Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (Book 4): Resolution

by Schubert, Sean

  “No. Listen. Can’t you hear that? It’s voices, not moans.”

  Gus wasn’t waiting around. He wandered deeper into the darkened bar to the front of the room where a pair of large windows looked out over the street below. He tried to navigate the floor, covered with broken bottles, dishes, and furniture, and finally made it to the windows. Pulling back the shade only enough for him to be able to get a good look and let in a minute glimmer of light from outside, he peered out. He rubbed his eyes and looked more closely.

  “She’s right,” he called back to them. “There’s some people out there. Real people I mean. They’re kicking the shit outta those things.”

  Gus watched as the two men and two women in the used baseball bats and some other heavy tools to wade into a crowd of about ten of those things and that was just what he was able to see from his limited vantage point. There may have been more of the monsters but he couldn’t tell.

  The people attacked the monsters ruthlessly, killing or incapacitating them with every swing or thrust. The four of them created a path of blood and destruction through the street and to the Anchor Inn’s front door.

  When the sounds of hands and fists hitting the front door dissipated, William went back down the stairs and stood at the door listening, his mouth too dry to swallow. He couldn’t find the courage to open the door. Standing there though and not knowing what awaited him on the other side was enough to stall his intentions.

  Then, Danielle was standing next to him. They looked at one another and pushed the door together. Thankfully, the door opened without obstruction, meaning no one was standing on the outside waiting for them. All of the creatures had been drawn away from the door by the approach of the other people.

  William moved to the front steps just outside the front door and looked into the street where he saw a man swinging an aluminum baseball bat around like a ninja or a Jedi wielding his saber. He handled the bat like a man with a lot of practice doing it. It was both reassuring and troubling to William.

  Out of instinct, William placed himself between Danielle and the newcomers. People capable of such wanton devastation were not to be taken lightly or complacently. William watched the group pummel the final two walking dead to the ground then look at him standing in the doorway.

  A man in the group said, “Get inside before the others come back. We have to get out of sight.”

  He was emphatic but not desperate; almost calm, as if this were just another task on another day for him and the others with him. Danielle nodded and, without a word, followed his command.

  They ducked into the hotel entrance, hiding themselves from any approaching ghouls. The man, not much older than Danielle, said to the other man in his group, “Jerry, we need them to keep moving down the road away from us. Any ideas?”

  Jerry nodded. “Yeah, I think I can arrange something. Maybe I can throw a bottle down away from us. Draw them downstream a bit.”

  Looking up the stairs and into the darker room beyond, the man said, “We should probably all move back that direction. Just in case.”

  Watching and listening from the top of the stairs, Gus said to Jerry, “There’s a door on the other side of the bar. We can go up to the third floor. Should be able to get some good height and distance. But why do we need to do that?”

  Jerry climbed the stairs in a flash and was following Gus across the bar toward the other entrance. “Sound,” he said. “They’re attracted to sound.”

  The two men stepped over the now lifeless body of Heidi the bartender with the axe handle standing and pointing to the ceiling like a low budget version of Excalibur.

  Recognizing the corpse as having recently been dispatched, the young man said, “Nice work. You?”

  Gus managed an awkward smile. The mutilated corpse with the axe handle sprouting from its throat was perhaps the most horrible thing Gus had ever seen and he was being complimented on having done it. He was taken a little off guard by the sentiment.

  Gus grabbed an empty Bacardi Rum bottle from atop the bar and met Jerry at the back entrance to the bar, which sat on the second floor and opened onto a steep metal staircase. The two men went out the door.

  Standing at the window and peeking through a tiny opening in the blinds, Danielle watched from the shadows as the new group of ghoulish people in the street reached not too far from the bar’s street side entrance. They stood waiting, yet they were anything but dormant. They jerked spasmodically, their heads tilting from the left to the right as if they were trying to figure an answer to a question they couldn’t remember. They snarled and growled in confused frustration, their limbs responding to the same stimulus trembled with tics and spasms.

  She was reminded of Kameron and his inhuman responses to stimuli. She could see the same hate-filled rage in their faces that she saw in her friend’s those many days ago. She couldn’t imagine still standing out there in their midst. It was too terrifying to even consider in her mind.

  Danielle looked over at the new faces with her and saw only business in their eyes. She was thankful for their emergence but nervous about their intent. These weren’t ordinary people like her, William, and Gus. They scared her, but not in the same way that those ghouls in the street scared her.

  The exploding glass bottle somewhere out of view and up the street surprised Danielle and significantly the beasts in the street. As one, the things turned their heads and then their bodies toward the sound, shuffling excitedly up the road and away from the Anchor Inn.

  The door on the far side of the bar opened and closed again quickly, bringing with it another sigh of relief from all of them. With a sense of calm returning along with Jerry and Gus, the man leading the new group of people said to Danielle, William, and Gus, “I’m Neil. It’s good to see you folks.”

  Chapter 12

  They were quiet for a long time. Everyone shared curious, if a little guarded, looks with one another. There were so many questions that needed to be asked. The room was charged with excitement and trepidation, but no words. No one knew how to begin.

  For a good long while, no one dared move. William stood at the top of the stairs looking down at the others below him. He eyed each of the newcomers, including the three children with them.

  The two men and one of the women especially got his attention. They looked so rough and serious. Each of the three sported rifles strapped across their backs and pistols on their hips. The man identifying himself as Neil was also carrying a shotgun.

  The oldest child, a boy, was armed with a small-caliber hunting rifle as well. They had more guns on them than they had people in their group. The two little girls however, were utterly disarming in their eyes. There was no fear or malice to be had in either of them, and for that reason, William relaxed his grip on the revolver.

  Hunger finally got the better of some of the newcomers, who crowded up the steps and into the bar area that had also doubled as a restaurant during the day. They found bags of chips, cans of nuts, and drink garnishes in jars under the bar. They passed around the food, which was only barely technically food, each taking a bit and passing it down. It appeared to Danielle that these people hadn’t eaten in days and she was right. The adults made certain that the kids had eaten before any of them took their handfuls.

  Neil pointed to the kitchen door and the window that looked into the dark room beyond. He asked, “Is there anything left in there?”

  Perplexed by the quickness with which these... strangers were getting comfortable, William finally asked, “Who are you people?”

  With his mouth still full of peanut butter and crackers, Neil answered, “We’re just like you. Ordinary people trying to stay alive.”

  “Have you been here in Whittier all this time?”

  Neil looked over at Emma, sitting not too far off and downing some kind of orange sports drink. “No. We just got into Whittier today. We heard a gunshot and found you. Just sheer luck really.”

  Absently, Emma said, “You shouldn’t shoot unless you
have to. It draws zekes to you.” She scarcely looked up from the jar of maraschino cherries in front of her.

  “Zekes?”

  “It’s what we started calling them awhile back,” Jerry explained. “It was easier than saying zombie this or undead that.”

  William rolled in his mind what Jerry had just said before he spoke again. “So that’s it then? Those folks out there. They’re dead? I mean, they should be dead?”

  “That’s it in a nutshell,” Emma answered emotionlessly. “Doesn’t seem hardly possible, but there you have it.” She didn’t raise her eyes from the jar holding the sweet red jewels in the sugary, syrupy juice as she summed up the situation.

  Gus, frustrated that he had yet to lay his hands on some liquor, said, “But how? Why? Where did it all start?”

  Emma glanced over at Jules and Danny, sitting near a pile of snack-sized bags of chips, most already opened. She knew the story well but did not possess the patience to relate it at the moment. “What does it really matter how it started or why? Would it matter one way or the other? It’s just the way it is, whether we like it or not.”

  Emma was maneuvering something in her mouth and then produced a tied cherry stem. “What about here?” she asked then. “How did those things get in Whittier? The tunnel is closed. I kind of thought it would have shut them out. What happened?”

  “Bad luck really,” Danielle said. She looked at Gus and William and answered for the three of them, “I guess it was on that first day...it must’ve been. Some guy who’d gotten infected made it inside the tunnel in a cab before the gate was shut. The cabby had no idea. Poor guy has blamed himself ever since. It wasn’t his fault, just bad luck. Damned shame really. This would have been the ideal hiding spot.”

  Jerry asked, “Where have you been hiding?”

  “What makes you think we haven’t been here all along?” William asked, not hiding his suspicion.

  “It just seems like you guys were out looking for something is all,” Jerry said. “Like you were on a mission and planned on going back to somewhere else. Are you in that big building? The Buckner Building or whatever it’s called?”

  Gus shook his head as he looked at his two companions. He understood the need for caution but was not very adept at subterfuge and so didn’t offer any further explanation.

  William finally said, “There are others. Not a bunch, but a few just outside of town. We’ve got a tight group that looks out for one another. I guess you could say we’re in a safe spot. We haven’t seen any of those things...yet. Seein’ them now though, I think maybe we should take some steps to make it a little more secure.”

  With that said, Danielle wondered aloud, “How did you guys get in here if the tunnel is still closed? It’s still closed isn’t it?”

  William’s comment shot a silent alarm through Neil’s, Emma’s, Jerry’s, and Jess’ minds as they immediately thought of the militia back in Soldotna and the little community they had created. It was an experiment in control, intimidation, and cruelty. Jess had survived living there for months and had seen the true cost of compromising what was right for what was deemed safe. She wasn’t willing to let that happen again no matter the cost. Her first thought was to go back over the mountain and find somewhere else to hide. She’d had enough of letting others decide her fate. The look she shot to Neil made her thoughts perfectly clear.

  Neil looked almost apologetic when he answered Danielle, trying to roll over in his mind what William had said, “There’s a service trail that runs over the mountain. It’s not too terribly easy to find, but if you know where it is, well.... We started on it early this morning and, like I said before, we got into town in time to hear your gunshot. It was a lucky coincidence running into you. Emma’s right though. You shouldn’t use these things unless you have to. They’re drawn to the sound like sharks to blood.” He raised the assault rifle he was carrying to clarify his reference. “If you can face them in ones and twos they aren’t that bad, but you wanna avoid packs of ‘em. And if you get bit, then it’s over.”

  Neil wanted to ask for some more details about the community William mentioned but some growing noises outside caused all of them to duck down again and silence their voices. The shuffling of footsteps was accompanied by an aggressive buzzing sensation that upset Danielle’s stomach and gave her a headache. It was those things’ blunt, soul-crushing moans which filled her with such disgust. While Danielle, William, and Gus were all frozen with fear from the sounds and the rising unexplained nausea, the others with them all tensed, but in a manner consistent with a spring ready to explode outward. Neil, Jerry, Emma and the others all seemed much harder and seasoned. They carried the sharp edge of survivors who’d lived through the worst of what the world had to offer. Danielle was both scared and reassured to have these newcomers with them.

  In a lot of respects, they reminded Danielle of many of the elders from her village who had grown up during the harder times in the past. Those elders grew up before electricity or indoor plumbing had arrived in most of the villages. They were people who subsistence hunted for real and didn’t just call what they did subsistence hunting because they could. Those elders watched loved ones succumb to common ailments and infections, unheard of in this day and age.

  When Danielle looked at them she could see the same mix of defiance and loss in their eyes. She thought of her grandfather, as ancient as the rivers and the trees even when she was a very young girl. He told her stories of the Old Ones and their struggles to survive the legendary winters of the past. Danielle wondered what kind of horrific tales these folks could relate to her from their experiences in the heart of the tempest that had ravaged their world. In a twisted, can’t-turn-your-eyes-away-from-the-traffic-accident sort of way, Danielle wanted to ask them for all the gritty details but she lacked the courage to bring up those questions.

  Neil broke her train of thought when he again pointed to the kitchen door and asked, “Have you already gone through the kitchen? Is there any food in there still?”

  William shook his head, distracted by the sounds outside. Curious now, Neil worried aloud, “Have you swept this place for any more zekes?”

  This last question raised alarms with everyone. Gus had climbed behind the bar and was inventorying the liquor bottles, but leapt away from the door in question, his clumsy hop over the bar knocking over a pair of empty bottles. Everyone cringed as the bottles rattled to the floor with a crash but did not shatter.

  Easily shifting into her role, Emma swung around on her feet and pulled a pistol from a holster under her arm. Danielle jumped back and found a spot in which to hide behind William’s huge frame. She looked at Emma and doubted she could ever be as strong and sure as her.

  Danielle watched as Neil, Jerry, and Emma went to work. They each went into the swinging kitchen door, one after the other. Danielle wasn’t sure who went in first, but the fact that they did so blindly into the darkness amazed her.

  From the other side of the door, Danielle heard the rattle and clank of metal pots and pans and some other moving about but none of the sounds of battle. Jerry reemerged with a smile on his face and cans and boxes of food in his hand. Danielle was struck with the pleasant charm in his face and the strength in his eyes. She turned away with the blush glowing in her cheeks, thinking to herself that this was neither the time nor the place.

  The woman and two little girls reacted quite differently to Jerry and his bounty. The three of them nearly floated across the floor to the food in the young man’s arms. There was corn, chili, baked beans, evaporated milk, chips, cookies, and even a bag of Nestlé’s semi-sweet chocolate chips.

  From behind Jerry, first Emma and then Neil appeared through the door similarly encumbered. Each unloaded his or her armload onto the bar and stepped back. There was likely more food than they would be able to carry, but each had sworn not to leave a single morsel unless it just wouldn’t fit.

  The little girl named Jules said with wonder, “That’s more food than I ever s
een. That’ll last forever.”

  Even the stern-faced William cracked a smile.

  “I think we should pack up whatever we can carry and maybe hide the rest so we can come back to it later,” Neil suggested.

  Carefully placing full bottle after full bottle into his own bag, Gus asked, “And then?”

  Emma answered that one. “And then we get our asses outta this deathtrap.”

  William cast a protective look toward Danielle. “Food isn’t all we came looking for. We need...”

  “Insulin,” Danielle said. “I need insulin.”

  “Diabetic?” Neil asked.

  Danielle nodded and sighed.

  Looking from Danielle to William and back again, Neil asked, “Where do you think we might find insulin in Whittier?”

  “We were headed to the store next door when you guys showed up. I hoped that maybe I’d be able to find some over there.”

  Jerry asked, “Is it a drugstore?”

  Danielle shook her head and knew what to expect next.

  Jerry looked over at Neil with a doubtful, reproaching eye and shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” William started to interrupt, but Jerry said, “The Public Safety Office is across the street. We’d be more likely to find it there than at the store. We need to get across the street.”

  “Yeah,” William said. “Let’s get that done and head on back.” With that comment, William looked at Neil and the others and nodded, but for a different reason.

  Chapter 13

  The street immediately in front of the inn was empty; not even the wind stirred. Neil was hopeful that perhaps they could make it across and back quickly, though in the back of his mind was the nagging reminder that very little had gone their way in the recent past. They had just run from one worsening crisis to another, leaving a trail of bodies that were once their friends along the way.