefted one of the rifles. "Take a pistol and a rifle, load them, and leave everything else. We're going to park the SUV a couple of blocks away and lock it up and hope it's there in case we ever need it."

  "Then what?"

  "We walk down A1A and make our presence known by killing some zombies. We act like we had no idea this place exists, and we're grateful to have found a potential home," Doug said. "You keep quiet and let me talk. Two armed men walking down the street isn't something they've seen in awhile, and I hope they're taking in new recruits."

  The pair slipped down the rubble-strewn stairs and exited out of the back of the hotel, ignoring the zombies in the area. A gunshot would give away their position and they wanted to make it look natural when they approached the gates.

  Doug wondered if this would be his last shot at a safe haven where he could rule. He'd do like he always did: turn on the charm and get into a position of power inside the group before doing his thing. He hoped it would go better than Orlando had, when there'd been so much division and in-fighting they never saw the horde of zombies until it was too late.

  They drove the SUV for nearly an hour until they found a decent spot over a mile away and south of Main Street. An old Dollar General store had been demolished but the back of the store was still intact, and they parked next to the building and covered the SUV with debris.

  "Let's take a walk. We need to hurry before it gets dark. I don't want to get shot by someone with bad eyes at dusk," Doug said. "We'll start shooting as we get closer. I don't want to run out of ammo."

  Cowboy nodded and the pair started walking at a fast pace down A1A, keeping clear of any zombies who didn't look too smart. The key was going to be getting within sight of the gates and the guards without too much trouble.

  A zombie waved at them from the next intersection and Cowboy shot it in the face. "This is such shit now."

  "I agree," Doug said. "Nice shot."

  They picked up the pace. A zombie got too close and Doug smashed it in the face with his rifle butt and kept moving, not even bothering to stop and kill it again. It really didn't matter at this point.

  "I miss Pizza Hut, don't you?" Cowboy asked as they walked past what was left of a restaurant. "Shit, this one had a lunch buffet." He pointed at the sign. "I could do some damage with an all-you-can-eat."

  "Focus on what we're trying to do."

  "You got it, boss."

  Doug could see another zombie trying to casually slip behind them as they passed a devastated beach access area on their right. Doug kept walking, pushing past a couple of mindless zombies. He glanced at Cowboy. "We only have to travel a couple of long blocks and we'll be there."

  "I know. Why are you telling me?"

  Doug turned and fired a shot, hitting the zombie in the left eye as it tried to crouch and sneak up on them.

  "Shit, warn me first," Cowboy said.

  "If I warned you, I'd also warn the zombie," Doug said. "Let's get moving. We can start shooting after the next block."

  They got to another intersection, where a dilapidated Daytona Beach sign was blocking the street. Doug fired off two shots and hit the mark with each; more or less to let the guards up ahead know they were out here.

  Cowboy looked up at the street sign. "International Speedway. That way is the racetrack. I remember going all the time as a kid. My dad used to work a concession stand. I met so many cool drivers."

  "Car racing is stupid," Doug said. "We don't watch shit like that where I come from. We watch real sports. Any fucking idiot can drive around in a circle."

  "I beg to differ," Cowboy said.

  Doug shot another zombie angling toward them, smiling at the accurate shot; he'd hit it square between the eyes. "You can differ all you want, but it doesn't change the simple fact that NASCAR is boring to me."

  "You need to watch a race with me. You've just never gotten the full feel of it is all. I'm telling ya, there is so much strategy involved." Cowboy fired and hit a zombie. "You'll be a believer."

  "Fine. I'm looking forward to the world reversing itself and zombies bringing back car racing. You know what I'd call that? Being in Hell," Doug sa
id.

  A zombie's head, twenty feet in front of them, suddenly exploded.

  "I think they see us," Doug said quietly.

  "Stop. Don't go any further," someone shouted from a rooftop to their left. They were coming up on the barricades in front of Main Street. "Drop your weapons."

  "With all due respect, I'd feel safer holding onto it, especially considering all the zombies wandering around right now," Doug said. "Who are you?"

  There was a pause and Doug kept walking with his rifle aimed away from the rooftops but still trained on approaching zombies.

  "We'll ask the questions," was the answer.

  "We? Then there are more than one of you? Do you happen to have any food? We're really hungry and just want a spot to sleep tonight. It's going to be dark soon."

  "Where are you coming from?" a different man yelled down to them. "Have you been on foot long?"

  Doug sidestepped another zombie but didn't fire his gun. He didn't want anyone above them to get jumpy. "Can we talk inside? It's getting a little iffy on the street. I'll gladly hand over my gun if I have to."

  Cowboy glanced at Doug but was smart enough not to argue or say anything. He might finally be learning to keep his mouth shut.

  "Where's Jeff?" someone yelled.

  Doug didn't know who Jeff was but he was hoping to meet him soon enough. The street was beginning to get crowded with zombies, and Cowboy was using his rifle as a club to keep them at bay.

  A couple of shots rang out from the rooftop and two zombies fell, but there were more coming from all sides.

  "I don't know who Jeff is, but I'd like to meet him," Doug yelled. "Let us in, please and thank you."

  Doug was forced to aim and pull the trigger three times before he heard the gate grating open. Someone yelled for them to hold up their rifles and hands and get inside.

  As soon as they entered, they were surrounded by half a dozen men with guns pointed at their faces, stripped of their guns and patted down quickly. Neither man's pistol was found.

  "Come with us," one of them said.

  "Lead the way." Doug smiled. "And thank you, we really appreciate the help."

  The man said nothing else as they marched down the street. Doug made mental notes of where armed men and women were as well as how organized every building was. They seemed to have plenty of bottled water, ammo and clothing. Makeshift beds were set up inside the opened buildings and there must be a few hundred survivors based on what he was seeing. All the way down the street he could see signs of civilization.

  Doug and Cowboy were escorted to a small courtyard with tents erected in the middle. They were led to a side area, where several men were cleaning weapons and watching the newest additions with wary eyes.

  A short fat dude with a shaved head and beady eyes approached with a smile that was anything but friendly. "I hear you two idiots were marching down the street like this was a fucking Stallone movie."

  "I'm more of a Jason Statham fan myself," Doug said. He eyed the man but not too hard. He wanted to gain this jerkoff's trust for the future. He knew he'd be the muscle of this operation and the one Doug would need to kill to level the playing field if it came down to it. "You must be Jeff."

  "I must be. You must be crazy thinking you can waltz into my world and act so nonchalant. Where you coming from?"

  "Wherever there aren't a ton of zombies. Last place we stayed was south of here," Doug said.

  "Why are you in Daytona Beach?"

  Doug shrugged, trying to remain casual. "There isn't much left south of here, to be honest. Everything down to Miami is a smoking pile of rubble. I didn't want to chance heading to the Keys and get trapped, so I came back north."

  "What part of New York you from?" Jeff asked.

  Doug smiled. "Buffalo area. What part of New Jersey you from?"

  "South Jersey, just outside Philly."

  "I take it you're the boss here?" Cowboy asked.

  A couple of men snickered nearby, cleaning their weapons.

  "Not even close. But don't worry. Tonight you'll meet the real boss," Jeff said. "If I were you, I'd try to stay out of his range. He might be getting hungry right about now."

  Doug frowned. "Are you saying…"

  Jeff nodded his head. "The guy who runs this joint and keeps us safe from the zombies out there is a fucking zombie himself. You'll meet him tonight because he's going to be giving some big speech. We call him the Lich Lord. You should, too, if you know what's good for you. Come on. I'll find you a spot to rest for a few hours, but then you're going to pitch in if you plan on staying and actually eating with us."

  Doug and Cowboy followed Jeff, aware several men were following them.

  Chapter Eleven

  Keep walking, nothing to see here, not your problem, Tosha thought but refused to do as she should be doing. She had no real weapon, she'd been running for hours, and it was going to be dark within the hour. She should be trying to find a hiding spot.

  Instead, she cursed herself and ran down the dune at the scene before her: three people were surrounded by zombies and they didn't seem to have anything to keep them at bay.

  "Hey, fuckers, over here," Tosha yelled as she came closer. A couple of the zombies turned their attention to her, but there were at least a dozen. She looked around but there wasn't anything to use to fight with. She closed her fists and prayed for the strength to do some damage. "Yeah, I'm talking to you, bastards. Come and get me before I get pissed."

  Half of the zombies were coming at her now, and she easily sidestepped the first one and kicked it in the back of the leg, hearing a nice snap of bone as she did. She did a spin around the next one as dirty nails tried to claw at her, and she kicked the zombie in the ass but it didn't go down.

  She moved closer to the three people and saw, with dismay, they weren't what she was expecting: a crippled old man, a pregnant woman and some guy who looked exhausted. And the woman looked vaguely familiar.

  "Head for the houses," Tosha yelled. "I'll cover your retreat."

  The three weren't moving very quickly. The old man could barely shuffle on the sand, let alone defend himself. The preggo was about to pop and trying not to waddle over and kick on her back like a turtle. The image made Tosha laugh.

  Tosha ran to them, pushing zombies over as she ran. "Hurry up. There's a break but we need to move quickly."

  "There's nothing quick about me, Red," the old man said. Tosha scooped him up and hoped she didn't break his fragile bones. Luckily it felt like he weighed about thirty pounds. He smiled and hugged Tosha, wrapping his hands around her shoulders. "A man could get used to this, honey."

  Tosha had to laugh. She glanced back to see the man helping the pregnant woman between pushing away zombies. They were going to fall behind, but there was nothing in front of Tosha right now. If she could get to the houses and drop off the old man, she could go back for the couple.

  A zombie appeared in the doorway of the house and grinned.

  Shit, he's a smart one, Tosha thought. "I'm going to have to put you down, old man."

  "Like a dog?"

  "Funny." Tosha placed him on his feet and steadied him. She thought he was going to blow away with a stiff breeze. He wasn't going to last long.

  "I could use some help," Tosha yelled over her shoulder. "We have one smiling at us."

  The zombie in the doorway opened his arms. "Coming for a visit? I'll make pancakes. Anyone like blueberries on their breakfast?"

  Tosha had no choice but to run at the zombie, knowing how stupid she was but really having no choice. With the zombies on the beach boxing them in and the group she'd gotten tangled with unable to move quickly, the only option was getting rid of this zombie.

  He put his hands up in a fighting stance and seemed quite happy as she approached. "Let's go three rounds. The winner takes the championship belt. Think you can handle it?"

  "I was going to ask you the same thing," Tosha said as she stepped in and threw a punch that landed six inches short.
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  The zombie had more arm reach, which he used to his advantage as he stepped back and delivered a wicked jab into her chest. "Nice. I thought they were real."

  "Less talking and more punching," Tosha said. She feigned to her left and punched with her right, connecting without much force on his forearm.

  "I hope you can hit harder than that. The judges are watching," the zombie said. "And not only am I going to take the title, but I'm going to enjoy ripping apart your old boyfriend as well."

  "He's not my boyfriend," Tosha said and immediately regretted it. He'd faked her out with saying something stupid and now she was paying for it, as the zombie moved in and landed a blow to the right side of her face, knocking her down.

  Tosha turned over to recover and the zombie put a foot on her throat. "Where do you think you're going?"

  "Hey, asshole, over here," the old man yelled.

  The zombie didn't bother to look up, smiling down at Tosha as she struggled. "I'm not falling for the lame shit today. Stay where you are, old man, and watch your granddaughter as I crush her windpipe." He increased the pressure on Tosha's throat. "This is much better than killing stupid zombies. I get an actual struggle from someone still breathing. And, as a bonus, I get to kill you all over again in a few hours, once you reanimate."

  Tosha couldn't breathe, trying in vain to get his weight off her neck. She was losing air and beginning to see stars. She punched at his ankle but it wasn't doing anything, her blows getting weaker.

  A shadow crossed over her and at first she thought it was her blacking out, but then she heard a commotion above her and the foot was lifted off her neck. She gasped for air and rolled onto her side before passing out.

  * * * * *

  It was dark. Tosha came to, disoriented and wondering where she was.

  "Lie down and rest," a male voice said behind her. "You're safe."

  Tosha rolled over and reached for a weapon she knew she no longer had. The three she'd intercepted were huddled in the dark under the window, looking quite pathetic. "Where are we?"