Fred pulled Mike away, and wrapped his friend in his arms, holding him tight, letting the anger dissipate. “Easy, easy, Mike.”
When Mike finally calmed, Fred released him, and let him fall onto his knees. Two zombies shuffled up on the left and right. Fred took out his knife and easily dispatched them before they could do any harm.
“We have to kill them all,” Mike replied, looking at the ground, shaking from anger, not feeling the bruises covering his hands or the pain running through them.
“That’s just the anger talking.”
“No, tonight, this is going to end!” Mike got up from his knees. “I’m going back to get the rest of my weapons, and I’m going to kill every one of those motherfuckers! They will never live to see the sunrise again!”
“Calm down, all right. You’re going to get yourself killed talking like that,” Fred replied, taking out another zombie shambling towards them.
“I’m calm. I’m peachy. I’m fucking jim dandy,” Mike replied, and started to climb up the rope ladder Fred had used to get to the ground.
Fred looked up at Mike, and then hit the button on his Walkie.
“We have an issue. Can you come down to the wall? Cuckoo Bird is now officially cuckoo. I’m at Guard Tower 1.”
“Sure.” A sleepy Double replied a few minutes later. “Be there as soon as we get dressed.”
“Thanks, and hurry,” Fred replied, and climbed up after Mike. When he reached the top, he saw Mike kneeling down, making sure all his weapons were loaded. Fred looked at him and then at the weapons. There were two pistols, a rifle, and an AK-47.
“You were expecting them to come back or maybe hoping they would? Weren’t you?” Fred asked, realization dawning on him as to why Mike was so fully loaded on guard duty. “That’s why you wanted the night shift even though we all thought you were too tired to do it.”
“Leave me alone! This isn’t your war!”
“Mike, this is insane! Do you want to die tonight?”
“Are you going to try and stop me?” Mike stood up from his kneeling position, and stepped up to Fred, standing nearly nose to nose with him.
“I’m not going to fight you, Mike. I just want you to be a little cooler about it all. This could be a gigantic army for all you know. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”
Mike turned away from him, and put a pistol into each holder. He put on his vest that held hand grenades and two small knives. He slung the rifle over his shoulder, and picked up the AK-47.
Fred stood silent and waited, hoping Double Trouble would be there soon, but they were nowhere to be seen.
Mike started to descend.
“Are you going to just walk away without saying anything?”
Mike paused, and looked at Fred. “I’ve tried so hard to build a community here that focuses on nothing but the positive. Then this happened, and it just shattered it all. I can’t let that come to pass. If you want to help. I’ll be out on Route 9.”
“Okay, but you can’t – ”
Mike descended, leaving Fred hanging.
On the ground, Mike eyeballed the scene for zombies, but he didn’t see any. With the coast clear, he made his over to one of the bikes. It was a mean machine, skull headlight, THE SATANISTS spelled out in burning flames on the side of the gas tank, chrome everything, and white letter tires. He pushed up the kick stand, cranked the machine, and let it roar across the night. He wedged the AK-47 into spot where it would securely ride, and then took off down the road.
Fred watched the tail lights fade into the distance, as Double Trouble finally arrived. He did his best to explain the situation, and then left the two girls on guard duty. He made his way down to the ground, and ran over to the two remaining bikes. He climbed on board one of them. This machine had the words THE SATANISTS dripping like blood across the gas tank. The bike was black, and chrome filled from headlights to tail pipes. Fred started the bike, and then followed after Mike.
+
It wasn’t hard to find the home of The Satanists. The bar was a large wooden structure sitting in the middle of nowhere just off the crumbly cracked asphalt of what used to be a very busy Route 9. It had a rusted tin roof, no windows, and a garage door entrance that was currently rolled up in order to let in fresh air. There were perimeter lights set up around the place, so when you approached it you could see it from miles away.
Mike angled the bike off the road, parked the machine, and made his way into the woods, scanning the world around him for zombies. It was clean and walking corpse free. He walked until he reached the edge of the woods, and knelt down in the grass. From where he was kneeling, he could see the bar, and all that was going on in and around it. There were ten to maybe twelve men inside, having a good time, drinking and listening to loud music. They were all dressed similar to one another in outfits of jeans, tee shirts, and boots. From where he was kneeling, he could also see women dancing naked on some of the tables, but these women didn’t look like they were doing it for pleasure. Their bodies showed signs of abuse, whip marks on the back, bruises all over their flesh. He couldn’t tell the women’s ages, but he knew these kinds of guys would only want fresh meat.
Mike pulled his eyes away from the interior, and scanned the exterior. He saw that on the wall beside the door was a large red devil face complete with horns. Underneath this face were the words: THE SATANISTS in big orange red letters. He scanned the grounds beyond the bar, and that’s when he noticed the moat and the cage. He crept down to the edge of the moat, eyes scanning for guards, scanning for movement, scanning for anything that might give his investigation away. No one saw or stopped him, no lights came on, as he stopped at the edge of the moat, and peered down into the darkness that smelled like raw torn open dirt and dead rotting flesh. He could see zombies of all ages and sizes moving about inside this make shift circle, shuffling forward on an endless track that went round and round. He noticed a few of these creatures had stopped to look up at him, as he looked down at them.
Mike slipped back into his hiding spot when a couple of the Satanists came out of the bar. They didn’t have their masks on, so Mike could see that they looked like typical guys, middle-aged, covered in sweat and dirt. Both had beards and long shaggy hair.
Mike watched, as one of the Satanists opened the cage door. The guy reached into the cage, and pulled out one of three naked guys who were being held captive inside it. Once the guy was out, the Satanist slammed the door closed keeping the other two from escaping. The prisoner (somewhere in his twenties) was badly beaten, and he had the words CHUM scrawled across his chest in big jagged red scabby letters.
The Satanist dragged the naked prisoner over to the edge of the pit, and let the zombies converge. Both Satanists laughed as the prisoner cried for help and mercy. One of the Satanists took out his knife, and stabbed the guy three times in the side. He let the prisoner bleed out for a moment, dripping blood onto the zombies below, and when the zombies were all riled up, ready for a good old feeding frenzy, the Satanist tossed the prisoner into the moat. Both guys laughed again, as they watched the young guy get torn to shreds by the zombies. Finished with feeding their undead pets, both Satanists decided to walk back inside. One of them paused beside the cage, as the other Satanist went back to join the party.
“Thirsty,” the Satanist replied and laughed, as he unzipped his pants and urinated on the men inside the cage. When the Satanist was finished, he zipped up, spit on them, kicked the cage, and then made his way back inside.
Mike felt nauseous, felt like throwing up. He now knew that these guys couldn’t exist any longer, and any reservations he might have had about taking a human life stopped with these animals. He didn’t know how he was going to defeat them, but he knew he had to be the guy who would bring their crimes to a screeching halt.
“Found you,” Fred replied from behind him.
“Shit, Fred, bout gave me a heart attack,” Mike replied, startled, looking at his friend.
“I c
ouldn’t let you do this alone. Could I?”
“Just go back. I don’t want your blood on my hands if this goes wrong.”
“I’m not leaving,” Fred replied, scanning the bar and the areas around it. “And don’t be such a hero. I’ve survived in this world just as easily as you have. Okay?”
Mike looked Fred over, thought back to that Christmas toy run they went on together. It seemed like light years ago now. All that good. All that hope and promise they had created that first Christmas season. He so badly wanted to go back there now, back to the early days of the Apocalypse when it was all about survival, staying alive, fighting off the zombies. Now, it was more about the human element. How do you survive when supplies are low? How do you survive when no one is there to govern right from wrong? How do you keep that animalistic side of human nature at bay when no one is there to stop it? That is where all survivors found themselves now. Zombies were no longer the real threat. It was the humans you had to worry about.
“You there,” Fred replied, waving a hand in front of Mike’s face.
Mike unsnapped from his thoughts. “Yeah, just off in thought.”
“Care to clue me in?”
Mike was about to answer when a couple of bike’s roared up the small road that led into the place. The riders parked their bikes, dismounted, and walked over to the edge of the zombie moat. As they took off their helmets, one of them stepped on something hidden in the grass. A second later, a small metal bridge slid out from the Earth, stopping when it reached the other side. The two guys moved across it, and when they were on the other side, one of the guys stepped on another hidden button. The bridge slid back to its hiding place.
“Clever,” Fred replied.
“Who would have thought these guys were smart enough for that?”
Fred nodded his head. “So, what’s the plan?”
“I have an idea. Let’s just hope they have what I’m looking for. Come on, let’s check out the back.”
The front of the building might have been in decent shape, clean of debris and clutter, just beer cans and bottles strewn about, but the back was a trash dump. It looked like everything they had ever used or thrown out was strewn about on the small piece of ground that ran from the edge of the building to the moat. Two gigantic generators roared and buzzed beside a closed back door, and sitting near them was the thing Mike was hoping for.
“Bingo,” he replied, as he stared at the five gas cans.
“Double bingo,” Fred replied, as he hoisted up a ladder that had been hidden in the woods underneath a brown tarp. “Guess they didn’t want to take the time back here to make another hidden bridge.”
“Their laziness is going to cost them,” Mike replied, as he helped Fred position the ladder over the moat. The zombies below reached up for them, ready for more food, more human flesh, but they were out of reach enough to not cause a problem.
“What are you thinking, Mike?”
“Flaming zombies,” he replied, and smiled. “Come on. Let’s see what the back of the building looks like.”
Both of them made the trek across the metal ladder one by one, ever mindful of the fact that it could slip off the edge and tumble into the moat at any time. When the two of them were safely on the other side, they heard the door knob click, and one of the Satanists walked out dragging a naked woman by the arm. She couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, and it was obvious that she had been severely abused. The guy, about 6 feet tall, wearing clothes like the others and a vest with a big devil on the back of it, hauled her over to the moat. He looked down at the zombies, and then at the ladder. He dropped the screaming woman into the horde of walking corpses, and walked over to the ladder.
“Idiots,” he replied, leaning down to pick up the ladder.
Mike saw his chance, and without even thinking about it, without hesitation, he stepped up and kicked the guy in the back. The Satanist screamed as he fell into the pit. Mike stepped up and leaned over the edge, watching with glee as the zombies tore The Satanist to shreds.
The back door opened, and Mike didn’t even hesitate. He shot the person coming out of it right between the eyes with a silent poof of his gun. The Satanist crumbled to the ground, trash bag still in his hands.
Fred looked shocked.
“Let’s get this over with,” Mike replied, grabbing the gas cans. He walked over to the moat and started dousing zombies and the ground below in gasoline. He emptied all five cans, spreading the liquid for as far as he felt it was safe to do. Mike took out his lighter, and led Fred back across the moat to the other side. They stopped at the spot where they had been camped out a little bit ago.
Mike was in a hurry to get started, but Fred was concerned with this new Mike he was seeing.
“What?” Mike asked, when he saw Fred staring at him.
“What’s gotten into you?”
“What do you mean?”
“This. All this you’re doing. This isn’t you.”
“Let’s just say it’s the new me,” Mike replied.
“I don’t like it.”
“I don’t care. You’re either with me or not, but I’m going to make sure every one of those motherfuckers is dead. They don’t deserve to live.”
“I agree, but shouldn’t we at least go and get back up. We have some good shooters back at our place.”
“No! No one else needs to be involved. It would just complicate matters. You and I or just me, whatever way you see it. I’m going in with all guns blazing,” Mike replied.
Fred hesitated, as he looked at the building, the cage with the two men inside it, the moat, and his surroundings. He thought back to his neighborhood, the carnage recently suffered, all the good times they both had there. “Okay,” he reluctantly replied.
Mike grabbed the rifle, and handed the AK-47 to Fred. “How are you on weapons?”
“Fully loaded pistol, couple of knives.”
“Good, here’s the plan,” Mike replied. “I’m going to light up this moat, and when they start running out of the building to see what’s going on, you mow them down. Don’t blink, don’t think. Just shoot.”
Fred looked at the place, and back to Mike. “I’ve never killed a human.”
“Look, Fred, it’s easier than you might think, and don’t think of these guys as human. They’re not. They’re animals that need to die.”
“Okay,” Fred replied, still a bit hesitant.
“You just aim the AK at them and shoot. Close your eyes if you have to, think of them as zombies in tutus. I don’t care what you have to do, shoot until they’re dead. Then I’m going to burn this motherfucker to the ground,” Mike replied, making his way out of the hiding spot. He walked to the back, and stepped up to the edge of the moat. He flipped the lighter open, clicked the wheel, and watched as the flame leapt up. The back door opened, and another guy came out looking for his friends. Mike shot him with the silenced gun right between the eyes, and then dropped the lighter.
Fire exploded inside the pit, casting the night in a hellish red glow, and as the flames started to spread, Mike quickly crossed the ladder to the other side. He pushed the pistol into his waist band, steadied the rifle, and then opened the back door.
+
Fred thought about leaving, just getting on the bike and heading somewhere else. He then looked back at the building as the moat turned into fire. He made a choice, and that choice would cost him his life.
+
The back of the building held a small hallway with dingy short brown carpet, and three rooms. Two of the dirty faded white doors were closed, one of them was hanging open.
Mike stepped up to the open door, and looked into the room. The dingy light in the hall revealed a dirty soiled mattress, same brown carpet as the floors in the hallway, no furniture or pictures on the walls. He could also see two large chains lying on the bed. The chains had cuffs attached to them and were hooked up to the wall.
Mike turned away from his investigation and stepped up to one of
the closed doors, as laughter from the bar area caught his attention. He looked in that direction, but saw no one coming down the hall towards him. The door to the bar remained closed. He turned back to the door that led into the room, gripped the brass knob, and turned it. When the door swung open, he saw something in the room he wished he would have never seen.
+
Fred watched the flames catch, and then start to circle around the place as the burning zombies shuffled about. He readied the AK-47, and walked down to the edge of the flaming zombie moat. He was currently spotlighted in an orange-red evil light, as he waited for the right time to start shooting.
+
Mike stepped into the room and walked over to the bed, just as he heard commotion and gunshots. He knelt down beside the passed out young woman, and looked her over. Her wrists were bound, her body lying naked on the dirty mattress. He brushed the hair out of her face, and she opened her eyes, bleary, blood shot, dead eyes, eyes of someone who had just given up. She didn’t scream or try to squirm away, as Mike kissed her on the forehead.
“You’re safe now,” he replied. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Mike stepped out of the room, and walked down to the door that led into the bar. He opened the door a crack and looked into the room. The two women who had been dancing for the men were now cowering together behind the bar. They saw Mike as he leaned out the door, and he gave them the sign to be quiet. They complied, as Mike pulled the pin on the hand grenade, and rolled it across the floor towards the men in the bar who were all grouped together discussing what to do about the flaming zombie moat. Mike then hurried the two women huddled behind the bar into the hallway, and into safety.
+
Fred was busy firing at anyone who came out of the place when he saw the hand grenade explosion. It destroyed not only most of the bar, but it turned a majority of them men into body parts. It also set the wall of liquor on fire. Distracted for a moment, Fred paused his shooting to watch the carnage, and this allowed one of the Satanists to draw his pistol as he ran from the burning building. He shot Fred in the side, and then in the chest. Fred went down to his knees as his blood started running free. He saw the guy with the pistol raise it again, for sure this time it would be a killing blow, but Fred managed to somehow pull out his pistol and unload most of the clip into the guy. The Satanist tumbled to the ground, as two more shots caught Fred in the chest. He fell forward, unable to move.
The Mike Beem Chronicles: 6 Tales of Survival, Hope, and The Zombie Apocalypse Page 17
