“Yeah, that’s only because we treated him right when he needed a favor.” Marcus turned and jutted a finger toward Angie, then brought the finger to his lips and said, “Shhh….”
Angie cowered, sinking deeper into the couch.
Fists continued hitting the door, and then more fists joined in, pounding on the side of the trailer as well.
The shit had already hit the fan when Rico ate the brass knuckle sandwich. He had hoped he had a chance, no matter how small it might have been, to outsmart his captors and escape. Now, the undead had arrived to make a bad situation worse. Rico looked frantically about and pulled at his restraints.
“Aw, don’t worry there, little man,” Marcus said, turning back to Rico. “We’re safe from them out there. We got ourselves an honest to God cop to protect and serve. Oh wait, he looks a little tied up right now. Sucks to be you, eh?”
“What do you want?” Rico’s dry throat barely eked out the words through swollen lips.
“Oh, I think you know what I want,” Marcus said. “I want to know if you have been protecting Angie, here? Or, have you just been serving her?”
“What?” Was this guy insane? Zombies were outside trying to get in and all this douche could worry about was his petty vendetta?
“You see.” Marcus reached around his back. His hand came back with the pistol. He stepped over and placed the barrel against Rico’s head. “I have good reason to believe you owe me some money for the date you went on with my Bettie over there. And seeing as to how it’s the end of the world, I don’t think money is going to buy me much anymore. I might prefer that Harley of yours. And as a matter of fact…” Marcus reached into his pocket and pulled out Rico’s keys. He dangled them in the cop’s face. “I have already taken the liberty of ridding you of that ride anyway.”
“Look, you’ve got all the cards. The only wrong thing I did to you was save Angie from certain death. I haven’t harmed her—haven’t touched her. You can have the bike and any money, or anything else I have. The world has gone to shit. Let me take Angie, and let’s go our separate ways. You don’t need her anymore. She’ll just slow you down,” Rico said. This time he was more subtle while testing the restraints. They were tight, but not that tight. If he had enough time, he could work his way free from them.
Marcus laughed. Gus wandered over to his side wearing a confused expression, then forced out a laugh himself.
“You don’t get it, do you, copper? Angie and me is like family. There ain’t no you and her. If I let you go, you’ll go alone. Angie needs me. She needs her medicine. If she runs off with you then that means no meds. We wouldn’t want our little Bettie getting sick, would we?”
Marcus said the words with such odd concern, Rico wondered if the man truly had a soft spot for Angie. Perhaps he felt like his manhood was challenged because Rico took her.
If that were the case, it didn’t help matters that Angie had pleaded with Marcus to leave him alone. A jealous pimp was far more dangerous and unpredictable than an angry pimp.
The pounding on the trailer from reanimated hands grew louder. A window in the kitchen cracked, and a few blows later, glass rained down to the garbage covered floor.
Gus hurried over to the refrigerator and snatched up his shotgun. He pumped once and pointed the barrel at the window. A squeeze of the trigger brought a horrific blast muffled only by the walls of the trailer.
Rico felt like his head was inside a brass gong and someone had struck it with a mallet. The loud noise even made his teeth hurt. The shit was about to get real, and Rico was tied up for lunch.
“Please,” Rico said. “Let me loose. I can help you. We need to get rid of the undead outside before they get in. This trailer won’t hold them off forever. Call a truce. I give you my word, you can trust me.”
“Please, let me loose,” Marcus mocked. “If I were your prisoner, would you give me a gun?”
Rico turned his gaze to the floor.
“Give me a break. I wasn’t born last night. We got a bunch of dead people walking around outside who want to eat us. Big deal. I’m used to dealing with deadbeats. They ain’t no different than a lot of my regular customers. They want to sink their teeth in my Betties. Well, they have another think coming. It’s going to cost them, same as everyone else.”
Now he knew Marcus was completely off his rocker. Was it genetic, or just a burnout from all the years of drug abuse? “What are you talking about?” Rico protested. “That doesn’t even make sense. Untie me and let’s get them before they get us. I’ll leave right after, and you’ll never see me again.”
“And where exactly would you go? Just cause you’re a cop doesn’t mean you got it all figured out. You think we don’t already have a plan? Well, we do. It started with teaching you a lesson. That lesson ain’t over with yet.” Marcus grabbed Rico by the shirt.
Gus stepped in the living room and waited to watch.
Another window from somewhere in the back shattered. Something large thumped on the floor a minute later. A ghastly snarl followed.
“I think one them found a way in. Gus, head on back there and take care of it. Don’t go get yourself bit neither,” Marcus said
Gus nodded, gripped the shotgun in both hands, stepped past Marcus and Rico, and then headed toward the back rooms.
Marcus hurried over to the window and looked out front, seemingly distracted from dishing out any of his special justice.
Rico gave a quick glance back at Angie, hoping Marcus wouldn’t notice. She looked distraught, and mouthed the words, ‘I’m so sorry.’ Rico shot her a furtive wink.
“You blowing kisses to my girl?”
Fuck! Busted, Rico thought.
Marcus grinned. “I knew it. I knew it. All cops got a thing for Betties. You’re no different, boy. You might as well own up to it and take your ass kicking like a man.”
“Untie me and fight me like a man!” Rico yelled.
“Just leave him alone,” Angie cried out. She looked as if she were about to say something else when Marcus glared at her. Angie’s mouth froze open, and then her bottom jaw started to quiver. She folded within herself and sank back down on the couch.
“Can you tell I got her trained good? She’s like a huntin’ dog. Takes orders from her master. You ain’t her master. I am.” Marcus made an animated wink, mocking Rico’s stealth communication to Angie.
Rico boiled with anger. How could anyone treat another living human being like they were just a piece of meat? How much has Angie had to suffer serving under this man’s thumb? If he managed to make it out of this alive, he was going to give Marcus and his muscle a taste of their own medicine.
“Hey, don’t look at me that way, or I’ll—” Marcus’s words were cut short by the loud report of the shotgun in the other room. After a few moments of pause, he called out, “You okay back there?”
“Yeah, Boss!” Gus called back. “One of ’em climbed in through the window. Looks like more of ’em gathering out there, too.”
“Please listen to me,” Rico said. “This trailer’s not much stronger than a wet cracker box. We need to find some place with solid walls to hole up. I don’t know if that TV will do any good, but if you have a radio, there might be some news on it that will tell us where it’s safe to go.”
Gus stepped back into the room with the shotgun over his shoulder. Blood splattered his shirt in various places it hadn’t before. “I heard him say we might need to find a better place to stay. I think he might be right, Boss. This here ain’t no place to make a stand. Won’t be long before—”
“Won’t be long before I crack your skull open!” Marcus shouted. “Who the hell gave you permission to think?”
Damn, this Marcus character must be one bad dude to treat the big guy like that, Rico thought.
Gus dropped his gaze to the floor and back shuffled into the kitchen.
“That’s right,” Marcus said. “Get on back there and keep an eye on things. Take care of it if it becomes a problem. I’m
in charge here. No one else.” He pulled up the gold chain around his neck from under his shirt and pointed to the letters spelling his name. “See this? It says Marcus. Do you know where my name came from? Well, it’s ancient, is what it is. Came from the Roman god of war—Mars. I am the god of war. You got that?”
“I didn’t mean nothing by it, Boss. But it couldn’t hurt to get an idea what’s going on out there. It would give us some options. You always say it’s a good thing to have options.”
“I tell you what, Gus.” Marcus ran his fingers through his hair, clearly agitated. “It is a good thing to have options, but after we do that, it’s back to business. And seeing as to how you think this cop is so bright, you get to clean up the living room when we finish with him. Got it?”
“But, Boss—”
“But, nothing.” Marcus cut the big guy’s words short and walked toward Angie. She lowered her head and raised her arms after scooting over out of his way. He leaned over an end table by the couch and grabbed hold of an electrical cord plugged into the wall. His fingers followed the cord down to the floor under the trash and fished out a radio.
“Here it is, but you don’t realize what’s going on. All the copper’s doing is stalling. And you don’t have the brains to see that, but I do. Nothing good is going to come of it. There’s nothing airing on the TV, so I doubt anything would be on the radio. Even if there was some information, why would we follow the rest of the sheeple? We need to be outside of the main group—away from the authorities where we can be our own bosses. We’ll set up fort and get customers to come to us. Do you know what they call that, Gus? When you get to make your own rules?”
“Uh, being boss?”
“Well, yeah, but that’s not what I’m driving at. When you don’t take orders from no one, then you’re what’s called autonomous.”
“Anonymous?”
“No, dill weed. A-ton-o-mus.”
“I’m sorry, Boss.”
“Damn straight, you’re sorry.” Marcus set the radio on the table and eyed Angie. He leaned over, pooching out his lips as if he was going to kiss her. She braced herself but didn’t pull away. His lips came closer until they touched her swollen cheek. Angie held her breath until he made a big smacking noise and stood straight.
“You think you can manage to work that thing, June Melon?” Marcus nodded at the radio.
Angie fidgeted on the couch until Marcus moved away. She slid over by the radio and flipped the ‘on’ switch. Static blared through the small speakers. She turned down the volume and gazed up at Marcus.
“That’s the strongest station in these parts. See, I told you it was a waste of time. Nothing. Now let’s quit stalling.” Marcus laced his fingers together and stretched them outward until they cracked. “All good things must come to an end.” An evil smile curled on his lips as he dipped into his pocket and pulled out the brass knuckles.
“Try another station,” Rico pleaded.
Angie didn’t wait for permission and began turning the knob. The radio popped and crackled through white noise. The background beat of the undead against the trailer intensified Rico’s feeling of hopelessness.
Marcus slid his fingers through the holes of the polished metal. He flexed his grip a few times—making a fist. “It ain’t dark outside yet, but you’re about to be seeing stars.”
Before Marcus made another move, the radio spit out a half word amongst the static as Angie turned the knob.
“Wait, go back. I heard something—go back,” Rico cried.
Marcus rolled his eyes.
“I heard it, too,” Gus said.
Angie slowly twisted the knob, trying to find the station. She tuned and found a low monotone voice.
“Turn it up,” Gus said from the kitchen.
As the volume increased, so did the static, but the voice beneath became clearer.
Gus hurried into the living room and turned an ear toward the radio while keeping an eye on the kitchen.
“Martial law has been instated by the President of the United States. Any person, or persons, showing signs of aggression to police or military will be shot on sight. Please remain indoors if at all possible. Avoid traveling to large towns or cities as traffic is set for contra flow leading away.”
The news took some wind out of Marcus’s sails. His shoulders slumped, and he dropped his hands to his side. He now listened as attentively as the others did.
“Military bases are being set up for safe zones. Evacuees are advised to report to the nearest military base. Evacuation points for the state of Texas include: Camp Bowie—Brownwood. Camp Bullis—San Antonio. Camp Mabry—Austin. Fort Bliss—El Paso. Fort Hood—Killeen. Fort Bliss—Bastrop County. Martial law has been instated under the Presid—”
“It’s just a recording,” Rico said. “It will keep repeating itself.”
Angie turned the radio off. “What does that all mean?”
“Yeah, what should we do, Boss?”
“It means nothing, and we should do nothing.” Marcus grumbled, stepped forward, and yanked the radio from the wall. “None of those bases are close to us. Besides, you heard them. They said to stay put. I bet people are leaving the cities like ants hightailing it out of a kicked over pile.”
No sooner had the words left his lips than the hinges on the door rattled as the ghouls outside pressed against it. A screw head popped off the upper hinge and fell to the floor. All gazes in the room turned to the small piece of metal.
Rico pulled at his restraints to free himself and grunted in frustration. Before Marcus could turn toward him to do anything about it, the top door hinge pulled free from the frame.
Chapter 14
Marcus bounded over to the door and threw his weight against it. His efforts were too little, too late, as the bottom hinge pulled free next. He cursed and tried to hold the intruders back with his shoulder pressed against the door. As he reached for the pistol, the weight of the zombies forced him to his back on the floor. The gun slipped free of his grasp and bounced only a few feet away from Rico.
Angie screamed through ghastly sounds emanating from the zombie horde. She clambered to her feet atop the pile of junk on the couch.
Gus lifted the shotgun and fired into the lead ghoul from the kitchen. The blast only added to the mass chaos engulfing the room.
The zombie caught the buckshot across the face and chest. The steel balls ripped out chunks of flesh and sent jet black blood pouring out the wounds. One of the projectiles found its mark in the brain. The zombie fell forward and landed on the door, unmoving.
Marcus groaned against the added weight and struggled to push the door off him.
As badly as Rico wanted to see Marcus disposed of, now was not the time. He needed that scumbag and his muscle to keep the zombies at bay until he could break free.
Rico rocked in the chair as he fought against the restraints. The struggle tipped him off balance and onto the floor. The chair was constructed out of cheap wood with a wicker back and seat. He felt it flex some and the bonds loosen a bit. It wasn’t enough, and he pushed through the pain as he redoubled his efforts to escape.
Where was Angie? Why wasn’t she helping him? He wasn’t sure if she were even still in the room. Gus fired the shotgun two more times. Rico saw chunks of flesh explode and the zombies at the door fall back. Marcus yelled for help. Rico writhed and thrashed about as a wild animal caught in a trap. With every move, he felt the bonds give a little. Moans of hunger grew from outside. He craned his neck around and saw three more zombies shuffle into the doorway.
Gus must have been too excited not to have realized he had one foot on the door Marcus was trapped underneath. The massive man’s eyes bugged nearly out their sockets, and a faraway expression of uncertainty gripped his face.
“Get this door off me,” Marcus shouted. Gus fired the gun again until it clicked empty. He pulled a shell from his belt and began reloading.
Angie jumped off the couch and leaped over Rico. She slid on some maga
zines as she tore down the hall.
Rico couldn’t believe she had been in the room the whole time and didn’t give him a hand. Now was not the time for this girl to lose it. “Angie, come back and help me!”
However, it didn’t look as if she were coming back. He jerked and tugged. No matter what, he couldn’t break free.
Two zombies lumbered inside and sent Gus back on his heels, heading toward the kitchen. A third entered and must have noticed Marcus squirming from underneath the door. It knelt down and crawled toward him.
The doorway was empty of new guests for now. Marcus was about to get the surprise of his life, and Rico couldn’t figure why Gus hadn’t blasted the ones after him.
Gus cursed, “Dammit! It’s jammed!”
Okay, that answered that question. Gus picked the wrong day to have trouble with his shotgun. Outside, Rico saw more undead heading up the gravel driveway toward the trailer. It wouldn’t be long before the place was totally overrun.
The groans of the walking dead approaching intertwined to form an ethereal hymn of sadness—a beckoning call for more to join in the pursuit to satiate the unquenching hunger.
“Gus, help me!” Marcus shouted. He had managed to work his head and left arm from under the door, and was having one hell of a time keeping the hungry monster from getting him. The thing’s teeth gnashed at the air, only because Marcus had a tight grip around its throat. “Gus, what the fuck are you doing? Help me!”
Rico strained with all he had against his bonds. His eyes darted from the open doorway and the creatures making their way toward the trailer, at Marcus’s gun—and to his shock, his keys—just a few feet away on the floor, and then back at the open doorway.
If he didn’t break free soon, he was a dead man.
Gus held the shotgun in both hands and used it to shove the two undead back toward the front door opening. One of them crashed against the wall and slid to the floor. The other righted itself and continued to advance on the large man. He fumbled with the ejector and a spent shell flew out. “Got it!” His fingers felt for more ammo on his belt but came up empty. He darted to the kitchen counter and dug into a box of shells. In a blind panic, he attempted to reload.
The Dark Times: A Zombie Novel Page 12
