by Joseph Zuko
Maybe he would answer, just maybe.
The phone made a strange beep sound. Karen looked at its screen and it said the call could not be completed. She tried a few more times but it was always the same result.
“Great.” She said sarcastically.
“What?” Leon said over his shoulder.
“Phones are down.”
“Well, I’m sure it will only be temporary. Don’t worry about it,” Leon said as he kept working.
Karen rested up against the counter and sipped at a fresh glass of water. It looked like she was off the hook for preparing the meal. Leon dipped a butter knife in and out of the jars and spread the contents out onto the slices of bread. He stirred at something on the range. Steam rose out of a hot pot of food and it filled the kitchen with a wonderful smell. The amazing odor hit Karen in her gut like a sucker punch and her belly ached. It wasn’t until then that she realized just how hungry she really was. Knowing that food was on its way and that an hour ago Jim was still alive put Karen into a zoned out state of mind. She was in a tiny happy place and Leon’s actions in front of the range had become a blur.
“Everyone take a seat,” Leon said as he carried plates out of the kitchen and into the dining room. Karen snapped out of her haze and helped the girls up into their chairs. Troy dragged his feet over to the table and dropped down in a slump.
Leon had whipped up a round of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and some canned chicken noodle soup. They devoured their dinners as if they had never eaten before.
Karen sat down with her girls at the dining table. After their first bite Robin and Valerie had a ring of jelly and peanut butter around their mouths. Troy slowly nibbled at his food.
“Mama, why dat?” Robin pointed at the two by six’s blocking the exit to the backyard.
“Why did you make all that noise and why did you build all that stuff?” Valerie raised her eyebrows at her Mama.
Karen worked a bite of food down her throat so she could speak, “It’s to keep the bad people out, baby.”
“Bad people can’t get in?” Valerie tried her best to process what her Mama was saying.
“Nope. They can’t get in that way. We fixed the door to keep them out.” Karen rubbed her baby’s back to comfort the little one.
“What if they have a key?” Valerie’s wheels were turning now.
“Only Mama and Uncle Troy have the key.”
“What about Daddy? Can he get in?” the little one asked.
“Yes, we would let Daddy in and he has a key.”
“Key!” Robin shouted and then she slurped down a noodle from her bowl.
Valerie looked over the room and did a head count. She noticed someone was missing. “Where’s Ganny?” It was something she asked all the time. Where was this person and where were these things? All day long with the questions. She was a question machine with no off switch and Robin was Question Box 2.0. The new and improved model with twice as much question asking power.
“Where Ganny?” Robin seconded her sister and then filled her mouth with another bite.
Troy looked around the room too. He was perplexed by her absence, “Where is Mama? I just dropped her off from her work.” His brain was still scrambled and like a needle on an old warped record it was skipping over grooves of time.
Karen wasn’t ready to answer the question. The bite of chicken tasted sour in her mouth now. She choked it down and searched for the right way to tell her children that their Ganny was lying dead in the backyard. She didn’t want to start crying again. She had already filled her quota for crying today. She was sick of it. Her poor tear ducts had been squeezed dry and were on strike. They refused to produce anymore tears until their demands had been met and they had an excellent union rep so it was going to take a while to come to terms.
Leon saw Karen struggling to find the right words. He decided to lend a helping hand, “She’s gone.” Their four heads snapped in his direction and now he was on the spot. “I mean, she has stepped out and will be gone for a long time.” He hoped that would be enough and he stared down into his soup.
Valerie thought about what he said for a moment, “But where did she go? She was just back there,” she said as she pointed out into the yard. She was still out there, just on the other side of the blinds. Her body getting colder by the second.
Karen thought quickly, “Baby, eat up and I promise I will tell you all about it when it’s bedtime. Okay?” Karen and the tear ducts had come to an agreement. She would give them most of the day off, but when the sun set and it was time for bed she was allowed to cry herself to sleep.
Deal? Karen pleaded.
Deal. The tear ducts conceded.
Troy set his sandwich down, “My stomach feels upset.”
Leon’s eyes lit up, “I read about this in the medical handbook. Okay, he might feel nauseous and that’s normal. It also said he could be fine in a few hours or a couple days. It said everyone was different and it would be difficult to say how long it would take for him to heal.” He paused for a moment to internally thumb through his files. Okay, he found the next section. “We need to keep him alert, but try not to make him think too much or do too many activities for the next few days. Oh, and we need to keep ice on it for about twenty minutes at a time.” Leon searched the far corners of his mind to see if there was any other tidbits of info he needed to tell her, but that was it.
Troy leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick.” He stood up from the table and raced to the bathroom.
“He’ll be fine. Book said it’s normal,” Leon said as he scooped the last of his dinner into his mouth.
Karen had also just finished and in the nick of time. The nasty sounds coming from Troy in the bathroom would have made it impossible to finish her meal.
“Once we get the windows blocked up, then what?” Leon asked as he set his dirty dishes in the sink. He tried his best to ignore the vomiting going on less than twenty-feet away.
“I don’t know. We have food and water. We need you to get another ride. Other than that I really don’t know,” Karen stood up, joined him in the kitchen and dropped her dishes off in the sink too.
“Well I’m sure I can find us a hot set of wheels. Most of these houses had a truck or car out front,” Leon beamed with pride. He loved that his skills were so handy in this new crazy world.
“Maybe you could show me how to get a car going? Just in case.”
No one had ever asked Leon to train them. He was the master and now he had an apprentice. The idea excited him. “No problem. If we clear a spot in the garage we could pull a car in there and I could show you the basics.” Leon really lit up about this new idea. Some alone time with Karen. Just the two of them in the front seat of a car. It would be like they were in high school and on a date. Except that they would be in a garage with the world falling apart outside. He would show her what wires to cross under the steering column instead of trying to touch her sweet boobies. Plus her children from her current marriage would be there and constantly asking questions, but other than that it would be just like a date.
Nice.
Troy reentered the kitchen, one hand rubbed his belly the other was rubbing his forehead, “I think I broke the toilet. It won’t flush. I keep hitting the lever and nothing happens. I need to sit back down I’m getting dizzy.” Troy left the kitchen in a hurry and headed for the couch in the living room.
Valerie smiled at her sister, “Uncle Troy broke the toilet.”
“Uncle Troy broke the toilet?” Robin repeated it and was also asking a question at the same time.
Great, the toilet is broken! Karen rolled her eyes. It wasn’t like she could run down to the plumbing store and get a new lever. Then the thought hit her.
What are we going to do about bathroom breaks if the water gets cut off and we can’t go outside?
She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. One problem at a time. They needed to get this place locked down and
secure first. Then she would worry about where the hell everyone was going to take their shits.
CHAPTER 8
Jim felt his face go flush and sweat instantly soaked his brow. He was frozen. Fear had taken complete control. An asshole with a shotgun had got the drop on him.
How many of them were hiding in the dark corners of this store?
Could Frank finish this jerk off before the asshole squeezed the trigger on the shotgun?
Is Frank willing to kill a human to save me?
“I said drop the spear!” the voice called from the shadows.
Sara and Frank snapped to. Frank had his rifle up and ready, but not sure where to aim yet. He stepped close to Jim’s shoulder. Sara had her bat in the air, itching for a fight, but it was not going to help much unless she could hit a fastball pitched by a twelve gauge.
“Please, we don’t want any problems. We thought the store was abandoned,” Jim pleaded.
The shotgun cocked. They flinched and Jim raised his hands into the air.
“We’re low on ammo!” Frank growled.
The man behind the gun said nothing. Seconds felt like minutes to Jim.
Frank’s eyes adjusted to the dark and he could make out the barrel waving in the air.
“No one has to get hurt here!” Sara shouted into the darkness.
“Drop the weapons, or I will open fire!” the voice sounded desperate.
Jim thought maybe he could reason with this person.
“Look, my name is Jim Blackmore, we have an injured man back at our place that needs the medical supplies we picked up at RS Medical. Please let us go so we can save his life!”
BOOM!
The Stranger fired the shotgun into the floor directly in front of Jim’s crew. The buckshot ripped into the cheap carpet and then he cocked it again. Jim didn’t know what scared him more, the pellets that landed at his feet or the sound that shotgun made when it was cocked.
Jim dropped his spear right away and Sara let go of her bat a second later. The weapons crashed to the floor at their feet. Frank released his SKS and the gun swung by its shoulder strap and ended under his armpit. They held their hands high in the air.
“What do you want?!” Jim screeched at the Stranger.
“Kick them over here and drop that rifle.” The Stranger barked his orders. “On your knees, hands behind your head!”
“Motherfucker!” Sara spit the word out at him.
Frank unslung the shoulder strap and laid his gun on the floor. They kicked their weapons across the floor into the darkness.
Jim gritted his teeth and grunted as he dropped to his knees. Sara and Frank joined him on their knees. What choice did they have? They weren’t trained negotiators, they weren’t military, and there was no back up coming to save them. Jim’s hands slid down the back of his head and stopped at the base of his skull.
They were fucked.
How many times was Jim going to have a gun shoved in his face today? If they somehow got out of this, Jim swore to himself that in the future they would be better prepared before entering any building. He was not sure how he was going to be better prepared, but he would be damned if he let himself and his crew get ambushed again.
The Stranger stepped from the darkness. He was a weasel of a man with a thin body and a gaunt face. He was dressed like an accountant in black slacks and a white button up short-sleeved dress shirt. His brown hair was slicked over tight to his scalp and one of the lenses in his glasses had a crack that ran rim to rim. He was the kind of man that would give you the creeps if he stood next to you in line at the Post Office. The guy every kid was warned about and no one went near his house. He held the shotgun tight to his shoulder with one hand and gripped a set of handcuffs in the other. He paused for a moment when he stood out into the light. He looked over the humans on their knees. The Stranger’s face held a smug smile. He was so satisfied with himself. No one else stepped from the shadows. It was just the one weasel. That really pissed Jim off.
One goddamn Poindexter? One guy had us trapped?
Something rattled the half closed gate at the entrance of the store. The Stranger stepped farther across the shop and opened fire.
BOOM! BOOM!
Jim glanced over his shoulder at the front of the store. Two infected were released from their misery and the extra buckshot peppered the back of the PT Cruiser.
“Keep your goddamn hands on the back of your heads!” The Stranger cocked his shotgun again and aimed it back at the gang on their knees. He kept the barrel pointed at them as he pulled the gate shut. It slammed metal to metal, but the lock was shot off by Frank so the Stranger used the handcuffs to secure the gate. The wristlocks clicked into place around the metal frame and the gates door. Now they were locked in.
“What the fuck do you want? Money? Food?” Sara’s tone dropped.
The Stranger produced another set of cuffs from his back pocket. He moved over to the group and stood behind Frank. His lack of communication was driving Jim nuts.
What does he want?
If it’s not to kill us then what?
Jim’s mind ran wild over all of the different horrible scenarios that might happen to them. The Stranger noticed Jim staring up at him so he cracked the butt of the shotgun into the top of Jim’s spine. The wood stock landed just above the backpack strapped onto Jim’s torso. The impact sent Jim to his stomach, his hands came off his skull just in time to keep his face from crashing into the unforgiving floor.
“Leave him alone, you animal!” Sara’s hands came off the back of her head to help Jim up. As she reached for him the Stranger aimed the gun at her beautiful face.
“Do not touch him,” the Stranger said with no emotion.
Pain radiated all through Jim’s body. It felt like he pinched a nerve. Laying there on his belly he clutched at his spine and grunted through the agony. His hands pressed down on his spine trying to push the sting away, but nothing helped.
“Get up!” the Stranger yelled at Jim as he grabbed Frank’s wrist and slapped one side of the cuffs onto it. Then he pulled Frank’s arm down off his skull and placed it at the small of his back.
Before Jim lifted himself up off of the floor, his hands worked to nurse the bones of his vertebrae. As his fingertips rubbed at his sore back the pinky on his right hand brushed against the cold steel head of the hammer cradled in his backpack. The nose of the tool peeked out from a small opening in the zipper.
The Stranger had Frank’s other hand down off his head and at the small of his back. He clicked the last cuff around Frank’s thick wrist.
Jim pretended to nurse at his wound as he pushed himself up off the floor. He rocked back onto his knees and pivoted himself on the floor to face the Stranger and hid what he was doing. With both hands behind his head, he worked to get more of the hammer free from the bag without the Stranger noticing.
“This is bullshit, man. The world is going to hell and you’re fucking around with us!” Frank’s words grumbled out of his mouth.
That’s it Frank, keep talking.
The Stranger stepped around to face the mouthy old man. He held his shotgun inches from Frank’s grizzled mug.
“I got better shit to do than sit around here with a pencil-dick like you.”
There we go. I almost got it.
The Stranger squatted down in front of Frank. They were eye-to-eye.
“Do you even have a fucking clue? What are you doing?” Frank spit in the man’s face as he finished the sentence. It landed on the Stranger’s glasses and hung from the black rim.
Just a little more. Jim could feel that most of the head of the hammer was free now.
“What do you want with us?!” Frank flexed against his restraints.
“I am going to do things to you,” as the Stranger talked his voice grew with excitement. “I am going to do all of the things I have always wanted to do, but were too afraid I would get caught.”
“You don’t have to hurt anyone. You could let us go.” Sara p
leaded with the monster.
He kept his eyes trained on Frank as he spoke, “But I want to hurt you. I want to hurt you so, so bad.” The Stranger’s upper lip twitched with anticipation. He stood up quickly and stepped over to the counter. Another set of handcuffs laid out on the glass. He snatched them up and moved across the floor towards Sara. She couldn’t help herself and tears began to fall as she cried quietly. No matter how tough she was this monster was too much for her to take.
“Stop that! Do not cry yet! You will know when it is time to cry!” The Stranger grabbed a fist full of Sara’s long red hair and snapped her head back. She yelped sharply.
All of the yelling and gunshots had attracted a few more infected zombies to the gun shop’s front door. The dead beasts pulled at the metal gate but the cuffs held firm.
“Let her go asshole!” Frank fought to get to his feet.
“Well, look at this. We have an audience,” the Stranger said as he used Sara’s hair like a handle to pull her around to face the zombies at the entrance. She gripped his wrist and pulled it tight against her skull trying desperately to keep her bright red hair in her head, instead of it being yanked out.
“I am going to give them one hell of a show.” The Stranger belched out a full and hardy laugh.
Jim noticed the Stranger was relaxed with his shotgun. It pointed lazily off to the side. This was his chance. He had a good grip on the head of the hammer. Frank was yelling a barrage of curse words. The Stranger was engrossed with the power he had over the helpless humans and continued to laugh maniacally.
Jim had to move fast. He mustered all of his strength and told his brain to calm down and shut the hell up. He did not care how much his body ached. He needed it to move like a bolt of lightning. Jim held the hammer upside down and he gripped the wood handle tightly as the head of the tool poked out the bottom of his fist. Jim was a fraction of a second away from preforming a one hundred percent true hammer-fist on this weasel. Over the years he had thrown thousands of Krav Maga hammer-fists in class. It’s when you make contact with the butt of you fist against the target. It was a safe way to deliver a powerful strike with less fear that you would break your wrist.
