by Daniel White
“It’s not just normal business; it’s not business at all. That’s about all I can say really. I am supposed to go to some large banking building and take care of something. Probably has something to do with money or… something I guess. Honestly that’s all I can say, because it’s basically all I know.”
“Alright,” Eric said evenly, “I take it back.”
“What? I’m not a squirrelly little fellow?”
Eric shrugged and looked back out the window, “No you are definitely squirrelly, but you’re a better liar than I gave you credit for.” He wasn’t certain that Hawkins was telling a lie, but he figured he knew more than he was telling. Eric couldn’t really blame him though. Clearly whatever it was made him nervous. If it were him he probably wouldn’t have said anything either. The rest of the drive was fairly quiet except for Bart’s groaning snore in the back seat. The near silence of the car was a little unnerving to Eric, but most electricity still worked. Gas stations seemed to be a bit unstable. He thought he might need to try and find a vacated electric car too for running the hell away from here.
In a fair amount of time for the slower, quieter electric car, they arrived at the Brown Banking building. It seemed like every town had at least one or two large bank buildings, and this was theirs. The name of the bank at the top of the entrance had changed countless times over the years, evidenced by the various faded letters of previous names, but the locals all called it the original name. He got the feeling that Hawkins wasn’t from here, but maybe he was if he knew the large building by its actual name. When the car stopped Eric started to open the door but was stopped by Hawkins.
“I’m going to have to ask you to stay here. Whatever goes on there is confidential and I…”
“No.” Eric didn’t pause more than a few seconds and got out as planned. Hawkins got out and began to try and finish what he was saying but Eric stopped him with a raised hand. “I have been running around for over a month now with no real place to call home and living on scraps of food. A place like this has got to have break rooms with vending machines. I am going to raid this place and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it. If you plan to survive this little issue we are having, I suggest you try to eat too. Don’t worry about your little business. I honestly just wanted a ride pal. I could care less what you have to do in there. Stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours. Deal?”
Hawkins hesitated for a few seconds but then nodded, “Deal.” It was a good choice because he really had no other option. When they turned to start, it was easier than it should have been to see the way they would get inside. Once upon not too long ago, it would have been nearly impossible to sneak into this place. Now there were several gaping holes in the glass panes on the front of the building. Like so many once secure areas, all they had to do now was walk inside. Neither of them spoke. First Eric stepped through a hole large enough to fit the car into and Hawkins followed him. Eric was so focused on looking for an area where a break room might be that he didn’t even pay attention to where Hawkins was going. It would be nice if he could hitch another ride somewhere but if not, at least he got into town alive.
Finally he saw a restrooms sign and then another that suggested vending machines were nearby.
“There we go,” he said to nobody in particular as he wet his lips, walking towards his goal.
**
Eric Bayne had trailed off to forage for food in the break rooms, and Kurt wasn’t sorry to see him go. The guy clearly was more than just a hitchhiker jumping towns. There was a calm confidence about him that made Kurt feel like a squealing little child for being scared nearly every second since the zombie virus outbreak. The fear only grew as he searched for the office that had the name Joseph H. Morin dressing the door. It took a while getting through the area of open desks and the teller counter, which was huge. Finally he spotted a row of enclosed offices at the back wall. A great deal of the bank looked like it had been torn apart by looters, but this area was nearly untouched. He wondered if the looters realized the new currency will be ammunition and canned food.
The four offices were large, adorned with cherry bookshelves trimmed with gold, and filled the side wall of the building. The first and second got him nowhere, but the third was the right one.
The name was on the door, and a test showed that the door was indeed locked. One of his other stops had included picking up a key that the voice said he would need. He opened the brown case he carried and pulled out the small silver key. So much of him wanted the knob not to turn. He would just have to tell the sinister sounding voice that there was no way he could breach the office door, and he simply couldn’t do any more.
The knob turned beautifully with the key inside the lock, revealing a large, well furnished office inside. Papers covered the floor giving the office the same ransacked look everything had these days. The six cushy leather chairs were arranged nicely around the desk which had an extra large chair behind it. The desk was enormous, but the deep mahogany surface was nearly hidden by the documents strewn over it. He hoped the voice didn’t want him to search through those papers for something, because that really was impossible.
Kurt sighed and sat at the desk, planting his face in his hands and started massaging his temples. This wasn’t exactly how he thought these few months were going to go. He finally had convinced Stacey to go out with him and they had an amazing time. It seemed things were looking up financially as well; he was about to get a raise and a promotion in the IT department. Now, here he was at Joseph H. Mortin’s desk and about to call some terrifying voice to be told once again what to do. There wasn’t a reason to wonder if his life depended on it. The voice had made it clear that his life did indeed depend on his doing what he was told. It never sat right with him, but then again he hadn’t seen one zombie attack against him in the time countless thousands had been wiped out by them globally. That didn’t count the number that had been lost to the virus. Whether he liked it or not, and he didn’t, they did seem to be protecting him somehow. How he could be protected from these creatures was beyond comprehension, but why question a good thing.
Someone once told him that a person who successfully avoids the inevitable will live forever. He wasn’t sure what that meant, for now it meant that he had to make his call or he would most assuredly not live forever. After pulling up his phone’s call log, he selected the one he was told to call and pressed send. Because he probably would be looking for something and because he didn’t feel like holding the phone, he put it on speaker phone.
“Good evening Mr. Hawkins,” the now familiar disembodied voice said, in as close to a friendly tone as he had heard. He knew he had been in this too long, since he could tell the friendliness was false.
“I trust you are in the office you were told to call from Mr. Hawkins?”
That mechanical voice still gave Kurt the creeps, but still he answered, “Yes. Yes I am. Papers are everywhere.”
“That is correct. Now listen carefully.”
Listen Kurt did, as the voice gave him strict instructions on where to look and what he was looking for. When the man was almost finished he heard an echoing voice, “Hawkins! You still here?” Kurt cringed and fumbled with his phone to try and take it off speaker. He didn’t get it switched over before Bayne spoke again in a quieter tone, “If you’re not… I’m taking your car. Just so you know.”
**
In a world where things haven’t been going all too well, this bank building turned out to be a treasure trove. One break room had two loaves of bread unopened, mold free and one almost completely finished. The refrigerator held a few soft drinks, but also an entire case of water. Eric searched around in rooms nearby hoping to find more and found five more cases of wonderful, clear water that he wouldn’t have to risk his life to get to.
Eric leisurely made himself a peanut butter sandwich and slurped down a can of soda. He washed it all down with chips and water, gathered as much as he could hold and went to see if Hawkins
was still around. He could only carry three cases of water with the bread and a few packs of sandwich meat on top, he really hoped Hawkins was still waiting so he could run and grab some too. They could split it up if the kid didn’t want to ride with him. Eric wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, but having a vehicle to go around in was pretty sweet, even if it did mean having to deal with Hawkins the whole time.
He dropped the food onto a counter top a few paces from the front door and shattered glass, and began looking around. The squirrelly one was nowhere to be seen, but his car was still outside. He was still here if his ride was. A search of the main banking area turned up nothing and he was about to just run off with the food and the car. He decided to give the kid one last ditch chance to say he was still here.
“Hawkins! You still here?” he yelled. He cringed a little thinking that might just wake the dead, or the brain dead rather, or whatever they are. In a speaking voice he warned one final time, “If you’re not… I’m taking your car. Just so you know.” He was just about to turn and leave when a distant sound caught his attention. It sounded like a deep tone, almost like an out of tune radio.
Spinning towards the direction he heard the sound from, Eric saw a lone light in an open office on the far side of the room. There was a shadow moving around and he wondered for a moment if zombies would attack them here before they could leave. Eric turned to look towards the entrance door where there were certainly no zombies, just the car and sun burned grass. Did they kill Hawkins while I was eating? Are they there feasting on him now? Bayne wondered. If they had their claws into him then Eric, was about to hit the road running and feel bad later.
Then he realized there was no screaming, just loud talking. It sounded like someone was being reprimanded for not doing their homework. Curiosity got the better of him at last and he began jogging towards the room. Even as close as twenty feet away he couldn’t make out what was being said. Slowing to a quiet walk he stalked closer to the lit office. Finally when he was close enough to wonder if he could be heard walking on the tiled floor, he could overhear them. One voice was definitely Hawkins. That whinny tone would grind his ears for weeks, even if the he never saw the kid again. The other voice was intentionally disguised. It was such a deep and groggy tone that he almost couldn’t understand him.
“I have the folder you mentioned, yes.” Hawkins said.
“It should read Source across the top and it should be about an inch thick.” The scrambled voice was still hard to make out, but at least he could understand it now. But understanding had two different meanings. What was the Source and how could a dumb fuck like Hawkins be involved in it?
“Does this contain more info on your virus?” Hawkins queried.
“Quiet you fool! No connection is as secure as you think it is! You need to bring that folder to the train depot warehouse on the south side of town. The coordinates will be uploaded to your phone. Mention any connection between myself and the virus again and I will make sure you regret it. Do I make myself clear?”
The mousy voice of Kurt Hawkins answered, “Yes. I’m sorry. Please…”
“Remember what I said. Stay put, and they will only take him, not you. If you don’t make the drop at the depot warehouse soon, you’d better hope you’re dead.”
Eric was stunned into silence. He heard Hawkins cursing himself for ever getting involved in the first place, which made Eric even much more curious. He rounded the corner and Hawkins jumped and hit a button on the desk. Eric’s nose was almost broken by the door slamming shut automatically. He went to the window with a scowl, threatening Hawkins and saw him mouth the words I’m sorry with the folder clutched to his chest.
He heard guttural roaring behind him of the all too familiar brainless variety, and he knew he was caught in a really bad situation. He mouthed a few choice words of his own and ended with, “You better pray they kill me mother fucker!” He turned and was suddenly thankful for the large room.
It would give him much more space for slaughtering. Of course, it also aided his enemies as well since they seemed to have a super human ability to rush forward. Eric was already firing rounds into the horde pouring through the shattered door, and taking out two at a time with his dual 9mm pistols. He wasn’t an amazing shot at this range. Unfortunately, there were so many of them that most rounds found a home in soft flesh.
At least two dozen had begun stalking towards him. Now it was down to about fifteen, but they were getting closer. He holstered the emptied 9mm’s on his hips and violently pulled the strap securing the sawed off shotgun to his back, placing it into his hands and pumped and pulled to blow a few into a bloody mess. By the time they were close enough to make an aggressive lunge towards him, he counted ten.
He could handle ten.
He settled into a fighting stance and time began to slow, twisting and warping his vision. There were two in front and two on each side. He exploded like a viper, executing a side kick that he planted in the face of one and then the second frontal attackers. He blasted a bowling ball sized hole through the chest of the one on his left side with the shotgun and slowed the other with a grazing wound.
He planted his feet briefly only to launch into a spinning roundhouse as he allowed the momentum to finish the pumping action of his shotgun. In a fraction of a second the hard roundhouse connected with the previously untouched left side attacker, sending him stumbling into the other. No sooner had Eric’s feet hit the floor than he shot, pumped and shot again to end those two.
The four that hung back now screamed and came at him with uncanny speed. One shotgun blast cleared one. He ran towards them, using their fast surge against them, and flipped over landing behind them. The lack of reaction time bought him precious seconds which he used to shoot twice more with his treasured shotgun.
Two were left standing. He walked towards one and twisted an elbow directly into his nose, dropping him into a heap. The other caught a 9mm round through the eye socket, blasting brain matter on a gilded painting of beagles hunting. He went around making sure all the zombies were dead by stomping on their skulls. The gore left on the travertine stone of the main entrance exacerbated the destruction this building endured.
Eric marched towards the office where Hawkins was pissing his pants. Judging by the look on his face, he was quite surprised to see how capable Eric was in a fight against so many. Apparently he figured Eric was mad enough to take him on too. He was right.
He stepped to the window and yelled, “Open it!” He could hear the kid screaming he was sorry, but he didn’t care. Eric pointed at the door and roared, “Open, the goddamned door! Now!”
Hawkins hands went up in surrender and he walked to the door. Carefully he opened it then literally jumped over the desk and hid behind the desk chair. “I’m sorry! It wasn’t me! Please you have to believe me!”
“Do I?” Eric asked, “Because I really don’t think I do. At one time all I had to do was die and pay taxes. Right now, I figure tax day might be skipped this year,” he walked slowly into the room, “And I don’t plan on dying any time soon.” Hawkins started to apologize again but Eric cut him off, “Save it! I don’t want your apology. If it were me, I would have locked your ass out with them too. I want to know the truth! It nearly got me killed, so I figure you owe me an explanation. I overheard you talking about a virus and the source of the virus. I assume that means you know something I don’t about the virus?”
“No! I know someone who knows something about the virus. All I know is that they keep calling me and threatening to do to me what they just tried to do to you if I don’t do everything they say. You looked like a damn machine out there; one of them would kill me.”
“I want that folder!”
“No! I have to have it!”
Eric stepped closer, “Do I have to take it by force? I want the folder!”
“Yes! You have to take it by force! As a matter of fact, go ahead and kill me while you’re at it because I’m sick and tired of being told what to
do!”
“So stop doing what they say!” Eric said loudly.
“What choice do I have? Did you know they can release them near you? You think they are all just wandering around aimlessly right? Well no they aren’t. Some of them, a lot of them are in fucking storage somewhere, a cage or vault or something, just waiting to be released like some fucked up weapon. If they do that to me, I can’t defend myself like you do. Who’s going to protect me if I don’t do what they say? You?”
“No way, I’m in this only to survive.”
“Me too Bayne! You survive your way, I’ll survive mine. Either way you only care about your ass, and I only care about mine. So how about I stay away from you and you keep your kung fu shit away from me because I have never seen that many together before. If that regularly happens to you, I don’t want to be anywhere near you.”
Eric paused for a minute. The kid made a good point. Eric could take the folder by force, but it seemed like he would have to hurt him to get it. He didn’t really want to do that since he didn’t want to lose the chance to have that car, and this kid was somewhat interesting. Finally he looked up and held his hands up, “Okay, you’re right. I’ll propose a compromise. If you open the folder and let me read what’s in there, I promise not to touch it or anything inside. That way there will be no prints. Of course you would have to flip pages when I say to.”
