Four (Their Dead Lives,1)

by Scott, Zack

  “You swear you saw this?”

  Tommy stumbled a step closer to Alec’s brother. “Do I look like the type of guy who would make this up?”

  Brian, swinging the shotgun in one hand, pushed his way to Tommy.

  “Brian,” Nicole cautioned, following closely behind.

  “Nic, go get Alec. Bring him here.” Brian’s eyes stared directly into Tommy’s. “I’ve had one helluva night, kid. So no, I don’t think you’re making this up, considering I’m the one with the shotgun.”

  Tommy nodded. “Well, load it already.”

  Brian smiled. “Already loaded.”

  Erica said, “You keep it loaded all the time?”

  “Nicole, please go get Alec and bring him here.”

  Enough of this nonsense. “Bring me here for what?” Alec leaned right outside the bathroom hall and wiped his mouth. They all stared at him. What? Do I still have vomit covering my face?

  A stench of decay wrapped around Alec, and before he saw the source, a rotting hand grabbed his skull. Holy hell! Shoved forward, Alec smashed down onto his chest. Something scrambled on his back. He kicked, swung, clawed at the wooden floor to escape but he was overpowered. Trapped. A moan sank in his ears, cold breath crawled along his temples, and claws ripped his shirt. Rough fingers scathed his flesh.

  “Alec!” Brian pumped his shotgun and went for his brother. Please don’t let him miss. Please let me live. Brian fired with no hesitation. Whatever pinned Alec was thrown across the bar by the impact of the spread. Something warm and wet soaked through his shirt. Brian grabbed him, hauling him to his feet.

  “Shoot it again!” Tommy yelled.

  “I know what I’m doing,” Brian said grimly.

  Alec stood in shock, realizing what had pinned him down. Is Tommy an idiot? I might be drunk but I know a zombie when I see one. This is no cannibal. The zombie struggled to rise and Brian fired again. Its skull vanished in a fountain of blood and bone.

  “Hell yeah, brother!” Alec stomped and pumped a fist in celebration.

  Another moan crawled its way up the dark bathroom hall, followed by another low groan. Wooden flooring creaked under the weight of each step two stumbling corpses took, slowly emerging into the light.

  “More!” Erica yelled.

  “Get that back door shut!” Tommy commanded.

  Alec’s ears rang from the shrieks and the loud blast of the shotgun. Nicole. She was standing next to the bar, both hands on a stool. Her eyes were wide as he rushed to her side. “We’re okay,” she said.

  “They keep coming!” Brian screamed over his shotgun.

  Tommy pointed at the main entrance. “Forget the hall, let’s make a break for it.”

  Alec kissed Nicole, took her hand, and they ran to the main door. Not thinking twice, he yanked the entrance open. A sprinting corpse sprang through, pouncing on his chest. He slammed to the floor underneath its weight, pinned once again.

  Nicole screamed for Alec to get up and for his brother to help. Alec struggled with the dead woman. It wasn’t as strong as the male stumbler who had pinned him before, but he wasn’t able to get away. He saw past it into the night and spotted another slow stumbler making its way up the patio.

  Alec rocked back and forth, shoving his hands into the woman’s chest, kicking his legs, all in a frantic attempt to escape. He slapped a hand across its face and it hissed down at him, cold saliva falling off its lips and splashing against his forehead. You dirty bitch! He gagged and coughed from the stench, and as its teeth darted for his neck, a bar stool smashed into its face. He grabbed the opportunity and rolled away from the corpse, staring at his beautiful fiancée in all her glory.

  Nicole fought for balance, clenching the stool with both hands. Her eyes were locked on the female stumbler struggling to rise. She screamed, charged forward, and shoved the stool into its gut, thrusting it off the patio. She almost fell over outside. Nicole! A cacophony of moans surrounded her. Dead silhouettes filled the parking lot beyond her. She threw the stool at them, knocking a corpse over, and retreated. Alec rose to his knees and grabbed her. Slamming the entrance shut as the door swung closed, he caught a glimpse of headlights accelerating right for the porch.

  “Everyone get back!” Alec screamed and tugged Nicole, sprinting for safety.

  The front entrance collapsed. A patrol car plowed into the bar. Tables and chairs exploded in every direction. The wave of destruction culminated at the wall of bottles: glass and alcohol sprayed across the establishment. Two bottles shattered on the roof of the car, pouring gin down its windshield.

  “Brian!” Alec called, holding Nicole by the relative safety of the office. The car was between them and the hallway Brian defended.

  “What the—” his brother yelled from the other side of the car. He was separated from the rest of the group. Brian grabbed his shaved head, ignoring the zombies and pending apocalypse. “What the hell did you do to my bar?”

  The engine shut off. Sheriff Ortiz fell out the front seat next to Brian, right onto his hands and knees. He yelled back at Deputy Miller, “Why did we listen to that drunk kid?”

  Howard, cuffed in the backseat, simply shrugged. “Okay, mistakes were made, but I’m pretty sure we ran over a couple of zombies. Success! Am I right?”

  Miller, ignoring him, kicked the driver’s side open.

  “Everyone to the back office!” Brian rushed past the patrol car. He got a glimpse of the outside and Alec followed his horrified stare.

  Outside, a pack of sprinters made their way past the slower stumbling zombies. Brian fired twice through the broken wall. A wooden beam dropped just in front of him. The center of the wall had vanished, only a gaping, ravaged hole in its wake. He stopped behind the car, leaned against it, and fired spread after spread.

  Deputy Miller swung the patrol car’s back door open, grabbing Kale’s shirt with one hand while keeping his pistol, a Glock 22, aimed at the shattered entrance. Kale stumbled out from the patrol car, his wrists cuffed tightly behind his back. He lost his balance and crashed to his knees. Alec ran to help.

  They stared at one another, thinking the same thing: we leave as four.

  Inside the patrol car, Howard squirmed on his side; his wrists were cuffed in front of him. Ortiz blocked his door. The sheriff took out his sidearm, standing alone on the side of the bar where Alec had first been attacked. Gunshots filled the room. Howard wiggled back, trying to get out through Kale’s door when Miller grabbed his ankle and tugged. He fell on the ground right next to Kale.

  Quick shots came from Ortiz while strong spreads came from Brian.

  On his feet, Kale sniffed, staring at Alec. They nodded as Alec rubbed his friend’s arm. “Glad you’re okay.”

  “Too soon to say that.” Kale turned to their three defenders.

  Ortiz, Miller, and Brian continued to fire at the oncoming horde—an army of rotten flesh, starving moans, and rapid feet flooding from the outside.

  “Fall back, Sheriff!” Miller screamed, retreating a step toward the office. The sprinters stormed into the bar. Brian spun around and rushed past the deputy, grabbing the shotgun shells on the bar as he told everyone to seek refuge in the office. Alec stood in place, watching the horror unfold.

  “Ortiz!” Miller called for his sheriff.

  “I’m com—arghyearrh!” The sheriff unleashed a tormented scream before he appeared around the patrol car. Right behind him! The tumbling fat man clutched at his own neck, blood leaking through his fingers. Bit. He reached for Miller as he fell to his knees. He couldn’t maintain pressure on his neck wound and let go of it. Blood jetted across the patrol car. “My cats,” he whispered sadly.

  “Sheriff!” Miller’s cries would do no good. The sprinters launched on Ortiz and his body vanished beneath a roiling mass of the undead. Two gun shots. Two tortured squeals. Silence. Miller forced his way into the office along with Brian.

  Alec, closest to the door, pressed his back against it to wedge it closed. Just a door between us an
d them. And like the seven other people staring back at him, he knew they’d trapped themselves in their own grave.

  JEFF

  They’re already here. Jeff stared out the sedan’s window at a gas station. Two massacred bodies were next to pumps, a Jeep near them.

  “Should we call the po-po?” Jerry’s voice was quite sincere. “I don’t have a cell. Allergies.”

  “How are you allergic to cell phones?” Sadie asked.

  “I just am! Okay? Wow.”

  “Don’t overreact, Jerry,” said Kelsey.

  “You’re right.” He stroked the steering wheel. “Sorry, Sadie.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Hey, you know those people who have trouble controlling the volume of their voice?” Jerry started. “Well, I have a condition similar to that. My legs, I can’t control their speed sometimes.”

  What am I doing in this car? Everyone else checked their phones and of course, no one had service. I should be with Alec, Kale, and Scot. We need to reunite, again.

  “Let’s keep going, Jerry,” Sadie quickly said as she grabbed the back of his seat.

  “Well, I would, but I need gasolina. We don’t have another mile in this thing without it.” Jerry tapped the gas gauge and then eyed Jeff. “Tough guy have any suggestions?”

  I do. “Stay put. I’ll make sure it’s clear.” As quick as his response, Jeff stepped out of the car.

  Kelsey called for him, “Homer.”

  Without responding, Jeff went for the pumps, sneaking up a sidewalk leading from the main street to the gas station.

  “Don’t die! I really want to know why you’re called Homer,” Sadie yelled from the back.

  Back in high school, Sadie used to intimidate him and his friends. It wasn't so much the way she'd dressed—all gothic like—but if you ever got on her bad side, well, you didn't want to be on Sadie's bad side.

  In the gas station, Jeff crouched down to check the first body. A man with an enormous brown beard and plaid shirt lay face down, unmoving. He searched for a pulse. Nothing. A crow bar was right next to the dead body. Jeff grabbed it and stood, examining the food mart. Several long cracks crept across its glass doors but they still stood intact. Lights flickered eerily inside. He checked the other body, a younger man wearing thick-framed glasses. No pulse.

  At the food mart, Jeff stared through the glass doors, not entering for fear of being cornered. He turned back to the pumps.

  The gas station was on a street corner at the top of a steep hill. Nothing else was nearby, except for Green Hills High School, a couple of miles away. Go Panthers! he thought to himself. He used to play on the school’s water polo team, even smiled at that memory.

  The night was crisp, and a breeze meandered down the streets. Trees across the road swayed back and forth. Seems clear.

  Jogging back to the pumps, he signaled the sedan with one hand while holding the crowbar in his other.

  Jerry’s sedan crept into the station and pulled up next to the first pump, right in front of Jeff. Jerry, ready to hop out, forgot to unbuckle his seatbelt. It yanked him back and he squirmed and whined until it came lose. Finally on his feet, he fixed his shirt to hide his protruding belly. He looked at Jeff. “What?” he snapped. His cheeks jiggled. “It’s heft, not fat.”

  Jeff shrugged. “I don’t care.”

  “We can’t all be a Ken doll like you!” Jerry stomped and snagged the pump.

  Jeff didn’t want to be a jerk and he felt bad, so he offered, “You can wait in the car. I’ll finish up.”

  Jerry swung away from the gas pump with a smile on his face, but his smile vanished when he looked past Jeff’s shoulder. He gasped and choked in fear. “Je-Ho-Jeff!”

  The man with a large beard had risen. Blood seeped out his pale face, just below his eye.

  “I thought he was dead!” Jerry cried.

  “Get inside,” urged Jeff.

  “Jeff!” Kelsey alerted from inside the car, her voice muffled.

  Next to the Jeep, another body had slowly come back to life.

  One from the front, one from the side. Both mine.

  The first zombie’s beard tickled Jeff’s skin. Its eyes were bloodshot and its jaw was locked open. Hands shot forward, hoping to grab Jeff. He swung the crowbar immediately, and its curved end impaled skull. A stream of blood ejected as the creature collapsed. It groaned hollowly a couple times then died while on its knees. Fully dead.

  Jeff yanked the crowbar out, kicked the body to the ground, and went to face the next undead man that had stood on the other side of the car. Gone. Where?

  The girls screamed from inside the sedan, yelling for their friend.

  Jerry shrieked. The undead man reached for him as he held the nozzle of the gas pump. Jerry kicked outward, struggling to deflect the man with his flailing legs. The man grabbed his shoe and Jerry tugged, fighting to break free. “He-help!”

  Teeth sank into Jerry’s shoe as he pulled the gas nozzle from the car and slammed it against the undead man’s head, repeatedly. The teeth had ripped open the tip of the shoe. “My Sketchers!” Jerry dropped the nozzle, bent down to examine the damage to his sneakers.

  The undead man lunged again.

  “Jerry!” the girls screamed from inside, banging glass.

  Jeff leapt over the car, sliding on the hood like a cop from one of those TV shows, movies, any pieces of fiction. He landed next to the pump in time to see Jerry’s dead eyes staring up into the night. The undead man continued to chomp at the poor guy’s chest, pulling out meaty chunks of Jerry while ignoring Jeff.

  Jeff raised the crowbar over the man’s head but paused when he heard the thuds, the moans.

  It was the sprinters, from up the hill, the opposite direction from where the survivors had arrived. Resurrected corpses stampeded through the dark.

  Indulging in a long, deep breath, Jeff slammed the crowbar into the undead man’s skull, interrupting its feast on the dead Jerry. I’m sorry I wasn’t faster.

  Sadie screamed inside the car while Kelsey was eerily quiet.

  Five sprinters made their way down the street before entering the gas station.

  “Stay inside!” Jeff yelled at the girls. Sadie yelled back at him, banging her hands against glass and crying at the sight of Jerry’s half-eaten body.

  Stepping away from the sedan, Jeff braced himself for a fight to the death right outside the food mart. He took a swinging stance, raising the crowbar like a baseball bat, and stared down the five sprinters heading for him. A pack of dead high school teens. The closest one, leading the group, wore a track jacket that was torn open, revealing a gaping bloodied hole in its rib cage.

  Track Jacket moaned at Jeff. It was loud, almost a roar.

  Jeff roared back and charged. He swung the crowbar around as Track Jacket smashed into him.

  Track Jacket flew to the side, slamming against the Jeep; its head crushed into pieces.

  Having lost his balance, Jeff tumbled over as four other sprinters caught him. The night spun in every direction when he crashed to cement. Raising the crowbar, Jeff used it to deflect the next attack. A sprinter lunged on him, its teeth snapping viciously. This one wore a beanie. Beanie’s teeth crunched against the metal of the crowbar. It was larger than Track Jacket but Jeff managed to throw Beanie off. He rolled across the cement several times and, in the process, lost the crowbar.

  Jeff pushed off the cement to his knees at the same time Beanie lunged. Using only his hands, he caught the undead teen and they both fell on their sides. The three other sprinters regained their footing and were only yards away; Jeff knew he was doomed.

  The door to the food mart swung open. An old man stepped out and fired his rifle. A sprinter’s head blew open in a red shower.

  Beanie groaned over Jeff, salivating for him. Its face was moldier, more decayed than the others. Jeff threw a punch at Beanie’s head and felt its skull crack beneath his fist. He threw another punch to the same spot and this time, his hand broke through bone,
and his fingers skimmed brain. Jeff grabbed chunks of grey matter and released a thunderous yell as he performed his first hemispherectomy.

  Another shot rang through the night, the bullet missing the last two sprinters. One zombie went for the sedan and the other flew past Jeff, targeting the old man at the food mart. A bullet sang, serenading the corpse’s head, dropping it at the old man’s feet.

  The final sprinter slammed its fists against the window of the sedan, its glass cracking right in front of Sadie’s eyes. She froze in the back seat while Kelsey spun around in the front seat to face the threat.

  Jeff rose, wiped at his face; a chunk of brain clung to his cheek. Keep it together. He stumbled about and found the crowbar.

  The last sprinter’s head caved in easily. Anything is easy after you pull out a brain using your bare hands.

  “You must get inside, now,” the old man called from the food mart. “More are coming.”

  Jeff fought for air, for a moment to breathe. “How do you know?”

  “Because I fired this,” the old man said, indicating the rifle.

  Before Jeff could respond, before he could catch his breath, he heard them sprinting through the darkness. He yanked Sadie’s door open.

  Kelsey got out on her own and fled to the food mart, but Sadie froze. She looked at Jeff with a vacant stare. This is not the time to go into shock. He touched her arm and gave a light pull, but she was locked in place.

  “Hurry!” The old man tugged Kelsey behind him and she fell into the food mart, all the while he kept his rifle raised.

  Sprinters came from every direction: the road where the previous five came, up the road from where Jeff came, and a few from behind the food mart.

  Jeff spun around. Surrounded.

  The food mart is no longer an option. The old man knew the same and vanished from his sight with Kelsey, locking the doors behind him. Kelsey screamed as she was pulled into the store.

  I will return for you, I promise. Jeff slammed Sadie’s door shut, jumped over the front seat, slid under the steering wheel, then lunged to close the front door, just as sprinters collided with the vehicle. The engine came to life and glass shattered over Sadie as she huddled in the seat.