Dead: Snapshot 01: Portland, Oregon

by T. W. Brown

  The moan that came as he was rolling over and struggling to his feet let him know that he’d just found another member of the household. He’d been pulling out the flashlight from a pouch at his side and heard it make a nasty cracking sound as it hit the floor and bounced.

  Something clutched at his foot and Jason kicked as hard as possible to free himself. Scooting back, he quickly found his back up against the door to the oven. His vision was well acclimated and he was able to make out the shadow of a head that had risen up from the floor. Reaching into his pocket, Jason grabbed the only other light source that he possessed; a disposable lighter. Thumbing the wheel, Jason squinted initially, but then he saw her.

  It had to be the lady of the house. She appeared to have suffered the worst of the attacks by the looks of things. Even in the flickering light of the tiny flame, he could see the numerous smaller bites on her arms and face. It still did not explain fully why she was on her belly and crawling. From what he saw, she had both legs.

  Using the same weapon that had killed off the rest of the woman’s family, Jason ended her time on this earth once and for all with a single swing. Getting up, he dusted himself off and started to work on getting as much as he could from this house that they would be able to use.

  When he went down the hallway to the master bedroom, he found the answer to the mystery of the mother. Amidst the carnage and splattered blood that were just more dark stains in the limited light shining through the window, was a wheelchair. That was also when he noticed that the widths on the doorways and halls were a bit wider than what you might normally expect.

  “That had to suck,” Jason said with a shiver. He could not even imagine the horror that poor woman must have endured as her husband and children attacked her.

  He went methodically through the house and then out to the garage. That last part was made easier when he discovered a flashlight and an unopened package of batteries in one of the drawers in the kitchen.

  Things stayed surprisingly quiet after that first run-in. He went through two more houses, both abandoned. By the time he finished, it was a bit later than he had expected as the first rays of the dawn were spilling across the dew-soaked lawns. On the plus side, he had the truck’s cargo area loaded to the point where he’d had to resort to using the passenger’s side of the cab. Even better, the third house still had plenty of supplies to come back for. As he had been making one final walkthrough of that third house, he had discovered a can of spray paint. That had prompted him to go outside and spray a giant ‘X’ on the front of the houses that were now empty of anything that he considered useful.

  As he started up the pickup and headed back to their homestead, he actually felt pretty good. One of the things that he’d found in his search was a room apparently belonging to a boy about the same age as Gabriel. He had scooped clothes and toys by the Hefty bagful and tossed them into the truck. Sure, it had taken up the room of valuable resources, but he would make more of these trips. It would be nice to see the child actually have a reason to smile. Besides, what kid didn’t love getting a bunch of toys?

  ***

  Ken stopped crawling and once again listened for any sounds that might indicate there were people up and about. His best guess had him with another hour or so before dawn. He wanted to try and get a look at the West compound. He would not do anything until the convict returned or he felt certain that the man was gone for good.

  He seriously doubted that the man would bail on them, but being out and alone in this hell was not exactly a good thing. Perhaps it was time to visit the idea of making these supply runs as a group. Even if that meant bringing the kid and having him stay in the cab, it might be a much better idea than just going it alone. Not that he was fond of the convict; but right now, manpower was at a premium, and the guy had shown that he was not adverse to putting in a hard day’s work. Truth be told, the man had a pretty healthy construction background which made him worth his weight in gold. Ken, while good with basic tools and such, was not necessarily well-versed in some of the finer points of building.

  He moved forward just a bit more and was finally able to get a much better view of the house. Unfortunately, that did him almost no good whatsoever. Sure, the sky was clear and the moon was bright, but the house was dark and there did not seem to be anybody moving around. Ken waited for several minutes, but nothing changed.

  At last, he gave up and returned back to the place he was slowly beginning to think of as home. Once he felt that he’d gotten far enough into the woods, he stood up and walked the rest of the way. It was as he was climbing through the barbed wire that separated the two properties that Ken paused. He slowly stood and took in the view. The rising sun was just starting to paint the sky in reds and purples. Along with it, the snow-capped peak of Mt. Hood stood majestically.

  Ken had grown up and lived his entire life in the state of Oregon. He had simply become accustomed to the beauty. He had never seen the big deal when tourists or friends from abroad would visit and make such a fuss about something that he saw practically every single day. As he looked at the splendor of the mountain, he thought that maybe he was seeing how amazing it was for the very first time in his life.

  In that moment, a number of things struck him. He’d lived most of his life not really appreciating all that he had; especially when it came to the “simple” things.

  He’d loved his wife, but he hadn’t realized how much, or how she cared for him until she’d died. And that was the simple one. However, Jason was currently gone, out trying to break into places and bring back food. The power was out which meant that everything needed to be cooked over flame…that meant chopping wood. Doing it for a day or two when camping was one thing, and even then, it was no big deal to stop at a store on the way and grab some bundles of kindling, or maybe even some well-seasoned firewood before heading into the camp grounds. Nowadays, it was all going to have to be done by somebody here.

  He walked across the open field to the house and spotted a dust cloud in the distance. He shaded his eyes even though the sun wasn’t yet bright enough to really be an issue, and was relieved to see the familiar outline of his truck rumbling towards the entry gate. Breaking into a bit of a jog, he met Juanita as she came out of the barn with Cherry.

  “It’s Jason,” Ken answered her unasked question. He noticed Cherry slump in relief.

  By the time the truck came to a stop in front of the barn, Ken had sent both women back inside. He explained that it would be best for him to give the rundown of what was going on without a bunch of extra emotion. In truth, he wanted to talk to Jason and get the man’s input on what they should do. He hated the fact that he was actually uncertain for one of the few times in his life. Yet, he was having a difficult time reconciling the idea of getting involved. A part of him—in truth, a really big part—did not want to get involved. He wanted to shore up their own defenses and prepare for what he considered to be the inevitable attack.

  “Who was that?” Jason asked, pointing to the barn as he climbed out of the truck.

  Ken filled him in on the details. When he was finished, Jason stared at the ground for a moment. Just as Ken was about to ask him what he was thinking, Jason’s head popped up and his grim expression said it before the words escaped his lips.

  “I guess we go to war.”

  Ken thought that was a bit melodramatic, but he understood the sentiment. Together, the men began to sift through their firepower and select the weapons each felt the most comfortable using. For Ken, it was his Glocks, an M4, and then one of the double-barrel shotguns. For Jason, it was a .30-06 with a scope, a pair of .357s, and the street sweeper. Additionally, Jason poured three bottles full of some kerosene that was in a can in the barn. Ken was not entirely on board with the idea, but Jason insisted, saying that if they could force them into the open, it would be easy pickings.

  “And what about the hostages?” Ken asked plainly.

  “You are thinking like a cop,” Jason gave a dismissive
wave of his hand. “We might lose one or two, but it would be better than nothing, and, in case you forgot, we are outnumbered.”

  By Cherry’s account, there had been seven of them. All men, but she could not recall that they were heavily armed, and Erin had insisted that the weapons be stored someplace outside the house apparently expressing her concern for just such an event.

  Once the men were both happy with the guns and ammo that they had loaded, they each grabbed a machete for that “just in case” moment that Jason insisted always seemed to happen in his stupid books.

  “Yeah, remind me to tell you what I think of those books when we get done here,” Ken grumbled as they headed out of the barn for the fence that bordered the two properties.

  ***

  Jason crouched down and brought the rifle up to his shoulder. There is no way it is this easy, he thought. Once more, he made a head count just to be sure that he was seeing things clearly. Again he came up with one group of five men standing around the large fire pit and another two men dragging bodies from the house; obviously the men in Erin’s group that they had killed the night before.

  He flicked off the safety and took a deep breath as he sighted in on the men around the pit. He figured he could drop one and get a good shot off at a second before they reacted. They were far enough away from the house that he was confident that he could get at least one more of the “bad guys” before they managed to reach the safety of the house.

  Lining up his shot, he said a silent prayer that Ken was smart enough to see their situation and that he was just as ready. With a squeeze of the trigger, he saw his first target spin and actually fall into the fire pit. His screams were almost an answered prayer for Jason as the men turned their attentions to the horrified screams of pain from their compatriot.

  Jason sighted in and got off his second shot before the men actually realized they were under attack. The second victim fell and then the sounds of another weapon being fired came right on the heels of Jason’s second shot. Three men were out of action, but the other four were running full-tilt for the house. Jason got off another shot, noting that the men were too frightened to think of doing anything clever like zig-zagging. They seemed to be taking that good old straight-line-is-the-shortest-distance-between-two-points approach. That allowed his fourth shot to hit a man in the middle of the back and send him sprawling on his face.

  Ken had taken down another of the men which left only two. One of them made it in the door and slammed it behind him, leaving his last remaining partner outside banging on it for only a heartbeat before a shot from Ken ended his life. The man slumped to the ground in a heap, a swath of blood marking his decent.

  Jason was just considering what to do next when the front door flew open. A man emerged with a woman that Jason did not recognize held in front of him as a human shield. He held a wicked knife to the woman’s throat.

  “You either back off or I cut this bitch! You hear me, mother fuckers!”

  Jason got a good look at the man’s face through his scope. He looked to be at least partially of Asian origin. His hair was buzzed down to a crewcut, and Jason even made out a scar on the man’s cheek. He was about to squeeze the trigger when Ken’s voice made him pause.

  “You go right ahead. Makes no never mind to me. I don’t know that woman from Eve. And then I get to take a much cleaner shot at you.”

  Jason pulled his eye away from the scope and glanced over in the direction of Ken’s voice. Sure enough, the man was stepping out from a cluster of untrimmed Christmas trees. He had his Glock out in front of him with that two-handed grip that cops seemed to like to use. Jason was more of a rifle and shotgun kind of guy, and so his actual experience with a pistol was pretty minimal. Perhaps there was something to that kind of grip; he would ask Ken later when they had some down time.

  “This bitch’s blood will be on your hands!” the man screamed.

  “No, I won’t get a drop on me.” Ken took another step closer, but he nodded his head once.

  Jason took that as a sign that Ken wanted him to finish this guy. He brought his rifle back up and sighted in on the man’s head once more. He was pretty confident that he could nail this guy without hitting the woman. Mostly. Sort of. Okay, he felt he had at least better than a fifty percent chance of not hitting her. But his options were pretty limited. And if the man did slit the woman’s throat, well then, she would be dead anyways. Better a quick death from a bullet to the head if he missed. And that was just an ‘if’ at this point. He was pretty close, no more than thirty or forty feet at the most by his best guess.

  “One more step—”

  The report from the rifle drowned out the next word. The bullet that crashed through the front of the man’s skull cut off the rest. The woman screamed and dove away without a scratch on her.

  Ken rushed to her and knelt down, holstering his pistol in the process. Jason broke from the trees and rushed past the woman and into the house. His eyes lit on three more women, each bound and gagged. Since he knew her, he went to Erin first and removed the gag. She spat as if clearing her mouth of something foul and then looked up with narrowed eyes.

  “So…what kept ya?”

  There was a single moment where Jason did not know how to respond. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Then Erin smiled. Of course her smile was slightly marred by her blackened and swollen left eye, giving her look a lopsided quality.

  Jason quickly recovered and then, with a straight face, he grabbed the cloth gag and put it back in place. He heard her muffled protests as he rose and went to the next woman sitting against the wall. After he had freed the other two, he bent down in front of Erin.

  “Are you gonna behave?” Even behind the gag he could see her good eye sparkle with mischief and a smile tug the corners of her mouth up as she slowly and deliberately shook her head in the negative. “Suit yourself.”

  Jason stood and headed for the door to a chorus of thumping as Erin pounded the floor with her bound feet. He was not a step out the door before one of the other women had obviously hurried over and removed the gag. What followed were a string of profanities that would have impressed or perhaps embarrassed any convict.

  ***

  Ken sat on the tailgate of his pickup and sipped at a canteen of lukewarm water. The sun was out and in full effect. He and Jason had just unloaded what was likely the last of what they would be able to scavenge from that small residential community that would never reach completion.

  In a grassy area on the far side of the barn, Gabriel was delighting himself as well as Imp and Stupid as he threw an orange tennis ball and watched the two dogs bound after it. For just a moment, he wished that he could swap places with that kid. Just as suddenly, he was hammered with a wave of sadness. That child would never know a normal world. Whether the zombies simply fell over and died after a few months, or (and this was not looking to be likely) the government got things back under control (even less likely), that child would live in a new era. From what he’d seen in just this short time since everything suddenly fell of the ledge, it was going to be a rough existence.

  Humanity had never lacked the capacity for evil or the ability to do horrible things to each other. With no sort of deterrent, it was likely that so-called civilized society would be taken further into the abyss. He capped the canteen and wiped his brow with the handkerchief he kept stuffed into his pocket. Just as he was about to close up the truck and head into the barn for whatever Cherry and Juanita would be serving up for lunch, he spotted an approaching cloud of dust.

  It was far enough away that he had time to signal Erin and Jason to come out and join him. They had a plan in place for strangers—proof of how bad things had already gotten if that took precedence over finding a map and making plans for where they would search next for supplies.

  Jason was long gone and in position by the time a rickety old cart being pulled by a grizzled man on a bicycle came to a stop in front of the gate where Ken and Erin stood, each with a pis
tol in hand since it had been decided that precious seconds might be lost in drawing them after trouble reared its head.

  “The days of being polite are likely to be a thing of the past,” Ken had reasoned during one evening around a campfire.

  “Rag and Bone!” the man cried cheerfully as he came to a stop.

  Ken looked past the man and saw a dozen or so of the undead arriving in the man’s wake. He checked out the cart and arched an eyebrow in question at the man.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Erin spoke the very words that were on the tip of Ken’s tongue.

  “Rag and bone, missy!” the man crowed. He climbed off his bicycle, seemingly oblivious to the pair of handguns that were trained on him and following his every move.

  The man scuttled to the rear of his cart and began to rummage through it, muttering under his breath the entire time. At last he made a bit of a hooting noise and popped up with a few things cradled in his arms.

  “Is this guy nuts?” Ken whispered.

  “I’m gonna go with yes,” Erin replied as the man did a bit of a hop and skip back to the gate.

  “What I have here is some of the finest in self-defense. Nothing more satisfying than knocking down the stench bags with their own parts.” With a flourish, the man produced a long cudgel with what looked like a leather-wrapped handle. The bludgeoning end had a metallic spiked knob that took Ken a moment to identify.

  “Is that…?” Erin’s voice faded and she cocked her head, too fascinated to be horrified.

  In the man’s hands was what Ken had to assume was a femur. The “leather” used to wrap the base and form the handle looked to be dried human skin. The crowning piece was a skull that had been dipped into some sort of heavy, amber colored resin that had a number of metal spikes of varying sizes and types frozen in place.

  “I see you are dubious…let me demonstrate.”