by Ryan Colley
CHAPTER 43
The store was unlocked. There were no zombies present. The bright clinical light illuminated the shelves of games. I think my heaven would be like that. I walked around and grinned. It was just so quiet. So peaceful. A reasonably sized store. After all, the games industry was a huge business. The walls were lined with various games. Mostly preowned games, some chart releases, with a few different setups for demo games. There were different sections for each console, too.
I always found it strange trying to explain the idea of different consoles and their various games. Could never think of another type of media with the same type of system. I always tried to use DVD’s as an example, telling people to imagine that there are three types out there called BVD, CVD and DVD. They’re all of equal quality and equal value, except certain films would only appear on one of these types. Some films would come out on a DVD, whereas others would only be on a CVD. Some films would come out on all three. However, you would need a player for each format. That’s how the different consoles worked. You normally found fans of only one system. I was always a fan of the Xbox. Great system, great games, and most of my friends had one. Sad to think that there wouldn’t be any new games being developed and released.
I looked at the posters of launch dates and games I would probably never get the chance to play. I saw one on the shelf, a first-person shooter. I was so excited when it was announced. It was the newest sequel in a series I loved. I smiled at the case and opened it. Empty. Damn. Only a display case. They weren’t going to keep games in reach of someone to take. I turned around to look behind the counter. There was a door, probably leading to the staffroom or where the discs were kept. I grinned. Looked like today was my lucky day.
I hopped over the counter and tried the door. Locked. Not by a key, but a security code, which meant my bunch of keys were no good here. I didn’t have the code, and the employees apparently didn’t use code 1-2-3-4 either. With five different numbers and two letters, and assuming it was a four-digit code, like the one in the supermarket I used to work at, that was a hell of a lot of combinations and permutations. I didn’t want to shoot the lock – the beautiful games within could be damaged. I braced myself against the counter and kicked the door three times in rapid succession. On the third strike, the door flung inward and a zombie came out.
I tumbled backwards over the counter and hit the floor, my gun digging into my back.
“Crap!” I gasped, the air knocked out of me. I tried to take huge rasping breaths to fill my lungs. The zombie carried on towards me, snapping its jaws like a demonic beast. It had the game shops uniform on and a badge. My name is Chris :). I tried to twist the gun out from under me, but it was trapped by my body. I rolled over. The zombie fell over the counter, making a wet thud as it hit the ground.
I could feel the sickness I felt earlier creeping in, but adrenaline pushed it aside. The zombie climbed to its feet. It was still coming after me. I managed to raise my gun. Didn’t have time to aim for its head, so I fired a burst shot. All three bullets ripped through its knee. Anything below that point was severed and fell away.
The zombie, still moving forward, fell to the ground. It couldn’t support itself anymore, but it kept coming. I fired another burst shot into its head. It stopped moving. I panted. That was close. So easy to get caught off-guard. I didn’t stop there, though. I grabbed it by its remaining ankle and dragged it out of the store, a long and bloody trail behind it. I left it outside and returned. I finally managed to catch my breath. The store still smelled bad, but with the body out, it was bearable.
I looked down at my bloody hands and clothes. Dammit. I used my sleeve to wipe away any gore on my face. Believe me, I knew it was there. I could feel it coating me. I pushed myself back over the counter, determination now filling me. Turning on the internal light of the room, I looked in the cupboard. There were even more games in there. I let loose a smug smile and reached for the one I wanted. From the extra weight, I knew that the game and manual were in there. I took it, pulled it open and disposed of the cellophane. Walked up to the demo-stand and pried open the plastic case. The Xbox was already powered on and running the demo video. I pushed the disc into the slot, and held the controller as the music started up.
I was there, in the moment. Time disappeared as I was pulled into the immersive qualities of the game. Everything from the music, to the sounds, to the visuals. Everything looked so fake. That was just what I needed. A fake world I could disappear into, just to forget reality for a few moments, like I had done in school when bullied, and when I was upset and there were problems at home. Now, in the middle of the apocalypse where the dead were walking and I needed to carry a gun to survive, I could get lost in this sci-fi world. I was the hero. I would save the world. I couldn’t die. I would survive.
Then before I knew it, it was over. I had finished the game. How long have I been here? I rubbed my eyes. They burned since I’d had them open for so long. Surely I hadn’t been there that long? Games had been getting shorter and shorter. Was that the case? It didn’t matter, I had enjoyed it. I was beaming.
It was lush just to be immersed in that world one more time. Sure, it had ended on a cliffhanger, ready for the sequel that would never come, but in a way, it had concluded a lot of the open storylines. The developer had given the series a great send-off, even if they didn’t realise that was the send-off into the apocalypse. I removed the disc, returned it to the case, and put it on the counter. On a scrap of paper, I wrote Highly recommend! From Sam the zombie slayer. I smiled as I stuck it to the case and left. I picked up all my belongings and ambled back to the security room.
There were people everywhere upon my return. They were writing stuff down and pointing to areas. I went unnoticed amongst the crowd. I made it back to the security room and entered. Boss was sat at a desk, flicking through the security cameras. It showed most places – entrances to the shops, outside, and other areas. The only place it didn’t show was inside the stores.
“Done a bit of shopping I see,” Boss said without turning around. I almost asked him how he knew, but realised he was staring at security footage.
“Just a bit,” I smiled. “Few things to make my journey ahead easier.”
“Fair enough,” he turned to look at me and gestured to a chair.
“So what’s the news on this place?” I took a seat.
“I think we’ve gotten really lucky by getting this now,” he yawned. I caught sight of the clock. I had been gone for close to five hours. Classic sign of a great gaming session.
“What about defending it?” I looked at the notes on the page in front of him. He had drawn a pencil doodle of the mall, with X’s here and there.
“Should be fine,” he nodded. “Biggest problem is the all-glass front. Pretty sure it’s double or triple glazed, so no meat-bags coming through there. The door is the weakest point, but it has shutters. I still would rather something to cover it. There’s also an issue with the loading bay. The shutters are really weak. The dead might not be able to get in, but the living … it’s definitely a weak spot. Luckily, the bay is easily defendable, with only one way in. We’d have to use that as our main entrance. As for the security door, we can weld that shut good and proper. Get some guys on the roof for watch. I think we can hold this place for a long, long time. Anything extra we need, we can make when we claim a hardware store.”
“That’s great, Boss,” I smiled. I was ecstatic for them. They had a home and the skills to keep it. If things went bad with Alice, then I would come back to Boss. I felt a little at home with these people.
As if reading my mind, he said, “You know you’re welcome to stay here or return here, right?”
“Thanks for the offer, man. I hope to see you again when I do come back this way,” I gave him a playful punch.
“Great! We need to head back soon. We can sort out your ride for the journey,” he grinned. “We can leave a small force here, and the rest of us return home. It’ll keep t
his place safe.”
Over the intercom, Boss called for everyone and we all rounded up. From the volunteers, he chose who would remain. People were happy to stay. I suppose they were experiencing real safety for the first time. It was a hard thing to give up. Or they wanted to claim a few things for themselves while we were absent.
About half of the group stayed when the rest of us headed back. We still had hours of daylight left, but Boss had a lot to plan for. In addition to that, he wanted a big celebration that night. He said we actually had cause for celebration, so it would be a real party rather than just passing the time. I did wonder if those staying behind would feel left out. That was before I saw several of them heading into the spirits store on our way out. They would be just fine.
I dumped my holdall into the back of the truck and received questioning glances. Then we headed back to the base, leaving their future home behind for the time being.
CHAPTER 44
When we got back, I immediately went to my room. Dropped the holdall onto my bed and dragged out both leather jackets, the jeans, the gloves, and the repair kit. I laid them out on the floor side by side and stared at them, smiling. Then I put on the leather jacket and gloves. Surprisingly comfortable. Sure, they restricted my movement a little, and the feel of leather was just weird, but it wasn’t all that bad.
I flexed and moved parts of my upper body. The shoulder sections were sturdy, and I could easily rotate my shoulders, which was great since I would need maximum mobility to survive. The only issue was fully extending my arms up. My hands were well-protected also, and the knuckles were reinforced. I kept clenching and unclenching my hand to stretch the leather out. I was concerned that pulling a trigger was going to be difficult. The jeans were extremely comfortable, albeit thick. They would be unbearable to wear in the summer. But I could bend my knees fine. I supposed that it all worked together to keep you in one piece should you come off your motorcycle.
I picked up the pen I had previously used to write my shopping list and started to write down the areas that hindered my movements. Then I took the jacket, jeans, and gloves, and laid them back on the floor. Took out the fisherman’s knife and began to make small incisions in the leather. Under the arms was the main place. I cut all the way through until there was an opening I could see through. I put the jacket back on and flexed again. Mobility had mostly returned. The only problem was that I had sacrificed protection for movement. But I had planned for that.
I removed the jacket again, then began slicing patches from the spare motorcycle jacket. Next, I used the repair kit to affix the patches of leather to where I had created the slices. It looked ugly and broken, like a poorly made patchwork quilt. I waited until I had fixed all the holes before trying it on. Still comfortable. Still mobile. Still protected.
I smiled, “There’s my super suit.”
I then used the excess leather from the leftover jacket to create protective portions on the jeans – patches on the knees, up the front of the shins and thighs. It looked extremely unappealing, but it worked. The logic behind having a leather jacket and patches on the jeans was due to its thickness. I didn’t believe that a zombie could bite through the leather. After all, they only had human teeth and human strength. Sure they could bruise and break bones through the leather, but I doubt they could tear flesh. The only problem was that I had no way to test it safely. I attempted to bite the jacket, but stopped for fear of breaking my teeth – something the undead never had to worry about.
It didn’t matter, though. I felt a lot safer about my journey ahead with an extra level of protection. Bites weren’t infectious, not in terms of creating more zombies, but they were still deadly in terms of all the bacteria nested in the undead’s mouths. I would be protected against that going forward. I felt happy with my purchase, but there was one more finishing touch I wanted to add. All I needed was some spray paint and cardboard.
Twenty minutes later, I returned with both. Cut out a pattern on the cardboard to create two stencils. The first, in large writing, said ZOMBIE SQUAD. I took the leathers outside and used the white spray paint to stencil the words onto the upper back of the protective gear. After a few minutes, it had air dried. I used the second stencil to spray the letters ZS onto the right front breast. Did it look silly? Probably. Did I think it looked cool? Of course. I felt like I had an official end-of-days uniform and that I was prepared for anything. Undead world, here I come!
My next job was getting my boiler suit cleaned. I didn’t have long before I left, because I was hoping to leave in the next forty-eight hours. The earlier the better, and I had a lot to do. I bagged up the boiler suit and gave it to someone heading out on a scouting run. I asked him if he didn’t mind putting it on a wash and drying it in one of the local houses. He didn’t mind, although there was also a trade of beer in the way of payment. The next job was finding Boss.
I found him writing lists and directing guys in his porta-cabin. He was planning the great exodus to the mall and keeping in contact with the group there via walkie-talkies, military ones. When there was a lull in the conversation, I finally stepped in.
“Hey,” I said quickly, taking the brief chance I had. “Do you mind if I start packing up one of the trucks? Ya know, ready for when I leave?”
“Mh-mm, go for it,” Boss said, absentmindedly. He barely noticed my existence where he was so wrapped up in his plans. Looked like he had gained ten years in the previous few hours. The stress of responsibility. I did feel a fraction of guilt for going ahead and packing when he didn’t seem to have a clue what I’d said, but he knew the deal, so he shouldn’t mind.
I made my way to the North Gate to let them know I needed to leave. On the way, I got lost and came across Bill hanging around one of the shipping containers, with a gun. Something wasn’t right. When I got closer, I realised the container had been marked as one containing the undead.
“Uh, everything okay, Bill?” I was eyeing his gun. He jumped.
“Yeah, everything is fine,” he said, gruffly. He clearly was not comfortable with me being there, like I had caught him up to no good.
“No guns inside the walls, remember?” I said, trying to make a joke of it.
“Yeah, well, Boss said the meat-bags in this container had been acting up quite a lot lately, so he wants someone to keep an eye on it. Just in case they get out and we don’t notice until it’s too late,” Bill explained rapidly. Then added, “He doesn’t want anyone knowing in case people start freaking out.”
“Makes sense,” I nodded. That explained his nervous behaviour, I wouldn’t want to be so close to the undead either. Turning away, I said, “Well, shout if they get loose. I got stuff to do.”
“Yeah, I will,” Bill continued to hang around the container, with his weapon drawn. I hadn’t walked far before Bill spoke again, “Sam?”
“What is it, Bill?” I asked, looking back at him.
“I’m not a bad person,” Bill said – I wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question. I would argue he was based on some of his life choices, but who was I to judge?
“I’m sure you’re not,” I said with a tight smile.
He looked at me, genuine pain in his eyes and asked me another question. “Do you think good people do bad things for good reasons?”
“I’m sure they do, but who gets to decide they’re a good person?” I said with a shrug. I continued on my way, leaving Bill to ponder his philosophical dilemma.
I continued on, forgetting about Bill, and asked to go out the North Gate. I told them Boss was okay with it, and they didn’t even question me. I wasn’t sure which vehicle to take since each one had its merits and downfalls. It may seem odd, but I chose the transit van. It wasn’t fast or durable, but it had one thing the others didn’t – somewhere I could sleep safely. I could go in the back, close the doors, and feels safe knowing I was protected on all sides. With time, I could probably make it safer with modifications and extra plating or something. It also had a lot of storage
room in the back, and it wasn’t going to fall out like it could with a flatbed. I could carry food, fuel, water, even people. If I was going a long way, I needed to carry a lot, and Murder Van would probably even look good on the side. That probably sounded a little psychotic, but it would keep others away.
I loaded my bag into the back, which looked fairly lonely being the only item in there. I still needed everything else. All it took was a quick word with the guy watching over the vehicles, and he returned with three jerry cans of fuel, which were loaded into the back.
I returned to the base and visited Stephen. He handed me a bag with the Benelli M4 shotgun, three SA80 assault rifles, as well as boxes of rounds and cartridges for each. He even gave me a small box containing attachments for the SA80’s, a flashlight, a silencer, a scope, and a bayonet. I felt I should protest that I couldn’t take it all from them, but who was I kidding? I wanted it, they had plenty of extra, and I had helped them get said extras. I deserved it all. I had someone help me carry them to the van and put them in the back, which also contained the teargas. I was probably going to be the deadliest guy roaming the world at the rate my arsenal was growing.
I had to think long and hard about how much food and water I needed. Areas definitely still had running water, but that didn’t mean it would last for long. So I couldn’t rely on finding water. I needed to take a lot with me. Humans need, on average, two litres of water a day. I could have less than that if I needed to. People have survived on a cap of water for a few days when they have really needed to. Not that I wanted it to come to that. So say I had a month of travelling ahead of me, should the journey go well, if I had one litre of water a day, that was thirty-one litres. Boss had containers full of the five-litre water bottles. I would take seven of them; just to be on the safe side.
