Z1N1: The Zombie Pandemic: 2012 Was Just the Beginning

by Mitchell Layne Cook

  By hand gestures alone, James informed Corbin of the plan. James would roll under the door and quickly scan the left side of the interior and Corbin was to follow and scan to the right. James quickly dropped to the floor and rolled under the garage door. Corbin did his part. He rolled to the ground less gracefully than the older man but still he fulfilled his part of the plan.

  The garage was empty. Well at least empty of things wanting to eat their faces. The two men foraged around. With ample sunlight during the daylight hours, the men quickly searched for supplies. Corbin found an unopened package of batteries, a small tool kit and a guide book outlining shops and attractions to visit.

  “What a waste.” James said.

  “What?” Corbin inquired only half paying attention to the old marine.

  “This!” James held up an old nudie magazine riddled with holes. Apparently the mice decided the centerfold made for an excellent snack and had devoured all but the legs of vivacious vixen.

  “Let’s head back outside, James. There’s nothing else we can use in here.”

  In the distance, prying eyes surveyed the old gas station as three men began formulating an attack plan while hiding behind the old bakery a few blocks away.

  “Those two dudes just went into the garage,” Rodney said. “They have guns.”

  Rodney was 34 years old, tall and slender with short brown hair. Before the zombie invasion, he was a door-to-door salesman. He sold knives. However, Rodney’s manager was informed on multiple occasions that many customers felt an overwhelming desire to stab Rodney with the products he peddled due to his terrible attitude. Rodney wisely decided that he should try his hand at selling vacuum cleaners instead. It was a lot less likely that a customer would stab him in the spleen with a crevice tool…but “Rod the Bod” (as he called himself) was pretty irritating…so that option was never fully dismissed.

  Barry surveyed the situation. He was the leader of the group. He had dirty blonde hair and was quite muscular from years of weight lifting to combat the effects of his asthma. “Yeah, we have to act now,” he said, “while they are focused at that old gas station. What do you think, Booger?”

  Matt was a few years younger than the other two men and had been known as “Booger” ever since junior high when he “affectionately” referred to his girlfriend’s clitoris by the same name. A strong country boy with a shaved head and full beard, he looked like the lead singer of a heavy metal band. In school, the other kids used to make fun of him saying that he had “retard strength,” but not anywhere Matt could hear them for fear of getting slapped around. Matt was pretty sensitive about his “smarts,” as he called them.

  “We got guns too,” Booger said with a thick southern accent. “I don’t care what we do as long as I get to sniff some panties.” He held up his tobacco stained handkerchief, clinched in both hands, and made a rubbing motion under his nose, imitating what he’d do with a fresh pair of female underwear.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Rodney angrily inquired, shaking his head in disgust.

  “Nothing’s wrong with me except that I ain’t seen a naked woman in almost a year. I’m tired of doin’ it with my hand!” Booger yelled.

  “Would you two calm down?” Barry pleaded.

  These three guys had been friends since junior high, bullying their way through the education system one year at a time (sometimes requiring more than one year per grade). They were assholes then too, but way worse now. Since the plague started, they had been terrorizing anyone unlucky enough to cross their path, like they used to torment the underclassmen at lunchtime. Except now, instead of wedgies and black eyes, they did whatever the hell they wanted, robbing, raping and killing - not to survive…but because they could.

  The triumvirate had left a path of destruction from San Antonio all the way to Arkansas. There was no law. No one was around to punish wrongdoers. No one offered to protect the weak from falling victim to the strong. In this new world, might did indeed make right. At least that’s how these three men justified their actions.

  “I mean, damn Rodney, don’t you want to see some big ol’ titties?” Booger made a juggling motion around his chest area cupping his own man-boobs. “Nah, probably not...since you been off screwing one of your vacuum cleaner hoses!” Matt, pleased at the vivid image he had created in his mind, laughed loudly, as chew came flying out of his mouth.

  Barry was exhausted and tired of the constant bickering. His asthma was acting up on top of everything else. Booger and Rodney argued all the damn time, like an old married couple. Sometimes it was funny, but most of the time it irritated the hell out of him. However, there was strength in numbers; Barry struggled to keep the group focused on small, attainable goals to keep them from killing each other.

  “This is what we are going to do,” Barry said, raising his voice over Booger’s guffawing. “We are going to do kind of like what we did to that Mexican family back in Texarkana a few months back. Remember that?

  Rodney just shrugged his shoulders as he remembered back to the incident.

  About three months ago, Barry and his cronies were living in a burned out Catholic Church with gray stone walls on the Texas side of Texarkana. The Hernandez family, originally from Austin, was heading to St. Louis, but Fate had a different plan in mind for the displaced siblings. The old maroon van they were driving in broke down roughly two miles south of the same church. Barry had been doing reconnaissance in the area looking for supplies. He approached the van and introduced himself to the occupants, already having a devious plan concocted in the back of his mind. The two brothers introduced themselves as Ivan and Max, who were bankers prior to the zombie infestation, and their younger sister Maria, who was studying to be a corporate copyright lawyer prior to the plague.

  Barry led the Hernandez family on foot to the church where they were introduced to Rodney and Booger. Right away Rodney was entranced by Maria. She was olive skinned, had beautiful dark green eyes and short, curly brown hair. She wore a bright orange scarf to hide a small birthmark on the left side of her neck, just below her ear. All of her friends had tried to convince her that it was just a beauty mark, but Maria felt otherwise.

  The next day, after a restless but safe night, Booger and Ivan left the church to repair the Hernandez’s broken down van. Booger’s only redeeming quality revolved around automobiles; the backwards redneck was a savant when it came to repairing cars - he could fix just about anything attached to four wheels. Barry had also left the church telling the others that he was off to find more supplies. In reality, Barry was playing his part in the plan that he and Booger came up with while everyone else was sleeping.

  Max, Maria and Rodney stayed behind at the church. After about twenty minutes of awkward silence, Max left the sanctuary to relieve his bladder; he would only be gone for a few seconds and would be just around the corner – those precious few seconds cost him dearly. Rodney immediately seized the opportunity becoming sexually aggressive with Maria. She scratched his face trying to prevent him from molesting her. Rodney recoiled slightly as blood trickled down his right cheek. Max heard his sister’s screams and ran back into the sanctuary.

  As Max rushed into the room, Rodney quickly scanned the area for a weapon; he grabbed a statue of the Virgin Mary by its head from beneath a church pew. Max hesitated as he looked at his baby sister to make sure she was OK before turning his vitriolic stare towards her attacker. Rodney rushed the man swinging the heavy porcelain figure in a wide arcing motion smashing it against Max’s unprotected head; Max fell limply to the ground surrounded by the shattered statue.

  Maria rushed over to her critically injured brother diving on top of his body trying to fend off further attacks. Rodney grabbed her by her hair tossing her over an upside down pew. He bent over and sliced Max’s throat from ear-to-ear with a jagged piece of porcelain. Maria shrieked in terror as she tried to run around Rodney to get to her brother. Rodney kicked her in the stomach and she crumpled to the ground like a ragdoll. Ro
dney mounted her tying her up with her orange scarf. Like a madman, he ripped off her clothes as she fought in vain against him; her struggle only excited him. Maria prayed to be saved, but her prayers went unanswered as Rodney savagely raped her.

  Around the same time that Rodney’s disgustingly vicious actions took place back at the church, Barry had sprinted ahead of Ivan and Matt; he stealthily crept behind a small building a few yards from the van waiting for his opportunity. The two men arrived; Booger moved to the driver’s side of the van and popped open the hood. As Ivan began replacing some hoses to the radiator, Booger moved back to the front of the van slamming the hood on Ivan’s hands. Ivan’s banshee-like screams shattered the morning calm. Barry sprang out from behind the meager structure; he rushed over to the van repeatedly bashing Ivan’s head with a crowbar. Booger giggled like a school girl at the display of violence. Ivan slumped halfway to the ground, still held in place, dangling by his wrists from the front of the old van.

  Booger and Barry spat on him before they got into the van and drove back to the church – dragging Ivan the entire way. They arrived at the church and exited the van. Booger looked at the front of the vehicle at their new human hood ornament.

  “That’s fucking awesome,” he said, giving a “thumbs up” as he followed Barry inside the church.

  Barry and Booger were drawn to the sanctuary by Rodney’s obscenity laced tirade towards his victim. The three men continued to abuse Maria for two full days, taunting and violating her. Due to internal injuries, she mercifully died during the second night.

  Before leaving the church the next morning, Booger stuffed all three bodies into the priest’s confessional, just to see if they’d all fit – and with some inventive positioning, Booger accomplished his task.

  “Are you even listening to me, Rodney?” Barry asked again, trying to make sure Rodney was focusing on the current situation.

  Rodney looked around. “What?”

  “Did you hear any of the plan?”

  Rodney shook his head. “No, tell me again.” He paused for a moment. “That bitch got what she wanted. She was asking for it.” Obviously Rodney had a distorted view of what transpired at the church many months ago.

  “OK, Rodney - you will go to Rick’s Pharmacy.” Barry pointed down the road at a two-story red and white brick building, “You can get a bird’s eye view of the area from the second floor. Take the rifle with you but don’t shoot unless I give the signal.”

  “Booger, you go to the hardware store. Use the back door…”

  “I’d love to use the back door!” Matt snorted as more chew flew out of his mouth.

  “Matt,” Barry said, taking his friend by the shoulders, “pay attention to the words coming out of my mouth!”

  “Sorry Barry…” Booger bowed his head; he looked like a kid that was just put into the corner for a timeout for being naughty.

  Booger never wanted to be on Barry’s bad side. About a year before he had graduated high school, Booger was arrested and thrown into jail for touching himself inappropriately while at a local strip club. Barry had bailed him out with money stolen from a local video rental store, so Matt’s dad never found out. Booger was saved from the wrath of his abusive, alcoholic father and every day since the “incident” (as it was now known), Booger was forever indebted to Barry.

  “Now, Booger,” Barry continued, “you go to the hardware store and use the back door. Sneak around to the counter where you can see the road. Wait for my signal.”

  “What are you going to do, Barry?” Rodney asked.

  “I’m going to pretend I’m injured from a zombie attack or some shit - like I barely escaped.” Barry ripped his shirt and took a knife from his boot and cut himself across the face. Crimson blood flowed out of the gash. Injuries to the head and facial area always appeared traumatic, due to the large amount of capillaries below the skin. Barry then cut three gashes in his left forearm and two into his right leg. Blood seeped through his pants. All the self-inflicted wounds were superficial but pretty convincing, nonetheless, as telltale signs of a recent struggle.

  “You’re as crazy as a shithouse rat!” Booger exclaimed, taken aback at Barry’s self-mutilation.

  “Don’t you ever forget it either!” Barry said, smiling as he surveyed his handiwork.

  “I don’t want any shooting unless we have no other choice. You two are positioned to protect my ass. I think we should fake like we are injured and maybe they will take us with them. Once we gain their confidence, then we will make our move. Are there any questions?”

  Rodney pointed at Booger. “I’m sure Einstein over there is going to fuck this all up. Maybe I should draw him some pictures to make sure he understands?” Rodney began drawing stick figures in the dirt with the toe of his shoe.

  “Eat me!” Booger snarled as he grabbed his crotch.

  “That’s enough guys. You know the plan. Now get into position. If everything works out like I think it will – just wait for my signal,” Barry said. “If things are hostile, I’ll cross my arms in front of my chest. That’s the signal to kill shit.”

  “And what’s the…not to kill shit signal?” Booger inquired – honestly already confused by the complexity of the plan.

  Barry thought about an easy-to-recognize “all clear” signal. “I’ll raise both arms in a stretching motion, but for fuck’s sake – whatever you do, you big dumb shit – don’t shoot me!”

  “Shit, I ain’t goin’ to shoot you, Barry…but I’d sure as fuck shoot Rodney…but not you,” Booger said with a big grin on his face.

  “I’m pretty sure this should go down without a fight,” Barry continued. “Don’t rush out of your hiding spots…give me a few minutes. After I get out of the road, go to the van and wait there. I’ll lead them to it.”

  Booger and Barry moved towards the hardware store a few blocks from the gas station and Rodney darted off in the opposite direction positioning himself across the road in the second floor of the pharmacy. As they reached the hardware store, Barry pointed towards the back of the store to remind Booger where he was to hide. The group’s leader ran towards the intersection, just out of view of their prey; he lay down in the road as sleet began to fall.

  Barry covered his head and waited.

  Chapter 19

  December 2, 2013: Monday, 3:05 PM – an abandoned Shell gas station - Hot Springs, Arkansas …

  Nikki and Kara exited thru the rear passenger side door of the car when they saw James and Corbin slide under the garage door. Megan slept peacefully in the backseat. The wind had picked up and the clouds held the Sun hostage; nightfall was fast approaching.

  “Did y’all find anything?” Kara asked.

  “Some batteries and tools,” James replied. “We need to find warm clothes and shelter – that’s what we need.” James looked over both shoulders, up and down the road, checking for any signs of trouble. He didn’t feel like being ambushed again like back at the barn. James reached inside the car and popped the trunk; he placed the items from the garage inside.

  “I also found this,” Corbin said, showing the group a wrinkled tour guide. “Maybe there are some clothing stores or something mentioned in here that will help us.” He began flipping through the pages looking for any stores within a few blocks of their current location.

  “It’s cold out here,” Nikki said, shivering. “I’m getting back in the car.”

  The others followed her lead and entered the vehicle. Corbin checked the gas gauge and knew they couldn’t afford to waste much more gas keeping the car running for heat. James checked the side and rear view mirrors; his paranoia had saved him before – he trusted his instincts. Something was wrong. Kara readjusted her ankle bandage. There wasn’t much pain anymore and soon she would be back to her normal self. Megan began ‘cooing’ at her mother.

  “That’s right, baby – it’s your momma,” Nikki said, rubbing Megan’s cheek with her hand. “Can you say ‘momma’ for me?” Nikki had been trying for a few weeks now
to get Megan to say her first words, but no real luck – only a few gurgles and extra cooing.

  “Here’s something that might help us,” Corbin said after a few moments of browsing the brochure. “There is an antique store on Central Avenue, a pawn shop on Grand Avenue and a clothing outlet on Spring Street.” He dog-eared all the pages and handed the guide to James.

  “Ha!” James exclaimed after reading some of the pamphlet. “All of the places mentioned in this guide are favorites of former President Bill Clinton. The captions say he would run by all of those stores while he was out jogging. I bet there is a dry cleaner store listed in here somewhere that ‘Cousin Bill’ probably visited once or twice!” James laughed at his little joke.

  “Let’s get moving,” Corbin said, backing the car out of the old Shell gas station. “James, flip to the back of that guide – there is a map of the town in there. Let’s go see if there is anything in that store on Spring Street. We really need some clothes.”

  The temperature had fallen a few more degrees and a light precipitation began to freeze on the windshield and the roads. Slick roads and nighttime visibility issues would soon make any travel too dangerous for the group. Corbin looked down and dropped the car into a lower gear to help with traction.

  “Look out!” Kara yelled.

  Corbin swerved instinctively and slammed on the brakes - not the wisest choice of actions with sleet on the roads. The car began to slide sideways. “What the hell?” Corbin asked, trying to regain control of the runaway vehicle.

  “There’s a body in the road!” Nikki said, pointing to a figure lying in the turning lane near the intersection.

  Corbin fought for control of the car and narrowly missed running over the man in the street. The car finally came to rest - perpendicular to the turning lane. Corbin breathed a sigh of relief and released his death grip from the steering wheel, putting the car into park and shutting off the engine.