The Infected Box Set, Vol. 1 [Books 1-3]

by Zuko, Joseph

  “We’re low on ammo!” Frank growled.

  The man behind the gun said nothing. Seconds felt like minutes to Jim.

  Frank’s eyes adjusted to the dark and he could make out the barrel waving in the air.

  “No one has to get hurt here!” Sara shouted into the darkness.

  “Drop the weapons, or I will open fire!” the voice sounded desperate.

  Jim thought maybe he could reason with this person.

  “Look, my name is Jim Blackmore, we have an injured man back at our place that needs the medical supplies we picked up at RS Medical. Please let us go so we can save his life!”

  BOOM!

  The Stranger fired the shotgun into the floor directly in front of Jim’s crew. The buckshot ripped into the cheap carpet and then he cocked it again. Jim didn’t know what scared him more, the pellets that landed at his feet or the sound that shotgun made when it was cocked.

  Jim dropped his spear right away and Sara let go of her bat a second later. The weapons crashed to the floor at their feet. Frank released his SKS and the gun swung by its shoulder strap and ended under his armpit. They held their hands high in the air.

  “What do you want?!” Jim screeched at the Stranger.

  “Kick them over here and drop that rifle.” The Stranger barked his orders. “On your knees, hands behind your head!”

  “Motherfucker!” Sara spit the word out at him.

  Frank unslung the shoulder strap and laid his gun on the floor. They kicked their weapons across the floor into the darkness.

  Jim gritted his teeth and grunted as he dropped to his knees. Sara and Frank joined him on their knees. What choice did they have? They weren’t trained negotiators, they weren’t military, and there was no back up coming to save them. Jim’s hands slid down the back of his head and stopped at the base of his skull.

  They were fucked.

  How many times was Jim going to have a gun shoved in his face today? If they somehow got out of this, Jim swore to himself that in the future they would be better prepared before entering any building. He was not sure how he was going to be better prepared, but he would be damned if he let himself and his crew get ambushed again.

  The Stranger stepped from the darkness. He was a weasel of a man with a thin body and a gaunt face. He was dressed like an accountant in black slacks and a white button up short-sleeved dress shirt. His brown hair was slicked over tight to his scalp and one of the lenses in his glasses had a crack that ran rim to rim. He was the kind of man that would give you the creeps if he stood next to you in line at the Post Office. The guy every kid was warned about and no one went near his house. He held the shotgun tight to his shoulder with one hand and gripped a set of handcuffs in the other. He paused for a moment when he stood out into the light. He looked over the humans on their knees. The Stranger’s face held a smug smile. He was so satisfied with himself. No one else stepped from the shadows. It was just the one weasel. That really pissed Jim off.

  One goddamn Poindexter? One guy had us trapped?

  Something rattled the half closed gate at the entrance of the store. The Stranger stepped farther across the shop and opened fire.

  BOOM! BOOM!

  Jim glanced over his shoulder at the front of the store. Two infected were released from their misery and the extra buckshot peppered the back of the PT Cruiser.

  “Keep your goddamn hands on the back of your heads!” The Stranger cocked his shotgun again and aimed it back at the gang on their knees. He kept the barrel pointed at them as he pulled the gate shut. It slammed metal to metal, but the lock was shot off by Frank so the Stranger used the handcuffs to secure the gate. The wristlocks clicked into place around the metal frame and the gates door. Now they were locked in.

  “What the fuck do you want? Money? Food?” Sara’s tone dropped.

  The Stranger produced another set of cuffs from his back pocket. He moved over to the group and stood behind Frank. His lack of communication was driving Jim nuts.

  What does he want?

  If it’s not to kill us then what?

  Jim’s mind ran wild over all of the different horrible scenarios that might happen to them. The Stranger noticed Jim staring up at him so he cracked the butt of the shotgun into the top of Jim’s spine. The wood stock landed just above the backpack strapped onto Jim’s torso. The impact sent Jim to his stomach, his hands came off his skull just in time to keep his face from crashing into the unforgiving floor.

  “Leave him alone, you animal!” Sara’s hands came off the back of her head to help Jim up. As she reached for him the Stranger aimed the gun at her beautiful face.

  “Do not touch him,” the Stranger said with no emotion.

  Pain radiated all through Jim’s body. It felt like he pinched a nerve. Laying there on his belly he clutched at his spine and grunted through the agony. His hands pressed down on his spine trying to push the sting away, but nothing helped.

  “Get up!” the Stranger yelled at Jim as he grabbed Frank’s wrist and slapped one side of the cuffs onto it. Then he pulled Frank’s arm down off his skull and placed it at the small of his back.

  Before Jim lifted himself up off of the floor, his hands worked to nurse the bones of his vertebrae. As his fingertips rubbed at his sore back the pinky on his right hand brushed against the cold steel head of the hammer cradled in his backpack. The nose of the tool peeked out from a small opening in the zipper.

  The Stranger had Frank’s other hand down off his head and at the small of his back. He clicked the last cuff around Frank’s thick wrist.

  Jim pretended to nurse at his wound as he pushed himself up off the floor. He rocked back onto his knees and pivoted himself on the floor to face the Stranger and hid what he was doing. With both hands behind his head, he worked to get more of the hammer free from the bag without the Stranger noticing.

  “This is bullshit, man. The world is going to hell and you’re fucking around with us!” Frank’s words grumbled out of his mouth.

  That’s it Frank, keep talking.

  The Stranger stepped around to face the mouthy old man. He held his shotgun inches from Frank’s grizzled mug.

  “I got better shit to do than sit around here with a pencil-dick like you.”

  There we go. I almost got it.

  The Stranger squatted down in front of Frank. They were eye-to-eye.

  “Do you even have a fucking clue? What are you doing?” Frank spit in the man’s face as he finished the sentence. It landed on the Stranger’s glasses and hung from the black rim.

  Just a little more. Jim could feel that most of the head of the hammer was free now.

  “What do you want with us?!” Frank flexed against his restraints.

  “I am going to do things to you,” as the Stranger talked his voice grew with excitement. “I am going to do all of the things I have always wanted to do, but were too afraid I would get caught.”

  “You don’t have to hurt anyone. You could let us go.” Sara pleaded with the monster.

  He kept his eyes trained on Frank as he spoke, “But I want to hurt you. I want to hurt you so, so bad.” The Stranger’s upper lip twitched with anticipation. He stood up quickly and stepped over to the counter. Another set of handcuffs laid out on the glass. He snatched them up and moved across the floor towards Sara. She couldn’t help herself and tears began to fall as she cried quietly. No matter how tough she was this monster was too much for her to take.

  “Stop that! Do not cry yet! You will know when it is time to cry!” The Stranger grabbed a fist full of Sara’s long red hair and snapped her head back. She yelped sharply.

  All of the yelling and gunshots had attracted a few more infected zombies to the gun shop’s front door. The dead beasts pulled at the metal gate but the cuffs held firm.

  “Let her go asshole!” Frank fought to get to his feet.

  “Well, look at this. We have an audience,” the Stranger said as he used Sara’s hair like a handle to pull her around to face the zombies
at the entrance. She gripped his wrist and pulled it tight against her skull trying desperately to keep her bright red hair in her head, instead of it being yanked out.

  “I am going to give them one hell of a show.” The Stranger belched out a full and hardy laugh.

  Jim noticed the Stranger was relaxed with his shotgun. It pointed lazily off to the side. This was his chance. He had a good grip on the head of the hammer. Frank was yelling a barrage of curse words. The Stranger was engrossed with the power he had over the helpless humans and continued to laugh maniacally.

  Jim had to move fast. He mustered all of his strength and told his brain to calm down and shut the hell up. He did not care how much his body ached. He needed it to move like a bolt of lightning. Jim held the hammer upside down and he gripped the wood handle tightly as the head of the tool poked out the bottom of his fist. Jim was a fraction of a second away from preforming a one hundred percent true hammer-fist on this weasel. Over the years he had thrown thousands of Krav Maga hammer-fists in class. It’s when you make contact with the butt of you fist against the target. It was a safe way to deliver a powerful strike with less fear that you would break your wrist.

  Jim leaped to his feet, but was still in a crouched position, he caught the shotgun by the stock and aimed the hammer-fist at the Stranger’s knee. When Jim made contact with the knee cap it made a gut churning snapping sound. The Stranger squealed in agony and pulled the trigger on his gun. The shot destroyed a nearby glass display case of sunglasses. Jim cocked his fist and landed another strike dead center in the weasel’s chest. A deep sounding crack resonated out of the Stranger’s torso. All of the air huffed from his lungs like a bellows. Jim knew the man couldn’t breathe so he used this moment to yank the gun from his hands. Sara saw her opportunity to thank the man for a wonderful time and she delivered an elbow up into his dick and balls.

  As the Stranger stepped back, the blunt force trauma to his knee caused it to buckle. He fell straight back onto the floor. He gasped, one hand clutching his wrecked nut-sack the other held tight to his sternum. The weasel wasn’t going anywhere.

  Jim fumed. A rage burned inside. The same white hot flame he felt when he first saved Sara in the graveyard. He helped her up to her feet and released the shotgun into Sara’s hands.

  “Holy shit, Jim! I was wondering why you were so quiet.” Frank called out across the shop, he had only seen Jim fight against the zombies and couldn’t believe the speed and accuracy in which Jim had delivered the strikes.

  Jim let the hammer’s handle slide out the back of his fist as he stepped closer to the Stranger writhing on the floor. He chewed at his bottom lip and fought off the urge to put the hammer through this asshole’s face.

  He took a knee next to the Stranger and grabbed him by the throat. As Jim leaned closer to the weasel’s face he held the hammer in the air. Threatening to lay it down at a moment’s notice.

  “Where are the keys?”

  The Stranger coughed out a few half words but he was in no condition to talk yet. Jim released the man’s neck and searched his pockets for the keys to the cuffs.

  “What should we do with him?” Sara asked as she helped lift Frank to his feet. Jim found the keys in the Stranger’s back pocket.

  What should we do?

  How do you handle a man like this?

  Can’t take him to jail. I can’t kill him either.

  He tossed them up and Sara snatched the keys out of the air. She released Frank from his shackles.

  “I got a couple of ideas!” Frank launched himself across the floor and dropped the heel of his boot into the man’s ribs. A triplet of cracks popped from the Stranger’s ribcage. Another set of zombies hit the gate at the front door. If they didn’t get going fast they would have another horde of sixty waiting for them outside.

  Frank pulled his Beretta and held it an inch from the Stranger’s forehead. “You want to hurt someone you sick son-of-a-bitch?!” Frank’s gun shook wildly. He quickly switched up his grip and added his second hand to the butt of the gun.

  “Frank, don’t do it!” Jim’s voice called to him softly.

  “You want him to hurt someone else?” Frank pressed the barrel down onto the Stranger’s skin.

  “What if your wife and kids walked in here before us?” Sara was on Frank’s side and her point was valid. Jim knew what he wanted to do, but would killing this man, no matter how horrible he was, feel right in the end?

  Could I live with the knowledge that I killed a man?

  No.

  No matter how bad it is out in this new world, Jim Blackmore is no killer.

  “I made a promise to someone today,” Jim said as he backed away and headed for the counter that held the pistols.

  “Are you serious?” Sara’s jaw dropped.

  “No one is watching us!” Frank pushed the gun even harder against the Stanger’s skull.

  “Pl….please…” the Stranger coughed up blood onto his own face.

  “Shut up! Shut the fuck up! You don’t get to beg for mercy!” Frank cracked the barrel of his gun across the top of the Stranger’s noggin.

  “We have to-” Sara followed after Jim.

  Jim cut off Sara, turned and swiftly got right in her face, “You want to kill him?!” Jim’s face was all fury. It took Sara’s breath away. “You want to be a monster like him?”

  Sara caught her breath and stood her ground, “We can’t let him hurt anyone else!”

  “Are we doing this?!” Frank looked over his shoulder for the go ahead to end this creep.

  “We’re wasting time, let’s get the shit we came for and leave.” Jim reached out and grabbed Sara by her shoulder. He nodded his head at her. It was an old sales technique he learned years ago from his manager, Bill. Get the customer nodding yes and they are more likely to agree with you and buy whatever stupid thing you are showing them. “Devon’s waiting for us. We are still alive and we aren’t like the monsters out there.” Jim pointed towards the gate. “We need to hold onto that for as long as we can.” Jim’s words rang true.

  Sara wasn’t a killer and nor was Frank. They were caught up in the fear. The adrenaline sizzling in their veins only fed their desire for vengeance. Jim was right, no matter how bad it was out in the world they had to do their best to stay humans.

  Sara’s eyes narrowed as she mulled over the dilemma, “Frank, find your ammo and let’s go. We don’t have to kill him, but he’s not coming with us either,” Sara gave the order and this was her compromise.

  Frank’s spine straightened and he lifted the gun away from the Stranger’s forehead. He was not used to being ordered around, but she said it with such authority that he listened.

  Frank slid his Berretta back into its holster, “They’re right. You’re not worth the bullet.” He raised his hand towards Sara, “Cuffs?” he asked. She handed him the steel restraints that were just around his wrists. Frank grabbed the Stranger by the collar and pulled him across the floor. Every move caused him to yelp like an injured dog. Frank pulled him over to a heavy-duty gun safe behind the counter. Frank propped him up against it. He locked the cuff around one of the Stranger’s wrists and then onto the handle that was bolted to the door. Frank gave it a good yank and the handle was solid.

  He did not waste anymore time with the Stranger. Frank flicked a set of switches and the place filled with bright fluorescent light. The back of the store had a small office and on the far wall was a selection of army surplus duffle bags. “Both of you grab a bag.” Frank cased the place and found exactly the stashes he was looking for.

  The crew made speedy work of filling the green canvas bags. Frank pointed out and grabbed plenty of shotgun shells, nine-millimeter rounds, and ammo for his SKS. They also snatched up a fresh set of pistols, plus matching holsters, for everyone. They kept the weasel’s shotgun, grabbed another assault rifle, it looked similar to an M16, but Jim couldn’t be sure and didn’t want to waste time asking what everything was. Frank also pulled down a large hunting rifle
with a powerful scope attached and a large case of its ammo. It took only five minutes to fill their bags and hands to the limit of what they could carry.

  The Stranger had regained control of his lungs, “Please, do not leave me here!” he begged.

  The crew did not answer or even look at him. Jim picked up his spear and used it to take down the small horde that had gathered by the entrance. A dozen thrusts through the gate and he had cleared out all of the infected.

  The Stranger franticly pulled at his shackled wrist, “You can’t leave me! Please don’t go! I’m sorry for what I said. I wasn’t really going to do it. I am a good person. I promise. You said your name was Jim, right? Jim, you have to save me! Please!” The Stranger’s voice cracked under the pressure of his fate.

  Sara used the keys to the cuffs to unlock the gate. “What are we going to do about him?” she asked.

  Jim looked over the store and there was a small display case of cheap looking knives. He popped it open and picked out a small lock-blade with a serrated edge. Jim took a few steps closer to the Stranger and then slid the blade along the floor over next to him.

  “What is this for?” he asked as he lifted the knife with his free hand.

  “That’s up to you.” Jim’s words were ice cold. He rejoined his crew at the front door and popped the lock to open the PT Cruiser. As they left the gun shop they made sure to leave the gate wide open. The Stranger’s voice called and pleaded after them long after they had gone.

  Chapter 9

  Leon sunk the last screw into the last plank of wood that secured the last window of the house.

  Finally done!

  The place was a fortress. Kind of. They needed to get a little better lock system on the front door, but the windows could handle a good sized horde without a breach.

  Karen gave Leon a tired thumbs up. She needed the strongest cup of coffee on the planet. Exhausted was not a strong enough word to describe her. Way past any point she had ever felt before, including popping both of her children out. But the day wasn’t over yet. There were a handful of hours left and Karen really wanted a vehicle lined up just in case they had to make a fast escape. That meant sending Leon out to find a car.