by Mark Gordon
Chapter 26
Brock and Montana
The larger of two bandits was yelling at Matt to get out of the car. The sudden jolt of the brakes had woken Gabby up, and she was looking up at Matt from the passenger seat with fear in her eyes. Matt had to make sure the next instructions he gave the girl were very simple and very specific. If he got this wrong she might die. He held his hand up to the bandits in the street in a “wait” gesture and said to Gabby, “Sweetie do exactly as I say right now. Climb on the floor and cover yourself with the jacket. Don’t move until I come back, even if it takes a long time. Do it now! Don’t worry honey, I’ll be back for you.”
“Okay Matt”, she said, slinking obediently to the floor and hiding under his jacket.
As he climbed out of the car he whispered to her, “I’m locking the doors so you’ll be safe.”
Outside the taller figure with the shotgun was yelling again. “Get over here now before I blow your fucking head off!”
Matt closed the car door and held both arms up above his head. “It’s okay. I’m cool. I don’t want any trouble”.
The big one seemed to be the spokesperson. “Shut the fuck up. I’ll decide if you’re cool or not. What are you doing in my town?”
His town? What a tool! “Sorry man, I was just passing through. I didn’t know it was your town. I’ll just get in my car and keep going okay? That’s not a problem.”
“No you fucking will not! You will stand there until I give you an instruction.”
Matt quickly evaluated his foes. The wannabe tough guy, who was doing all of the talking, was average height but very overweight. He was wearing camouflage trousers and a black t-shirt with a picture of Darth Vader on the front. His shoulder length curly hair looked like it needed a wash, and Matt realised, without humour, that he had been captured by a nerd with issues. The other survivor was a girl. It was hard to be sure, but Matt thought she looked about the same age as him. She had peroxide blonde hair poking out from under a baseball cap, big gold sunglasses, heavy make-up and a pierced upper lip. She was wearing black tights under a skimpy pair of ripped denim shorts and a pink top with the word “Bitch” embroidered in sequins on the front. Most boys would have found her hot. Matt thought she looked ridiculous.
Lord Vader spoke. “What do you want? What are you doing here?”
Matt didn’t really understand the question, but tried to give a response that wouldn’t upset this obviously unbalanced person. “Um, I’m just looking for survivors. I was hoping there might be people here in Carswell. I thought maybe we could help each other.”
“Why the fuck would I need your help. Do I look like I need help? Well, do I?”
Matt thought that he’d never seen anyone in his entire life that needed help more right now, but he didn’t want to antagonise him. Gabby was his responsibility and he was willing to temporarily eat shit from this clown if that’s what it took to keep her safe.
“No, I don’t think you need help; I was just offering, that’s all. You guys look like you’ve got everything under control. I can move on. No harm done and you can get on with … whatever you want.”
Lord Vader glanced at the blonde girl beside him, and at that moment Matt thought that he might have sensed some uncertainty in his body language. When the girl gave a little shrug of her shoulders he realised that she was just a follower and had no idea what she’d gotten herself into. Even though Matt realised that he’d discovered two survivors who were doing little more than playing “soldier”, he knew that they could pose be danger to him and Gabby. People with low self-esteem, high stress levels and loaded guns were not to be treated lightly. Despite that though, Matt decided to push it just a little, to see where he stood. “How about it, buddy? I’ll just get in my car and leave you guys alone, what do you say?”
“Don’t try and suck up to me you prick. I’m not your buddy. I’m in charge here, in case you didn't notice. I’ll say what you can and can’t do. Tell me where you came from!”
“I came from Millfield this morning.”
“Oh really?” The fat man asked sarcastically, and then paused as if considering his next question. Finally he asked, “What’s it like?” Matt thought that he might have been struggling a little to maintain the tough guy image.
“Well, it’s the same as here really,” he replied. “Dead people everywhere and the ones that aren’t dead have gone crazy or something. I’m the only one left I think.” He didn’t mention Gabby who was still lying on the floor of the car. “Everyone in Millfield has changed into those feeders. It’s a nightmare.”
The fat man looked at him, “Feeders? Yeah that’s a good name for them. They’re not zombies. Feeders. Yeah.”
Unexpectedly the girl lowered her gun and spoke for the first time, “Jesus Christ Brock, I can’t hold this thing up forever! Stop being a dickhead and let him go! You’re not going to shoot him for chrissake!”
Suddenly Brock lost his cool and started screaming, “Shut the fuck up you little slut, this is my game. Farmer Joe here is going to do whatever I tell him to. Now start walking!” He waved his gun in the direction of a brick building across the street and motioned for Matt to get moving.
All of a sudden “Blondie” let loose a high-pitched squeal, causing both men to spin around to see what was wrong. She was literally jumping up and down on the spot.
“Oh my god! He’s so cute! What’s his name?” Matt realised she’d spotted Elvis who’d been sitting patiently in the back of the truck.
When he told her the dog’s name she immediately started to call him as she headed over towards the car. Matt knew that he needed to keep the girl away from Gabby so he called Elvis who jumped from the tray of the vehicle and ran straight to him. The girl went over to Elvis and hugged him. “Hello boy! You’re a good boy Elvis, aren’t you? Good dog. Can we keep him Brock?”
Brock rolled his eyes at the girl. “Sure. Whatever. What do I care? If it’ll make you happy.” He pointed the gun at Matt again. “You! Get away from the mutt and start walking before I use this fucking thing to put a hole in your head!”
Lord Vader, formerly known as Brock, directed Matt at gunpoint into a building that was clearly an old, disused bank. Matt studied it and realised that they’d actually picked a pretty good fortress from which to defend themselves from the feeders. The front door was solid steel and the small windows at the front had thick steel bars bolted to them. He couldn’t see what was at the back of the building, but he assumed that it was equally as fortified. They went inside. Internal stairs led to an upper storey. Brock took Matt to the back corner of the room and sat him down on the floor while keeping the gun aimed at him. Matt looked over at the girl who was now sitting on a bed (one of two singles, Matted noted with interest) playing happily with Elvis. She’d removed her sunglasses and baseball cap and he could see that she was a very attractive girl, despite the trashy shopping mall outfit. She would have been one of the more popular girls in school, he guessed, and now the only companion she had was a highly-strung, socially awkward lard-ass who had no practical skills, no charisma and no idea.
Without taking his eyes off Matt, Brock called to the girl, “Montana, get over here with the handcuffs.”
She stopped playing with Elvis, picked up a pair of police-issue restraints from a shelf near her head and hurled them at the pudgy kidnapper who had to duck to avoid being struck in the head.
“You fucking bitch!” he yelled as he picked up the cuffs from the floor angrily. Montana tried to hide her smile. He tethered one cuff to Matt’s wrist and the other to an ancient oil heater that was attached solidly to the brick wall. Matt leaned back and waited for the next installment in this pointless but deadly farce. Brock went over and lay on the second single bed. Montana was lying on her bed with Elvis by her side, ignoring her partner in crime. They looked like a couple of bored teenagers, hanging around with nothing better to do. Matt noticed dozens of melted candle stubs littering the room. These morons didn’t even ha
ve enough common sense to go and find a generator to give themselves some electricity! The empty chip packets and soft drink bottles spoke for themselves. The world, as they knew it had ended, yet all these two could find to do was hang out eating junk food and playing gangsters. He shook his head.
Even though Matt was shackled and couldn’t move, he felt safer now than he had when he first encountered his captors. He knew that if this loser were going to kill him, he probably would have done it out on the street earlier. On the other hand, Matt had more than himself to worry about. Gabby was (hopefully) still out in his truck and if Matt couldn’t get out of this situation in the next couple of hours he would have to tell Brock about the girl, and hope that he would be allowed to bring her inside before it got dark and the feeders came out. That wasn’t Matt’s first option, though. He would much rather get out of here with Gabby, and get back to Millfield; because despite feeling relatively safe at the moment, he was worried about Brock’s stability. The big man was obviously well out of his depth and probably only took Matt hostage in a pathetic attempt to impress the feisty Montana. Men with infatuations were prone to irrational behaviour, and without the constraints of civilised society, they might be capable of anything. Matt leaned his head back against the cool brick wall, closed his eyes and tried to think of a way out of this mess. Within minutes he was dozing restlessly.
