Wheels and Zombies (Book 2): Brooklyn, Wheels and Zombies
Page 11
For the next item on my list, I drove around for over half an hour and found the particular store, but I wasn’t sure if I could risk leaving the car. A few blocks out, a group of men had tried to stop me. Besides scaring the shit out of me for acting like assholes, I’d seen a man holding on to a woman who was kicking and screaming. The great human race had started to turn on each other. I tried to block out the sounds of the woman’s screams, but I couldn’t stop it from giving me chills. What was she doing out here? What the hell was I doing out here? The crazy notion of helping her crossed my mind; I did have a gun, but there were too many of them. Like the coward I was, I pushed the thought and the woman from my mind.
Before I passed the store again, I spotted over a dozen zombies at a McDonald’s down the street and went to circle around the block. Close to the store, I killed the lights and parked in front of it. The shattered shop windows of the place gave easy enough access. The Spartan interior of the shop seemed untouched. With a mere counter and a seating corner, this wasn’t the kind of store that would attract looters. My heart raced as I moved past the counter into the storeroom. A large room filled with racks loomed in front of me, and I started checking the labels. It didn’t take me long to find what I was looking for. I was ready to pull the box off the shelf when I heard something. The sound of glass crushed underneath a boot made me freeze.
Gun raised, I made my way to the front of the store and paused at the door. I peeked around the corner, over the counter, and onto the street. I knew the shattered glass from the shopwindow had spilled onto the sidewalk, so someone might have passed the store. The shop looked empty, but I stayed hidden in the shadows for a while to listen. Except for a distant gunshot and the moans of the not entirely undead drifting on the wind, I couldn’t hear a thing. I returned to my box.
It was heavier than expected, and I blew out a breath once I had placed the box in the back of the Edge. I had shut the lid when hands wrapped around me. They pinned my arms to my body. I couldn’t move.
“Let go of me,” I shouted before a hand shot over my mouth. I could taste the grime of that disgusting hand and struggled to get free.
“We’ve been following you,” a voice spoke. A foul breath that made me shiver brushed my cheek. His hands reached over my chest, and I froze.
“It’s a girl,” he said, sounding pleased. I held my breath as my skin crawled.
“A little girl in a nice car.” Another man, tall and lanky, stepped in front of me. He looked like a twig even I would be able to snap. The lanky guy tugged on his jeans as he gestured to the car.
“Check for the keys in her pockets,” he said. My mind shifted into overdrive. That was not going to happen. I needed that car and de supplies inside for Ash. In a reflex, I kicked out and planted my Timberlands between his legs. The guy sank to the ground where he started to squeal like a pig. Startled, the man behind me loosened his grip. I struggled to get to the gun in my pocket. I could feel the cold metal brush the tip of my fingers and groaned in frustration. The world spun until my back hit the tail end of the car. For a brief second, I saw his fist, but then it went all white.
Having practiced kickboxing for fun when my health allowed it, which meant staying at a beginner level like forever, I knew how it felt to take a punch, but that was with gloves and face protector. His fist sent painful vibrations through my cheek long after it had reclaimed its place along his side. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. I spat on the ground and then looked up at the man. He wore jeans and a white shirt with a cowboy hat. For a second, I wondered if I had landed in Texas. His boot lashed out and caught me in the arm.
It shook me out of my stupor, and I pulled the gun from my pocket with my other hand. He flinched when he saw it but then stood his ground. Tall-and-Lanky crawled up next to him with a gun of his own in the hand that wasn’t holding his privates. The cowboy was grabbing it out of his hands when I heard the first moans. Lanky’s squealing must have attracted them. I couldn’t see them, but I knew it wasn’t the shuffle of a few zombies. The fuckers had been at that drive-through down the street. I doubt these idiots had noticed them. When the cowboy looked up, his face turned as white as his shirt used to be.
“Have fun with that,” I said with a shuttering breath. I hurried to crawl underneath the car. My arm screamed in agony as I pulled my body over the asphalt.
One of the men shouted, “No wait.” I felt a tug on my leg, but within seconds, I saw the torn clothes with bloodstained legs pass the car. The tugging stopped, shots were fired, and violent screams erupted. I covered my ears and closed my eyes in a feeble attempt to drown it out.
When I neared Bergen Beach, I felt ready to fall apart. My left arm lay limp on my lap; it hurt to move. I hoped to God that it wasn’t broken. After I had listened to the two men scream in agony, I crawled from under the car and spotted their vehicle. I decided to check it out. Forced to take it slowly, not to disturb the milling zombies, I managed to clear out the food they’d carried. I took everything, including the liquor and four handguns. I had left all the cigarettes except one behind.
Combined with the massive detour I’d made to establish that no one was following, the trip had worn me out, and I was ready for a wash and bed. The cigarette lighter on the console clicked. With shaking fingers, I placed the cigarette between my lips, and I lighted it. It had been a long time since I’d had one of those. I wasn’t looking to pick up the habit, but with everything, I figured I deserved one. I inhaled deeply and fumbled with it in my right hand. I had been a lefty all my life, and I could do most things with both hands, but I had never mastered smoking a cigarette with the other one. A couple of calming puffs later, I cornered our street, lowered the window, and tossed the cigarette.
Wearily I secured the garage door. With my new loot in hand, I tripped and stumbled up the stairs. I landed with a thud. Bottles clanked in the bag. Cursing myself, I heard the door above me open with a click, and I looked up. Faced with a shotgun barrel, I ducked to the side.
“It’s me. Don’t shoot,” I yelled. Accompanied by violent curses, the opening widened.
“You scared the shit out of me,” Ash called down, lying on her stomach at the top of the stairs.
“Just don’t shoot me.”
It took me two trips to get our new loot upstairs and an extra one to get the big box up there. The ache in my arm didn’t help. I pushed it inside the room, closed the door behind me, and slid down to the floor. Ash scooted up next to me, shotgun in hand. Her expression went from anger to a hint of concern. She still looked like crap. Ignoring her, I closed my eyes to catch my breath.
“I didn’t know zombies could land a punch,” she said after a while as a halfhearted smile lifted her mouth. Her hand rose to touch the apparent bruise on my face. Frustrated, I pulled my head to a side.
“They don’t,” I said, too tired to elaborate and unwilling to remind myself of what had happened. “And what the hell are you doing with the shotgun?” I jerked it from her grasp. I would have expected a smart-ass remark if the tone of my own harsh voice hadn’t rattled me too.
We often spoke hard words, but not in anger, and I could see I had upset her. With a crestfallen expression, Ash drew back her hand, which made me feel like a bitch. Yes, tonight I’d come across things I’d rather forget. The look on that woman’s face haunted me. I had left her without a second thought, and I would never be able to forgive myself, but Ash didn’t know that. Besides, I was the one who left a kid alone in a zombie-infested town. Dammit, I internally cursed and banged the back of my head against the door.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean …” My voice trailed off.
“You okay?” Ash asked after a beat. Her voice was soft, unlike her usual tone. Even though my jaw hurt, I turned and forced a smile.
“I’m fine,” I said, but I didn’t feel overly convinced by my own words. There wasn’t much of an apology in there, and I realized I should work on that. But maybe part of our dynamic was not to be too h
ard on each other’s cases, which was probably why she’d let it slide.
“What’s in the box?” she asked, cleverly changing the subject. I was glad to hear the indifferent teenager had returned.
“Hopefully what it says on the label.”
She gave the box a curious look and squinted at the information on the sticker.
“No way,” she exclaimed, and threw her arms around me. I winced as I pulled my bruised arm out from in between us.
“Sorry,” she said, squeezing me even tighter. “You got me a chair.”
“Yeah, I was tired of hauling your ass around all day.”
“You’re the best.”
“Only if you can get that thing to work,” I said absently as I pulled a bottle from the plastic bag next to me. It wasn’t my favorite whiskey, but it wasn’t shabby. How could a twelve-year-old single malt ever be? I clutched the bottle to my chest.
“Are we getting wasted?” Ash asked with a mischievous smile on her pale face. Even though she looked as if she were about to puke, I couldn’t help chuckle a laugh.
“Maybe when you manage to hold down your food,” I said while I rubbed a hand over her scalp and got to my feet.
“I’m going to wash up and get some dinner going. You have fun.”
| 17
Another week passed, and we decided to take indefinite refuge at the house. It wasn’t as if we had any other place to go, and this was as good as any. Not a day went by without a zombie or two roaming the street. First, we ignored them, but after a while, the moaning started to get on our nerves. They never came to our doorstep, but several houses up the street kept getting their attention. The residents might have refused to leave.
In the distance, we could often hear helicopters, and from the upstairs window, it often seemed as if they focused on a single area at a time, flying off and on in the same direction. I figured they’d be taking the uninfected to one of the safe zones. I couldn’t take that chance. I was afraid they’d dissect me the second they found the bite marks on my shoulder. Ash had decided to ride it out with me, and I knew I should be more grateful to her, even though unwittingly she might face the same risks. I would have gone insane on my own. There hadn’t been helicopters or other rescue vehicles around our neighborhood. I wondered if they had deemed this area evacuated.
Ash insisted she wanted to help the ones left behind, but I disagreed. Mars’s warning to avoid people played on repeat in my mind, and what the hell could we do anyway? A spoiled rich chick who didn’t even know the country she was in traveling with a street kid on wheels. It wasn’t as if we were both the pictures of health; my body, though better, was weak from the beating it had undergone the past years, and Ash—she was still going through the wringer.
It turned out to be hard finding food that would stay in her stomach. Watching helplessly as her fragile body withered killed me inside, but I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t dare to think about being without her. In the short time I’d known her, she’d grown on me. It made me nervous to go out on my own, not for myself, but what the hell was she going to do if I didn’t come back? Sometimes the responsibility made me sick to my stomach.
Fortunately, she was the most stubborn person I’d ever met. My dad could learn a thing or two from her, although that stubborn bastard would never admit it. She kept pressing me to get out there. The thought of her being insane crossed my mind. Getting out there would get us killed for sure. I caved when I remembered what she had said in the car back when she wouldn’t leave me. All she wanted was to have some fun. Not that I’d think this to be fun, but it was living, and that’s more than we were doing cooped up inside.
God, I was scared that first night we went out, even though we had only planned a small trip to get our bearings. Ash couldn’t have been more excited by the prospect of getting out there. She sat ready in her new chair, rolling across the room I’d cleared, like one of those battery bunnies. She’d puked one moment, eaten in the next, and then she had been ready to go. She amazed me. I knew she was too weak for this, but we had an advantage over others. We could practically take a nap in a zombie-infested building without them having any interest in us.
After that first night, it got easier. We practiced with the weapons I’d collected from the two men I had encountered. Handling the gun wasn’t the problem. I knew that from what they had taught me at the gun range back home. Shooting zombies needed a whole different set of skills. It did manage to boost my confidence, but not by much. Still, add a couple of wooden sticks with fourteen-inch knives duct-taped at one end, and I wouldn’t want to be a zombie in our way.
It was close to midnight when we left the safety of our home for one of our daily patrols. The silver glint of moonlight peeked sporadically through the fast-moving clouds.
“It’s getting colder outside,” I said when I eased Ash off the improvised ramp I’d made at the front of the house. It was a large piece of plywood I had found near the docks, but it did the trick.
Ash rolled onto the street where I slid her shorter spear into a sheath that she had made herself. It sat next to the shotgun and hung off the back of her chair. She could reach them easily. A gun stuck to her lap with Velcro. The lightweight wheelchair I had found had been a decent step up from the fifties model she’d sported at the hospital. With this thing, she could compete in the Olympics.
“We’ll get warm soon enough,” she said with determination in her voice. “Where to?”
I gestured down the road, and she rolled off.
A shadow moved from the corner of my eye, and I whipped my head around. Nothing stirred, but a feeling of someone watching me made me shiver. Probably a zombie, and those didn't scare me that much anymore. But the feeling didn’t subside. I shook it off and followed Ash.
Her wheels spun like the wind. I struggled to gain on her. Ash was getting too eager, which scared me a bit. Was she looking for that easy way out? I couldn’t blame her. The thought had crossed my mind at the airport. I just hoped the thought of crawling around as a zombie would keep her from doing anything rash.
We had combed through the block around our place. Several houses were occupied by zombie residents. We checked that they wouldn’t be able to get out, and left them. They weren’t worth the risk. Most houses were empty, which confirmed that the evacuation troops had come and gone before we’d arrived.
We met a young couple, too scared to let us in, who occupied one of the houses down the street. Through a crack in the door, a young man with red hair and an army of freckles told us they had refused to leave with the rescue convoy. He and his girlfriend wanted to wait for the girl’s parents to return home, but they hadn’t yet. We left some energy bars on their front step after we ridded them of zombies on their porch and promised to return.
I contemplated the street sign that read 68 St. The streets really didn’t have names. The thought made me smile, and I made a mental note to find the U2 song on my phone. I turned to Ash, who waited for me at a crossroad. She pointed at a group of zombies that milled around a house. It wasn’t exactly a crossroad. Five streets merged onto the intersection. Redbrick houses with high steps leading to the front door, similar to the one we were staying at, stood at our backs. Trees lined the wide streets. Combined with the park across from the house Ash was pointing at, it gave the area an amiable appearance, even in the dark without any streetlights. These days, a thing like that could only be a facade. A few days ago, the streets around most of the area had gone dark, which I figured to be a deliberate act of the power company, although we still had electricity at our place.
“I think someone’s in there,” she said when I moved to her side.
“Could be a cat.” She elbowed my knee. With a groan, I kneeled down beside her.
“Same play as last time?” I asked. “That seemed to go well.”
“What, me wheeling off as a diversion,” she said with a sneer. “I don’t think so.” I shook my head in dismay but knew it would be useless to argue.
“They made it up the stoop,” Ash said. I raised an eyebrow at the familiar Dutch sound. She shrugged a ‘What?’ I shook my head and said, “Never mind.”
“There are three of them,” I said in a low voice. “You stay here. I’ll hide behind the car on the other side of the driveway, and then we’ll call them out.”
Ash nodded, her spear in hand. We had formed a nice arsenal but remained aware of the scarcity of bullets, and besides, gunfire seemed to draw zombies in. I ran to the other car and picked up an empty soda can along the way. My spear at the ready, I nodded to Ash and then tossed the can across the street.
Metal clangs echoed into the night sky as the can bumped on the road. The zombie at the back of the pack whirled around, hissing. The baseball cap along with the sunglasses bridged on its nose would have made him look normal if it weren’t for the leg bent the wrong way. I gestured at Ash that it was coming her way.
Another zombie’s interest piqued. This one seemed to be in better shape. It clambered the driveway to overtake the first one. Refusing to let Ash deal with two, I stepped out from behind the car to draw its attention. It snarled, its jaw stretched beyond human extent. In its rush, it caught me off guard. I stumbled backward when its arm lashed out. I ducked, rolled myself across the asphalt, got up in a crouching position, and thrust my spear up. The knife ruptured the skin. Thick, almost black, blood blotched the zombie’s chest when the spear dug into its head from under its chin. It let out a gruesome moan. I twisted the shaft, turning its brain to mush, and the zombie slumped to the ground.