Roger turned his attention back to Otis. “Did you make up your mind yet, retard?”
Otis repeated, “No, no, no.”
The cries in the room grew louder as everyone realized Roger was going to kill again. He went to the crate and pulled out the rifle. He returned and pointed it at Otis’s head. He bellowed, “Ready for death, negro?”
I pulled at my legs with all my might. Suddenly one of my feet broke free.
Otis was on the brink of going into convulsions. “G’oh boy! No! G’oh boy! Dick sucker! G’oh boy! No!”
Roger jammed the rifle barrel into Otis’s mouth and screamed, “Ready now?”
My other foot broke free. I screamed, “No!”
Just as I emerged from the hole, a shot rang out. I lunged at Roger and tackled him from behind. The rifle fell to the ground. Surging with adrenaline, I flipped Roger onto his back and pinned him down.
Roger’s face was filled with shock and awe. “What the—? How—?”
I landed a right cross to the jaw which nearly knocked him unconscious. I groped for the rifle, then I spotted the chainsaw. I scrambled to my feet. Roger held his head in his hands and fought to remain conscious.
I started the chainsaw and raced the engine. I stomped on Roger’s leg and slammed the blade down hard against his ankle.
Roger screamed.
The chainsaw chewed through flesh and bone like it was hot butter. Roger tried to get up but his severed limb wouldn’t let him. Then I quickly sawed off his other foot.
Roger screamed at the top of his lungs.
I stood on his arm and readied the chainsaw.
Roger’s face was sheer panic. He screamed, “No, no, NO!”
With his arm pinned to the ground and his bloody legs flailing, all he could do was weakly slap at my leg. I held the nose of the chainsaw just above his wrist and revved the engine. Smoke belched from the machine and the noise was deafening. Roger watched in horror as I slowly lowered the nose of the chainsaw and it began chewing into his wrist. I sawed his hand off.
Roger never stopped screaming. I stepped on his only remaining intact limb and looked at him. Then I sawed his other hand off. I killed the engine and dropped the chainsaw. I quickly clasped my hands together and came down with a crushing blow to Roger’s neck. It knocked him out cold. I uncoiled the noose and tied off his ankles which were bleeding badly, then his wrists. I pulled the knots as tight as I could and the flow of blood stopped. I stood and for the first time I realized everyone was cheering.
“Righteous!”
“Amazing!”
“Thank you, Jesus!”
“Oh my goodness!”
“You da man!”
I checked on Otis but it was too late. His eyes were closed and his head bowed. I knelt beside him. The bullet had exited through the back of his neck. He’d been shot right through the spinal cord. At least he hadn’t suffered.
I used the remainder of the rope to attach Roger to the crane. Then I manipulated the controls and suspended him a few feet off the ground.
Chapter 16
I searched for something to use to break the others free. I looked through a backroom filled with tools and located a long steel rod. I brought it back up front and found Roger’s sledgehammer.
“Me, me,” a man in the front row pleaded.
I jammed the rod into the edge of the hole. Choking up on the handle, I hoisted the sledgehammer with one hand and took aim.
The man said, “Be careful.”
“Don’t worry.” I brought the sledgehammer down squarely on the end of the rod and heard a loud crack. With several more well-placed blows the concrete gave way and I pulled the man from the hole.
“Thank you, man. Thank you,” he said breathlessly. He took the rod and we went to work on his neighbor.
He held the rod steady and said, “My name is Demaryius, by the way.”
I raised the sledgehammer and said, “Ready Demaryius?”
He gripped the rod tightly in both hands and said, “Do it.”
We worked together and set the others free. The room buzzed with excitement and relief.
Demaryius said, “We owe you one, man. You got that bastard.”
I turned and looked at Roger. He was still unconscious.
“Say,” Demaryius said. “You don’t think the way he does, do you?”
I shook my head. “No, I’m not a racist. The world has good people and bad people in every race.”
Women hugged one another and cried. I saw others stretching and loosening up sore limbs.
I went to the backroom and scooped some nasty-looking water out of a barrel and carried it up front. I splashed Roger in the face with it and he came to. He looked around groggily and muttered, “Huh? What?” Then the pain hit. He screamed.
I reached down to the ground and picked up one of Roger’s severed appendages. I held it in his face and asked, “Need a hand?”
Roger screamed in horror and vomited.
I tossed the hand and said to Demaryius, “He’s all yours.”
A look of sheer terror gripped Roger. He screamed, “No! No! No!”
I pushed the door open and for the first time in days I felt sunshine on my face. I breathed in the fresh air and allowed myself a little smile.
There was a sign in front of the building that read Wilson Pipe and Precast. I made my way to the front and tried the door. It was locked. I was in no mood to play civilized, so I picked up a rock and smashed a window.
The light streaming in through the windows illuminated the outer office area but further inside it was dark. I tried a light switch but no luck. Apparently the generator only powered the factory equipment. From what I could see, the office was a mess. There was trash scattered all over the place. I wondered what Roger’s connection was to the business. Had he worked here before? Or did he just come in and commandeer the place? How had he known how to operate the equipment?
As my eyes adjusted to the light, I began going room by room looking for my things. I found them tossed in the corner of an office. I gathered my belongings and carried them up front. There was another small wing I had yet to explore. The second room down I discovered where Roger had been staying. It was a large conference room with a mattress at the far end. Food, water, and clothing were scattered all over the conference table. I immediately began stuffing my face with chips and crackers and pretzels, whatever I could find.
I rummaged through the clothing and found some camouflage pants I’d seen Roger wear. I wasn’t happy about wearing Roger’s clothing but anything would be a vast improvement over my own soiled clothes.
There was more bottled water than I could carry so I decided to use one for a shower. I stripped off my clothing and used Roger’s pillowcase for a washcloth. It seemed fitting to wipe my filthy body where Roger’s face had been. I cleaned myself up as best I could, dried off and got dressed. I stuffed my backpack with all the bottled water and food it would hold. I spied a bottle of Jack Daniels and wedged it into my pack as well. Maybe I could drink this place off my mind. I thought of a drink I’d had in a tourist bar years ago. The place served frozen drinks and one of them was named the Mind Eraser. That’s what I needed right now, a mind eraser.
I put on my gear and walked out the front door. I stood on the front step for a moment. The generator continued to run but I could hear something else. It was Roger screaming.
“Please, no! God help me! I’m begging you! Stop! Please! I’ll give you anything. Please no! Help me! God please! Let me die! Please kill me God, please! I’m begging you! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!”
I wondered what they were doing to him. Then my thoughts turned to Otis. I was going to miss him. I looked at the van and for a moment considered taking it. Then I decided the others would need it more. I consulted my compass and began walking.
Roger’s screams faded as I made my way down the road. I didn’t know where I was but I recognized the area. The we
st side of the city is home to lots of industrial businesses and hard-working people. The road turned north and then opened up to a major thoroughfare which I recognized.
I was alone on a deserted highway. It was getting late and I knew the sun would be setting soon. I needed to find a place to stay for the night. I thought about my proximity to the city and ground zero. I was certainly close enough to be in the fallout zone. I had to assume that anything I touched could still be contaminated, though since more time had passed the contamination level would be much less than before.
After walking several blocks I came to a brick building with large storefront windows and three rollup doors. It was a tire store. Old tires were stacked all around and there were two derelict cars in the parking lot. They looked like they’d been there long before the bomb went off. The rollup doors were closed and the store looked abandoned. I crossed the parking lot and made my way to the front door. It was locked. I walked around back and waded through waist-high weeds. In back there was a heavy steel door which I also found to be locked.
I pulled the crowbar from my backpack and went to work. The doorframe bent, but not enough to spring the door. Frustrated, I went back up front and used the crowbar to smash through the glass door. It made a ruckus but there was no one around. I used the crowbar to smooth the broken glass around the edges and crawled inside.
The little store smelled of rubber and rotten trash. Chairs lined the wall of a small waiting room. A long counter held a cash register and various papers and forms. New tires were displayed along the front glass. I peered out the window to see if anyone had watched me break in. Then I set about securing the place for the night. I was excited about the prospect of sleeping horizontally.
I stuffed the hole in the door with a couple of tires and backed them up with a chair. Surely I would hear something if anyone tried to come in during the night. I dragged another chair behind the counter and began rummaging through my bag for something to eat. Even though I’d eaten at the plant, after days of starvation I was already hungry again. I selected an MRE and began warming it up.
After dinner I washed down a potassium iodide tablet and settled in for the night. A cold hard floor behind the counter of a tire store might not sound like much, but to me it felt like a five star hotel.
Chapter 17
The next morning I awoke to the sound of a dog barking. Startled, I sat up and reached for my pistol. The morning light streamed into the little store. Gun in hand, I peered around the counter. There was a man standing outside the door.
The man struggled with a large key ring. He was short and pudgy with a light complexion and a balding head. He wore a tan short sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans. A black nylon leash extended from his hand which led to a thick-bodied pit bull. The dog’s head looked like a wrecking ball.
I pulled back behind the counter. The dog barked again. I heard keys jangle and a moment later the door opened. I jumped to my feet and trained the 9mm on the man’s head.
Standing not ten feet from me the man showed no reaction to the gun. He growled, “What the hell are you doing in here?”
I said, “I could ask you the same thing.”
The dog barked loudly.
The man said, “Shut up, Harley.” To me: “I own this place, that’s what I’m doing here. You’re trespassing. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do. Did you do this to my door?”
I didn’t respond.
He said, “Put that damned gun away before you hurt somebody.”
I considered my options. Then I lowered the gun.
“That’s more like it,” the man said. “Well? What are you doing here?”
“I was sleeping,” I said lamely.
“Sleeping,” the man repeated.
“Yes. I was held hostage, in the concrete plant down the road. I just escaped.”
“Held hostage at a concrete plant. And you just escaped. Is that so?” The man shook his head. “Sounds like you escaped alright – from the funny farm.”
I stepped out from behind the counter. “Look, a man in a white van kidnapped me and my friend. We were buried up to our necks in concrete and he did terrible things to us.”
“No shit?”
It was obvious he didn’t believe a word I was saying. So much for honesty being the best policy.
The dog barked again.
“Harley!” he yelled. To me: “Listen buddy, I let go of this leash and this dog’s gonna tear you a new asshole.”
I took a step back. “I’m not looking for trouble. How about you just step aside and I’ll be on my way.”
“I don’t think so,” the man said. “What about my door?”
“I’ll pay you back after this is over.”
He considered that for a moment. “How do I know if I’ll ever see you again?”
“You have my word.”
The man eyed me warily. He looked down at the gun in my hand, then at the dog. Suddenly he yelled, “Sic ’em, Harley!”
He let go of the leash and the dog bounded toward me. All I saw was a blur of teeth and fur.
Reflexively I fired and wasted the dog in mid-air. I dropped to the floor and the massive animal sailed over my head. He slammed into the wall behind me and slid down to the floor.
“Harley!” the man wailed.
I got to my feet and shouted, “You’re a fucking idiot.” I fired off two rounds hitting the man in the head and the chest. He dropped to his knees, then collapsed on his face. That’s when I noticed the wedding band on his finger.
I took a deep breath and scratched my head. That didn’t have to happen. I rounded up my things and made my way out the back door. As I quickly walked to put some distance between myself and the scene, I tried to remain calm in case anyone was watching. Just a regular day, nothing to see here. Just a killer walking down the street decked out in body armor carrying an assault rifle.
The man threatened me, right? More than that, he attacked me with his dog. That big, enormous, hairy-assed dog. Over a broken door. How stupid is that? I would have paid for it. His insurance company would have paid for it, too. He was looking at a profit opportunity. Nothing to come all unglued over. Instead, now he was lying dead on the floor in a puddle of his own blood. Next to his dead dog. His poor wife was going to come looking for him and find that mess.
I walked down the street and wondered where everybody was. I thought it was strange that no one was out on the street except me. Where had everyone gone? Had they been evacuated? No, the city didn’t have the resources to do that. Had people learned they are better off staying home? After all, the only people left at this point were survivors – people who had survived the zombie virus and the EMP attack. I ate some of Roger’s granola bars as I walked.
As I continued heading west, I passed self-storage places and used car lots and gas stations and fast food joints and trucking companies and various other industrial enterprises. I put several miles behind me before I decided to stop and eat lunch. An hour or so earlier when I had sat down to take a break, I felt like somebody was watching me. I thought I saw something, but when I looked there was no one there. My helmet blocked my peripheral vision so I figured I was imagining things. Just as I was finishing my lunch, it happened again. Only this time it was not my imagination.
An unarmed man made the bold move of attacking me. It wasn’t the first time and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I heard rapid footsteps behind me. I turned just in time to see a crazed man screaming bloody murder, his arms flailing. I raised the AR-15 and fired quickly. The round caught him under the chin and knocked him off his feet. His legs went flying out from under him and he landed flat on his back.
I stepped in for a closer look. The bullet must have hit a major artery. He was bleeding out badly. Skinny kid, probably around 20, looked like he hadn’t eaten in a while. His hair was mostly gone, just a few strands remaining. I watched as he took his last breaths.
His gums were bleeding. He looked right at me, then without a word he died right before my eyes.
By the end of the day I figured I was at least 15 miles outside the city limits. The landscape had changed to mostly residential. I wanted to refill my water supply before I settled in for the night. The heat was making me go through water rather quickly. Earlier I had stopped into a couple of stores but found nothing but empty shelves.
I made my way off the main boulevard and into a neighborhood. The houses were about 20 years old judging by the landscaping. Funny how people spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on their homes, but they couldn’t part with a few hundred every now and then to replace the landscaping. Overgrown foliage really gives away a home’s age.
I didn’t see any signs of life. I saw a car here and there, but nothing that looked new enough to have EMP shielding. I picked a house at random, walked up to the front door and knocked. Nothing. I knocked again but got no answer. I tried the door. It was locked. I walked around to the side of the house where I encountered a gate. It was not locked. The backyard was in decent shape though the grass had not been mowed in weeks. There was a pair of french doors in back and they were locked. The flimsy glass doors were no match for my steel-shanked boots. One well-placed kick and the doors sprang open. I stepped inside hoping to find no one home, or that everyone was dead. Then I caught myself. What an awful thing to wish for. What I meant was, if I had to break into someone’s home, then I was hoping that that they weren’t using it and that it was abandoned. Whatever I’d been thinking, my hopes were dashed when I was confronted by a man holding a shotgun.
“Fuck me!” I yelled as I dove behind a couch.
Chapter 18
The shotgun blast knocked the stuffing out of the couch. Lying on my back, I fired a round at the ceiling. I heard nothing so I crawled to the edge of the couch.
Another shotgun blast. I ducked back just in time and the top of my helmet caught a few pellets. The man was definitely standing his ground.
How to Survive a Nuclear War Page 9
