Road to Grissom: Part three of the Aftermath series

by Duncan McArdle

  But what had changed this time around, was that unlike before when the door had remained firmly shut in place, it now swung wilfully open. Without the locking mechanism that the tripped booby trap had removed, there was nothing stopping the small horde of slow moving creatures from making their escape, and with the door now open, and the small amount of light in the stairwell trickling in and piercing the darkness, more and more heads began to turn, and more and more bodies began to move.

  On the floor below, with no idea they’d released the building’s last remaining – and very much deceased – residents, John and Devon continued to make their way down, now emerging onto the second floor of the apartment block. Looking briefly into the corridor to ensure nothing had changed, John continued to lead the pair towards the next lower floor, before stopping half way down the stairs and holding up his hand in instruction.

  “What is it?”, Devon asked in a hushed whisper, knowing from John’s face that he’d heard something.

  “Not sure”, John said quickly, hoping to return the area to silence so he could better decipher the noise, but unable to do so due to the seemingly growing volume from above, “Thought I heard something”, he continued, before stopping a moment to ponder the potential source. “Sounded like something falling down or… a window being slammed or… a car door.”, he eventually announced, before immediately quickening his pace and taking the remainder of the steps two at a time.

  Before either man had had much time to contemplate just what exactly they might be running towards, the pair burst out of the ground floor door back into the corridor of the apartment building, and began charging towards the front entrance. Each switching to rifles, they slowed their pace in anticipation and then moved slowly but steadily out into the open, each keeping to one side so as to maximise their range of fire in front, and minimise the chance of a single barrage shot hitting both of them.

  Across the street, their Ford Focus sat proudly hoisted up on the curb, still exactly where they had left it, but now attracting the attention of two figures they had most certainly not left it with. Both were fairly non-descript, white males, one only marginally taller than the other and both average height and average build regardless, giving little away at the outset. But one thing was for sure, and that was that neither man bore the scars of the dead, and each appeared to be armed.

  Keeping as silent as possible, John pointed to the two figures to ensure Devon was aware, and then continued forwards, taking care to place his feet down as lightly as possible. The area around the car was silent and motionless, aside that was from an especially rusted pickup-truck which sat just ahead of the Ford, its engine still idling after having presumably dropped off the two men in front.

  Mercifully, John’s first inspection of the truck alluded to it being empty, and when combined with his brief analysis of the local area, meant the situation was likely to be two on two, a set of odds he was confident in their ability to manage. The men in front had only pistols on their waist, aside from a full-stock shotgun which one of them had propped against the Ford. John was accordingly confident that he had the power to resolve the situation in his favour one way or another, especially given both men had still yet to notice the approaching figures, and were still turned with their backs to the apartment building, their eyes engrossed with the unfamiliarly modified car in front.

  With only around twenty feet separating the two groups, John was forced to slow his pace even more, in order to reduce the risk of their presence being noticed. They were now moving at a snail-like speed – a strange paradox in a situation that seethed with adrenaline and excitement – but before long had managed to close the gap from the twenty or so metres between the car and the apartment block’s entrance – a distance where their rifles would have been required – to a proximity so close that pistols alone would do the job, though John preferred the impression the much larger weapons gave.

  “I swear I see the keys in there”, said the first man, stood outside the driver-side door, his voice bearing the remnants of a New York or New Jersey accent.

  “Eddy, you ain’t got a clue”, replied the other man, himself stood to the first man’s right, and with a similarly eastern sounding tone, “That could be anything in this light, and the alarm could go off if we smash in”.

  “If it goes off, we split, find somewhere to hide and wait for them to come out, then pop ‘em”, Eddy planned, “Then we take the keys and bring this thing back to base, easy-peasy”.

  “And what if they don’t come out? What if we just bring a whole lot of attention on ourselves for no good reason”, the second man questioned.

  “Buddy, you gotta’ grow a pair”, Eddy insisted, before taking a step back, taking out his pistol, gripping it backwards in a pistol-whip like style, and then raising his arm into the air.

  “Hands in the air, slow and steady, don’t do anything stupid”, John said calmly, grabbing both men’s attention with the sternness of his voice, but doing so quietly and subtly enough so as not to frighten them into making any rash decisions, “Don’t reach for the guns or you’ll catch a bullet in the back of your head”.

  “You gotta’ be fucking kidding me”, said Eddy, who now raised his left hand to go alongside the already raised right one, itself still gripping the pistol.

  “Drop the pistol buddy”, Devon chimed in, “Or this won’t end well for you”.

  “If I drop the damn thing and it goes off, who knows how it’ll end for someone”, Eddy said sarcastically, “These things have a habit of hurting people, you know?”.

  “We’ll take the risk”, John announced, “Drop it now”.

  After a few seconds of contemplation – and a quick check into the reflection in front to ensure there was a half decent threat behind – Eddy eventually complied, dropping the pistol a good seven foot down to the ground, where it came to a loud, but thankfully not explosive, rest.

  “Now turn, slowly, keep your hands in the air”, John instructed.

  “What is this, Cops?”, Eddy asked as his colleague followed instructions and turned, “What the fuck do you fellas want?”.

  “We want you to turn, slowly, keeping your hands in the air”, Devon repeated on John’s behalf.

  “Fine”, Eddy replied, before finally turning around to face John and Devon, all four men now laying eyes on each other for the first time.

  Eddy was not an attractive man. Unlike his fairly nondescript and as of yet unnamed comrade in arms, the otherwise uninteresting man had a face that told a thousand stories. Covered in scars, bruises and fairly deep looking cuts, it was clear Eddy had not been your average, run of the mill individual prior to the world going to hell, and judging by some of the more fresh-looking lacerations, he hadn’t been much better since.

  “Jesus Christ”, Eddy said, dropping his hands back down to each side, “If I’d of known it was you sad looking pair of assholes I wouldn’t have given in so easy”.

  “Hands in the air!”, John said, his tone rising in volume but remaining calm and composed.

  “Or what, you fellas ain’t gonna’ shoot me, I can see it in your eyes, you ain’t killers”, Eddy reasoned.

  John kept his rifle aimed squarely at Eddy’s chest, with Devon covering the other man, who himself had relaxed his stance slightly, albeit not as much as Eddy.

  Stand-offs like these were almost common nowadays. With dwindling numbers of living humans inhabiting the world, what little life remained had become incredibly precious. In addition, the majority of survivors were normal, decent people, who possessed neither the desire nor the stomach for murder, even in situations where it was kill or be killed. Nobody wanted to see another person gunned down, and that gave some people an opportunity to manipulate things their way.

  “See here’s the thing about people like you”, Eddy continued, still refusing to re-raise his hands but as of yet not making any suspect movements. “You like to come along, guns in the air, thinking you can rob us and leave, because you think we
ain’t gonna’ do shit about it. But see we’re part of one big ass group, and they don’t take kindly to their men being robbed while they’re out”.

  “We’re not thieves”, Devon pointed out, “But by the looks of it, I can’t say the same for you”.

  “Us?”, Eddy asked sarcastically, turning to face his fellow survivor before looking past the other man to the Ford Focus that still sat behind them, “Oh, you mean the car. I guess it belongs to you two then?”.

  “Yes it does”, John replied plainly, “And we don’t take kindly to people trying to take it”.

  “Well that’s too bad”, Eddy said, “Because what you’re about to do, is you’re gonna’ drop your weapons, hand over the keys, pray to god we don’t put bullets in each of your brains, and then watch us drive away in it”.

  It was a strange moment of clouded thought for both John and Devon. Had they missed some fundamental part of the current situation? Where they outnumbered, outgunned or surrounded? Was anything going on to indicate that things weren’t sitting very much in their favour? John wasn’t sure if the man in front was alluding to some genuine ability to come out of the situation on top, or if he was simply so delusional he thought he was capable of handling himself against two armed men with nothing more than his bare hands. In any case, he wasn’t in the habit of underestimating anyone, and this man was no exception.

  “I’m gonna’ ask you again”, John began, “Put your hands in the-“.

  “Yeah yeah yeah”, Eddy interrupted, ignoring the request and instead turning back towards the Ford, this time turning to his right, in the direction of the shotgun that remained propped against the vehicle, which he reached towards and grabbed by the barrel.

  “PUT THE GUN DOWN!”, Devon yelled, unable to keep quite the same level of cool that John was exerting, “PUT IT DOWN AND PUT YOUR GOD DAMN HANDS IN THE AIR”.

  “Would you please tell your lap dog to shut the fuck up?”, Eddy asked back, presumably aiming the words towards John as he lifted the shotgun slowly higher into the air, mere inches away from being able to grab it by the grip.

  “FINAL WARNING!”, Devon yelled, now looking over at Eddy rather than his own mark, but keeping the gun aimed at his designated target, who appeared much more nervous about the current situation.

  But it was no use. Eddy had either too much confidence or a huge lack of common sense – or perhaps both – to heed the warnings of the two armed men in front, and instead picked the shotgun up into the air, before grabbing its grip with his right hand, now ready to fire, albeit only at the sky. For a tense moment, nobody quite knew what was about to happen, and the entire area seemed to embrace a whole new level of quiet, only broken when Eddy eventually continued his spiel.

  “Now listen up”, he began.

  But John had heard enough. Raising his rifle around an inch or so, he gave a short and unambiguous response. With a single pull of the trigger, his M16 bellowed out loudly with the sound of a small explosion, sending a below average in size but more than deadly five-point-five-six millimetre round hurtling forwards at almost a kilometre per second, finding its mark around three-quarters of the way up the left nostril, and piercing deep into the brain of the man who had until moments earlier stood with such incredible levels of confidence.

  Realising what had happened within mere milliseconds, Devon turned his attention back to his own mark, only to see him pulling an item from his own pocket and turning on the spot, presumably ready to make a run for it. Devon was far from comfortable killing a living person, but he found it much easier when his target had made the decision for him, removing any sense of doubt over the choice he had to make.

  With the first shot, Devon caught the figure in front in the centre of the back, ripping through the spine and stopping him dead in his tracks. Quickly adjusting, he then fired the second, which tore through the back of the man’s head, this time with enough force to re-emerge out of the front, somewhere around his right eye. Both shots displayed incredible accuracy given the targets sudden movement, and both did exactly what they needed to do.

  Both Eddy’s shotgun and the other man’s hidden item – a walkie talkie he had presumably intended to use to call for help – hit the ground around a second after the final shot, joined in almost perfect unison shortly afterwards by both bodies, each collapsing to the ground accompanied by the sound of clattering bones. Eddy’s descent had taken a little longer to come to fruition due to an odd stumble his dead-body had managed to pull off, but soon enough it was clear that the threat had most certainly been neutralised. Both of the would-be attackers were dead.

  Chapter 23: Planning for luxury

  “What’s going on!?”, Danny called out over the radio, his muffled voice even more frantic than it had been during some of the more dangerous recent events, “Are you both okay?”.

  Silence ensued, no obvious sign to indicate that anybody had even heard the transmission.

  “John!? Devon!? Somebody talk to me!”, Danny tried again, before pulling the walkie-talkie away from his face to check that was still in fact working, “Hello!?”.

  Danny had no desire whatsoever to hang out any longer than he had to alone on top of that rooftop, but he knew he had a job to do. He also knew that keeping an eye on movement in and out of the base carried the utmost importance, and that taking even a second off from his duties was a risk, but at the time, that didn’t seem to compare to the risk of leaving two men who he viewed as his superiors – and also his safety net – to fight off whatever it was they’d encountered, without the support of him and his sniper.

  Looking down at the long barrel of the Chinese rifle, he quickly went back over its various switches and toggles, most of which he had little to no information on, and ensured a round was loaded into the chamber. Grabbing the weapon by its receiver, and pulling himself from his prone position onto his knees, Danny placed his free hand on the floor in order to push himself up, and turned to begin the quick sprint over to the other side of the rooftop.

  “We’re good”, came John’s voice over the radio, suddenly stopping Danny in his tracks before he’d even managed to take the first step.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, he crouched back down and grabbed the radio once more. “What the hell happened?”.

  “Ran into a couple guys who liked the look of the Ford”, John explained.

  “From the stadium?”, Danny asked.

  “Not sure”, John replied, “Hard to believe they’d be this close to it if not. Something tells me they might have been the proud owners of that rifle you’ve got up there”.

  Danny looked at the heavy sniper rifle still held in his hand, before eventually opting to place it back down on the ground and kneel. “Are they dead?”, he asked.

  “Very”, John replied.

  With that, Danny could relax. It wasn’t that he was particular happy at the idea of murder having taken place, but more that the specific murders that had taken place provided him with a certain level of security. His biggest concern since taking up his position on that rooftop was for the potential return of whoever its previous inhabitants had been, something that now seemed incredibly unlikely. If nothing else, John and Devon had now sent a strong message to any would-be attackers, and Danny was confident this would do them all some good. So with all that in mind, he returned to his prone position, and resumed over-watch duties.

  Back on the ground, John and Devon set about clearing up the situation. John opted to leave behind the shotgun – knowing they had plenty of them back at base – but made sure to quickly load up on the ammunition that had gone along with it. In addition, he searched out and found a couple bottles of water, and a few candy bars that had been stuffed in Eddy’s pockets, before dragging the dead man’s body underneath a car parked a few feet further along the road from the Ford.

  Devon made sure to do much the same, albeit without the luxury of a shotgun to empty out. The other victim – who remained unnamed – had been less well armed, but did at least
also hold bottles of water and some very outdated candy bars Devon was sure would come in handy. Making sure not to leave a blood trail that might alert any of the men’s passing comrades, he too dragged the body under a neighbouring car, before making his way back over to the Ford and picking up the fallen man’s radio.

  “Might come in handy”, Devon explained, knowing that John was watching as he clipped the radio to the back of his belt, and opting to explain the action.

  “Agreed”, John said, before turning his attention to the road they were currently stood on, itself leading right the way down past the edge of the stadium. “Now keep low in case somebody else heard, I don’t much feel like getting ambushed between here and these scumbags’ base”.

  The road between them and the stadium’s south-east corner stretched for around seven hundred metres, before carrying on into the distance as far as the eye could see. At this point, there was nothing worth noting within view along the street, but there was every chance that the sudden sound of gunfire might have drawn someone out from the stadium, if of course they didn’t simply assume that it was just another set of the dead being gunned down. In any case, John made a beeline for the left-hand side of the Ford, lowered his stance as much as possible, and began slowly crouch-walking along the road, hiding his mass behind the row of cars that stretched all the way to the stadium.

  Back on the roof of the apartment block, Danny was starting to notice something. Since he’d first been left alone up-top, he’d been hearing fairly typical noises from the infested building below. The sound of scratching, groaning and heavy breathing was an almost constant feature of the new world, but what had caused Danny more concern in the past few minutes, was that the sound seemed to be growing.

  The most troubling of all noises however came around five or so minutes after John and Devon had radioed in to confirm they were okay. In amongst the usual sounds of banging and bodies falling over, a faint but unmistakable sound of a body slamming somewhat softly against a metal door caught Danny’s attention. This was followed by another, and then another, slowly growing louder as it seemed either more bodies reached the same location, or the original body became more vigorous in its attempts to move forwards.