Z-Minus Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Perrin Briar

  “Pa said we should do it now.”

  “But, but, but…”

  A pair of bolt cutters jaws squeezed through the hole and wrapped around the chain. There was a grunt, and then the metal snapped, grated through the hole and fell to the floor with a hollow thud.

  11:21am

  The door creaked open and morning sunlight washed across the floor, illuminating grey concrete, swept clean. Two long shadows stepped into the light, the frizzy hair of their shadows tickling the base of the opposite wall.

  “Well, there’s nothing here,” the shorter man with the scared voice said, turning to leave.

  “Hold your horses,” the taller man said. “We ought to be thorough, just in case.”

  The big man stepped into the barn, his heavy boots thudding like a heartbeat. He reached out to touch the tools arranged on the wall. Something in the darkness tinkled, making soft metallic noises at the man’s touch. Chris sank back, and kept his face a few centimetres from the floor.

  “Come on, Nathan,” the scared one said, still standing beside the door having not placed a foot inside. “Let’s go.”

  “Doesn’t it seem strange to you that everywhere else there’s a layer of dust, except in this dusty old barn?”

  Nathan rubbed his fingers together, finding them clean. He paced along the barn, eyes moving over the equipment. He sucked air in through his teeth and came to a decision. He turned and approached the door. He stopped and looked back once more before closing it. Chris let out a long breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding.

  Then there was a metallic clang. He looked over at Maisie, whose eyes were as wide as saucers. On the floor directly below her an object glinted in the sunlight. It must have hit a stone judging by the sound it’d made. The barn door opened and Nathan’s eyes scrubbed at the barn’s innards. He came to an object that glinted at the opposite end of the barn. Nathan moved to it, the scared man behind him, gripping a crowbar tight in one hand, trying to look at all parts of the barn at the same time.

  Nathan picked up the spoon, turning it over in his hands. He poked the brim of his hat up with it and looked up. A smile creased his lips.

  “I know you’re up there,” Nathan said. “You can come down. We won’t hurt you.”

  Maisie looked at Chris and pointed to the edge of the ledge as if to say, “Shouldn’t we answer him?” Chris shook his head.

  “If someone’s up there,” Nathan said, “let us know now. We came across a deer on the way here. You’re more than welcome to eat with us.”

  Maisie’s eyes widened. Chris shook his head and waved his hand.

  “Go get Pa,” Nathan said to the scared man.

  The other man’s boots made whirls of dust as he ran.

  “There’s really no reason to be scared,” Nathan said. “We’re good, honest people. But if there really is no one in here, we’re likely to set fire to the barn. You know, just to be safe.”

  “Wait!” Maisie said, getting to her feet. “We’re here. We’re two people. Please don’t set fire to the barn!”

  “Come down.”

  “Don’t,” Chris whispered.

  Maisie pushed the ladder over the side and began to climb down. She slowed as she came face to face with Chris, and then continued her descent. Chris closed his eyes and put his face in his hands. There was nothing for it now. The ladder stopped shaking as Maisie got to the bottom.

  Nathan kneeled down before her. He had a long face and big bulbous nose. It had been broken more than once and hadn’t been reset. He had a ludicrously thin moustache over his top lip like a caterpillar had died there. The hat he wore was brown and flimsy around the brim.

  “Why didn’t you answer me before?” Nathan said.

  “My dad told me not to.”

  “And why would he say something like that?”

  “I… I don’t know.”

  “Have either of you been bit?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Maisie nodded.

  “Let’s get a closer look at your dad now, shall we?” Nathan said.

  Nathan got to his feet.

  “Are you coming down or not?” he said, his tone aggressive.

  “I’d prefer not,” Chris said.

  “You’d let your little girl come down here with a stranger but you’re not man enough to come down here yourself?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Come down here now!”

  Chris sighed, his forehead against the floor. He got up and climbed down the ladder, his footsteps slow and deliberate. He got to the bottom but didn’t turn around.

  “You know,” Nathan said, his voice playful, “it’s good manners to look at a man when he’s talking to you.”

  Chris shut his eyes and let out a sigh. Then he turned around.

  Nathan gasped, whatever clever comment he was going to say snatched from him. His eyes went wide and then became narrow with rage. The hand that held the bolt cutters turned white and began to shake. He checked over his shoulder, looking toward the barn door. No one else had appeared yet. He weighed the weapon in his hand. Chris could see the thought in Nathan’s mind. Can I beat him to death and claim I thought he was a zombie? Nathan’s fist began to rise, and Chris tensed his own. Then Nathan looked down at Maisie. He sneered, as if Chris had deliberately hidden behind his little girl as protection, and lowered his weapon.

  “Nice to see you got out,” Nathan said, spitting the words as if they came without permission.

  “You too,” Chris said.

  Nathan bared his teeth like a wild dog at Maisie.

  “And how are you, little girl?” he said.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  “She’s fine,” Nathan said with a vehement smile. “This is a nice set up you’ve got here. Nice wide open spaces. Too much for one man and his daughter, don’t you think?”

  “We get by,” Chris said.

  “Yeah, well, there ain’t no way you’re getting us to leave if we don’t want to.”

  “Did I say you had to?”

  Nathan glared at Chris and looked about ready to use the bolt cutters again.

  “What’s all the commotion?” an older voice said, marching into the barn. “I was just about ready to…”

  His words dribbled off the old man’s tongue when he laid eyes on Chris. For a moment they just stood staring at each other, not with heat or hatred as Chris and Nathan had done, but curiosity, as if wondering what the other was thinking.

  “Pa?” Nathan said, not taking his eyes off Chris. “What do you want to do?”

  There was another pause as the old man deliberated.

  “I want a nice hot meal and a good night’s rest,” he finally said.

  “I meant about him,” Nathan said, jabbing a finger at Chris.

  The old man turned and glared at Nathan, who bowed his head in subjugation.

  “Didn’t I just make my decision?” the old man said. “Didn’t I just say what I wanted to do? You heard me, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, Pa. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry for goodness sake! Be smart! Go and help the others prepare dinner.”

  With a fleeting glare at Chris, Nathan turned and left. The old man was alone with Chris and Maisie. His giant head looked down at Maisie, and a kindly smile tugged at his lips. He got down on one knee.

  “I don’t think we’ve met, have we, little lady?” he said, extending his hand. “I’m George. George Jones, at your service.”

  His giant hand engulfed hers, and they shook. Chris felt a slight sliver of fear worm its way out of his belly when he saw that. How small and helpless she was, and how big and powerful he was. Then George let her hand go. He stroked her round cheek with the crook of his finger.

  “They’re beautiful at this age,” he said. He looked at Chris. “We’re just about to have breakfast. Why don’t you join us?”

  “Does that invite come from your whole family?” Chris said.

/>   “It comes from me.”

  “Thanks for the offer, we’ve already got-”

  “We’d love to,” Maisie said.

  Chris glared at her. George smiled.

  “I’d keep her close, if I were you,” George said. “Before one of my grandsons corrupts her and she loses all her good manners.”

  “We’ll catch up with you,” Chris said, his tone short and clipped. “There’s something we’ve got to talk about first.”

  “All right, but don’t take too long. We snagged us a deer on the way here. Won’t be long before it’s done.”

  George turned and went back to the field where they were camped. Once he was out of earshot Chris turned to Maisie.

  “What was that?” he said.

  “What?” Maisie said, turning away.

  “I made a decision to stay away from them. I made a decision, and you were supposed to stick to it.”

  “It was the wrong decision.”

  “Listen to me,” Chris said. “These are not good people. These are not people we want to put our lives into the hands of.”

  “They seemed nice. Well, George did, anyway.”

  Chris put his hands on the top of his head to keep them from wrapping around Maisie’s neck. He turned away, his tongue licking his lips in a frenzy of nerves.

  “We need to leave,” he said. “We need to leave right now.”

  “We’re not leaving,” Maisie said, folding her arms and setting her face into bull-headed mode. “I’m not leaving.”

  “Oh, yes you are.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Fine. Then I’ll leave you here.”

  Maisie opened her mouth to protest, and just as her body relaxed, Chris picked her up and swung her over his shoulder and began to march away, toward the farmhouse and away from the Joneses.

  “Put me down!” Maisie said, beating at his back with her fists. “Put me down!”

  “We’re going to get far away from here and start again somewhere. We did it here, we can do it anywhere. If we stay here we’ll forever be checking over our backs. The Joneses will be like zombies, but with brains and ideas of how best to kill us and take what we have.”

  “We don’t have anything! And anything we do have they’re welcome to!”

  “No,” Chris said, “they’ll lull us into a false sense of security and when we’re least suspecting it, BAM! A crowbar right between the eyes.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “I’m your father.”

  “Put me down!” Maisie said, still struggling. “I said, put me down! The minute you turn your back I’m going to run back to this place, I swear!”

  Chris dumped her on the ground, where she landed in a heap. Chris had his hands on his hips and was panting, out of breath more from anger than exertion.

  “You prefer them over me?” he said. “Your own flesh and blood?”

  “Right now I do, yes. At least with them there’s a chance to start again, to rebuild everything we lost.” She softened her tone. “Don’t you see that? Sometimes I really do think I’m the adult and you’re the kid. There are other kids here. There are old people, families. We can rebuild and start again. It doesn’t matter what relationship you had in the past with them. It’s the future that’s important now. The old world is gone. So are its problems and rival… rival… Oh, you know what I mean.”

  “Rivalries.”

  “Running away isn’t going to solve anything.”

  Maisie got up and brushed off her dress.

  “I’m going to go eat with them,” she said. “You can run away if you want to, but I’m going to sit by their warm fire and eat their deer meat.”

  She walked off, leaving Chris alone. He watched her retreating back as she headed around the barn. Chris kicked the dirt on the ground and cursed under his breath. He hated it when Maisie was right. He shook his head and ran toward the barn.

  12:03pm

  Chris caught up with Maisie and they headed toward the campsite together.

  “Just stay behind me,” Chris said to Maisie out the corner of his mouth. “The last thing we need is for them to fly off the handle.”

  The vehicles had been arranged into a circle like pioneer wagons across the New World. They consisted of two small trailers, a camper van, one 4x4 and a beaten up old Beetle. They each bore the signs of battle, scarred by dents and scrapes.

  The fat from the red meat dripped into the flames and hissed, giving off small wisps of smoke. Most of the Joneses were busy unpacking and settling down for a long stay. Each had heavy wooden and metal weapons tucked into their belts or strapped across their backs. If they noticed Chris and Maisie approach they gave no sign.

  A young boy about Maisie’s age continuously turned the meat over on the grill. He stared at Chris and Maisie as they approached the only other figure sat by the fire.

  “Glad you could make it,” George said, not getting up. “Please, take a seat.”

  The boy handed Chris and Maisie a plate, knife and fork.

  “Good lad,” George said. “Here, put that first piece of meat on that there plate.”

  The boy picked up a chunk of meat and laid it on Chris’s plate. A thin trickle of blood seeped out of it. It was encased in a thick brown sauce that gave off no aroma. Chris’s mouth salivated. Next, the boy placed a piece of meat on Maisie’s plate. Her eyes bulged at the size of it.

  “Thank you for sharing with us,” Maisie said to George.

  “You’re welcome,” George said with a smile. “You can eat.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  “Try it.”

  “Nobody else is eating?”

  “They’ve already eaten,” George said, not disguising his contempt for them in his voice. “Some people just don’t know how to welcome others. Nor how to let go of the past.”

  “You do?”

  George nodded.

  “I do,” he said.

  Chris cut off a piece of the meat and put it into his mouth. The taste sent shivers through his brain. It was hot, scalding the skin on the top of his mouth. He breathed out, and the steam billowed in front of his face.

  “Good?” George said.

  Chris nodded, sucking in air around the tasty morsel.

  “Angie adds her own secret sauce,” George said. “She puts it on everything and everything tastes delicious. Tastes the same, but delicious.”

  The boy beside the fire piled the remaining meat onto a plate and took the grill off the fire. He turned to George.

  “It’s all done, Grandfather,” he said.

  “Good lad. You go find your brothers and sisters and play.”

  The boy stole a glance at Chris and Maisie, and then took off at a run.

  “You have to rule with an iron grip otherwise they’ll never take notice of you,” George said.

  “Thanks, but I’ll stick to my own way of doing things,” Chris said.

  “Suit yourself. But treat them soft, they turn soft, and they’ll never listen to a word you say. Treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen. That’s what they say isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but I think that was talking about something very different.”

  Chris eyed the meat and the blood dripping out of it onto the ground.

  “You do realise that if there are any zombies out there they’re going to be drawn straight here?” Chris said.

  “If they’re that close it’s better them coming to us than our kids, don’t you think? Besides, I’d sooner have them come to us so we can deal with them instead of them wandering around and coming at us when we least suspect.”

  A woman with dark grey wiry hair cinched back into a bun stood in the doorway of her trailer. The old woman looked Maisie up and down.

  “Who fixed your clothes, dearie?” she said. “You look like a poor clown.”

  “Dad did it,” Maisie said.

  “Well, that explains it. Never trust a man to fix anything
.”

  “Sewing’s not exactly one of my strengths,” Chris said.

  “It’s not one of your weaknesses either. It’s a travesty, that’s what that is.” The old woman turned to Chris. “You’ve found someone who knows the difference between a needle and a garden fork, dearie. No need for you to go walking around in a sack any longer.”

  She raised her hand and ushered Maisie to follow her into the trailer. Maisie got up off her seat and put her plate down. Only gristle and bone remained.

  “Thank you for the meal,” she said to George before entering the trailer.

  “I hope some of your girl rubs off onto mine,” George said.

  Sparks burst from the fire and the blackened wood shifted beneath its own weight in the ash.

  “My boys had a hell of a time finding good dry firewood,” George said. “Had to go halfway through the woods to get it.”

  “I picked up most of the stuff closest to us. Thought I’d get to it before the rain did.”

  George nodded.

  “That’ll be the reason for it all right,” he said.

  “You’re welcome to my stores, if you want. It’s in the barn, in the corner on the right.”

  “That’s mighty kind of you,” George said, leaning over to pick a bottle up off the ground. “How about I return the favour? Fancy a little tipple?”

  He put the bottle cap in his mouth and with a well-practiced wrench of the head, popped it open with his teeth. He extended it to Chris.

  Chris could smell the hops, the fantastic tang of alcohol. He shut his eyes and thought of better times, of days without care, days when he’d been a different man.

  “No, thank you,” he said.

  “No? Are you sure? It’s fresh. Only a month past its sell-by date.”

  “No.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  George took a long pull and let out a satisfied sigh.

  “You know, I expected someone from the old days to turn up, but I never expected it to be you,” Chris said.

  “Life has a way of throwing up little surprises, doesn’t it?”

  The hurt and pain in George’s eyes made his face look gaunt.

  “We lost a few on the way here,” George said. “I’ve seen what happens to the human body when someone’s infected. The best thing you can do is let them have the best few hours of their lives as they can, and then put them out of their misery. It gets painful toward the end.”