As John came closer, he began to notice the various reasons as to why their approach had gone so smoothly. The being’s ears appeared to have been cut clean off, the cuts having long bled out but presumably indicating they were done post-reanimation. Furthermore, the man’s nose was smashed to oblivion, some of the bone sticking out from the flesh that remained behind, but a sense of smell almost certainly an impossibility given the condition. And finally, both eyes were quite simply, gone, empty eye sockets the only evidence they had ever been there in the first place.
“Jesus”, John couldn’t help but whisper under his breath.
Danny meanwhile opted to say nothing, just barely managing to resist the urge to vomit wildly in every direction.
“Sorry about this”, John said, feeling a small amount of embarrassment that he was about to kill a being that had no form of awareness whatsoever, but knowing nonetheless that it was never a good idea to leave one standing even of it wasn’t much of a threat.
With no further inspection required, John readied the knife in the palm of his hand, blade pointing up to the sky, and then thrust it violently forwards, piercing the man’s flesh somewhere in between his chin and neck. It was a perfect entry, the man’s skull so rotten that the weapon simply passed through rather than cracking it, so smoothly that John half expected his hand to follow it inside and come out the other end.
But most shocking of all was the reaction. Rather than drop to the ground the second John removed his blade, the being remained upright, now beginning to flail and moan at the sudden realisation that something was near. Horrified, Danny took a step back, breaking ranks at a point where they were thankfully less important, but nevertheless still mandatory.
“Back in line!”, John barked in a quiet but clearly aggravated tone.
Danny obeyed immediately, moving forwards once more after another brief glimpse in every other direction.
John removed his blade, quickly sized up the enemy – who was now moving with considerably more vigour than before, though not enough to cause any real issue – and then went in for a second attempt. Opting this time for a side-on blow, John’s blade went in just below the temple, once again squelching its way through and near enough poking clean out the other side. Hoping for a different outcome, John removed the blade and awaited the drop, but was left disappointed yet again.
“What in the fuck?”, Danny questioned, having now watched a usually deadly blow land twice to what was essentially no reaction whatsoever, “Is he… invincible?”.
“None of them are invincible”, John assured him, “Some are just a whole lot more rotten than others”.
“So… what now?”, Danny asked, “Do we shoot him? Throw him under the wheel?”.
John didn’t reply, opting instead to reach out towards the man – whose teeth were now chomping with minimal levels of enthusiasm – and give him a hard shove away from the wall on which he leaned.
Both John and Danny watched as the beast fell backwards to the ground, teeth still chomping, arms still flailing, until it landed hard on the ground below. What remained of its head found a landing pad in the form of a raised line of brickwork, colliding hard and proving to be too much for the weak fortress surrounding the brain. In what could only be mimicked by throwing a water balloon filled with chopped tomatoes at the ground, the biter’s head essentially splattered out across the ground, the final blow required to put it out of its miserable existence.
Without a second’s hesitation, Danny turned away, leapt onto all fours, and began vomiting all over the ground.
Chapter 11: For comfort
The tip of John’s Ruger SR22 was the first of the group to enter the innards of the gas station. Its stainless-steel barrel prodded gently at the frame of the door – the handle having been carefully turned moments earlier – and then began delicately pushing the entryway further and further open. Dust billowed from every direction as the sunlight poured in, bringing with it the building’s one and only source of light, due to the huge amounts of dirt that had accumulated all over, blocking any other light from making its way in.
Underneath the gleaming tip of the pistol were two large, rugged hands. The first gripped the handle of the gun, whilst the second supported the first from underneath, as well as holding John’s hunting knife outstretched, should it be required. It was a technique most commonly adopted by Hollywood films and the computer gaming industry in order to make their protagonists appear more skilful, but in reality, it was – for the majority of people – an incredibly ineffective method of wielding two weapons simultaneously. But John was of course, not the majority of people.
Pushing the door further and further ajar, John attempted to make a mental note of every entity he could see inside the darkened building. Shelves were his first port of call, especially those near enough to be directly illuminated by the outside light, but the majority of other things inside were out of view, draped in darkness and shrouded in shadows. John would need to go in mostly blind, something he was never particularly comfortable with. So very slowly, he reclined his weapon, allowing the door to close in front of him, and then whispered a number of instruction to his fellow survivors, barely audible from inside the building.
Moments later, both doors swung open with a loud bang, two separate feet having evidently found their marks and thrusting the entrance ajar with immense force, cracking one of the windows when the left-hand door collided hard with a display stand behind it. Immediately an immense amount of light flooded the area, illuminating far more in an instant, drenching the dirt and dust covered area in front in natural sunlight for what was clearly the first time in a long while.
Instinctively, all three men covered their mouths as they each began to notice the disturbing smell that their new environment had presented. Even Danny, who had already vomited up just about everything in his stomach, found himself gagging once again, though this time he had at least managed to stay in position. The smell of a dead human being was a truly rancid one, and something no person’s nostrils should ever have to go through. But the smell of a reanimated corpse slowly decaying into the ground, much less several of them, was a whole other story.
“Jesus”, Danny remarked in a muffled tone, having covered his mouth with his left hand, pistol still outstretched in the right, scanning his side of the area in front.
“Quiet!”, John instructed, “Keep it together”, he added, before gesturing for Danny to hold position.
Danny obeyed immediately, dropping his left hand away from his mouth and once more gripping his pistol with his full and undivided attention.
The gas station’s store was arranged as a series of aisles running from the entrance to the rear wall, twelve of them in total all going from the left of where the group had entered, until they reached a checkout on the far side of the building. In such situations it was common for a pair of survivors to move simultaneously along the aisles, popping their heads into each to make sure nothing stirred. The sad reality however was that for most amateur, non-gun folk, this presented one of the most common causes of friendly fire; people didn’t seem to grasp the idea that it wasn’t just about what you aimed at, it was also about who might be stood behind what you aimed at.
Thankfully however, all men in this particular situation were of course well trained, and had the backup of their third man – Devon currently walking backwards into the store with his rifle pointed to the group’s rear – to ensure the maximum chance of safe passage. Moving quickly but cautiously, John walked in almost complete silence along the length of the first aisle, until he rounded the end, ensured nothing else stirred on the far side of the store, and then gave the signal for Danny and himself to advance in unison.
Slowly but surely they peered around the first aisle, pistols pointed inwards but neither man fully exposing himself to whatever might be inside. The aisle however was predictably empty, both of bodies and supplies, so the pair quickly moved onto the next. Devon meanwhile continued to keep to the rear of Danny, his r
ifle remaining raised at all times, ready and waiting to take care of any unwanted followers.
Aisle by aisle the leading duo made their way through the store. The shelving was around seven metres long, so put a considerable distance between John and Danny, but hand signals remained more than visible – even in the ever-dwindling light from the open entrance – and each had been trained on how to both use and interpret them. But the reality was that very little communication was needed to move past empty aisles, as nothing required a closer inspection.
After aisle number six however, things started to get a little dicier. The first of the bodies came into view – a member of the undead that had evidently been put back down and then left to decay for some time – and was soon after followed by body number two, then three, then four and five on top of each other. By the time the pair had checked the final aisle before the checkout area, at least seven bodies had been identified, each in varying stages of decomposition, and each of them another sign that humans had clearly already been here.
The smell however gave away one much more important detail. Given how difficult the incredible stench made it to not only to enter the building, but to remain inside it, it became quickly apparent that nobody resided here. John was confident that any living nose couldn’t possibly survive in this hellish environment, not without at least attempting to clear out the numerous bodies that littered the store. This definitely wasn’t the base of whoever had infiltrated the camp, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t still be of value.
After a moment of silent preparation on both sides, John eventually gave the signal to move around the final row of shelving, plunging both men into the darkest section of the store. The checkout was almost completely black, both with dirt and shade, and the aisles were even barer than those that had come before them. Yet another body lay lifelessly on the ground, and the tills drawers were strewn across the floor with various pieces of now worthless cash torn up and thrown around the area.
“Damn it”, John said with a heavy sigh, “Clear”, he added, before making his way behind the register to search the shelves and cabinets.
“Well something was obviously here at some point”, Devon pointed out, referring to the numerous bodies that littered the store, himself now turning to face the duo and inspecting the building’s far end for the first time
“Yeah”, John confirmed from behind the counter, “And something else came in and took care of em’”.
“They didn’t just… die of natural causes?”, Danny asked, holstering his pistol now that the threat level was back to its usual – albeit still high – level.
“There isn’t much natural left with these guys”, Devon replied, “And I’ve never seen one of them drop dead from anything that didn’t slice through their skull, you?”, Devon asked of John.
“Nope”, John replied, slamming a small tin of what looked like ammunition onto the counter. “Never”, he added, before returning to his rummaging.
“But I don’t get it”, Danny said, “Why come in here and kill them if they were already trapped inside?”.
“Beats me”, Devon replied, making his way over to the window that would normally look out onto the forecourt, if not for the several millimetres of dirt and dust that had built up on both sides.
John meanwhile had proceeded to produce several more items from behind the counter. From some shotgun shells to a can opener, and a pack of mints he was sure somebody could find a use for. The entire store had been left bare by whoever had last inhabited it, and worse still, left without any trace or evidence of just who exactly had inhabited it. Even if the group John was seeking had been here, there was no way of him knowing.
“What are you doing?”, Danny suddenly asked of Devon, as he looked over at the blonde haired man by the window.
“Getting some more light in this place”, Devon replied, as he continued to run only his fingernails from top to bottom on the windows, scraping off layers of dirt in a seemingly inefficient way.
“But… why are you doing it like that?”, Danny asked.
“Well”, Devon began, “If you clean it off properly, it looks like someone’s in here, if you scratch like this”, he said, as his fingernails continued to scrape up piles of black and grey material, “it just looks like there’s a biter in here”.
“Got it”, Danny replied, learning what seemed like his hundredth lesson of the day.
“Batteries”, John called out enthusiastically, pulling out a half open pack of the precious items from the very back of the cupboard underneath the register, “Still in date too believe it or not”.
“Could I get them?”, Danny asked, “I found an old MP3 player the other week, I was hoping to find out what’s on it”.
“Sure”, John smirked, tossing the pack over to Danny, who promptly caught it, “Just make sure you pass around whatever you don’t need to the others”.
Danny nodded happily, and then stuffed the box into his pocket.
“Shit”, Devon announced from the window before quickly transitioning into a sprint back to the front entrance, “We got company!”.
“What!?”, Danny called out, the tone of his voice once more wavering.
“Get down”, John instructed, himself much more familiar with such situations, “What’d you see Devon?”, he asked.
Devon, who was now back at the entrance, was in the process of slowly closing each door and re-engaging the previously unused lock for what, judging by the crunching sound it made, was perhaps the first time in several months.
“Devon?”, Danny repeated on John’s behalf.
Devon pointed to the scratch marks he’d made on the window, and then began slowly crouch-walking his way back towards the other two.
John made his way over to the now partially usable window and peered out. The forecourt remained deserted, the surrounding roads still as ever, and the buildings in the vicinity all appeared exactly as they had left them. John struggled for a moment to understand just what exactly Devon had seen, until he eventually caught a glimpse of movement in one of the forecourt mirrors, and redirected his attention.
Judging by the location of the mirror, it seemed that on the street where two of the remaining undead had been stood, just to the left of the gas station, a single vehicle was slowly approaching. The truck – a Hyundai best John could tell – was slowly weaving in between the two ambling biters, until it eventually emerged into view even without the mirror, just metres away from where the group was stood.
Immediately, everyone got down as low as they could.
“What do we do?”, Danny asked.
“Hopefully nothing”, John replied, himself now switching from his knife and pistol combo to the rifle slung over his shoulder.
“Doesn’t look like nothing”, Danny remarked.
John remained silent, attempting to listen to the movement occurring outside, which through the aid of the poorly constructed window frames, soon came within earshot, just in time to hear the engine of the truck outside cut out, and a number of doors begin to open.
“Looks like someone’s been here”, came the first voice, a gruff Texan accent evident, “And pretty recently too”, they added, their footsteps indicating that they were cautiously making their way along the exterior wall, along which numerous freshly deceased biters remained.
John began matching the man outside’s direction and pace as best he could, rifle pointed outwards ready to fire. Soon enough he realised they were headed towards the entrance, and found himself mentally thanking Devon for having locked them shut.
“I’m thinking either we might get lucky and find some stuff inside…”, said a second voice.
“Or we might get luckier and find some people”, said the first, followed by a grunt of agreement from what sounded like a third and fourth person.
John rose up. Content that he was now far enough away from the scratches that there would be no way for those outside to see in, he was now able to make out the outlines of the men cl
osest, the sunlight outside working against them to expose their positions to the darkened interior of the gas station. Devon and Danny followed close behind, each of them now also having switched to their rifles.
All too soon, both the groups inside and out reached the front entrance to the building, soon after which came the sound of someone pulling and pushing on the doors. Thankfully however, the locks held them firmly shut.
“It’s locked”, called out the voice of whoever had just tried to enter.
“Then break it open”, said another, “C’mon we aint’ got all day, need to be gettin’ back soon”.
Immediately John made his way to the central point of the doorway, and then took a few steps back inside the store, descending onto his left knee, and taking aim at the entrance. Devon followed suit to perch alongside him, before checking the safety and firing mode of his own M16. Neither man wanted a firefight, but judging by what they’d already heard from the group outside, both were beginning to expect one.
Suddenly a large bang sounded out across the building as a heavy boot slammed into the exterior of the entrance, sending Danny – who had opted to remain close to the doors with his back to the wall – jumping forwards in surprise.
“Things tough”, remarked the man that had presumably just failed to kick the locked door open.
A second thud soon came clattering into the building, followed by a third, and a fourth, the doors shaking and bending every time, letting slightly more outside light in with each failed attempt. The lock wasn’t going to hold for long.
“Just shoot the damn thing”, ordered the Texan, “Use the 12-gauge”.
John went cold. The idea of them shooting their way through the door was bad enough news, but the idea of them using a shotgun to do it, spreading the shrapnel far and wide across the building’s innards with little care for where it landed, was much worse. Instinctively both him and Devon dropped to the ground, and Danny turned away from the door, just as the sound of the shotgun cocking came into earshot.
Road to Grissom: Part three of the Aftermath series Page 9
