“What are we supposed to do if we come across these infected people?”
The driver had been leaning with a single hand against the van the entire time he talked. He never mentioned his name, which seemed to be the way people did things around here. He pushed himself away from the white vehicle and stood upright, appearing at least seven feet tall as he did so.
“They’re not people. They’re dead, at best. Any one of us would prefer death over that. Secondly, what you do is up to you. Hopefully you’re all smart enough to be able to assess a situation and make a decision. We’ll be giving you basic, but very useful weapons. You run, or you cut the thing’s head off right there. But you have 30 minutes at both sites to get as much as you can and get back to the van. If you’re late, we leave you. You come back with nothing, and we might leave you too.”
Roscoe moved to the driver’s side. He had a small black device in his hands and was quickly pushing buttons. Jess quickly realized it was some kind of a smartcard, and it seemed to be working.
We’re ready to go,” Roscoe said, and he started to walk away. Then he stopped a moment, and said: “Oh, one more thing. I’ll be taking a nap on the way there, so keep your hobo music down.”
The driver went over to the side of the garage and all the men saw where he was going. There were six thin swords resting against the wall. They looked sharp and swift enough to be Japanese. Samurai swords, or something like it. The driver picked one up and swung it around a few times like an expert martial artist. Then he did one quick sweep in front of him, uttering: “Motherfucker.”
He then held it aloft for all to see clearly.
“Aim for the neck with these. They’re sharp enough that if you get enough speed behind your swing, they’ll clear take their heads off. That’s about the only thing that seems to stop them. And if you get any ideas about trying to use them on me, well that’s why I have a co-driver who will be watching you all. And we also have our own weapons that work a little quicker than yours do.”
He tapped the gun at his side. It looked like one of the models that were insulated for the use of electric bullets. If the bullet didn’t kill you, it could still deliver a jolt of electricity that froze your limbs for three minutes so that chances were, a second shot would finish the job.
The others finally turned their heads - looking at the man beside them.
“So, what are you waiting for? Come and get them!”
The men all one-by-one walked over to the swords and picked one up. They were motioned into the van and sat in pairs with the swords between their legs, not quite sure which way to turn the blades but deciding all the same that their testicles didn’t like having a sharp edge in their direction.
The van was like one of those prison buses Jess saw in old movies a few times. Three rows of padded benches in the back, no seatbelts and a thick metal wall separating them from the drivers. There was a small window-like opening that the driver could slide back and forth but it was not big enough for anyone to get through, other than maybe an arm.
The metal sheets appeared to be welded to the outside frame of the van. There was one small exposed slit that only afforded a long pinhole view of their trip. This was large enough to get an obstructed view of the land that passed by and small enough that nothing more than a few fingers could reach inside.
The driver was actually handling the wheel of the vehicle, turning it this way and that as they drove about.
“How does he know how to do that?” someone said in the back.
“Twenty years ago the programs used to malfunction all the time. My old man said you’d be sitting there reading the paper and an alarm would ring, telling you that the vehicle was in manual mode. That guy’s got enough grey hair that he might remember some of that.”
The lad sitting beside Jess was the same young kid that he had sat with at breakfast. In the dim light present in the back of the van, he looked like he couldn’t quite grow a full beard, but was trying. He gripped the handle of his sword with both hands and almost seemed to be shaking.
“Where you from?” Jess said.
The kid turned slowly and his eyes were downcast, making only fleeting glances up at Jess as he spoke.
“Originally? Kingston.”
“What were you doing here?”
“I was heading out to find my parents. My girlfriend didn’t make it.”
“Well, it seems there are a bunch of survivors here, so maybe your parents will be okay. I guess you should just do this job, serve your time and get out of here.”
The boy mumbled something that Jess couldn’t make out. He was reminded of that thing that Michael used to do when he was frustrated. The communication just kind of stopped, and the answers were forced and garbled, half-hearted and without any hint of enthusiasm.
The rest of the men seemed equally consumed with silence, presumably concentrating on what was ahead of them. Their heads were all cast down, bobbing slightly with the movement of the vehicle. Jess had almost wished that one of them would stick the driver in the back with their sword but the van would have gone out of control and besides, the presence of Roscoe, though out of view, visibly startled most of the other men.
The electronic device Jess saw earlier was on the dashboard, secured within the dash in some dedicated slot that seemed a perfect fit. Vertical and horizontal lines rotated with the car’s movements.
“My son has one of those, I think. That’s the newest PAL, right?”
“Nobody asked you to talk,” the driver said, looking at Jess from the rear-view mirror. “Don’t even fucking look at it.”
“Just making small talk. I barely knew how to use the old version I had.”
Jess was trying to get him to talk – trying to elicit some information. He knew he had to be careful.
“Roscoe didn’t seem too sure that you know where you’re going.”
The driver grabbed the device and stepped on the brakes a moment, just enough to make all their heads roll forward for an instant.
He laughed at their reaction to the move and replied: “He thinks I need the GPS to find these places. Haven’t needed it yet.”
The big man’s hand extended out and he put the device back in the dashboard.
“I still use paper maps,” Jess said. “Only problem is trying to fold them back up.”
The kid beside him laughed and the others followed, nervous laughter but laughter just the same.
“What the fuck is going on!” Roscoe’s face appeared in the little square window. His eyes were thin and piercing, looking at each one of them, face by face almost daring any of them to speak.
One of the guys in the back pulled a flask out of the glove box and took a long drink. He passed it to the man beside him who drank and then handed it to Jess. Jess drank, gasping as the whiskey scalded the edges of his throat going down. He closed his eyes, almost forgetting how good it was to know that this liquid would soon calm his nerves and soothe his rapidly pumping heart. Jess passed it on and soon all of them had taken a gulp.
Just one drink, he thought.
That’s all they were going to give him.
If we were in Quebec, he thought, grocery stores would have beer and booze.
“So what’s the plan here guys?” Jess whispered.
No one answered for a short time. Everyone seemed to have their heads concentrated down on the handle of their swords, one tapping a rhythm on the handle, others holding it like they were afraid it might fall out of their grip and cut their leg off.
“Like I said, you’re to go in, find and bring back food and other useful items,” the driver said. “You come across one of the infected, you fight or run, but you better not come back empty-handed. I don’t care if you’re running for your life; you better grab something on your way out.”
His voice was low like a vibration and seemed to hit each of them in the stomach rather than the ear. He talked about as slow and smoothly as the old Muddy Waters album that filtered through the van�
��s speaker system. Reception of radio transmissions playing music had stopped long ago but the driver seemed to have a stereo that played CDs and the mix of harmonica and foot-tapping drum work seeped out of the speakers as though they were in some smoky bar in the south.
The others didn’t seem overly talkative, perhaps due to the unsettling situation they faced. Jess at least convinced them all to partner up in advance with certain rules related to watching out for each other. Each team was assigned to taking a third of the store. Not knowing exactly what that third looked like but realizing that it would likely be rectangular in shape with long aisles dividing up the layout seemed the logical thing to do.
The supermarket wasn’t very super, and although it was on the outer edge of town, it didn’t take very long to get there. It was roughly the size of a high school gymnasium; not big by any standard that he was familiar with. It was a standard box with a sign painted in orange over the front doors: Phil’s Foods.
Jess was accustomed to having doors that opened all on their own at these types of stores. The doors here only had a small framed glass window and brass doorknobs. They didn’t sense you as you approached, nor did they open of their own accord.
There were few windows inside and no lighting. Though it was dark outside, it was even darker inside the store. The only other items that they were given aside from their swords were LED flashlights, which the men immediately turned on. There were six white beams swinging about the interior which cut thin swaths through the darkness. The air was chilly. Dust seemed to be floating everywhere, kicked up by their feet. Each of them scanned the area for moving shadows, quickly at first and then in slow, trained movements. They formed a kind of semi-circle with their backs turned to their partners before slowly fanning out. Jess could hear the kid’s rapid breathing behind him.
There were three cash register lanes before them, not the dozen or more that Jess was used to seeing. Litter was scattered across the floor. It seemed the place had been raided relatively recently although perhaps by a small group. There still seemed to be plenty on the shelves. An ice cream container was upturned on the floor before him and a large pile of white cream had solidified into sticky gelatine that tugged at the bottom of his shoe. The only sound not coming from their slow steps seemed to be the whir of wind through what was presumably air ducts up above their heads.
When they were able to determine that there was no immediate danger, they sectioned off the store – three aisles each – and started out. Jess willingly took the lead, the young kid pulling up a little too closely behind, pushing a small shopping cart with one hand that also loosely held a flashlight while the sword was dangling from the end of his other arm.
When Jess had determined that the aisle ahead of them was vacant, he began pulling items off the shelf and was filling the kid’s cart. Cans of pasta and fruit. Dried egg noodles in cellophane wrappings and bags of flour. Toni would have been able to whip up something delicious with this stuff.
No one had really told them what was off limits but Jess knew enough to realize that the freezers weren’t even worth checking. Meat, eggs and fresh produce would have long since spoiled or been taken. Cans were their best option for radiation-free items.
It only took a few minutes to fill up the cart and Jess began to stuff the pockets of his jacket as well. When they got to the end of the first aisle and could carry no more, Jess turned and motioned with his hands that they should head back to the entrance and offload their finds.
The driver seemed genuinely surprised to see them back so soon. He unlocked the doors and Jess started scooping out items for the purpose of putting them in the back of the van.
“Don’t worry about that,” the driver said, almost seeming to wave them away with his hand.
Michael and the kid looked at each other, uncertain.
“What are you waiting for?” the driver said, closing the door so violently that it only missed the kid’s enquiring nose by an inch or two. “Did you run into any trouble in there?”
“No,” the kid said.
“Well, back at it, then. You can get another cart inside, can’t you?”
Jess led the way back inside and down to the next aisle, which held breakfast items like cereal, jam and dry pancake mix. It was hard to tell where the others were in the darkness. Movement could be heard in the store now but the general position of anyone not in clear view was difficult to pinpoint.
Jess was pulling a bag of oatmeal off the shelf when he thought he heard a sound; some sort of movement up ahead. He pointed his flashlight forward and thought he saw the quick blur of a shadow scurrying off out of sight.
He wasn’t sure at first if it was a trick of his mind, the various shades of black and grey having fun with his poor eyesight or if he had actually seen something but the sound before them was enough to warrant investigation. Something had fallen to the floor near the end of the aisle – a large bag of rice perhaps. He couldn’t think of anything else heavy enough to make that heavy thud of a sound. His flashlight couldn’t make out the details from where they stood. There were boxes and bags spilled everywhere and one abandoned shopping cart at the end of the aisle.
Jess again motioned to the kid, shining the light upon his own chest and pointing his finger with jabbing movements down to the end of the hallway.
They walked forward slowly and Jess pointed his sword out in front of him. At the end of the aisle, he drew his flashlight across the floor in repetitive waves as he walked forward, until he came across an open freezer. Perched on top of what must have been frozen meat – turkeys perhaps – was one of the other men from the van. The side of his head was bloodied and his stomach was red and opened, pieces of jagged and torn flesh exposed where they should not have been. Something was kneeling and eating him.
Jess steadied the flashlight and the face turned a little, like a curious turtle, smelling the air. It was the sunken, wrinkled face of an old woman.
The kid saw. He unintentionally slammed the shopping car into the glass doors of the freezer and several items fell from the cart, scattering across the floor behind Jess. When Jess turned, the kid was already halfway down the dark aisle, heading straight for the exit. Jess followed him with the flashlight and was about to yell out when he saw that it was too late. As the kid was about to round the end of the laneway, something came out into view. A thin figure with abnormally long arms hanging limp at his sides. The kid ran straight into the thing and both of them went down.
Jess ran immediately at full speed to catch up, hoping that they would become untangled. He made it halfway down the aisle when another body flung itself down upon the kid as he tried to get up.
Jess brought the sword down quickly upon the thing’s neck. It only went halfway through, and Jess had to tug at it to get the sword back out but it seemed to be enough to drop the thing, at least for the moment. The other one was getting up and Jess swung hard at the ankles and took one of his feet out from under him. Jess expected blood but all he really saw from the space where the thing’s feet should have been was an oozing black substance. It still moved, but seemed unable to make any forward movement without the propulsion of its foot. It was like a giant sickly thing writhing on the dark floor with its mouth open and glazed white eyes as wide as nickels.
As Jess looked up and pointed his light, he noticed that there were at least a dozen other figures slowly shuffling toward him. The kid was gripping his wrist, a fair amount of blood showing beneath his tense hand. The creature had obviously got him with something – maybe teeth or nails or an unseen object.
Jess brought the kid to his feet by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to the exit. He whipped his sword at the air in front of the creatures but it didn’t seem to deter them. He took four outstretched fingers off the hand of one of them and it seemed to moan like a ghoul reacting merely to the pain of loss.
He kicked open the front door and the dull light outside practically blinded him. He was still dragging the kid behind a
nd only let go when they were a few steps away from the van.
A few of the things were following them out the door and into the open air. Their arms were all raised, as though they wanted an embrace of some sort but the ungodly sound coming from their throats showed that it was a welcoming embrace that any of them wanted.
When they got near the van Roscoe and the driver, who seemed to be sitting on the back bumper of the vehicle, turned to look at them. Not a single item had been moved from their first cart.
Roscoe and the driver both brought their guns out of the holsters and began shooting the things one-by-one. Neither was a perfect shot, and some landed in the shoulders and necks of the advancing creatures and the electric bullets sent those they didn’t kill into writhing, intense spasms on the ground.
It was strange because the shot creatures showed no sign of being in pain exactly. Sure, the shook and exposed gritted teeth while the electricity passed through their bodies but they did not scream and as soon as it was over, they were getting to their feet as though they had merely slipped on something on the ground before them.
“Where are the others?” the driver said.
“Inside,” was all Jess could say. He wasn’t entirely sure where they were as he had only seen one body and it was definitely still inside.
“They must have heard the gunshots,” the driver said. “We’ll give them 60 seconds.”
He went back to the driver’s door, opened it and spoke to his smartcard in the dashboard.
“Engine on!”
“Engine on,” the PAL repeated.
It was Orson.
The engine fired up and the driver came back, the rifle hanging from his right hand like a baseball bat.
The kid was leaning against the back door of the vehicle, still favouring his arm. Jess was trying to get a peek at the wound.
“There must be a first-aid kit inside, just let me see.”
Among the Roaring Dead Page 9
