Guns, Rations, Rigs and the Undead (Book 1): Guns, Rations, Rigs and the Undead

by Radke, K. E.

“I’ve never held a gun before,” Wyatt admitted.

  “Don’t ever say that again in public. You’re in Texas.”

  Lincoln showed him the basics, how to rack the slide, align his sight, and where to put his finger if he wasn’t ready to shoot, “If that barrel is aimed at something, you better intend to kill it.” Lincoln gestured to the door.

  Wyatt tried the door knob, “It’s locked.”

  Lincoln sighed, a long winded noise like he’d just lost ten years of his life, “I know that. Shoot the window out and unlock it from inside.”

  “You want me to break into the Sheriff’s office?” Wyatt’s voice pitched higher than normal.

  “No time like the present. Rock out with your Glock out.”

  “Here you do it,” Wyatt offered him the gun.

  “You fucking liberal grow some balls and shoot the fucking window. Consider it target practice for surviving the next decade of your life. I don’t have time to find another second, but the hell if I’m going to carry you on my back like a fucking infant. Either help me and take whatever we can in there or pussy out and die with the rest of them,” Lincoln told him bluntly.

  Wyatt tried not to be offended by his brashness because the man had a point. He took aim allowing Lincoln to fix his hold and posture, preparing him for the recoil. Four shots were fired before it broke the glass and Lincoln unlocked the door from the inside.

  Lights above them powered on with their movement down the corridor as they moved cautiously, closed doors on either side of them. His grip on Stella tightened as they headed to the room at the end of the hall. Lincoln had taken the lead and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest because the last thing he wanted was to be caught in the hallway between Wyatt and a flesh eater.

  Eighteen

  L incoln grumbled when Wyatt stepped on the back of his shoe for the second time in a row, “Back the fuck up because if I have to throw this spear, I’m not checking if you’re behind me first.” Without constant movement behind them the lights started shutting off one by one.

  At the end of the corridor they came to a junction giving them the option of going left or right. The room ahead of them was a conference room with a large table in it.

  “We need to find the armory. It shouldn’t be hard to find because the building’s not very big,” Lincoln said sweeping his eyes from left to right.

  “Split up?”

  “No. Never go alone. First rule.”

  Sinking them into darkness, the light flickered off from above. Lincoln waved his arm trying to reactivate it, but the motion detector wasn’t noticing his movement. The little light they had spilled through the door Wyatt left open.

  “Second rule, close doors to buildings so nothing can sneak up behind you,” Lincoln pointed to the door.

  “What if we have to make a quick getaway?”

  “Good point.”

  Lincoln leaned Stella against the wall waving his arms at the ceiling in frustration. The corridor darkened and Lincoln’s eyes had to adjust to the pitch black. He bumped into Wyatt and panic surged through him as he reached for Stella listening to her slide against the wall when he bumped her with his fingertips. The metal hit the tile, the sound echoed through the building. Squatting, he blindly felt on the floor trying to find her.

  “Lincoln,” Wyatt’s voice was trembling, the first sign something was wrong.

  “Can you move out of my light I dropped Stella.”

  “I’m not in the light.”

  Lincoln caught the elongated silhouette on the floor first, streaks of light still peeking through, outlining the dark figure in the doorway. The sound of snapping teeth echoed down the hallway and as it stepped inside the corridor lit up with its movement. A wave of pungent smells submerged all their senses, making their eyes and nostrils burn. Protruding out of his chest was a machete. The hilt still had a hand attached to it, most of the flesh gone.

  Torn clothes swung side to side hanging off its body as it limped approaching them, making the lights above flicker to life one by one.

  “Shoot it!” Lincoln shouted gazing up at Wyatt.

  One hand had the gun and the other was around the golf club. Wyatt knew what he had to do but fear paralyzed him. He took a step backward and was shoved forward, gazing back he saw spit flying from Lincoln’s mouth as the man yelled, “Shoot it! Shoot it now!”

  Lincoln pushed at his arm and Wyatt stared at the gun in his hand, then back at the rotted walking corpse in front of him several feet away. Regaining his legs he moved forward, each step closing the distance even faster between him and the cannibal.

  The grey skin and sunken frothy eyes never wavered from him as he stretched out his arm and aimed. Wyatt finally pulled the trigger right as its teeth snapped down on the barrel of the gun. Several teeth bent outward ripping away from the black gums. Brain, blood and bone exploded over everything in its vicinity as the body toppled over on its back.

  A growing puddle of blood lay beneath it as Lincoln held his hands to his ears and shouted, “Fuck, if you wanted to give him a blow job you could have just said so.” Cracking up, Lincoln skirted the red liquid seeping onto the floor and shut the door they came through.

  “You know you’re the only one laughing right?” Wyatt asked in a feigned steady voice. He kept his eyes on Lincoln to distract his stomach from turning upside down.

  Lincoln was still chuckling to himself when he reached the dead body. Hovering over it he realized its lips had been completely torn off. Nothing but black gums and yellow teeth smeared with red. Flies were buzzing around, probably planting maggots in its ears, Lincoln thought. His eyes fell upon the machete with the almost-picked-clean hand still wrapped around it. One by one he peeled the fingers off the handle dangling it the air between his pointer finger and thumb.

  Knocking on a closed door attached to the hallway, he waited for any sounds before he signaled to Wyatt to hand him the gun. Opening the door, he aimed at an empty room and threw the dead hand inside. Sticking the gun in his holster, he dusted his hands off before leveraging his foot on the flesh eater’s chest. A slick, slurping noise sounded as he pulled the machete free telling Wyatt, “I thought you were going to die. You’ve got little red dots all over your face, like a teenage boy.”

  “Why didn’t you kill it, you could have easily poked it in the eye with your spear.”

  Picking up Stella off the floor he pointed it at Wyatt and said seriously, “That was fucking offensive. She has a name, and this is a very dangerous weapon. Help me move this body in that room to clear the way, and let’s find the armory before anymore of them show up.”

  ☢

  Moving swiftly through the building, it didn’t take long to find the armory and the keys Lincoln stole off the Sheriff granted them entry. The goal was to fill the SUV until it ran out of space.

  Wyatt was loading the rifles, peering up every once in a while to look around and spied a person near the tree line swaying in his direction. After placing the box of ammo on the floor below the seat, Wyatt called loudly down the hallway to Lincoln, “We have company.”

  Dropping everything at the sound of Wyatt’s voice Lincoln pulled Stella from the wall and hurried to the exit. He pulled out binoculars, gazed across the lot and found a ghoul instead of a human being. All the signs were there, dirty blood stained clothes, messy hair, and a broken arm dangling off to the side. Lincoln handed the binoculars to Wyatt, “Confirm what I think it is and I’ll show you what Stella can do.”

  A wisp of a smile lingered on his face at the thought of watching Stella soar through the air at a moving target.

  “I can’t be positive if it’s a person that needs help or a dead man walking,” Wyatt concluded tensely.

  “Go take a closer look and I’ll wait here.”

  “I don’t want to take a closer look.”

  “I’m not the one who thinks it’s a person in broad daylight with blood soaked clothes out for a stroll. Not to mention, they haven’t waved us down
for help,” Lincoln expressed with a cynical tone.

  “I’m not shooting it,” Wyatt made it clear.

  “You don’t have to,” Lincoln grinned boyishly. It was the first time Wyatt’s ever seen the man appear truly happy.

  One deep breath helped the tension ease in Lincoln’s shoulders. Keeping his eyes on the target, he stood very still holding Stella by his side. He waited, calculating every step the ghoul took toward them until it was about fifty feet away. Wyatt grew anxious beside him, grasping the gun in his hand with white knuckles.

  Spreading his legs slightly, he put one in front of the other only a few feet apart and lifted Stella above his right shoulder. Holding her right in the middle, his thumb gently caressed the line where she became whole. He balanced the spear between his thumb, middle and pointer finger. Another deep breath filled his lungs as he calculated the ghoul to be thirty feet away. Its jaw snapping in anticipation of its next meal, only to take a few more steps before the spear lodged in its right eye.

  Triumphant, Lincoln whooped, screaming obscenities as if he was watching his favorite football team on TV and they just made a touchdown.

  “Nice shot,” Wyatt said trying to hide the awe in his voice as they trekked forward so Lincoln could collect Stella. “How’d you learn to throw a spear?”

  “I use to throw the javelin in high school.”

  “Really?” Wyatt asked in surprise. “I would have thought you played football so you could tackle people legally.”

  “I did.”

  “Your family must have been proud.”

  “No, my mom thought the javelin was a waste of time.”

  “So why’d you keep doing it?”

  Lincoln stayed quiet for a moment because they were a few feet away from the stationary ghoul lying on the ground. He placed his boot on the side of its head and freed Stella. Then he answered Wyatt, “A pretty girl.”

  Up close Lincoln studied the person, comparing it to the ones he’s already seen. Same symptoms as before with the cloudy eyes, black veins, grayish skin and unbelievable stench. Using Stella’s tip he pulled the shirt down seeing the veins down its chest spreading everywhere over its body.

  “Lincoln,” Wyatt whispered pulling on his shoulder desperately.

  Looking up, Lincoln saw two more bodies heading their way. These ghouls weren’t casually shuffling forward at their usual steady pace. Each foot stomped against the pavement racing toward them. The pounding clamor mixed with a nonhuman scratchy, guttural roar. Wyatt took off running and Lincoln cursed under his breath. Focusing, he placed his feet firmly on the ground immediately taking a defensive position.

  Lincoln determined which would reach him first and slashed outward with Stella, slicing through its face taking out an eye. Pus and blood mixed, pouring out of the new wounds as it staggered backward. Flicking out his arm again, he whirled around and shoved the second one back with the other end of his spear to buy him some time.

  Only seconds went by before they attacked again. He didn’t hesitate to shove the spear into the head closest to him catching it in the mouth. It snapped its teeth around Stella, pushing forward like it was devouring her.

  Not able to pull the spear out, he held it horizontally in front of him as the other ghoul tackled him to the ground. Lincoln’s head bounced off the concrete as he shoved Stella forward keeping it underneath the ghoul’s neck. Something brushed his arm and his eyes snapped to the left as the ghoul stuck on Stella was still sliding down her trying to get to him. The face scraped against the concrete stretching and tearing leaving a trail of mushy flesh, blood and pus behind. Its hand gained purchase on his clothes pulling Lincoln to the left as he was losing the battle with the one on top of him.

  A set of blood shot eyes completely void of emotion stared back at Lincoln. Chunks of tissue and skin were stuck in its teeth, and the hot breath of rotting meat stung his nose. Its nose was completely gone, peeled away with the top right side of his face exposing the black decaying muscle, veins and rotting tissue.

  Dizzy and out of ideas, Lincoln gave out a war cry pushing Stella against the flesh eater on top of him as its hands tried to pull him into its mouth. Stella vibrated as the other ghoul snapped down on her inches away from his hand.

  A shot rang out, echoing in his ear and the head above him exploded. Turning his head and closing his eyes was the best he could do to cover himself. He felt hard and soft matter spray across his face along with the warm liquid seeping down every inch of exposed skin. Opening his eyes he moved his hand away from the other cannibal’s mouth before its teeth snapped off his pinky.

  Lincoln shoved the headless body off him trying to quickly get to his feet. Instead he leaned too far to the left and fell to one knee. Holding his head he waited for the foggy feeling to subside. Seconds ticked by and he decided to try again before anymore flesh eaters attacked. His legs failed him and he ended up on his hands and knees.

  “Lincoln?” Wyatt’s voice seemed far away, muffled like they were separated by a wall. “Are you hurt?”

  Another gunshot echoed the ringing in Lincoln’s ears and he turned his head swiftly searching for the threat. The movement made him fall on his side. Everything blurred together as he tried to control his arms to lift himself back up.

  Too terrified to move Wyatt froze, not sure if he should be pointing the gun at Lincoln. The cannibals were fast. Wyatt’s apprehensive thoughts threatened to drown him as he realized his only shot at survival might be turning right before his eyes.

  Wyatt had made it to the SUV only to turn around and find Lincoln missing. Out of breath, he aimed the gun with shaky hands and realized he needed to be closer so he wouldn’t miss—or accidently shoot Lincoln. He only took the shot when he knew he could kill the target hoping he’d made it in time. Only I’m to blame, Wyatt gulped at the thought, if Lincoln’s bit. For being a coward and leaving Lincoln to defend himself.

  Regretting every decision he made, Wyatt gritted his teeth and approached Lincoln getting down on one knee. He scanned for wounds without touching Lincoln, not wanting to startle him. Breathing heavily on his side, Lincoln lay covered in blood as it dripped down his arms and face staining the concrete.

  Wyatt snatched the keys from Lincoln’s belt loop. In a haze Lincoln watched the man rush back to the Land Cruiser. On his hands and knees again he tried to stand, balancing on his feet took an effort but he managed it. His mouth moved and he could hear himself calling out to Wyatt hoping it was loud enough to get his attention.

  Convinced Wyatt was trying to leave him for dead in the parking lot, Lincoln kept moving and calling out to Wyatt, watching the man in a haze get into his car. He groped for the keys on his belt loop and found them missing. Obscenities flowed out of his mouth as he watched Wyatt behind the wheel and move toward him.

  Parking a few feet away, Wyatt got out of the SUV letting it idle as he went around it to gently shove Lincoln in the front seat. Stella glittered in the sunlight covered in bodily fluids poking out of a ghoul’s mouth. Half its head was blown away and Wyatt threw up as he pulled Stella out wiping the bodily fluids on his pants.

  Wyatt reached for his phone while speeding through town. Keeping an eye on Lincoln out of the corner of his eye he clicked on Phoebe’s name. As soon as she picked up he could hear several people shouting in the background. Before she said hello he desperately said, “I need you to meet me at Lincoln’s house.”

  “I’m already at Lincoln’s house,” Phoebe answered above a loud din. “The neighbors are revolting. They’re all angry Melanie came home with a bag and Lincoln’s not sharing. I’m trying to keep them from breaking—.” The signal dropped and Wyatt pressed his foot on the gas pedal, ran the red lights, and let the adrenaline hold him together.

  Nineteen

  W ith white knuckles over the steering wheel Wyatt blared the horn as he rounded the corner. He raced through the neighborhood getting to the last block in record time. Screeching tires joined the horn in getting people’s attenti
on as he jumped the curb driving haphazardly making people scatter or risk the chance to get run over. He came to an abrupt stop and got a brief view of Phoebe on the porch guarding Lincoln’s door. Wyatt wrenched the car door open aiming at anyone still on Lincoln’s property. “Leave now,” he said darkly threatening them with the end of his barrel.

  None of the stragglers tried to argue as they retreated with their hands out in surrender, showing Wyatt they weren’t a threat. Ducking out of the covered porch, Phoebe pulled Melanie with her as she hugged Wyatt fiercely, “Oh thank God!”

  He only gave her a minute before frantically pulling her to the SUV and opening Lincoln’s door. She gasped at the sight of him holding her hand to her mouth. Wyatt whispered, “We cannot let the neighbors see him like this. If they’re already trying to break into his house, imagine what they’ll do if they know he’s hurt.”

  “What’s wrong with—,” Phoebe put her hand over Melanie’s mouth so she couldn’t finish her question.

  “It was all Camille’s idea!” Phoebe whispered the woman’s name harshly. “She came over asking about Melanie’s bag and the next thing I know I’m watching a group of them heading down the street. So I investigated and found them on Lincoln’s lawn again.” She realized Lincoln hadn’t tried to exit the vehicle, “Wyatt…what’s wrong with him?”

  Their eyes locked and silent communication passed between them before Wyatt whispered, “Help me get him inside before anyone notices.”

  Wyatt handed the set of keys to Phoebe so she could get the front door open, “Wait for me to open the garage and we’ll be able to get him inside without anyone seeing him drenched in blood. Although, if the neighbors see him like that they might think twice about trying to break into his house.”

  “He can’t even stand.”

  Phoebe’s eyes fled to Lincoln and then she ran to the front door pulling Melanie with her.

  Lincoln wanted to move. He wanted to get out of the car but his thoughts were clouded and every time he lifted his head the world tumbled unsteadily. He followed parts of the conversation, and a few minutes later both Phoebe and Wyatt were helping him out of the car and into his house. Inside they led him to the bathroom, depositing him in the tub.