I had taken my second coffee, the first having been consumed once it was cold enough to slam, and carefully climbed inside without a spill. I wasn’t sure when I’d have a chance to stop to get some more caffeine. In general, I hated the taste of coffee, but it was clear she didn’t have a case of Red Bull stashed at her house.
“Please don’t spill that inside of the car.” She nodded once at my mug.
“You’re leaving in a day or two. Were you planning to bring the Range Rover back to jolly old England? Pip pip, and all of that.”
“That’s my business,” she said. “For the record, no one in the UK says ‘pip’ or ‘cheerio’. It’s a stereotype, at best.”
“Well, slap my ass, and call me Sally.” I grinned because if we were going to be tossing around dumb sayings, I may as well go right for the best one I knew. “Good luck unloading your vehicle before you leave. This thing is cool, but it looks like it barely escaped from the latest Jumanji movie.”
“This is a classic and it was made in England,” she said as she started the engine. “I have a newer one at home. This was simply my American transport until I left.”
The Range Rover chugged to life and sat there idling like a beast. “Sort of like your home?”
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I mean you barely live there. Your refrigerator is empty and if you loaded every single dish into the dishwasher, they would barely cover half of the top rack," I said like I was Sherlock Holmes figuring out a mystery.
"A single person visiting a city for half a year requires few items. I was at the office most of the time. If you want to offer me a few thousand for the Range Rover, I’ll consider it.”
"Like I have a few of anything in my bank account,” I said.
If I had my way, she would end up giving me the car before she left. I was actually pleased that she assumed we were taking her car to meet the crew. The big SUV would be perfect for barreling through a mob of rage zombies if it came down to it. Better than my piece of shit with the bumper hanging on by wire, duct tape, and prayers.
I could use some quiet time and a couple of energy drinks, then greasy food to soak up all of the booze hanging around my guts. Fast food always made me feel better after a rough night of drinking, but Elizabeth didn’t seem to be in a hurry to find a McDonalds or a Burger King.
Elizabeth wore sunglasses and an Atlanta Braves ball cap, with her hair done up in a ponytail that hung out of the back. She looked like an average Atlanta resident out for a day of fun in the sun and humidity. However, we had only driven a few blocks and she had already bitten my head off a couple of times. The coffee discussion had been the start, and she hadn't gotten any nicer since.
“You don’t have to be so mean all the time, you know. I didn’t know you had that guy for anything other than he was a human being who looked like he needed help. If you’re mad.”
“You don’t understand…”
“I understand plenty, as you let me know last night. I understand that your friend turned into one of those things, I understand that he infected someone else, and it might not have ended there, and is already spreading. I understand that it sucks and all you want to do is run home. I also understand that you haven’t been honest with me from day one.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she snapped.
“I mean Frank, Copley, Latimer. Those are three people, but this has already spread much farther. Not only that, but how did Frank’s neighbor lady contract the thing? I didn’t get a good look, but where was she bitten?” I asked.
“We’re not sure she had it. She may have simply been ill, or on a psychotic break,” Elizabeth said.
“Right. And Frank was the only person who got out, and yet he went home, didn’t attack anyone, and somehow Emory Hospital was overrun. You’re so full of shit it’s coming out of your ears,” I said in frustration.
“I don’t know, okay? I simply do not have that data.” Elizabeth said. “It’s true that Frank’s symptoms progressed much quicker than we ever could have anticipated. I have no idea how many people he may have infected. I can tell you, in all sincerity, that there are a lot of people working on this right now.”
“Then why are we even hatching this stupid plan in the first place? Wouldn’t it be safer for us to remain home and let the feds sort this out?”
“I don’t trust them. I need my data, all of my data.”
“Whatever, you haven’t liked me from the moment we met. If you want to do this on your own, drop me off somewhere and I’ll figure out how to get my car.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Could have fooled me.” I sulked.
“I don’t,” she said, but it didn’t sound like she had a lot of conviction in her voice.
“Whatever,” I said and then leaned back and closed my eyes.
To my surprise she slowed the vehicle, signaled to cross over a lane of traffic, and then rolled into a service station.
“I need gas,” she said. “Please stay here. I don’t know that I can do this without your help.”
I didn’t acknowledge her and instead got out and went inside, and headed straight for the cooler in the back. The guy behind the counter didn’t even make eye contact; he stared at an old television screen while I grabbed a couple of Red Bulls, some flaming hot Cheetos, and a four pack of Reese's cups. As I laid the goods on the counter, Elizabeth pushed through the doors and laid a credit card on the counter.
“For all of that,” she nodded at the goods on the counter, “and twenty five dollars on number seven, please.”
The guy continued to stare at the television as he robotically ran the items under a scanner. He took the card, zipped it, and then handed it back. There were sporadic reports of more violence in the city since last night. By my reckoning we had barely crammed in five hours of sleep, so not much had changed. The newscaster kept up a running dialog with his co-host as they jumped between what they suspected were unscheduled marches downtown, and a guy in a white jacket who cooked what looked like a giant omelet filled with shrimp, spinach, and tomatoes. Gross.
“We’re sorry to break in on Chef Anton, but we’re getting reports of riot on campus at Georgia Tech. One of the theories being suggested, regarding the various outbreaks of violence, may be what government officials are referring to as ‘weaponized LSD.’”
I couldn’t believe anyone in their right mind could say “weaponized LSD” with a straight face.
“Ain’t that some shit.” I nodded at the screen.
The guy behind the counter nodded. “It is chaos. God willing it will be over soon.”
“Hey, man.” I leaned over. “Wanna know a secret?”
“I’m sorry?” He met my eye.
Maybe I was just in the mood to be a dick, thanks to the lady doc. Whatever the case, I said, “It’s the zombie apocalypse and, brother, I don’t think any of us are going to make it.”
Elizabeth blew out a breath and then went to pump gas.
Back in the car and back on the road, which increasingly looked like the a pre-Labor Day exodus from the city on a Friday afternoon, Elizabeth blew out yet another exasperated breath, which surprised me because I hadn’t said a word for the last few minutes.
I sipped my Red Bull and then cracked open the flaming hot Cheetos. Hey, if you’re going to go meet some friends and plan a government break-in, you may as well do it half lit up on sugar and junk food. Especially when there were rage zombies out there.
“I don’t hate you, you know.”
“Okay.” I shrugged.
Elizabeth signaled, and then pulled over on the side of the road and parked in the median.
“Look at me,” she said.
I rolled my eyes. “What?”
“Are you twelve years old?”
“Hey. If you’re just going to tear into me again, save it. Now, let’s roll the hell on.”
She was quiet for a moment as she stared out of the front window and up at the big blue sky.
A fighter jet broke the silence as it tore across the clouds. It wasn’t long before I realized that a couple of helicopters were up there, as well, but they had been on my periphery. Now they were very much front and center in my attention span.
It was going down, slowly, but it was all starting to go down like my friends and I had always joked about.
“I haven’t been very nice, and I apologize,” she said. “Especially for the child comment.”
“Let’s just get this over with. This whole stupid thing,” I said as I continued to stare upward. “You’re going home soon, so we can just be civil. It’s all good.”
She put her hand on my shoulder and gave me a gentle squeeze. “I know. I know. I’m a pain in the ass, as you Americans are so fond of saying. I’ve been stressed, I’ve lost a friend, and I could have done more to make that site secure. The truth is that as soon as Frank Evans had found out what we had done, he probably would have had the same reaction and let Latimer go. Anyone with half a heart would.
“I thought I could pay you off, get a little help, and that would alleviate my conscience. Instead I’ve managed to mistreat the one person who has actually been nice and, more or less, respectful towards me.”
“More or less?” My eyebrows shot up.
“Don’t pretend like you weren’t checking me out at my home.”
My face warmed up. “I looked. I’m a guy. Sue me.”
“Be that as it may. I will be nicer from now on, and if I’m not, you are welcome to, as I’ve heard it said, call me on my bullshit.”
I chuckled at that. “You got a deal. Now let’s go break into a government facility, probably get caught and sent to prison, where at least we’ll have some warm food during the rage apocalypse.”
“It won’t be that bad,” Elizabeth said. “The city blocks affected have been shut down, and more help is on the way from the military.”
“Wait. The military is on its way?”
“Yes, according to what I’ve been reading from my colleagues.” She showed me her phone. “The National Guard has been dispatched, as well as regular army.”
“Oh, fuck me running.” I blew out a breath.
“What do you mean?”
“If that many armed people are heading this way, we’re in for a world of hurt. Let’s get this over with. Maybe I can talk Roger into taking me into his bunker.”
“I’m interested in meeting this Roger person. Imagine spending your adult life planning for a preposterous ending and then watching it approach.”
“Most of us assumed it would be slow-moving zombies. We aren’t prepared for these fast bastards.”
“They’re not zombies. Zombies are not real, nor can they exist, and I still have every bit of faith that this will all be over with quite soon,” she said with conviction.
“If you’re so sure it won’t happen then why don’t you cancel your plane ticket?” I dared her.
“Non refundable.” She got back on the road.
When we rolled into the parking lot at the Home Depot I half-expected people to swarm the place, but it was still only a day plus since I had let Latimer out, who in turn attacked my old boss, Frank Evans, who subsequently went on a mad anger spree that may have resulted in real-life rage zombies. No matter what Elizabeth said, we were only seeing the beginnings of what could very well be the end of this city, not to mention the entire U.S. You ask me, and Home Depot would be one of my very first stops.
You’d think I would be a little more concerned, but I always knew something like this was going to go down. That’s why I had friends like Mitch, Mindy, and Roger. All of us were avid zombie movie fans, we played the games, and one time we even went to a paintball game where we got to hunt people dressed like zombies who groaned and chased our giggling asses around. We, in turn, shot them with paint balls, and then used our phones to take pictures of each other standing over the ‘corpses’.
Mitch and Mindy were already there, and they appeared to be ready for action. Mitch wore a pair of overalls with a camouflage jacket over the top. Smart. It’s hard to grab the straps if they’re covered. Mindy wore jeans and a utility belt around her waist. I had no doubt one of them was packing heat, or at least some kind of item capable of blunt force trauma.
Speaking of heat. The parking lot lit up with Guns and Roses as a huge black H2 Hummer roared in. The driver gunned it around the corner, sped up as he took to the side of the parking lot, and then headed in our direction. The lumbering vehicle came to a screeching stop right behind Elizabeth’s Range Rover, making her car look small in comparison.
The music didn’t stop playing as Roger opened the door and slid out. He hit the ground in a pair of black boots that were laced up to mid-calf. He wore military-styled garb in blue digital cammo, and he had a tactical vest on his chest.
“There goes the neighborhood,” Mindy muttered.
“Hey, man.” I waved to Roger.
He hit his key remote and the music and the Hummer’s engine died.
“Did someone call a zombie-ass kicker?” He waved back.
14
Roger didn’t even try to hide his lust. He looked Elizabeth up and down like he was checking out a sexy new sports car. He then turned to me and gave me a thumbs-up. Christ, Elizabeth and I weren’t a thing. I had Jessica, I think, who I probably should have tried to call again. In fact. I took out my phone and checked to see if she had indeed called, but it looked like my social calendar was going to remain empty for the next few weeks. I hovered my finger over her picture and then reconsidered. But I must have jostled my grip because it started calling her.
“Shit,” I muttered and took a few steps away from Roger.
I thought quick. If I hung up I would look like a dick. If she was still being a bitch she would send me straight to voicemail.
I decided to wait for the inevitable “Hi. You’ve reached Jessica, and I’m not sure why you’re calling instead of texting, so put those fingers to work,” followed by a smooching sound. I nearly dropped the phone when she answered.
“Jake? What’s going on out there? Are you okay?” Jessica had a sweet voice that dripped with southern charm when she wanted. She could also turn it into a razor-sharp weapon of war if the need arose.
“Hey. I’m good. I wanted to check up and see if everything was okay with you.”
“Why are you calling me? Is it an emergency? I like texting.”
“I tried texting but you haven’t gotten back to me,” I replied.
“Because I was serious, I want us to see other people. So why are you calling me? When people say they want to see other people, it’s kinda like a break-up, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”
“Fuck, whatever. Look, Jess. I wanted to check in, make sure you were safe and sound, and then I have to go do some stuff.”
“Stuff? Since when do you do anything on a Sunday besides sleep? Did you get fired again?”
“I didn’t get fired.” I frowned. “I mean, I don’t think I did. See, my boss got bitten by this rage zombie thing…”
“Oh. My. God,” she said.
“I know. Shit’s crazy.”
“No, Jake. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant you sound like an idiot,” she said but paused. “There is some weird stuff happening in town, or so I’ve heard.”
“Yeah, it’s all over the news,” I said.
“Right. The news,” she said in a weird breezy voice.
“You’re sure everything is okay?”
“Yeah. Oh. I gotta go,” Jessica said.
“But you’re safe, right? You’re not seeing people running around screaming and attacking each other?”
“I don’t even know what that means. I have a shift at the coffee stand later, so I have to get ready.”
“I thought you gave up on working at that coffee stand.”
“I need the tips to pay for paralegal school,” she said. “I told you that like a hundred times.”
“You probably shouldn’t go to work today.
”
“ I know you guys are really into that stuff, but it’s a big hoax,” she said. “It’s all fake news.”
“It’s not a damn hoax. I’ve seen it up close. Me and Roger are about to go help this CDC lady get some stuff from her work before it gets too much crazier in town. Did you see that Emory is on complete lockdown?”
“Roger’s with you?”
“Yeah, why?”
“God, the time. I have to go. I’ll text you later if that will make you feel better.”
“Jessica, don’t go to work. Stay home and lock the doors.”
“Yeah. Staying home and locking the doors has gotten you pretty far in life,” Jessica said. “Byeeee.”
Her voice trailed off before she hung up on me.
“Dammit,” I muttered.
Mitch and Mindy once again had their hands all over each other. Elizabeth leaned against the hood of her Range Rover and plucked away at the screen of her phone.
Roger gave me a fist bump as he pursed his lips in Elizabeth’s direction.
“Heard you talking to Jessica. Everything cool there?” Roger said. “Just asking, cause you and that lady look good together.”
“That’s the doctor I told you about. Elizabeth,” I said. “Jessica is okay, I guess. Honestly, I don’t think she and I are really a thing anymore. When I was at work yesterday she told me she wanted to see other people.”
“That works out, right? That doc is hot as fuck.”
“I told you, we’re not like that. Call it more of a professional relationship,” I replied.
Dawn of the Rage Apocalypse Page 10
