“I presume you don’t have any intel on the building itself?” Nate asked.
“Nope, but I’m sure they have plans displayed aplenty. We can’t be the first ones to get there, but the stretch of land is deserted enough that the other looters must have left something for us to drag off as well. I’ll tell the others now.”
And so it was that, somewhat later than planned but still in broad daylight, we arrived at the location. I hadn’t expected much as all we’d passed were small clusters of houses that looked like they’d been mostly abandoned long before the undead had turned the world into one gigantic ghost town. From the outside, the mall looked like a hulking beast made out of five connected buildings, the middle two of them about as large as the average warehouse while the remaining ones had only two stories rather than three and were more recent additions. Recent as in the early ‘90s, I guessed. It lay on the outskirts of another scattered small town, next to a car dealership and motel. A few cars and lots of debris remained on the huge parking lot, and judging from the fact that all windows I could see were broken, Harris hadn’t been kidding about us not being the first to drop by. If it had been just the three of us, I would have checked next door to go hunting for a replacement for the Rover, but I doubted I would have found anything useable. The good cars had likely been driven off while they still had batteries that worked and there was gasoline easily available to keep them running. Ah, but I missed that damn deathtrap on four wheels.
Harris didn’t bother with telling us to split into groups—that took care of itself. Half of the New Angeles people had remained behind. Two scavenger cars we’d left about a mile out to serve as lookouts, one roaming north, the other south to get a good view of the surroundings—reporting nothing so far except for a few shamblers moseying around near the town center, far enough away not to become an issue any time soon. That left us with five strike teams of three to five people each—us, Harris, Tanner, the other scavengers, and the idiot brigade. We’d dropped off everything not strictly necessary at the camp, leaving our cars with room aplenty for several hauls from inside the buildings. The only thing that was missing was for someone to declare this as a race—one that I intended to win, if I had my way.
The mall had three entrances, and after studying the map—as predicted, already displayed outside, if faded enough to make it partly useless—we split up. We got the southern entrance all to ourselves, while Tanner and the idiots got the northern, and the rest the one to the west. Nate took point while Burns got to secure our backs, but with the gaping maw of the entrance looming several feet wide, broken glass everywhere, it wasn’t like we could do this in a line. My Mossberg was securely in my hands but I had my M4 strapped to my pack, should I need quantity over short-range firepower. I doubted it, but ever since the factory debacle I was committed not to end up on the “sorry” side of history again.
Right inside the glass box of the entrance, we scared up a bunch of raccoons that ran deeper into the building after bitching us out, having made a comfortable hovel out of some boxes, dry leaves, and a stash of clothes they must have dragged there. To the left, there was a toy store—something we immediately ignored after a quick tour to make sure nothing was hiding in there—while to the right, a hunting and outdoor store lay sprawling over several fronts. It was ransacked all right, but that didn’t mean that we wouldn’t find loot aplenty. It certainly held more interest than the nail parlor that was next to the toys.
Nate went to check if there were still any weapons or ammo left—knives often went ignored. Burns made for the winter clothes, badly stocked as they were with the last delivery having come in May last year, while I ambled for the hiking section, almost tripping a few times over the shit that lay discarded on the floor everywhere. Options were rather limited, but I still grabbed what was left of the children’s hiking boots, dropping an entire garbage bag full of them outside the store before going back in. I got the last of the ropes and hauled them into two pink daypacks for hiking that had survived the purge as well. The bottom shelf of supplements and vitamins followed, and while I rooted through what used to be sleeping bags—stinking badly enough of animal that I figured the raccoons had used them as their winter hideout away from the entrance—I found some camping dishes that went into the packs as well. As I dropped all that off, our heap of loot had already grown to what would amount to at least two trips to the car. Most not exactly valuable, but better than nothing.
I joined the others as they did a last round through the trashed shelves, not surprised to see Nate frowning with frustration. “Maybe we should hit a few houses up in the mountains to get better gear,” I suggested. “Stores are what everyone goes for first. Whatever else happened to society, people still don’t like invading someone else’s property.”
He gave a curt nod, but still didn’t ease up. “I don’t like this.”
Glancing at the torn T-shirts littering the floor in front of us, I shrugged. “It’s a waste, sure, but—“
“This doesn’t look like random looting. Someone actively vandalized this store.”
“Former disgruntled employee?” I guessed. “Desperation makes people do stupid things.” I paused to flash him a quick grin. “Like getting married, and shit.”
He only had a grunt for me in return. Our time was better spent dragging the loot into the car, anyway. At least Burns looked happy with the new fake-fur-lined hat that he’d found in the storeroom. To each their own.
We went back in and checked the next few stores, but nothing useful anywhere. The mall didn’t just look old, it had also been stacked with crappy stores, a lot of the goods already useless although they’d done nothing but sit—sometimes even undisturbed—on the shelves. We found a few badly decomposed bodies, but none that were still moving.
Way faster than we’d planned, we stepped into the food court, where destruction reigned, as did the residual stench of decay. Someone had tried to barricade themselves inside one of the burger joints from the looks of it, the walls and counter covered in dried blood that had long ago started to flake off. There were no bodies remaining, only rags, and several badly-torn packs. Early looters, likely, falling prey to the ones that had come before them and guzzled up too much of the contaminated foods so readily available here in this temple of cardiovascular suicide.
After a brief circuit, Nate stepped up to another map of the mall, studying it carefully. “There’s a pharmacy in Tanner’s section. Even looted, that likely still holds something we can use.” He cast a sidelong glance my way before going on. “There are also two small electronics stores that might be worth looking at. The rest’s worthless.”
“I don’t know about that,” I offered. “I’m sure the beds and sofas over there could be put to some good use.”
Nate smirked while Burns had a derisive grunt for me. “I’m not standing guard while you two yahoos get it on in there. Drop me off with Tanner and his bunch first.”
Not a bad idea, I figured, watching Nate fiddle with his com gear, if for another reason. “Tanner, do you read me? Find anything useful in your sector?”
The answer came after a crackle followed by some cursing. “A few thermal shirts and some socks, but otherwise it’s a bust. Pharmacy, too, although Gita’s still rooting through it. Someone took the time to topple over all the shelves and trash the place. But if you’ve got nothing better on your end—“
“We’ll be there in ten,” Nate told him and nodded at us. “Let’s go.”
We passed a few clothing stores on the way to the escalators that would lead us up to the pharmacy. If we’d had more vehicles, I might have opted to drag everything even remotely useable out of them, but as it was, we didn’t, and nobody needed another tank top or hot pants, anyway. Not for the first time I groused about the zombie apocalypse happening at the beginning of summer, leaving us with a lot of useless shit for loot rather than useful gear. What little of that had been readily available was long gone.
Climbing to the top floor
left me slightly winded. I tried to downplay it, but I could tell from the way Nate was studying me that he was well aware of my wheezing. I ignored his look of concern and instead strode by Tanner into the somewhat illuminated pharmacy, thanks to a couple flashlights deposited on the floor. It looked worse in here than the food court. My first guess was that a bunch of drug addicts had tried to get one last fix—either that, or people already too sick to think clearly had gotten frustrated that cough drops didn’t keep them from dying. Either way, it was a mess, but that didn’t have to turn out for the worst, I realized, when the second bottle of pills I picked up turned out to be Ibuprofen. Whipping out another trash bag, I threw it in, then rooted around some more to find another five.
A few others of the New Angeles people were busy collecting bottles and boxes as well, even if it was slow going. Gita was at the very back of the storeroom, grumbling to herself as she kept chucking bottle after bottle over her shoulder. “Looking for anything specific? Maybe I can help,” I offered.
Without looking up from the next label she was scanning, she shrugged. “Any T-blocker would be awesome, and I’ll take some E if you find it.” Two more bottles went the way of the others. “Fucking bigoted red states.” She then realized that I was still standing there, if not confused, somewhat puzzled. “Testosterone blockers and estrogen? Don’t you have a degree that should make you at least somewhat aware of these things?”
Ah. Made sense. Dropping down next to her, I wedged my flashlight between my shoulder and cheek so I could work with both hands. “To tell you in minute detail how ebola will liquify your organs. Pretty useless in practical application until recently.” Staring at the label of the bottle for several seconds, I asked, “Any brand names? I’m a little murky on my antiandrogens.”
She rattled off a rather impressive list that I was hard-pressed to remember, ending with a sigh. “Doubt we’ll find anything here. They likely had to special order it in this forsaken, bumfuck of nowhere town.”
The next bottle wasn’t what she was looking for, either, but still went into my bag. Even with cardio being much more important than, say, two years ago for imminent survival, people would still need arthritis meds.
“How far were you along when the shit hit the fan?” I didn’t ask her if the question was too personal. She’d likely tell me to fuck off if she didn’t want to talk about it.
Gita paused for a moment, glancing over to me, as if to gauge my intent. “Six months into transitioning. Just long enough to make everything shrink but nothing grow.” She gave a brief laugh. “Because I was technically still a minor when I started, they put me on a low dose. Was fine with me, never had much to shave off, anyway. And it’s not like I was already making an appointment for a boob job—not with that scrawny ass to balance it out. But it sucks when you get all the weird shit of the hormones slamming your mind around, and then right over again when you slowly have to wean yourself off because you can’t find the shit anywhere. I was lucky, got my last injection the week before the news reports turned into a living nightmare, and managed to steal some pills from my roomie when she didn’t—“ She paused, swallowing hard. “She didn’t need them anymore. Found another bottle when we made it to New Angeles, but that ran out in spring. I know that it’s absolutely low priority, but we’re here and got nothing else to do. Might as well take a look, right?”
“Never hurts,” I offered.
A sly smile spread across her face. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
I shook my head, laughing softly. “Nope. But you do realize that I hang out all the time with a bunch of guys who, when I asked our medic about tampons, wanted to know why I’d need any because nobody had punched me in the face and I didn’t have a nosebleed otherwise. Let’s just say that sensitivity isn’t one of my strengths anymore—if it ever was.”
Gita looked unperturbed by that claim. “I couldn’t care less about that. I generally don’t give a shit about what people think about me. I just want to be who I am, know what I mean? And for people to respect that. Tanner constantly hulking over me and glaring at anyone who’s an ass to me isn’t a permanent solution. But I won’t impress anyone by sitting around on my lazy ass and being depressed because I don’t look pretty enough.”
I couldn’t help but snort. “In this economy, I’m not sure if beauty has any advantages. Besides, no one looks appealing with gore splashed all over them.” I paused, considering. “Is that the reason why you’re tagging along? So you can convince the world that you’re one tough bitch? Been there, done it, didn’t exactly like the consequences.” As if on command, the scar tissue on my upper thigh gave a twinge, making me shift onto my other leg.
“Just got bored in the city after we got back,” Gita admitted. “When I first got there, before we started rebuilding, I was so glad to be out of that hell. We lost so many people getting there that I thought I’d never want to be outside of the gates—or at least in sight of them—ever again. But after coming to Colorado with you, it just wasn’t the same anymore. Sure, I could have volunteered for one of the trading parties or signed up for extended perimeter watch, but that kind of sucks balls, too.”
“And Greene wanted a reliable source of information along,” I hazarded a guess. I didn’t doubt that Tanner would report back, too, but considering his camaraderie with Burns in particular he seemed the much less reliable option if push came to shove.
Gita didn’t even deny it. “Might come in handy, too, you know? Some doors will open for him that will forever remain barred to you.”
I shook my head, but more in disgust than denial. “Let’s hope it won’t come to that.”
Static spewing from the com made me tense and reach for my shotgun that rested propped against one of the overturned shelves. Harris sounded a little breathless as he spoke. “We could use some backup here. Found a pocket of zombies, and they’re giving us some grief.” I hadn’t heard any gunshots yet, so I presumed they’d tried to subdue them otherwise.
“On it,” Nate responded, then called to me inside the storeroom. “I’m taking Tanner and Burns with me. You stay here and see what you can find, then take it all back to the cars.”
Tanner sounded practically giddy when he told his people that I was in command, and off they went. Part of me wanted to protest, but they were already gone, and besides, I had a task to do here as well. After the looks we’d gotten last night, maybe it was for the best that I didn’t hurl myself face-first into the next carnage. The nasty voice in the back of my mind remarked that Nate was—again—leaving me to fend for myself, and we all knew how that would end. Just to prove myself wrong I silently vowed not to get kidnapped, cornered, or shot. There had to be a first for everything. And I wasn’t alone, exactly, with a good ten people standing around, more or less looking at me for guidance.
“Okay, ten more minutes and then we’ll lug what we have to the cars,” I ordered, getting back to work myself.
No more than three minutes could have passed when Blondie whistled loudly from outside of the pharmacy. I ignored him—I was bent over at the waist, ass high in the air, and I could take a guess what that was about; would have been a shame to have to shoot him now. But he proved to be more insistent than I’d expected. “Hey, Red! Can you hop over for a sec?”
I was less than inclined to indulge him, but there was an edge of urgency in his voice that made my hackles rise, and not in the sense that he deserved a punch in the face. I quickly tied off my trash bag full of goodies as I made my way out of the chaos, joining him. That two of the New Angeles guys were standing guard next to him helped keep my unease down. “What’s up?”
He nodded toward one of the floor-to-ceiling window panels at the side of the building that let most of the light in that illuminated this part of the mall. “Could be nothing, but I think I just saw movement out there. If my count is right, we don’t have people out there right now.”
Squinting against the brightness, all I saw was the bumper of one of the cars, but
I didn’t outright discard his claim.
“Fast? Slow? Animal or human? Shamblers?” I doubted that it was the latter. He would have led with that—and while they could be stealthy fuckers, out in the open they were usually easy to make out.
Blondie’s face scrunched up. “Not sure, but I think it was someone in fatigues sprinting over to the cars to hide behind ‘em. One of ours would have just walked up to them, right?”
That didn’t sound good. “Okay, listen up. We fall back right now. Just grab what you have, and go.” I switched my com to the frequency Nate, Burns, Tanner, and Harris shared with me. “We might have hostiles incoming. Didn’t see them myself, but I don’t want to get trapped up here. We’re retreating to the cars. Meet you there.”
I didn’t get a response which didn’t alarm me at first—until I realized that it was unlikely that all of them couldn’t talk right now, or at least breathe into their mics. Shit.
Looking over who else but me might have the most combat experience, I hated to admit that it likely was the idiot brigade. Gita and the others might have seen combat, but most of them were decidedly more traders than scavengers. Turning back to Blondie, I nodded at him and the other two, who’d sidled closer, alarmed by our little chat. “I’ll take point. You“—I pointed at Blondie—“bring up the rear until we’re close to the exit. Then we switch places. The others, left and right flank. We try to keep the others covered between us.”
His friends took that with silent nods, while Blondie kept squinting at me. I could almost see the gears in his head spinning as he tried to decide what to make of me—and me taking charge without bumbling around like an idiot. The irony wasn’t lost on me.
Green Fields (Book 7): Affliction Page 13
