by Joseph Zuko
Does it matter?
He had not even made it to the bandage aisle or come close to finding the transfusion kit. There were gallons and gallons of rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide on one of the shelves. He remembered that they had plenty of that back at Cliff and Tina’s apartment. He grabbed a couple of different rolls of tape and tossed them into his bag. He pillaged the bandage and gauze shelves. One of the shelves had a little black hard plastic case labeled surgical kit. He took it. Sara came around the corner with an arm full of supplies.
“I think I got some of it here,” she held up a medium sized box. The label read ‘complete transfusion kit’ and featured a photo of the contents.
“Perfect,” Jim held open his bag and Sara had to push hard to fit it in with the other supplies. She also had syringes, a box of rubber gloves and a suture kit.
CRASH! Glass spilled out onto the floor of the warehouse. Frank had found what he was looking for, “Got ‘em.” The little glass bottles clinked together as he poured a tray out into the side pocket of his duffle bag. “Should I bring the penicillin in case we find a lonely lady wandering the city and she needs a ride?” Frank’s sense of humor continued to sprout as the day drug on. He zipped his bag closed as he rejoined the others, “Do we need anything else?” Frank dropped Jim’s hammer into the backpack.
Jim looked around the room. “I wish we could take the whole store. Anyone have any allergies?” Jim forced a few more rolls of gauze into his back. They shook their heads at him.
“That’s good,” Jim wrestled the heavy pack up onto his shoulder.
“Let’s get out of here and over to the gun shop,” Sara said as she moved towards the front counter of the store. A double-door separated the two rooms. She hit it first and kept it held open as the others passed by. The front of the store looked like a doctor’s waiting room. A few chairs lined the walls and magazines were laid out on short end-tables. A kid’s corner was set up with a little TV and some toys. Jim averted his gaze from the corner. There was a red toy firetruck on the floor. It was the same model he had gotten Valerie two years ago while they were out shopping at Ross. She was being an amazingly good kid that day and the toy was like ten bucks. Her little face shined so brightly when he told her that he would get it for her. Jim’s two little girls had played with it at least once a week since. Jim didn’t want to think about what might have happened to the girls, but seeing the toy reminded him to stay focused and keep moving. He had to find the girls.
Find them or die trying.
Jim slid his backpack straps onto his other shoulder and clicked it into place. He snagged the keys from his pocket as Sara’s hand rested on the door’s leaver. She was all set to move when the car alarm began to blare outside. The sudden noise made her jump.
“Jesus, Jim, watch your thumb! You scared the shit out of me,” Sara hit Jim in the shoulder with the back of her hand as she composed herself.
Jim’s heart skipped a beat too. All of them were on edge and as hungry and dehydrated as they were he was shocked that they weren’t at each other’s throats. The stress of the day had given Jim twenty more grey hairs and the sun was still up.
The car’s alarm blasted outside. Frank and Sara turned to Jim. He was staring at the keys.
“Turn it off,” Frank readjusted his duffle bag.
Jim hit the button and silenced the alarm, “I’m not the one that set it off.”
The alarm blasted again. Something was bumping into the PT Cruiser. Jim cut the alarm off a second time as Sara inched open the door. She peeked out with one eye.
“Shit,” Sara whispered the word.
“How many?” Jim asked.
“A lot,” she whispered again.
“Damn it girl, how many?” Frank moved closer to the door.
Something startled Sara and she pushed the door shut quickly, “A lot.” Her voice was more than panicked. A body slammed into the front door of the building. A moment later the car’s alarm went off again. This time Jim unlocked it.
“Do we go out the way we came and forget the ride?” Frank took a step back from the door.
“I don’t know.” Jim’s mind scrambled to conceive a plan.
“Should we make a stand in here?” Sara followed Frank’s example and stepped farther from the door. The monster outside continued to beat at the front door.
“I don’t know,” Jim said as he squeezed at the walking stick that made up his spear.
Come on brain! Come on!
The monsters outside could hear them discussing their battle plans and more dead bodies were crashing into the front door.
Devon was going to bleed out before they could walk back. They needed that car. Facing a horde out in the open sounded like suicide. They had barely made it when there were four of them fighting together. Opening the door and inviting them in sounded even worse. Jim looked around the room again.
Was there anything here we could use to help us?
That’s when he spotted it. Jim had seen it before and it pained him, but this time it gave him an idea. The little red toy firetruck. Jim patted at his jacket’s pocket. He felt the outline of the Zippo.
“I got it,” was all Jim said as he headed back into the warehouse. They followed him without question. Jim retraced his steps back to the aisle that had the gallons of rubbing alcohol.
“There has to be a ladder up onto the roof. Grab as many bottles as you can.” Jim scooped up as much as he could carry off of the shelf. The others continued to follow him. Their arms filled with bottles.
Jim raced back to the rear entrance. A door sat at the end of the hall with a sign that read CLEANING SUPPLIES bolted to it. Jim opened the door to the closet. On the far wall was a service ladder leading up to the roof. Jim dropped the plastic bottles and set his spear down in a corner. He pulled off his backpack and removed his hammer before he laid the pack down on the floor. Jim found a box of heavy-duty black plastic bags. He ripped one out and forced it open. The three of them filled the plastic bag with the bottles of rubbing alcohol. Jim tested the weight in the sack and it was at its max capacity. He yanked on the straps and slipped the bag up onto his shoulder. Jim worked the handle of the hammer into his belt and then he started to climb up the ladder.
“Frank, carry up that roll of paper towels,” Jim said half way up the ladder. The plastic straps dug deep into his shoulder as he ascended the metal rungs. Frank put the roll of towels into his bag and then started up the ladder.
Jim got to the hatch that led outside. It had a padlock on it. Jim looped his arm around the last rung so that his elbow locked him into position. With his free hand he pulled out the hammer and began to wail on the lock. It took Jim a solid twenty strikes before the screws that held the lock in place started to give. He let out a trumpet yell on the last hit and the latch gave way from the wood frame. Jim pushed up on the hatch and it creaked open. As he climbed the final rungs the door clicked into place.
It was a very tight squeeze to get the big bag of highly flammable liquid out onto the roof. When Jim got to his feet he dropped the bag and gave his back a good stretch. Frank was right behind him and Sara’s head popped through the opening seconds later.
They surveyed the land. From this height they could see blocks away in every direction. Jim could almost see his apartment from where he stood. Wrecked vehicles littered the streets. Infected hordes grew by the minute. Buildings burned and spewed ash into the air. The beautiful city of Vancouver was in ruins.
Jim dragged the bag across the tar roof as he headed for the edge of the building. He looked down onto the PT Cruiser. It was surrounded by sixty infected zombies.
“Where the hell did they come from?” Jim asked no one in particular. “HEY!” he called down to the horde. Their busted necks craned up to see where the dinner bell was ringing from. Some of the zombies ran over to the wall, others shuffled, but one by one they headed over to Jim.
The humans walked slowly along the edge of the building, yelling down to
their infected fans, and headed for the far corner of the building. Jim didn’t want the car to catch fire along with the beasts.
Jim got to what he thought was a safe distance from their ride and opened the plastic bag. The three of them each took a bottle out and popped the lids. As they crushed the sides of the containers the ninety-one proof liquid shot out like they were shooting squirt guns down onto the clamoring horde below. It took a couple of minutes to empty the ten bottles onto the staggering creatures. They made sure to hit every corner of the horde with the liquid. When the last shot of the last bottle was fired Frank liberated the roll of paper towels.
Jim extracted his Zippo and lit the first of the ballistics, “This is gonna stink,” he said as he caught fire to the paper roll. The paper was burning pretty hot in Jim’s hand. He was confident it wouldn’t go out on the drop. Jim tossed the yellow, burning, death from above. The fire slowly made its descent onto the unsuspecting monsters that clawed at the side of the brick building. Jim could feel the seconds tick by.
One. Two. Three.
WHOOSH!
They had to duck below the edge of the building to escape the heat blast. The nasty sounds of meat crackling on an open flame filled the air around RS Medical. The horrible stink of charred flesh curled up over the lip of the building and punched the three humans in the face.
“Man, that reeks!” Sara covered her nose with the collar of her shirt. She smelled herself and realized after the day she had gone through she did not smell much better than the smoldering dead. The heat was so intense that there was no way to look down on the bonfire.
“Let’s go!” Jim waddled away from the wall and headed for the open hatch in the roof. They made their way back down the ladder, gathered their supplies and headed for the front door.
Sara peeked out to see if the coast was clear. A couple of stragglers milled around the vehicle. Sara signaled to the others that there were four zombies left and where they were standing. The two men nodded at her and she opened the metal door all the way open.
The three of them raced out the doorway. Jim skewered the skull of the first monster outside. Sara had Jim’s back and slaughtered a creep that was six inches from grasping his backpack. Her bat blade nailed it right in the neck and severed its head. Frank fired two shots. The backs of the two infected heads detonated on impact.
They dashed into the unlocked car. Jim fired up the engine and backed out of the spot. He headed for the exit with the pedal crushed all the way to the floor. The stack of burnt bodies outside the RS Medical had begun to fuse into one monstrous pile of sizzling meat. It topped the list of nastiest things the group had seen, smelled and heard today.
Jim weaved around three stalled cars that sat in the middle of the street. Half a minute later they pulled into the parking lot of the gun shop. Jim backed up into a spot right outside the front door. He hoped they would be able to load a ton of gear or ammo in the next few minutes. He checked his side mirror. The shop had its lights out and a gate locked at the front door. They jumped out of the PT Cruiser and darted for the entrance. Sara took out the door with her bat and glass exploded across the shop’s floor. Frank aimed and shot out the lock on the gate. Jim pushed open the metal barrier and entered the shop.
A thought flashed in Jim’s brain.
We didn’t check the back door to this place first.
It should be okay. We’re only going to be here for a minute.
They rushed into the building and closed the gate behind them. Their eyes strained to adjust to the low level lighting in the tiny little hole-in-the-wall store. Frank cruised over to the glass display and hunted for firearms and ammo. Jim stepped farther into the room. The dark black abyss at the back of the shop started to turn gray as Jim’s irises opened and allowed light to pass through. It took his brain a moment to register what he was seeing.
There’s a gun pointing at me!
Shit! There’s a fucking gun pointing at me!
A deep voice bellowed from behind the barrel of the shotgun, “Drop the spear!”
CHAPTER 6
Tina applied a cool cloth to Devon’s feverish forehead. His eyes had been closed for the last ten minutes and she was sure he was sleeping. She held his wrist with her fingertips and counted out the beats. The young man’s heart was limping along. He was going to need Jim’s blood before she could even attempt to clean out and stitch up his wounds. She kept checking the time. It had been fifteen minutes since her neighbor took off on a dangerous trip to get the supplies needed to fix this gunshot wound.
They better get back here soon. I can’t have him turning in our living room.
He didn’t have a lot of time left. He would bleed out if they didn’t get his leg closed up in a hurry. Tina used the time to look over her textbooks from nursing school. She wanted to make sure she didn’t skip a step or forget a vital part of the surgery.
“Ah Dios mio. What have I got myself into?” Tina talked to herself as she flipped a page. She absorb as much info as possible before they got back with the supplies. The stress of it was getting to her. Tina needed to stretch her legs and move around the apartment. She wanted another beer to help calm her nerves, but that was a horrible idea. She couldn’t get drunk or even have a slight buzz if she was going to stitch this young man up.
An old voice giggled from across the room. Tina flipped the cloth over on his forehead and then looked over her shoulder to check out the giggling noise.
Morgan sat a few feet from the flat panel TV, she nursed at her beer and had on an episode of the cartoon Metalocalypse. It was a violent part in the show, and the super fans of the band, Dethklok, were getting melted by a volcano of boiling hot coffee.
“My god, this show is nuts. I love it and the music is amazing. These guys are so stupid that it’s hilarious.” Morgan slapped her hand on her knee at the next joke. It tickled Tina how much enjoyment Morgan was getting from the crazy show. She closed her book and got up off the floor to go check on her girls.
Tina heard them playing in their bedroom. She waited for a moment and peeked through the doorway. Watching her babies play together always made her feel better. They were trying to build a fort out of blankets and pillows. Eve was doing her best to tuck the blanket in between the mattress and box spring and then stretch the blanket over to her sister’s bed and tuck that corner in between the other mattress and box spring. It created a roof of cotton two feet off the ground that they played under and called their fort. Alex and Brea laid on their backs surrounded by a mountain of pillows. They delicately clawed at the new roof and asked each other, “When’s the Prince coming to save us?”
“I’m almost done building the fort. I’ll be there to save you soon.” Eve tucked a little more of the blanket under the mattress so that the roof pulled tight.
Tina stepped into the room, “Don’t wait for a Prince to save you. Save yourselves.” Her children stopped playing and looked up at her. They looked so confused. Their faces said, “Why would we do it when there is a Prince coming to save us? Duh, Mama.”
“But that’s what they do? Remember when Daddy saved us today?” Eve itched at her nose and scrunched up her face. The logic seemed sound in her mind.
“Don’t you remember when Mama saved that little girl outside? I didn’t wait for Daddy or a Prince to do the job. I saved that little girl and I saved myself.” There was no point in going into how much Karen had been involved in saving the little girl. That wasn’t the point. She wanted her girls to be strong and think about saving themselves, not wait for Prince Charming to show up.
“We’re just playing fort.” Eve shook her head up at her Mama.
“Yeah, fort.” Alex seconded.
“Fort.” Brea tried explaining to her silly Mama.
Tina could see her advice was falling on deaf ears, “Keep playing so sweetly and maybe we can have some ice cream later, okay?”
“Yeah, ice cream!” The children cheered in unison.
“Mama, is that boy goin
g to be okay?” Eve asked as she pushed the last bit of the blanket under the mattress to lock it into place.
“Yes baby, Mama’s going to get him all fixed up.”
“Good. He’s handsome.” Eve giggled out the word handsome.
“He’s handsome.” Alex covered her mouth with her hands. The admission was too much for her.
“Handsome?” Brea grabbed a pillow and pulled it over her face. Tina smiled at her boy crazy girls and turned to go check on her other big baby, before going back to being a doctor out in the living room. She pushed open the door to her bedroom and found Cliff with all of his tools tossed onto their bed.
“What are you doing?” Tina asked as she leaned against the door frame.
Cliff had been tinkering in his bedroom since Jim left. They didn’t own a garage so most of Cliff’s tools stayed on his side of their walk-in-closet. He carried out a few scraps of metal and a drill from the closet and set them on the bed next to the other tools.
“I’m trying to make my own bladed weapon, like Jim’s spear.” Cliff scanned over his stash of tools and scrap metal, plotting the design.
“Just take down the wooden dowel from the hallway closet and tape a knife to the end like his.” She made it sound so simple. Cliff looked at her in disbelief, it was practically the same face her girls had just given her when she told them to save themselves and not wait for a prince.
“What?” she said with a smile.
Cliff went back to work, “I don’t want to copy him. I want to create my own weapon.” He picked up two nearly identical lengths of aluminum that stood about three-feet high and two inches wide. They were two solid, strong chunks of metal that wouldn’t bend easily and would never corrode. If he put the two pieces together that would make a really nice handle. That was a good start. Also on the bed was a brand new, still in the package circular saw blade. A plan was forming.
“Okay, I’ll leave you to your inventing,” Tina said as she stepped away from the door frame.
Men are so weird sometimes. Why would he waste his time building a weapon when he has a cleaver and a gun? Tina thought as she headed back down the hall to check on her patient.
