Two men and a teenage boy rolled out into the store from the belly of the garbage truck and looked up at Holt and Gunner, their tear-streaked faces filled with dread and fear.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
“Dad!” The boy screeched when he saw them gathered around him with weapons ready to strike her. He turned his face into his father's chest as he hugged him close, raising his head and revealing his furious and indignant scowl.
“Please,” the man said, shielding the boy with his body. “Please don't hurt my son.”
“Where the hell did you come from?” Gunner demanded.
“All over Paradise road,” the man said frantically. He was nervous, twitchy. “We were picking people up. We had people running at the truck from all sides,” the man spoke. “None of them would get in the back of the scoop with us. They're still outside in the cab.”
“Who are you?” Max asked.
“My name is Dustin and this is my son Johnnie,” he said. “Please, lower your weapon.”
Holt didn't budge.
“What part of town did you come from?” Gunner asked.
“South Vegas,” he said. “We live in Paradise Valley on Sawtooth.”
“How'd you survive yesterday?” Max asked suspiciously.
“I took the afternoon off to spend it with my son,” Dustin said. “I left work at lunch and took him out of school.”
“Why would you do that?”
“It's kind of a birthday tradition,” he said. “Usually we go to the park or to the movies, but he wasn't feeling well so we stayed in and I cooked. When we woke up this morning, there were people yelling out in the middle of the street. The Hendersons, John and his wife Tammy, they've lived across the way practically their whole lives. They were on their lawn making an unholy racket. The rest of the neighbors were tearing them apart. People from the city council, the lawyer from up the block, the neighborhood watch kid, all gathered around them, chewing red swatches clean off their bodies with their bare teeth. It was horrible. That's when I saw George. He ran out of his garage with a shotgun and jumped in a garbage truck that had been abandoned next to the curb. If it wasn't for him, we wouldn't have made it.”
“George!” the boy yelled suddenly. “He's still out there. We've gotta help him.”
“Hold on there,” Gunner said, raising his hand. “Nobody is going outside.”
“But they'll kill him,” he protested.
“I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, little man,” Holt said. “But your friend is no longer with us.”
He slumped back, tears welling up in his eyes.
“What about the others?” Dustin asked.
“There were no others by the time you got here,” Gunner said coldly. “Just him.”
They all turned to look at the second man from the garbage truck.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Names Reggie,” he said nervously. “I was actually the first one in the truck.”
“Why's that?” Holt advanced menacingly on him.
“It's my truck,” he said. “I was trying to hide in it until the police arrived but instead their friend stole it.”
“Ain't no police coming,” Gunner said.
“I know that now,” Reggie said, looking pissed.
A loud crash drew their attention and they turned to see more of the wall give way, leaving a hole big enough to crawl through.
“Great,” Max said, still angry. “You tore a hole through the wall. How are we supposed to keep them out now?”
“What were we supposed to do?” Dustin asked defensively. “George was just looking for someplace safe for us to hide.”
“You were safer inside that metal truck, man,” Gunner said.
“That's what I said,” Reggie joined in.
“Now none of us are safe,” Max said bitterly. “Nice going.”
One of the smaller zombies began to crawl through the hole in the wall. Parker recognized him as one of the creepy rat-tailed kids from the day before. He nodded to Holt who jumped up smiling. He ran over and crushed the brat’s skull with one massive blow from his crowbar. The little demon slumped dead and stopped moving as his tiny neck snapped forward. Brains, blood, and an oily film ran from his head like a cracked egg.
“We're going to need to come up with a new plan,” Holt said, panting. “I'm not sure this place is going to hold forever with a garbage truck parked in its side.”
“Maybe we can retreat into the camping supply store and patch up the hole we made,” Travis suggested. “Just for the time being.”
“It's not a bad idea,” Holt said, “but I'm not sure we have enough time right now. We've gotta deal with this mess first, or some of them might get through.”
Max picked up a heavy metal wrench and pointed it threateningly at Johnnie.
“How did you get that wound?” she asked.
Johnnie quickly covered a bite mark on her arm.
“I fell,” he lied, looking at the ground.
“Bullshit,” roared Max. “He's been bitten. Look. He has, too!”
Dustin pulled his sleeves down to cover bite marks on his forearms.
“We had to fight our way into the back of that truck,” he said. “It wasn't easy. You have no idea what we've been through. So stop trying to bully my son!”
The rest of the group had backed up a step and grabbed some kind of makeshift weapon, everyone except Gemma, who looked like she might burst into tears at any second.
“You can't stay here,” Max said.
“Now wait a minute,” Dustin started, but Holt interrupted him.
“She's right, man,” he said. “You're infected. Sorry bro, but you have to go.”
“Daddy,” Johnnie whined. “I don't want to go back out there.”
“Don't worry son,” said Dustin with a determined look in his eyes. “We aren't going anywhere.”
“You're not really in a position to make that kind of decision right now,” Gunner said. “So let's figure out the best way to get you safely back outside before you get hurt.”
“If it's a matter of money,” Dustin said. “You don't have to worry. I've got plenty. It's all yours.”
“We don't want your money,” Gunner said. “What good is money now, anyway?”
A loud crash and a moan interrupted them. Two more zombies had figured out how to get through the hole, breaking part of the remaining window fragments and slicing their bodies in the process. They didn't seem to notice the shards poking through their bodies. No blood came out, just a thick black ooze with traces of wriggling white foam that looked like maggots.
Johnnie screamed, pointing at them in terror. Holt rushed back to the opening once more and swung his crowbar. It connected with the chest of the first zombie, caving it in--but the tip lodged in the hollow cavity. A burst of black oily fluid shot out and Holt stumbled back to avoid it, his fingertips narrowly holding on to the bottom of the metal. He was determined not to give up his favorite weapon. Despite being completely run through, the undead creature was still clawing his way toward Holt.
Damn thing didn’t even notice that I just ripped out his guts! thought Holt. They don’t feel pain. They don’t feel anything at all except hunger.
The second zombie squeezed around the torso of the first, its teeth snapping at the air wildly as it attempted to force its way inside the room. Gunner was ready. He'd run a length of extension cord from a plug near the counter and hooked it up with a Sawzall, attaching the biggest blade. The tool was meant to cut through Detroit steel like warm butter. Gunner leaned in and caught the zombie dead-on with a big swing from his cutter. The metal made a sick tearing sound as it collided with bone of the skull, easily passing through the brain and down part of the spinal column. The zombie's head twisted at a sickening angle to the left. The slicing blow had opened up the side of its head and the familiar black gunk oozed out. It still did not stop coming.
Holt put his foot on the groin of the man trying to kill him and yanked the crowbar free, nearl
y ripping him in half. Once it was free, he made short work of the pathetic creature. The fiend let out a grunt as he silenced it with a death blow to the head.
“Come on, you sick sonofabitch,” Gunner hollered, raising the Sawzall over his head and bringing it down again across the partially severed neck of the writhing corpse. Gemma screamed in terror and hugged herself close to Travis. The motion easily sliced through his neck like a Thanksgiving turkey. His head rolled forward and the body ceased it's incessant clawing. Its skull was now fully opened up and its brain splashed out with a gooey thump onto the store floor.
“Somebody give me a weapon,” Reggie shouted but they ignored him.
Johnnie noisily threw up, bringing his hands to his mouth to try to stop it. The fluid that came out of her was dark and oily, the same as Satoshi's in the video. Everyone knew at once exactly what it meant! It was too late! He was already turning.
“You're going to be fine son,” Dustin cooed to him but he was already gone. Johnnie snapped at him without warning, knocking his father onto his back. He crawled over him with lightning speed and, before anyone could stop him, Johnnie had torn through his father's neck, his bloody mouth chewing the fresh meat and swallowing it down in gut-turning gulps. Dustin made a whistling sound, unable to speak. His eyes glazed over and he twitched in shock and fear.
“Go to hell,” Max said in a low voice, stepping forward and bringing down her metal wrench into his skull as hard as she could. The wrench sunk deep into Johnnie's head. The boy tried to turn around but Max held him in place. Max put her foot on Johnnie's shoulder and pried the weapon loose from his indented brain. Johnnie reached up and wrapped his fingers around the wound trying to push his oozing brain back in. It was too late. Max gave it all she had, bringing the wrench down once more with a scream as she powered through Johnnie's fingers and drove it to the brain stem. Johnnie twitched then fell over and lay still.
Holt stepped over Dustin, who was already reanimating. He placed his foot on Dustin's shoulder, pinning him down, and then took the Sawzall from Gunner. Carefully he slotted the tip of the blade into the bloody wound in Dustin's throat.
“Sorry about this, buddy,” Holt said as he fired up the saw and sliced it clean through the man's neck. Immediately the light in Dustin's eyes went out and he stopped struggling.
They stood around the two fresh bodies not saying a word. Gemma cried loudly. Any hope they had of things being better in the morning was now thoroughly gone.
“You people are fucking crazy,” Reggie said, as they turned to him, realizing he was still there. “You know that?”
“Take off your clothes,” Holt said, almost as if to prove him right.
“What?”
“I said,” Holt repeated himself slowly. “Take off all your clothes. I want to make sure you're not infected either.”
“Do it,” Gunner joined in advancing from the other side.
Reggie shook his head.
“You gonna let them talk like this to me?” Reggie asked, looking at the others. “Is anyone going to jump in here and be the voice of reason?”
“You got something to hide?” Max asked stepping forward.
“Not a thing,” Reggie said. “I'd just feel a little more comfortable doing this one on one, preferably with a lady.”
“That ain't gonna happen,” Parker said. “Hurry up man. Quit stalling.”
“Have it your way,” Reggie said, taking off his shirt and putting it over the counter. He put his arms over his head and turned in a slow circle.
“The pants too, asshole,” Holt ordered.
Reggie smiled nervously and undid his belt, sliding his jeans down to reveal boxers. He stepped out of them and put them on the counter as well.
“You satisfied?”
“Take off the shorts,” Max said.
“You serious little girl?” Reggie looked offended. “You wanna see what I'm packing that bad?”
“Don't flatter yourself,” Max shot back. “We need to know for sure that you haven't been bitten.”
“Let's go buddy,” Holt said.
Reggie gave him a look, then pulled off his boxers exposing himself to them. He turned in another wide circle letting them see he was clean.
“Drink it in ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “because this is your last free show.”
“He's clean,” Gunner grunted. “Sorry pal we had to be sure. You saw what just happened.”
“I saw a bunch of paranoid freaks kill a man and his son,” Reggie said.
“In self-defense,” Travis argued. “They were turning.”
“Can I put my clothes back on now without one of you killing me now?” Reggie glared at them. “Or do you need me to bend over, spread my cheeks, and cough?”
“Keep acting like this,” Holt warned him, “and you're not gonna win any popularity contests with anyone here.”
Reggie chuckled to himself as he quickly redressed.
“We've all got to work together,” Travis said.
Parker walked over to the window where a new zombie arm was already trying to push through past the three dead bodies wedged into the hole.
“Guys,” he said. “A little help here?”
“What's the point?” Holt asked. “Obviously we can't stay here much longer.”
“Yeah?” Max said turning on him. “Just where are we supposed to go?”
“It's time we took a run at the base,” Gunner said. “I've been watching it all morning for signs of life but there are none. No movement, nothing. Better yet there aren't any zombies heading for it either. Something is up. I just can't figure out what it is.”
“I don't know,” Parker shouted. “Seems pretty risky. What if they've moved on? What if we get out there and they're locked down? We'll be trapped outside again. It's like starting over from scratch, just like after Thunderdome.”
“Where else do you expect us to go if we leave here?” Max asked. “You heard him,” she said pointing to Dustin's corpse. “This thing is everywhere. There isn't a safe place anymore.”
“Yeah, I do,” Parker said. “I say we reinforce this place to the best of our ability and give it a few more days. We've got hot water here. We've still got electricity.”
“Actually, we lost the hot water last night,” Holt said. “I damn near froze my balls off this trying to clean up. But go on.”
“This place is ruined,” Max said. “Sooner or later, they’re going to chew through the doors or come in through that wall. For all we know, it could collapse at any minute and a flood of these diseased fuckers could swarm all over us.”
“I'm not sure it's safe here anymore, either,” Travis said.
“Gunner is crazy,” Parker ranted. “You're going to trust our lives to a hunch? Listen to yourselves.”
“I am not crazy,” Gunner said.
“That's what crazy people always say,” Parker replied.
“Doesn't mean that sometimes it ain't true,” Gunner calmly replied.
“Don't know if I get a vote yet,” Reggie chimed in, “but I'm with sport over there. I'd be more than happy to help you all fix this place up and try to ride out the storm. We could work in shifts.”
“You don't get a vote,” Max said scathingly. “You're lucky to be here with us after the little show you just put on.”
“He gets a vote,” Parker said.
“What?” Max turned on him. “You're only saying that because he agrees with you.”
“Gentlemen,” Holt interrupted. “Maybe we can discuss voting rights and race relations at a later date? I'd like to figure out a plan before we all become a six course meal for the undead.”
“I'm with Gunner,” Travis yelled over them all. They turned in shock and stared at him. “Ever since he came and saved us back at Thunderdome, every single thing he’s said has checked out. Everything. If he thinks it's a good idea to try to get to that Air Force Base I think we should listen to him, not call him names. For whatever fucking reason Gunner has always been right
.”
“Travis,” Parker said. “Come on.”
“No,” Travis said. “My mind is made up. I say we go.”
“I'm with Travis,” Gemma said.
“So what's your big plan for getting us out of here then?” Parker said, sounding annoyed.
“We could fight our way out to one of those cars,” Max offered. “One of them has to have some gas left in it. We'd be at the base in minutes if we had a car.”
“Do any of them look like they are still drivable to you?” Gunner asked with a cocky grin.
“No,” Max said sounding defeated.
“We'd never make it that far anyway,” Parker said. “We've got to think of something better than that.”
“Damn,” Holt said. “I say we go out swinging and just make a run for it.”
“Guy's,” Travis said, a smile spreading across his face. “I have an idea.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
As far as last ditch idea's went, Travis's plan wasn't actually all that bad. Then again, it wasn't all that far off from Holt's idea either. They gathered around him as he went over the rough details, letting them fill in places he hadn't come up with yet.
The idea had come to him the night before as he lay with Gemma in his arms, drifting off to sleep. He'd returned to his previous train of thought, considering what skills he possessed that would actually be of any value in this world as it was now. He thought about all the hours he’d wasted playing video games, hour after hour of campaigns in the worlds of Zelda, Lords of War, and Skyrim. His mind wandered to the events of the day, in particular the moment they'd been trapped in the middle of the street. He was almost positive that he was seconds away from death and there was nothing he could do about it. He wasn't calm--not exactly--not like he'd heard people say they felt under similar circumstances when they had no other option but to accept their inevitable demise. No, that wasn't it. He'd felt clear, his mind lucid and unobstructed, as if his emotions were taking a back seat to this omniscient third person perspective. Yeah, that was it. It was like he'd been watching the whole scene from somewhere outside of it, unaffected by the outcome.
The zombies had gathered around them, drawn in by the smell of fresh meat and the sounds of life and movement. They had gone right for them almost without thought or reason, only backing off cautiously when it looked like they might not be able to overtake their prey. The most they had in the way of strategy was to roam together in disorganized packs. They didn't feel pain or fear, but they couldn't think either--not in any way that suggested higher brain functioning like logic or reason. Instead, they seemed relegated to a kind of hive mind, loosely working together.
The Rising Dead Page 20
