He looked around, and saw a couple of cheap dusty chairs, a dusty table, a few cliché beach pictures, a dead neon open sign and TV, and a long check in counter also covered in dust. Behind the counter stood a closed door that used to be the manager’s office in the days before the zombies.
A thump against the outside glass caused Mike to jump. He turned and saw a zombie pressed up against it, pawing at the glass and trying to get inside. He looked to make sure there were no cracks forming, and not seeing any, decided it was safe to continue his exploration. He walked over to the counter and looked it over, writing his name in the dust. It was made of a cheap fake wood and held a large stand full of faded yellow brochures. He flipped through a few of them before making his way to the other side of the counter. The space was small and compact with real keys (not key cards) hanging on a numbered peg board on the wall. Mike started rummaging through the drawers of the lone desk. He found what he was looking for a few moments later. A large key ring filled with every key he would ever need for this place. Happy with his discovery, he decided to check out the room behind the closed door. He reached down to turn the handle, and another thump against the outside glass caused him to jump. He turned to see what had made the noise, and now there wasn’t just one zombie standing there, pawing at the glass, trying to get at his flesh, there were three.
Mike studied the glass to make sure there were no cracks forming and not seeing any, turned back to the door. He reached down for the handle, turned it, and found it unlocked. He pushed the door open and quickly got into a firing position. Nothing shambled out of the gloomy dark space to attack him. The room, Mike noticed, held a TV, couch, desk, and a few filing cabinets. There were two windows behind the desk sitting side by side. Both of them were covered up by window shades. Mike walked over to one of them and peeked out. He could see the parking lot, and a bit of the ocean. He dropped the window shade back into place, and made his way over to the desk. He rummaged through the drawers for a minute or two, hoping against hope that he would find some kind of weapon. He not only found a gun (fully loaded), but also a full box of ammunition. He honestly couldn’t believe his luck. He put his nearly empty gun into one of his coat pockets, the box of shells into another, grabbed a nearby letter opener (silver with a sharp pointed tip), cocked and loaded the new gun he’d found, and stepped back into the lobby.
What he saw surprised him.
There was blood and what looked like brains splattered all over the glass the zombies had been banging on before, and the three zombies who had been banging on it were now lying dead on the cracked and broken sidewalk underneath a large palm tree.
Mike stepped up to the front door, and looked the street over for as far as he could see in any direction. Every zombie he could see from his current vantage point was now dead, sprawled out on the ground, blood and brains leaking out onto the black top. He unlocked the door and stepped outside into sunlight and into a cold breeze that had sprung up while he was inside. He looked up and down the four lane road. It was a ghost town. Nothing at all was moving anywhere close to him.
He made his way to room number 1, which turned out to be empty and zombie free. The room held two beds, a cheap dresser, night stands, a table and two chairs, beach pictures on the walls, a TV, and a small bathroom. He checked room numbers 2, 3, 4, and 5. All of them looked identical to room number 1 and all of them were zombie free. Room number 6 though stopped him in his tracks for a moment, because when he stepped up to the closed door and listened to what lay behind it, he heard movement. It wasn’t shuffling he heard. It was the sound of something being pushed on the soft blue carpet (that covered each room) over and over again.
Mike slid the key into the lock, and waited to see if he had been discovered. He hadn’t. Whoever or whatever was making the sound was paying no attention to him. He unlocked the door, turned the handle, and pushed the door into the room. What he saw when the door was open was another one of those smart zombies. It was dressed like a house keeper in a bloody blue ripped and torn dress, wearing comfortable shoes. The elderly zombie woman had no left arm. It was completely torn free from her body leaving only a ragged stump surrounded by shredded fabric. She was using her right arm and hand to run the silent vacuum across the floor again and again.
“Missed a spot,” Mike replied, and when she turned to face him he stepped up and planted the letter opener into the center of her skull. He laid her on the floor, and then quickly scanned the room. Same décor as the others, and no other zombies lurking about. He left with a closing and locking of the door (something he had done after checking each room), and then moved on to room number 7, which he found to be empty and zombie free.
After closing and locking the door to the final room on the main level, Mike walked over to the end of the building. He paused there for a moment and watched the wave’s crash onto the shore. He breathed in the cool salt air and tried to relax for a moment. When he felt like he was ready to move again, he stepped over to the vending machines and found that everything in them was expired, stale, or melted. Frustrated, he made his way over to the spiral staircase. He stopped at the bottom, and looked them over. The steps were wide enough for two maybe three people walking side by side, and they were covered in a blue outdoor carpet that was severely faded and moldy. He couldn’t see around the curve to the top, so he aimed his new found gun and ascended.
When he reached the top, he paused when he saw a zombie stumble and shuffle out of one of the open doorways. It was dressed in sandals, shorts, tee-shirt, and sun visor. His exposed skin was yellowed and rotten. He salivated maggots and had large palmetto bugs crawling up and down his body. It looked like it’d been lying in wait for some time, and now that he was up and moving the bugs calling him home were severely disturbed.
Mike aimed his new gun, enjoying how light it felt in his hand, and fired. The shot echoed out through the mid-morning air, and disturbed a few gulls nearby. The zombie’s head exploded from the neck up, sending pieces of its head and all kinds of bugs roosting inside its rotten skull flying in all directions. The bugs still living landed on the ground and scurried off to darker, safer places.
Mike slid the gun into his coat pocket and walked over to the zombie laying on the faded pink tile. He placed its feet on the rusty black rail and then picked up the rest of it by its shoulders, careful of the few bugs remaining on its dead rotten flesh. With a heave and a hoist, he launched the zombie into the air and watched it tumble to the ground below. Its rotten bones splattered and crunched when it hit the pavement at full speed.
Mike dusted off his hands, and then made his way over to the first room on this level, which rested behind door number 8. This room looked exactly like the seven rooms below, only the pictures seemed to change from room to room. He closed and locked the door, and then stepped over to number 9. He found it empty just like the one before it. He moved on to room number 10, which was also empty and he found the same emptiness in room numbers 11 and 12. Room number 13 not only had its door open, but it also had a foul stench issuing forth from inside it. This was the room the zombie had shuffled out of earlier, and as Mike peered into it, he could see the outline of the zombie’s body on the bed. It looked like the shuffler had been resting and waiting on the grey comforter until food had arrived. Mike saw a couple of cockroaches scurry off the bed before he closed the door and locked it. Now there was only one last room to explore, room number 14.
Mike walked up to the door, and slid the key into the lock. He paused for a second, listening for sounds of movement inside the room, human or zombie, but all he heard was the crashing surf and the occasional sea gull. He popped the lock and opened the door, gun drawn and ready to fire. When he saw that the room was empty, he put the gun away and looked the room over. He knew that this was going to be the spot he would call home for a while. It wasn’t that there was anything at all different about this room (in fact, it was the same as all the others), but it just had that home base kind of feel to it. He also li
ked the fact that this room was at the end of the hall, defending it would be easy. There was only one way up to this second level and the stairs rested a good distance away from this room.
Mike stripped down to his long sleeve tee and put his two guns and knife on the dresser, along with the box of ammunition and keys. He took off the comforters from the bed and shook the dust out of them before hanging them over the rail for the sunlight to warm and cleanse. Finished with that task, he went back into the room and looked at the white sheets lying on both beds. They looked clean and unsoiled, almost like they had been recently changed. He walked into the bathroom and looked it over. The tub was dusty, but it looked good enough to bathe in once he found water for it. The sink and commode also were in great condition, but useless with no running water. Happy with his new home, Mike stripped off two pillowcases, grabbed a gun, and made his way down to the Tiki Hut.
The beach was nearly empty of zombies, and the few of them shuffling about weren’t close enough to bother him. He made his way into the Tiki Hut and quickly loaded up both pillowcases with all the supplies he thought he could use. When he was finished, he made his way back to room number 14.
After dropping off his supplies, he grabbed the keys and made his way to the end of the hall where the vending machines rested. He had seen a door there earlier he had wanted to check out, hoping that maybe his hunch was right, which it was. There was not one, but two gigantic generators resting inside the room, big enough to run the entire motel.
Mike stepped into the small room and walked over to the steel grey machines. They were both in great condition and looked like they had barely been used. One was labeled FIRST LEVEL and the other SECOND LEVEL. He checked to see if they were full or empty and found that both of them were nearly filled up. He looked around for extra gas, but found none. He made a mental note of it before making his exit, closing the door and locking it. Before going back to his room, he slid both vending machines over to the opening on the stairs, standing them side by side, creating a makeshift barrier. It was now just after Noon and he was ready to rest.
He walked back to his room, grabbed some water, food, and a chair from the small table by the window. He took the chair outside, sat down, and propped his feet up. He ate his lunch and watched the waves roll back and forth onto the shore for a while. When he was feeling sleepy, he stepped back into his room and closed the door. He laid down on one of the double beds, and shut his eyes. While he fell into slumber inside the room, curious eyes that had been watching him explore the BLUE BOMBER motel slipped quietly away.
+
Boom!
Mike woke up on the bed when he heard a cannon blast. He shook the cobwebs out of his head as he looked around the room for a moment, trying to figure out where he was. He had slept through the night without moving and slept so heavy and deep that he was a bit disoriented when he woke up.
Boom!
He jumped when he heard the cannon blast again. He got out of bed, grabbed a bottle of water and chips, and made his way outside. It was a cool morning with a stiff cold breeze coming in off the water. The sun was bright, the sky blue and cloudless, the waves calm and gentle on the Atlantic Ocean. He started to look out at the water, towards the spot where he thought he had heard the cannon blast, and realized suddenly he was not alone.
“Easy buddy,” the young man replied, putting up his hands. “We come in peace. Nothing more than that.”
“How did you get up here?” Mike asked, when he looked at the kid sitting on a chair he had pulled out of room number 12. The door to that room stood open, lock picked without a bit of damage to it. Behind the young man stood three other teenagers, ranging in ages and sizes.
“We make it a habit of getting into places we shouldn’t be able to get into.”
“So, why are you here?” Mike asked, tensions easing a bit. The kids looked harmless, even though they had plenty of weapons on them.
Boom!
The canon fired again, silencing the conversation. Mike pulled his eyes away from the young man and shifted them to the ocean. What he saw shocked him. Out on the water stood a tall ship, black from bow to stern, with zombies lined up side by side circling it. The shufflers were hanging there, rope cutting deep gashes in their blood leaking mid-sections, teeth gnashing and bashing at nothing but air, as the ship sat anchored bobbing up and down on the waves.
Mike could see two dinghies moving over to a two-masted sail boat that was currently starting to sink from the cannon balls that had shattered part of its side. Two men and two women were standing on the deck of the boat, hands up, ready for surrender. Two quick shots echoed out across the ocean and land, as someone in the crow’s nest shot the two men in the head. Their heads exploded in a shower of blood and brain as the women started to scream.
“Pirates,” the young man replied, as he watched the men in the dinghies reach the sail boat. “Sick bunch of guys.”
Mike watched in horror as the pirates climbed onto the sail boat. The two women fought them the best they could, but were easily surrounded and captured. They were stripped naked while the men ogled and fondled them. The two women, screaming and crying, were forced off the sail boat and into one of the dinghies that quickly made its way back to the tall ship. A wooden plank descended down to the small boat and the naked women were ushered up onto the pirate ship, which had a black flag waving above it, covered in a red skull and crossbones. Once on board the tall ship, the women were ushered off to an unseen location. Mike thought of The Satanists, and the way they had treated those women he had saved. He hoped these two women wouldn’t be treated in such a way, but he knew they would be. He just hoped their eventual death would come sooner than later.
“We can’t help them,” the young man replied, seeing a savior’s look in Mike’s eyes.
“I know,” Mike replied, thoughts shifting to Captain and his crew. Had they made it safely to the Caribbean, or had they fallen victim as well? He didn’t know the answer to that question, but the positive side of himself wanted to believe they were laying on a sun kissed beach right about now.
“They’ve been harassing boaters for a while. We’ve tried to think of ways to intervene, but these pirates are so quick that we wouldn’t have a chance to get to their boat before they set sail again,” the young man replied. “We just have to swallow what we know is happening to the women they capture, and they only capture women. They never take the men or children.”
“Do they ever come on land?” Mike asked while he watched the sailboat being stripped of anything that could be put to use by the pirates. Once they were finished scavenging, the remaining pirates loaded up the dinghy and made their way back to the tall ship.
“Never seen ‘em do that, but I guess anything is possible,” the young man replied.
“So, what’s the deal with you guys?” Mike asked, looking away from the pirate ship. He had seen enough for the day. If he couldn’t help then there was no use torturing his eyes anymore.
The young man stood up from the chair and walked over to Mike, who looked down and saw a dirty hand held out to him. “Name’s Rat. This here’s my crew,” the young man replied.
Mike looked Rat over, skinny kid with a bit of acne, long unwashed brown hair, dirty pants, tee shirt, coat, and boots. He carried a small pistol in a holster on his hip, and looked to be the only one in the group armed in such a way.
“Let me introduce you,” Rat replied, as he and Mike shook hands.
“First up. You got my main girl, Bee, who is as sweet as honey, but has a nasty sting.”
The girl in the Stryper sweatshirt, leaning on a long spear, nodded in Mike’s direction. She was armed only with the spear, and was the tallest of all of them, with long dirty blonde hair and a skinny frame.
“Second, Centipede. He’s able to wiggle into and out of the hairiest and scariest of places. He’s so agile it’s almost supernatural.”
Centipede nodded in Mike’s direction, armed with a quiver full of arrows a
nd a bow that looked like it’d been made from scratch. He was short and thick, with long matted black hair, dressed just like Rat.
“Finally, you got my boy Spider. He’s a climber. Our go to when we need to get to high places.”
Spider nodded at Mike, dressed like Rat, armed like Centipede. He was short, fit, and muscular, with a crudely cut spiky blue Mohawk on the top of his head.
“Consider us your angels. We’re your wings if you need anything.”
“What’s the price for your services?” Mike asked, figuring that they were working for someone, because everybody in this world wanted to get paid for anything they did for anyone else. It was just the way things were, nothing was free or cheap anymore.
“Price,” Rat replied, and smiled. A few of his friends chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Mike asked, looking from Rat to a large rogue wave that raised up and crashed hard onto the beach, scaring a few gulls from their resting spot.
“We honestly do it free. No fuss, no hassles. No commitments,” Rat replied, looking at Mike. “We were Christian kids before all this started. Raised up Southern Baptist, taught to know right from wrong, taught the good book at an early age. That’s why we do it. We want to lend a helping hand for those in a time of need. No strings attached.”
The Mike Beem Chronicles: 6 Tales of Survival, Hope, and The Zombie Apocalypse Page 21
