by James Master
“That's why we should hole up here,” John added chuckling, “or over at that new Wal-Mart they just put up on County Road 20.”
Ashley agreed with what John was saying. “Yah, like in that movie, 'Dawn of the Dead'. My mom made me watch the rebooted version.” Roland also thought about the classic movie. “Couple of problems with that movie: one, living in the mall is only a quick fix. We haven't even found out if there is power down there. Who knows if the plant across town is still up and running?” John interrupted Roland. “I was actually an employee of that power station we have in town. It isn't gonna work unless someone pushes the buttons.”
Roland nodded, knowing pretty much the same thing. “I thought that much, anyway. The new 'Dawn of the Dead' is okay, but have you seen the original?” Neither of them had. “There were four of them; two police officers, a pregnant news person, and a helicopter pilot. They cleared out the mall of the undead, but ultimately they had to abandon it, due to raiders discovering where they were. That is why we can't stay.”
“Why shouldn’t we stay with other survivors?”
Roland almost told them about the group of refugees heading out of Walkerton but didn't, for Ashley's sake. “When the government and the police suddenly vanish, the only rule is mob rule. I mean, you might think that human beings were bad before the outbreak, but take away the police, government or basic law and order and you've got a dictatorship. I would rather take the chance being in a smaller group. That ruler might be bad or good. All the rulers in zombie movies turned out to be dictators. In a real life or death environment, I tend to agree with the movies. Whatever remaining groups of people we meet might be dictators. John, would you want to be led by someone like Starke?” John scratched his stubbly cheek and sighed, “Hell Roland, not everyone we meet can't be that bad.”
“Sure, but how many good ones are there? How long would they last when the group meets another group led by Starke?”
“Okay, you got a point there. So where do we go from here? I mean you must have a plan. Why else would you be here in Rochester? I mean if I didn't already live here, I wouldn’t come here zombies or no.” Roland waited a second to answer. Ashley looked at Roland, waiting to hear his plan. Roland paused to take the last sip from his tea. “Well, my original plan was to meet up with my brother, but after encountering Starke, I'm sure that's not going to happen.” Roland briefly retold Starke's story.
John listened to the story and after he spat on the ground. “I'm sorry to tell you Roland, but your brother was probably backstabbed by Starke.” Ashley was glad to see that John and Roland weren't fighting when she suddenly remembered her dream from the other night. “Roland, I think John’s right about Starke killing your brother. Not like he told us anyway.” Roland looked sharply down at where Ashley was sitting.
John sat down with a grunt next to Ashley, “Who is your brother?” Roland changed his stare from Ashley to the Rochester skyline.
“My brother was Edward Samuel Morgan, Eddie for short. He and I were supposed to meet at his house in Manchester. He and Starke met up for some reason. Now he has my brothers’ gun and Ashley thinks he is dead for some reason.” Ashley watched John as Roland spoke. His face was scrunched in like he was trying to remember something.
“Roland, I think he was in the group I led into the hospital. He and Starke joined our group just before. Actually, you kind of look like him. He looked younger than you blonde hair, longer than yours, sorta quiet.” Roland’s eyes narrowed in on John. “I was three years older than him. Did he have a cowboy hat, a brown felt Stetson?”
John took a pouch of chewing tobacco from his back pocket. “Yep, that's him. I thought he was in cahoots with Starke until he was stuck in the hospital with the rest of us.”
Roland withdrew his revolver from his holster. Handing it over to John, he spoke quietly.
“Did Eddie’s gun look like this?” John took the gun from Roland, his hand dipping down from the weight of the revolver. After taking a minute to carefully look it over he handed it back to Roland.
“Yep, it could almost be the same.”
“Our father was a gun fanatic. He taught us everything he knew. When he died, he willed each of us one of his hand made revolvers.”
Ashley looked up. “Your dad made guns? Mine only made messes.”
Roland laughed, “Mine did too, but after he returned from the war, he became very obsessed with guns and designing them. He made, I don't know, maybe hundreds of revolvers. He even had a smithy in the barn. He only kept two of them. This is one and Eddie had the other.” John sat down and began to fall asleep.
“Sorry to tell you, but when Starke escaped from the hospital, your brother chased after him. If he has Eddies gun, then Starke killed him for it. I'll bet my life on it.” Roland watched the sun set. Soon enough John and Ashley were fast asleep while Roland was still watching the city sleep. When Roland opened up his hands, he saw they had been clenched so tight that his knuckles were white.
Roland, Ashley, and John set out early the next morning, adventuring into the mall to gather supplies. Roland led them down the staircase from the roof. Quietly entering the maintenance level of the mall, Roland scanned the area listening and looking for zombies. Neither hearing nor seeing any zombies Roland crept towards the office in the far left corner of the floor. The maintenance floor was basically one room, a wall of lockers, and a shelf with cleaning supplies. Slowly opening the door with his weapon, Roland led the way. When the coast was clear he signaled for John and Ashley to follow him, John grabbed a folding chair from behind the door and sat down in front of the door.
“Didn't you check this place when you grabbed dinner last night? What’s with all the stealthy maneuvers?” John asked as he propped his feet on an empty milk crate. Roland sat down in the far corner diagonal from the door. “Yes, I did, but zombies are totally random. They appear one day in one area than the next day they are gone. It's strange if you see a zombie alone. They always appear in groups. Rural areas are different. It's common to see a lone zombie in the country. Simple rule with infested areas: The less populated the area, the less undead there will be. It seems like they know to follow the food source.”
*** 9 ***
It was the third day of the siege at the Jones Manor and Jessica was getting afraid. She wasn't afraid that the zombies might break the gate, in fact, she never really pays the undead that much attention. Combing her hair in front of the mirror, she thought she could see wrinkles on her once perfect skin. She hadn't had a professional massage or a facial since like forever. She stood and looked at her figure in the mirror. Her body was trim and fit. She ran her eyes over her body; she looked to see if there was anything she could feasibly do to enhance it. Finding nothing, she dressed in a simple blouse and skirt. Pulling her hair back into a ponytail, using a green scrunchie she walked down to breakfast, which wasn't as terrible as she had expected. She never knew her father had any talent as a cook.
Entering the dining room she found neither plates nor place settings on the dining room table. She stood there in disbelief: Why had her father not set anything for breakfast? Hasn’t he returned from his patrol? She walked into the kitchen, suddenly hit with the intense heat of the oven.
Her father greeted her. “Good morning Honeybee. How did you sleep?” Jessica stared at her father with eyes wide open. “Father, why isn't breakfast prepared or the table set? You know I like to have breakfast before nine.” Brian sighed, pouring himself another cup of coffee.
“Jess, sit down let's have a talk.”
She eyed the chair opposite of her father. “Father, can't we talk in the sitting room? The servants sit here.”
Ben finished his first cup. “As I see it Jess, the servants are dead, undead or hiding out there. In any case, they’re not here. Until they return, this is where we’ll be sitting. We're also going to start eating at this fine table. Other things are going to change. Sit please, so we can talk about them.” Jessica gingerly pulled the
chair out from under the table and eyed it for a minute.
Ben laughed at his daughters’ ignorance, “Your mother gave me that look whenever I made a rude or crass statement. If you sit down you'll find that even though servants used to sit here it is still rather comfortable.” She sat down and folded her arms across her chest. Ben set the empty cup down.
“Alright, first I want to say how happy I am to see you getting used to things that make you uncomfortable. It's going to become a common thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don't interrupt, it's rather rude dear. Now where were we?”
Standing up, he walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself another cup. “Oh yes. I think it's time for you to learn some basic things. That way you won’t have to rely on me when I’m gone.”
Jessica looked up at her father alarmed. “When you’re gone? What’s wrong Father, are you dying?” Ben sat back down and shook his head. “Not anytime soon, at least not that I know. I just think it's about time you learn how to cook, clean, and some other skills like shooting a gun.”
While Ben rattled off the things he wanted her to learn, Jessica's anxiety level grew. The grip on her arms tightened until she noticed a painful pressure. She let go of her grip and noticed that there was an indentation on her arm from the death grip.
She was thinking how ugly the indentation looked when her thoughts were interrupted by her father. “Jess, are you alright? You've grown pale, are you hungry?” Jess glanced from her arms back to her father. “Why do I need to learn these things? Isn't that why your here?” Ben stood, heading to get more coffee.
“Listen to me Jess. I think I should do some scouting in the city. See if there are any survivors. Maybe there's something useful, find some different books. Lord knows I've read most of ours. Get to the hospital, find some medicine, maybe there's a doctor there. Although I kind of doubt it this far into the infection.” Jess stood up from her chair, the anxiety becoming nervous shaking. “What am I supposed to do while you’re away? Who will do the patrols? Who will make the meals? What if the zombies get inside?”
Ben set the mug down and walked over to his daughter consoling her with a hug. “Don't worry, I'm not going on the outside until I make sure you’re capable of handling all this. Maybe I can teach you to wash the dishes. Miracles can happen right?” Jessica groaned, causing a chuckle from Ben.
*** 10 ***
They had scavenged for a day, using the roof as their base of operations. Roland and John went to the mall without Ashley, which she objected to, but with no avail. Roland simply stated with no further explanation that she had a greater purpose.
She was in charge of taking inventory of everything they found in the building. Between return trips, Ashley laid down on her back soaking in the sun. The asphalt felt surprisingly good on her back. Roland had told her not to be worried if they were late coming back. When asked, he said that they were going to the other side of the mall to loot the sporting goods store. Ashley took this opportunity to sunbathe, taking off her shirt and pants, leaving only her undergarments. She was too nervous the first and second raid to sunbathe.
She had asked Roland to find her some new clothes. Her clothes were encrusted with undead blood and gore. Roland agreed, mentally writing down her sizes. She was on her back when she heard both of them come in through the door in the office below. She stood up and stretched her back, hearing it crack in about five places. She leaned over the edge to see both of them carrying bulging backpacks. Roland closed the door behind him, sliding a desk behind it.
“Ashley! You still up there?”
“No, it’s the President of the United States! Where would I be going?” Roland shrugged and replied, “Italy maybe?”
John slid the backpack off onto the desk. Ashley poked her head into the room. “Did you get anything good?” Roland held a plastic bag stuffed what looked like woman's clothes. He tied the handles in a knot and threw the bag onto the rooftop. “There’s shorts, some shirts, a pair of pants, socks, and some underwear. Hope everything fits. Now get changed so we can come up.”
Ashley grabbed the bag and untied the knot, careful not to tear the handles. Inside, she found one pair of tan shorts, a pair of denim pants, a package of socks, two bras and panties, and three Hanes T-Shirts of assorted colors. She quickly changed out of her underwear. The shorts she found were short indeed, but easily to move in. The shirt was pretty tight. She yelled, “Ok, come on up.” Hearing the ladder hit the window; she grabbed the backpacks from the guys and started sorting it out on the rooftop. Roland looked at Ashley and laughed. “Next time we go down John, we need to remember suntan lotion.” John looked at Ashley’s burns and nodded. “Well, I hope zombies like their meal well done.”
Ashley stretched around trying to get used to the tighter clothing she wore. Normally, she dislikes tighter clothing and opting for the more comfortable alternative. Roland noticed that she was fidgeting with her clothes and asked, “What’s wrong with them? Are they the right size?”
“Well, now that you mention it, they are a bit tighter than what I’m used to wearing.”
Roland smiled pleasantly, “Good, that way the undead won’t be able to grab you as easily.” John chimed in from where he was sitting on the rooftop, “Easy on the eyes and protects you from zombies. That’s my kind of clothing” The remark caused Ashley to blush, but nobody saw it due to her burns.
Roland sighed, sat down, and opened his fanny pack, and passed out three bottles of water. John and Ashley took them drinking half the bottles in one or two gulps. Roland drank only a few sips from his bottle. When Ashley was finished with her water, she took out all the things from Roland's backpack. “So, I'm guessing you did get to the sporting goods store, after all, huh?”
She spread the items out onto the ground counting three canteens, two MRE-style meal tins, a couple of radios, binoculars, assorted first aid kits, flashlights, batteries of assorted types, and last but not least ammunition. Ashley set them along with the stuff from the last couple raids. John's pack was mostly filled with food. Ashley expressed mild disgust when all she saw was health food, she even found vitamins. John noticed the look on her face. “Don't start girl. There was a health food store in easy reach. It wasn't like there was a candy shop. Well, there was, but Roland wasn’t gonna let me near the place and I got a mean sweet tooth for peanut brittle.”
“Not even a Butterfinger?” Ashley whined, “That’s my favorite. It’s not like I’m asking for something unique and unattainable. I bet you coulda found one in almost any of those stores. I bet that’s why you didn’t want me to come along, wasn’t it?
Roland replied, “Would you really want me to perform a root canal? There aren't dentists around anymore.” Ashley sighed knowing he was right, he was always right. They sorted the goods dividing what each the three would carry. Ashley was in charge of the medicine. John was going to carry the food and Roland carried ammunition and the rest. They each had binoculars, flashlight, and a personal first aid kit.
They broke out their meal tins and ate silently. Roland took out his canteen and drank from it, letting out a burp. Ashley and John looked at Roland shocked at the breach of silence. Roland shrugged, not too bothered by his impasse. John finished his meal, placing the tin in his backpack, he looked into Rochester. “Roland, do you think we’ll find him?”
“Not sure John.” Roland swallowed the last of his meal, setting the tin aside. “It might be possible that he's dead or zombified by now. But with Eddie gone, I guess there is nothing for me here or in Manchester. I'll help you find him. He does have my brother's gun, I would like to have that back.” The pain in Roland's eyes made Ashley look away. She couldn't bear to see him in pain. She felt her cheeks get warmer, thankful that the flush was hidden in her newly acquired sunburn.
Chapter Six
*** 1 ***
At a total of three hundred and seventy pounds, Hank Townsend is by far a small guy. Before the zombie outbreak, Ha
nk was a social reject. This was mostly due to his self-esteem taking a hit during his teenage years. Since then he has always been a shut-in which is what saved his life when the outbreak happened. Even though he was a computer programmer before the outbreak, but that man was dead. Now he is an information master with his base of operations located in his apartment in Indianapolis, on the 14th floor of the Wilshire Apartment Complex. He sits at his computer watching the feed he hacked from the traffic cameras around the city, sipping Pepsi through a curly straw and watching hundreds die, only to turn into what they fled from. Some fought the monsters but ultimately died. All the recording he obtained were uploaded directly onto YouTube through a router that properly secures that his actual location can't be traced. Oh, they had tried to shut him down, but Hank can't be stopped. He breathed in and out heavily for a second. Catching his breath, he started typing on the keyboard sending video clips into the World Wide Web. Try and stop me, Hank thinks.
Pausing his frantic typing, he moves the mouse across the screen double clicking on three icons. The first icon was a live feed from the apartment's security cameras, there is nothing the master can't hack. The monitor showed an undead standing in the elevator. The cameras didn't have sound so Hank couldn't tell if the thing was moaning, but he was pretty sure it was, they all did. Another window popped up, an internet site dubbed the Undead News. He created it in defiance the Government sanctioned quarantine around Indiana.
During the first day of the outbreak, the Indiana National Guard was at the borders of the state refusing exit and entry to all trying to leave or enter the state. The President had authorized the use of the military to better secure the borders around the state. Naturally, all of Indiana’s neighboring states had to have their national guard mobilized. Of course, the neighboring states were outraged that the military could enter their state without their authorization. The quarantine wasn’t just protecting the border either. At the end of the first week of the outbreak, the government cut off all contact going in or out of Indiana. Hank found that out from hacking into the Central Intelligence Agency. They even reprogrammed satellites to neither send nor receive any transmissions. Any wireless transmissions were pretty much useless. Hank suspected that radio broadcasts might even be disabled.
