by Zuko, Joseph
Karen almost lost it and fought to keep the little bit of water she had drank.
Leon got the dead body cleared from the boy. “You have to be quiet.” he whispered. Karen knelt in the grass next to the boy and tried to cradle him in her arms.
“Shhh.” She said as she tried her best to calm him, but his injures were too extreme. The hole in his forearm had already turned black and his veins were following suit.
“I can’t believe how fast it moves. We have to get out of here, right?” Leon said as he backed away.
“We have to take care of this first.” Karen’s voice cut with a blackness Leon had never heard before.
“What are you talking about?!”
“He will turn and we have to take care of it!”
The two of them had to yell just to be able to hear each other over the child’s constant shrieks.
“You want to shoot the kid?” Leon was confused.
“No, I don’t want to shoot him!”
The boy’s body shook out of Karen’s arms and he convulsed on the soft grass. Karen hopped up from the ground, like a poisonous snake was chasing after her. She quickly moved to Leon’s side.
They watched as the adolescent turned into a new creature. Shock stretched across Leon’s face as he witnessed the change in the boy’s eyes. In the snap of a finger they went from white to black. The child’s lips pulled tight exposing his new weapons. The boy was missing his two front upper and lower teeth. The gap looked even sharper and more dangerous.
“Leon, please do something. I can’t handle killing my Mama and this child in the same hour.”
Leon saw his opportunity to prove to Karen just how much he cared about her.
This is a good start. He thought.
If I can take care of this for her she’ll see how much I can protect her.
Leon had made his decision. The kid had to go so he could win her affection. It wasn’t ideal. He would have rather got her some flowers and a box of chocolate than kill this infected child, but what are you going to do? The boy’s body had stopped shaking. He was about to come back.
Leon took a large step over to the little infected body. He hovered above the child for a second, “Sorry little guy.” Was all he said before he dropped to his knees and kicked on the saw in his hands. Leon buried all four inches of the circular blade into the child’s face. Blood exploded everywhere.
“Leon? Wait!” Karen couldn’t get the words out fast enough.
He couldn’t hear her. The saw made a horribly disgusting sound as it fought its way through the bone of the infected skull. It was like Leon had cut into a waterline. He was instantly covered in liquid. It took a couple of seconds to force the saw out the top of the child’s skull.
Just like cutting a two by six, he thought.
“Whew, okay. That’s done,” Leon said as he rose to his feet. He found a clean spot on his shoulder and wiped the blood from his face.
“What is wrong with you?”
He was blown away by the look of horror on Karen’s face.
Wasn’t that what she wanted?
I killed the thing!
Damn!
“What?” Leon shrugged his shoulders at her.
“I meant shoot him.”
Leon grimaced. “Oh, sorry.”
She told me to take care of it and I did.
She didn’t say shoot him.
I’m not a mind reader.
He felt a twinge of anger and shame about this whole mess. It was just like what Leon’s father always used to tell him. “Damned if you do. So why do it.”
Chapter 5
“AAAAHHHHH!” Jim regained some composure. The monsters at his window looked hungry. They were starving to get a taste of him, just a bite, just a little nibble before the sun set in the sky. “They came out of nowhere!” Jim squealed one octave too high.
“I got ‘em.” Frank grumbled. He double checked to make sure his side was clear then he popped open his door. Frank’s heavy hand dropped onto the metal hood of the PT Cruiser with a loud POP. “Hey, chumps, over here!” He taunted them. He circled the front of the car and waited for them to line up. The zombies headed for the new snack.
A single bullet ripped through the three infected heads and their bodies dropped.
“Okay, it’s safe now.” Frank raised his eyebrows twice at the two in the car, even he was impressed with himself.
Jim exited the vehicle, “Chumps” he exclaimed.
Sara got out on Jim’s side of the car and shared the brief moment of levity between the two men. Out of habit Jim hit the lock/alarm button on his key fob and then slid the keys back into his pocket. He tugged at the metal door at the front of the building.
Locked.
The building was solid brick and the windows were high off the ground. They would need a ladder to get up to them. “Let’s see if there’s another way around back.” He didn’t wait for anyone to answer. He jogged along the front of the building.
Sara kept her bat perched up high above her shoulder. Frank kept pace behind them and watched everyone’s back.
Jim rounded the corner of the building, paused for a moment to check if it was clear and continued on. He could feel his heartrate climbing and the sweat getting ready to flow.
When will I get to take a nice hot shower?
He got to the edge of the building, paused, and peeked around the corner.
Shit! Another five zombies were coming this way. “Some chumps are ahead of us,” Jim ribbed Frank as he readied himself for the fight.
Jim came around the corner with his spear swinging. He lopped the top half of a freak’s head clean off. Sara landed a home run and knocked a beast into the wall. The blades on her bat cut a jagged smile into the face of the zombie. On her second strike she landed the killshot. Its brains erupted out of its cranium and up onto the brick. The tips of her knives sparked as they skipped along the porous surface. Her swing had perfect form on the follow through. Frank finished off the last three with a short burst of hot lead.
Jim glanced over his shoulder to make sure everyone was still clear before he moved on. He stepped over a dead body and trucked the rest of the way to the backdoor. It was locked too, but next to it was a large dumpster.
“We can bust out the window and climb in through here,” Jim said as he lifted himself up onto the dumpster’s lid. “Switch me for your bat.” He held out his spear toward Sara. She switched him quickly. Jim took a second to get his balance on the flexing lid of the container. He swung the bat and the glass exploded into the building. He dragged the slugger over the window’s sill to knock out as many skin cutting shards as possible. After a couple more swipes he had all the big nasty ones out of the way. As Jim turned back to Sara to hand her the bat he noticed a rug on the ground outside the door. “Can you pass me that?” Jim pointed at the ground.
Sara grabbed the rug up by the corner and handed the dirty, dark blue rectangle to Jim. He draped it over the sill and started to climb up through the window. He got one leg over and then the next. Jim hung from the sill for a short moment. When he let go he dropped three feet to the tile floor.
Jim pushed down on the door’s handle and let them in. Sara handed him back his spear as he flipped on the light switch by the door frame. The space was white and sterile. They entered a short hallway that fed into a larger warehouse. Jim had never in his life broken the law like he had today. He was not a big speeder and didn’t drink and drive, but today he’d had to do a little looting and now some breaking and entering. It was weirdly exciting. He could see how thieves could get addicted to the thrill.
Frank flipped on a bank of lights.
Row after row, full to the brim with medical supplies, appeared. On the far wall sat a dozen glass doored under counter refrigerators storing little vials of medicine.
“Whoa, that’s a lot of shit to look through.” Sara ran her hand through her thick red hair to brush it out of her eyes.
“Frank, you look for the
antibiotics Tina wrote down. Check the fridges. Sara and I will look for the blood transfusion kit and anything else we might need,” Jim said as he unclicked his backpack, he fished out the hammer that his father had given him when he bought his first house, “Here’s the key to the fridges.” Frank nodded, took the hammer from Jim and pulled the list from his front breast pocket. He booked it across the warehouse and squatted down in front of the first fridge and started reading the labels.
Sara and Jim wandered the aisles. They read the labels of all the different medical supplies. Elastic tape, non-adhesive tape, cloth tape, hypoallergenic tape, silk tape, foam tape, paper tape and on and on it went. Jim’s head was swimming from all of the choices.
Which is the correct kind of tape for a gunshot wound?
Does it matter?
He had not even made it to the bandage aisle or come close to finding the transfusion kit. There were gallons and gallons of rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide on one of the shelves. He remembered that they had plenty of that back at Cliff and Tina’s apartment. He grabbed a couple of different rolls of tape and tossed them into his bag. He pillaged the bandage and gauze shelves. One of the shelves had a little black hard plastic case labeled surgical kit. He took it. Sara came around the corner with an arm full of supplies.
“I think I got some of it here,” she held up a medium sized box. The label read ‘complete transfusion kit’ and featured a photo of the contents.
“Perfect,” Jim held open his bag and Sara had to push hard to fit it in with the other supplies. She also had syringes, a box of rubber gloves and a suture kit.
CRASH! Glass spilled out onto the floor of the warehouse. Frank had found what he was looking for, “Got ‘em.” The little glass bottles clinked together as he poured a tray out into the side pocket of his duffle bag. “Should I bring the penicillin in case we find a lonely lady wandering the city and she needs a ride?” Frank’s sense of humor continued to sprout as the day drug on. He zipped his bag closed as he rejoined the others, “Do we need anything else?” Frank dropped Jim’s hammer into the backpack.
Jim looked around the room. “I wish we could take the whole store. Anyone have any allergies?” Jim forced a few more rolls of gauze into his back. They shook their heads at him.
“That’s good,” Jim wrestled the heavy pack up onto his shoulder.
“Let’s get out of here and over to the gun shop,” Sara said as she moved towards the front counter of the store. A double-door separated the two rooms. She hit it first and kept it held open as the others passed by. The front of the store looked like a doctor’s waiting room. A few chairs lined the walls and magazines were laid out on short end-tables. A kid’s corner was set up with a little TV and some toys. Jim averted his gaze from the corner. There was a red toy firetruck on the floor. It was the same model he had gotten Valerie two years ago while they were out shopping at Ross. She was being an amazingly good kid that day and the toy was like ten bucks. Her little face shined so brightly when he told her that he would get it for her. Jim’s two little girls had played with it at least once a week since. Jim didn’t want to think about what might have happened to the girls, but seeing the toy reminded him to stay focused and keep moving. He had to find the girls.
Find them or die trying.
Jim slid his backpack straps onto his other shoulder and clicked it into place. He snagged the keys from his pocket as Sara’s hand rested on the door’s leaver. She was all set to move when the car alarm began to blare outside. The sudden noise made her jump.
“Jesus, Jim, watch your thumb! You scared the shit out of me,” Sara hit Jim in the shoulder with the back of her hand as she composed herself.
Jim’s heart skipped a beat too. All of them were on edge and as hungry and dehydrated as they were he was shocked that they weren’t at each other’s throats. The stress of the day had given Jim twenty more grey hairs and the sun was still up.
The car’s alarm blasted outside. Frank and Sara turned to Jim. He was staring at the keys.
“Turn it off,” Frank readjusted his duffle bag.
Jim hit the button and silenced the alarm, “I’m not the one that set it off.”
The alarm blasted again. Something was bumping into the PT Cruiser. Jim cut the alarm off a second time as Sara inched open the door. She peeked out with one eye.
“Shit,” Sara whispered the word.
“How many?” Jim asked.
“A lot,” she whispered again.
“Damn it girl, how many?” Frank moved closer to the door.
Something startled Sara and she pushed the door shut quickly, “A lot.” Her voice was more than panicked. A body slammed into the front door of the building. A moment later the car’s alarm went off again. This time Jim unlocked it.
“Do we go out the way we came and forget the ride?” Frank took a step back from the door.
“I don’t know.” Jim’s mind scrambled to conceive a plan.
“Should we make a stand in here?” Sara followed Frank’s example and stepped farther from the door. The monster outside continued to beat at the front door.
“I don’t know,” Jim said as he squeezed at the walking stick that made up his spear.
Come on brain! Come on!
The monsters outside could hear them discussing their battle plans and more dead bodies were crashing into the front door.
Devon was going to bleed out before they could walk back. They needed that car. Facing a horde out in the open sounded like suicide. They had barely made it when there were four of them fighting together. Opening the door and inviting them in sounded even worse. Jim looked around the room again.
Was there anything here we could use to help us?
That’s when he spotted it. Jim had seen it before and it pained him, but this time it gave him an idea. The little red toy firetruck. Jim patted at his jacket’s pocket. He felt the outline of the Zippo.
“I got it,” was all Jim said as he headed back into the warehouse. They followed him without question. Jim retraced his steps back to the aisle that had the gallons of rubbing alcohol.
“There has to be a ladder up onto the roof. Grab as many bottles as you can.” Jim scooped up as much as he could carry off of the shelf. The others continued to follow him. Their arms filled with bottles.
Jim raced back to the rear entrance. A door sat at the end of the hall with a sign that read CLEANING SUPPLIES bolted to it. Jim opened the door to the closet. On the far wall was a service ladder leading up to the roof. Jim dropped the plastic bottles and set his spear down in a corner. He pulled off his backpack and removed his hammer before he laid the pack down on the floor. Jim found a box of heavy-duty black plastic bags. He ripped one out and forced it open. The three of them filled the plastic bag with the bottles of rubbing alcohol. Jim tested the weight in the sack and it was at its max capacity. He yanked on the straps and slipped the bag up onto his shoulder. Jim worked the handle of the hammer into his belt and then he started to climb up the ladder.
“Frank, carry up that roll of paper towels,” Jim said half way up the ladder. The plastic straps dug deep into his shoulder as he ascended the metal rungs. Frank put the roll of towels into his bag and then started up the ladder.
Jim got to the hatch that led outside. It had a padlock on it. Jim looped his arm around the last rung so that his elbow locked him into position. With his free hand he pulled out the hammer and began to wail on the lock. It took Jim a solid twenty strikes before the screws that held the lock in place started to give. He let out a trumpet yell on the last hit and the latch gave way from the wood frame. Jim pushed up on the hatch and it creaked open. As he climbed the final rungs the door clicked into place.
It was a very tight squeeze to get the big bag of highly flammable liquid out onto the roof. When Jim got to his feet he dropped the bag and gave his back a good stretch. Frank was right behind him and Sara’s head popped through the opening seconds later.
They surveyed the land. From th
is height they could see blocks away in every direction. Jim could almost see his apartment from where he stood. Wrecked vehicles littered the streets. Infected hordes grew by the minute. Buildings burned and spewed ash into the air. The beautiful city of Vancouver was in ruins.
Jim dragged the bag across the tar roof as he headed for the edge of the building. He looked down onto the PT Cruiser. It was surrounded by sixty infected zombies.
“Where the hell did they come from?” Jim asked no one in particular. “HEY!” he called down to the horde. Their busted necks craned up to see where the dinner bell was ringing from. Some of the zombies ran over to the wall, others shuffled, but one by one they headed over to Jim.
The humans walked slowly along the edge of the building, yelling down to their infected fans, and headed for the far corner of the building. Jim didn’t want the car to catch fire along with the beasts.
Jim got to what he thought was a safe distance from their ride and opened the plastic bag. The three of them each took a bottle out and popped the lids. As they crushed the sides of the containers the ninety-one proof liquid shot out like they were shooting squirt guns down onto the clamoring horde below. It took a couple of minutes to empty the ten bottles onto the staggering creatures. They made sure to hit every corner of the horde with the liquid. When the last shot of the last bottle was fired Frank liberated the roll of paper towels.
Jim extracted his Zippo and lit the first of the ballistics, “This is gonna stink,” he said as he caught fire to the paper roll. The paper was burning pretty hot in Jim’s hand. He was confident it wouldn’t go out on the drop. Jim tossed the yellow, burning, death from above. The fire slowly made its descent onto the unsuspecting monsters that clawed at the side of the brick building. Jim could feel the seconds tick by.
One. Two. Three.
WHOOSH!
They had to duck below the edge of the building to escape the heat blast. The nasty sounds of meat crackling on an open flame filled the air around RS Medical. The horrible stink of charred flesh curled up over the lip of the building and punched the three humans in the face.
