half-eaten face and an empty eye socket lunged past Reidy at Drew. Reidy grunted and brought the machete down on top of Half-a-Face’s head. The bone cracked and the blade became wedged deep in the monster’s skull. While Half-a-Face fell, Reidy desperately tugged at the weapon. It did not budge and he lost the machete.
Big, rotting hands seized Reidy by the shoulders. A massive zombie that had to have been a linebacker judging by his size and muscle mass pulled Reidy toward his snapping jaws. Frantically, Reidy slammed his fists against Linebacker’s elbows. The monster’s hands flew off Reidy’s shoulders but the linebacker darted forward. Reidy pushed at the monster’s chest and was barely able to hold him away. From the side, the zombie with braces covering her teeth staggered toward Reidy. On his other side, a third zombie wearing a school pride shirt began to tug at his elbow. There was no way for him to fend the three zombies off. Behind the linebacker, Reidy saw the bandana wearing zombie crawling towards the fray on his hands and good knee like an injured, rabid dog. There was also salvation behind the linebacker. Reidy saw the sub-machine gun lying in the hands of the dead zombie on the floor just ten feet from where he stood. It might as well have been a world away for all that mattered.
Braces’ dead, black tongue touched Reidy’s temple. His death was imminent. Reidy never held the belief that he was going to live to a ripe old age and die peacefully in his sleep. It was rare for someone in his profession to live long enough to retire. He had always known he would suffer a violent death. He accepted that fate long ago. However, he would’ve preferred a quick death rather than feeling teeth rend and rip him apart.
Without warning, a dull, hollow thud rang out and Braces’ head snapped to the side away from Reidy’s face. Screaming like a banshee and with tears flowing down her cheeks, Becca rushed into Reidy’s view brandishing the vodka bottle like a club. With a cry, the girl swung the bottle, cracking Braces in the temple. Bolstered by Becca’s actions, Reidy hooked his foot behind the linebacker’s ankle and shoved with all of his might against his thick chest. The moment the linebacker staggered backwards Reidy threw his elbow out, hitting the third zombie in the eye.
On Becca’s fourth swing the bottle smashed to pieces as did Braces’ skull. Reidy grabbed Becca and Drew and bolted toward his gun. The linebacker reeled, trying to right himself as the zombie Reidy elbowed staggered after their prey. Reidy jumped over the corpse of Leather Jacket and threw the kids against the wall. Then he dropped to the ground, lying next to the dead zombie and grabbed his gun. There was no time to pry the weapon from the cold hands still coiled around it, forcing Reidy to twist the weapon. The moment it pointed in the direction of the closest zombie, Reidy fired. The first slug ripped through the “Viking Pride” slogan printed on the monster’s shirt. The next two struck the zombie’s face.
The linebacker trudged at Reidy. Glancing over the monster’s broad shoulders, Reidy saw Bandana crawling right behind the linebacker. Pivoting the weapon up, Reidy fired and the linebacker’s head exploded. The massive zombie pitched backwards dropping on top of Bandana and pinning him underneath his girth.
The only sound left in the cellar was the last zombie growling as he tried to drag himself out from underneath the linebacker and the crying of the teens. Reidy wrenched the gun from Leather Jacket’s hands and stood.
Pulling out of her boyfriend’s arms, Becca threw herself at Reidy and buried her face in his back. She sobbed, “Please, mister, get us out of here.”
“We’re almost done, kid,” he whispered. He pulled out the clip of the Kriss. There was only one shot left. He breathed a sigh of relief. If he had run out of ammo while the zombies were surging toward him, he would not have had enough time to pull the second clip from his bag and reload. Returning the clip, he pulled the gun up and aimed at the last zombie. A single shot punched a hole through his head.
“Almost done, kid,” Reidy repeated pulling the second clip out of his bag and loading it into the Kriss.
“C’mon, let’s go,” Reidy said. Drew jumped up and joined Becca behind Reidy. Reidy walked to the locked door. The deadbolt looked new and there was fresh sawdust on the floor. Reidy assumed the lock had just been installed. He wondered if Ben put the lock there when Andrea Buckner somehow escaped the week before. Pushing that thought aside, he shot the frame surrounding the deadbolt and led the teens up the stairs. Some of the gore of the zombies clinging to their bodies dropped and slapped on the stairs with each step. There was a second locked door at the top. Another short burst from the Kriss handled the obstruction.
Reidy kicked open the ruined door and rushed into the store with the kids still clutching onto his back. Across the store, Ben was rubbing the back of his head and wobbling to the front counter. The old man turned in time to see Reidy raise the sub-machine gun. Yelping, Ben dove over the countertop and pitched over the far side. Just as his feet disappeared behind the counter, Reidy fired. The burning slug ripped through the countertop. The Formica splintered and an anguished cry rang out.
Looking over his shoulder, Reidy ordered the teens, “Stay here.”
He rushed toward the counter. There was a good chance the fat man had a gun. Reidy wasn’t foolish enough to believe that Ben relied solely on his zombies for defense. Crouching, Reidy worked his way through the aisles. As he approached the counter, he heard Ben whispering. “Help! Send the police! There’s a madman with a gun in my store!”
In an act of desperation, Ben had called 9-1-1. It didn’t matter if the police would investigate the bodies in his cellar. He could slip away in the chaos. The only thing that mattered at that moment was he needed someone to save him from Reidy.
Aiming the gun at the front of the counter, Reidy squeezed the trigger. A volley of glowing red bullets peppered the façade. This time Reidy kept track of the spent rounds and stopped firing when there were only three slugs left in the magazine.
Still in the combat crouch, Reidy approached the counter and rounded it. The space behind the counter was an utter mess: Formica and wood splinters were scattered everywhere, destroyed cigarette cartons littered the ground, and Ben, lying in a growing pool of his own blood, was flat on the floor. A wet sucking sound came from the holes in his chest. Next to his right hand was, as Reidy suspected, a sawed-off shotgun. The phone was right by the man’s head and the operator’s voice called out, “Sir? Sir, are you all right?”
Ben’s head shook as he tried to lean toward the receiver. “Please…” he whimpered softly. “Please… help…”
“Sir, I’m sending units to your location. They’ll be there in a few minutes.”
It was obvious by how fast the blood was spilling from the numerous bullet holes in Ben’s body that he’d be dead in less than a minute. Reidy never considered himself a patient man. Two rounds from the sub-machine gun turned Ben’s head into a sticky pulp.
Now that he had dealt with Ben, Reidy had to handle the mess in the cellar. He ran to the liquor aisle and the trapdoor. Next, he grabbed a bottle of 151 proof rum and threw it down the hole. The bottle smashed and its contents poured over the ruined corpses. He tossed another bottle of the dark rum and then another. If the police were not on their way, he’d call his fellow Georgies and they would dispose of the mess discretely. But time was not on Reidy’s side. He had to make sure there wasn’t enough left of the zombies for the authorities to discover their unnatural state. Once the sixth and last bottle was smashed, Reidy pointed his gun and fired the last round through the trapdoor. The phosphorous ignited the flammable liquid and a wave of fire rushed through the cellar.
Reidy turned to bolt out the door. The two teens, still in a state of shock, were huddled together by the stairwell waiting for instructions. “You two,” Reidy barked. “Get out! Run home right now!”
Reidy held the door open and ushered the couple out. Thick black smoke was already billowing out of the stairwell and trapdoor. Coughing, Becca and Drew ran past Reidy and out to the sidewalk. He was about to run away before either kid could ask him a qu
estion that he was unwilling and unable to answer when he saw Becca. Her complexion was a nasty green as if she was moments away from puking on the sidewalk. Her eyes, however, caused Reidy’s blood to run cold. They were drained and lifeless. It was more than just shock. Death had touched her.
“I don’t feel so good…” she mumbled before swaying and pitching backwards. She fell limp against her boyfriend.
“Becca?” Drew murmured. “Becca?”
The teens slipped to the sidewalk. Drew clutched his girlfriend to his chest and looked to Reidy. “Hey man… she’s not breathing!”
Becca’s limp arm flopped out of Drew’s embrace and fell to the sidewalk. There, on her opened palm, Reidy saw a clear set of bite marks. The skin surrounding the crescent of puncture wounds had already turned black.
“I’m sorry, kid,” Reidy breathed out. The finality of it weighed heavily upon him. “There’s nothing I can do.”
Crying freely, Drew buried his head in the nape of Becca’s neck. “C’mon, baby, breathe. Don’t leave me… Don’t leave me… please…”
The high pitch wail of sirens cut through the night air. Reidy couldn’t let the police see him there. Even though he hated leaving Drew and Becca like that,
What Waits Through the Trapdoor Page 5
