“I think they’re gone,” Rosella said, whispering.
“I don’t know. Could be a trap,” Barry said, his voice cracking.
“A trap? Why would they do that if they knew we were in here? It’s not that hard to beat this door down.”
“What are you proposing?”
“I think it might be time to see if the coast is clear. Maybe get some help.”
“I think you’re crazy.”
Rosella had to admit that it sounded crazy. There was canned food and water inside the utility closet. They were safe, and so far, undetected by the crazy people. She knew they could ride it out in here for a while if need be, but the thought of freedom had already infiltrated her brain. Maybe the police had arrived and gotten this whole mess under control? Certainly, Mason had to be on the case.
“Look, it’s been an hour, and there hasn’t been any noise. Not even the slightest sound. I think it’s safe out there. Maybe I can close the diner door and lock it? Make it real secure so we can just move out of this closet.”
“And what if you’re wrong? What if you open that door and let them in? Then what? We are fucked! Did you see what they were doing? Eating people alive! I don’t want to be ripped apart, no ma’am.”
“I have the meat tenderizer, and I’ll be quiet. I just have to know what’s going on, and I’m starting to feel a bit claustrophobic.”
“Rose, if those things are out there, claustrophobia is the least of your concerns.”
She squeezed Barry’s hand, and though it was too dark for him to see, flashed him a reassuring smile. She stood as quietly as possible and crept toward the door. Barry gasped as the click of the lock disengaging popped like a firecracker. Rosella took a deep breath and slowly turned the handle.
A beam of light cut into the closet. Rosella whipped around, seeing the terror on Barry’s face. She almost closed the door, almost, but fought through the initial burst of fear, and opened the door wider. She quickly checked the room, and not noticing anyone standing there, hit the light switch, turning it off.
“Why did you do that?” Barry said.
“I don’t want anyone to see me. I’ll be looking for them, so I think I’ll spot them first.”
Rosella walked outside the closet, her legs trembling with each footstep. She turned and noticed Barry was at the door.
“You coming?”
“Hardly. I’m closing this door the moment you walk away.”
Fear gripped Rosella. “You can’t do that, Barry. What if I need to get back inside?”
“That’s the choice you made. You want to leave, I don’t. It’s not fair that you get to decide what happens to us. I’m looking out for my own ass here.”
“Barry, please.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she did her best to give him a sad, puppy-dog look. “Just stand guard and wait for me. I’m asking you as a friend.”
Barry sighed. “All right, but if I hear anything, I’m closing this door. I’m not opening it back up.”
“Deal. I’ll be quick.” She gave him a wink and walked toward the kitchen.
She entered the kitchen and did her best not to vomit at the site of the woman whose head she had bashed in only hours ago. The corpse lay motionless in the same spot where Rosella had left her. The blood that poured from the wound had congealed, looking like a layer of strawberry preserves. Rosella gave the kitchen a quick scan, and seeing no one was waiting to attack her, shut the lights off. The only light remaining came from the main dining hall, and enough streamed in from the order window to allow her to see. No sounds came from the dining area. Rosella listened intently, waiting for the something to send her scurrying back to the safe confines of the closet. She hoped Barry was true to his word and was keeping watch at the door.
Mustering all the courage she had, Rosella pushed open the double doors to the dining area. Her knees buckled, and she nearly fell at the sight before her. The diner was in a total shambles. Tables and chairs were overturned, material from the cushioned booths had been ripped out, and the walls were covered with food and gore. Red splashes of arterial spray decorated the walls and ceilings. Body parts littered the floor and counter. Rosella noticed several people bent and twisted into horrifying shapes seated in chairs, lying on the floor, and stretched out on tables. The patrons of the diner had been reduced to mutilated corpses and were scattered throughout the diner. People Rosella had been serving, for years, were now dead. The realization saddened her. She looked over at the entrance door and noticed a pile of bodies caught between it. There was no way she would be able to get it closed, not without dragging a few bodies out of the way. She would then have to deal with the loud, clanging bell if she did. The light switch for the dining area was next to the entrance door, but above the alarm system. If there was a way she could trip the silent alarm, then help could arrive quickly. All it would require is punching in the alarm code and an extra number. A few seconds, and hopefully the authorities would receive their silent distress signal.
She rounded the corner of the bar, making sure to stay low to the ground and undetected. The fluorescent lights in the dining area were all fully lit, taunting her as she crawled. Making her way to a booth, she slid in, and peered through the large glass window that faced the street. Her heart sank. The city was engulfed in chaos. Rosella saw several buildings in flames. The streets were choked with smashed vehicles. Bodies covered the ground like freshly fallen snow. Shapes and shadows caught her eye, and she followed them, making sure her head was ducked down and out of sight. People staggered between the wrecked cars and buildings. To Rosella, they appeared to be lost, and though she had trouble seeing their faces, she knew they were like the ones that had barged into the diner. She gasped as three people knelt next to a motionless body in the street. Rosella turned her head away as their mouths tore into the flesh of the still corpse. The rumble of an approaching car caught her attention, and she looked to see a small compact pull in front of the police station. To her horror, a young woman gripping a baby to her chest got out of the vehicle and ran up the stairs, screaming for the police.
“Shut up, you idiot,” Rosella said, hissing the words. Tears streamed down her face at the inevitability of the situation.
The woman continued to slap the front door to the station, unaware of the attention she was drawing. Rosella saw the dark shadows come to life as dozens of people got up from where they lay, or appeared from behind smashed vehicles and dark alleyways. The stairs were thick with the moaning dead, and still, the woman was oblivious as she continued to pound on the door.
“No,” Rosella said, covering her mouth.
The woman’s cries for help turned to screams as a large man buried his face in her neck, removing a large piece of flesh. Blood sprayed the air as the woman whipped around, exposing her baby. Greedy hands jutted forward, snatching the baby from her, and taking it to the ground. A wave of the undead washed over the woman, and she disappeared behind a wall of snapping mouths. Rosella shook her head, but also recognized the situation this had presented. The woman had bought her the distraction needed to get to the alarm system. But the baby. . .
She scooted off the bench and returned to the ground. Suddenly, her hand skidded from under her, and she muffled a scream when she realized she had just touched a ropey piece of intestine. Organs and pools of blood marked the floor. Rosella composed herself enough to continue crawling toward the door. Outside, the moans of the dead chilled her blood. A full-on feeding frenzy was taking place on the steps of the police station. Rosella couldn’t help feeling lost with the realization that there was no police presence in town.
She made her way past the first row of booths, passing a badly torn apart man who was splayed flat on his back. As she passed him, he croaked as air rushed past dead lips. Rosella froze, waiting for the man to attack, but as she studied him, she realized he was far too damaged to move. His arms were gone, exposing ragged stumps with pieces of sharp bone protruding from them. The man’s torso was primarily mis
sing as well. All that remained was the upper portion, with the neck and head attached. Rosella saw his pale eyes follow her as she edged away from him, pushing herself against one of the booths.
Making her way to the entrance door, she steadied her shaking legs, rising slowly so as not to draw attention to herself from the numerous zombies that choked the streets of downtown Botte. Pressed against the wall, she flipped open the plastic cover to the alarm system. Its lid snapped up, and in the silent dining area, sounded as if lightning had struck. She held her breath, waiting for the things outside to notice and pursue. None did.
She pressed the buttons, 1—9—8—3, and waited for the confirmation that the alarm had been set. Nothing happened. Dumbstruck, she punched it in again. A bead of sweat trickled its way down her cheek, and her heart rate elevated. This has to work! But it didn’t. The phones! She wanted to slap herself for being so stupid. The phones were dead, and the alarm would thusly be rendered useless. Rosella wanted to scream, and the urge to kick the corpses lying on the ground was tempting, until one began to stir. And then another. And another.
Her mouth went slack as three bodies that had been motionless mere seconds before were now staggering to their feet. Hollow groans and grunts escaped their tattered throats. Sour milk eyes focused on Rosella. She ran, not waiting another second.
She had almost made it to the kitchen when her foot struck an arm that had been ripped from its owner. Rosella hit the floor, hard. The taste of blood filled her mouth as her chin collided with the tile. Images swirled in her head as the fall rocked her, but the shuffle of the zombies coming was enough motivation to shake the clouds away that filled her brain. She got up and took off toward the kitchen, rocketing through the doors and toward the utility closet. Behind her, the moans of the dead filled the diner.
The door was closed. She should have known Barry was too much of a coward to keep it open. Her hands frantically slapped the door.
“Barry, please open the door,” she pleaded as the sounds intensified. They were in the kitchen. Dead feet kicked the pots and pans scattered on the floor.
There was no answer. No sound of Barry. Was he even in there? He had to be. Rosella slapped the door again, this time louder.
“For fucks sake, Barry! Open the fucking door! I don’t want to die!” The last words were sobbed out.
The zombies were closer now, and she knew her time was running out. Just when Rosella decided to make a break for the walk-in cooler, the door handle turned. Barry opened up their sanctuary. Rosella ran in, slamming the door behind her.
“You spineless bastard!” she said, slapping him across the face. Barry raised his hands in defense, but accepted the beating.
“I’m sorry, Rose. I got scared and thought you had left.” He continued to cower.
“I said I was coming back! I told you not to—”
Numerous hands pounding on the utility closet door interrupted her in mid-sentence. Rosella gasped, and she and Barry backed up as far as they could, eyes fixed on the door. They held each other, the feelings of anger and animosity gone. Those feelings were replaced by total fear.
They were trapped.
Chapter 13
What Do We Do Now?
Inside the back of the truck, Skylar had her face buried in the seat, crying relentlessly. Her muffled sobs grated on Mason’s nerves. There were so many things he needed to talk over with his deputy. They were the law. They were in charge. They were responsible for the townspeople’s safety. It was hard for him to think with Sky carrying on that way.
Mason was relieved he had saved Troy and Sky before something unthinkable had happened. At least he had made one right move today that didn’t end in everyone’s death. Unless. . .
“Uh, Troy?”
“Yeah?”
“You feel good enough to talk about what went on back at your house?”
“I think so. My heart’s not in my throat anymore.” Troy kicked a six-pack of beer as he moved his feet.
“How’d you end up on the roof? Did you see them coming and climb up before they could get you?”
“It wasn’t quite that simple. My next door neighbors came by and tried to make a meal out of us. I know that sounds insane. They were like some crazed animals. They were sick or something. Those others, around the house, were from the trailer park down the road. They had it too.”
“Did you . . .”
“Yeah. I had to kill both of them. I didn’t have a choice. If I didn’t have a gun, we’d be goners by now.”
“They put up that good of a fight?”
“I’ll say. Mrs. Jarreau may have been old, but she was strong enough to beat me at arm wrestling. I’m serious. It was everything I could do to keep her from tearing me up before I got a shot off. Killing my neighbor was the last thing I ever imagined I’d have to do. The only way I was able to do it,” Troy focused his gaze on Mason, “is because she wasn’t my neighbor anymore. She was dead . . . and acted possessed or something.”
“Troy, I—”
“It’s true,” Skylar chimed in from the back. “The dead are walking. Troy says it’s not the end of the world, but the more I think about it, the less sure of that I am. It may not be happening just like the Bible said, but its close enough.”
“I was going to say that I think that you’re right, on some level. Not that I believe that demons possess the dead. But something is killing people, and somehow their bodies keep on living, or moving, whatever. They sure are in one hell of a nasty mood.” Mason bit his lip and turned his eyes back to the road. Some blood and gunk from one of the zombies he ran over had splashed on the windshield right in his line of vision. “So, did one of the things get a hold of you? You know, bite you or something.”
Troy chuckled. “No, but they sure came close. At one point, I thought Eli had a pair of those wind-up chattering teeth.”
“What about Sky?”
“No,” she said, “I’m okay. After we killed the Jarreaus, we ran upstairs and got on the roof before the trailer people could get us.”
Mason slumped back in his seat. “Thank goodness for that. I’ve been through a lot today. I’ve seen at least as much of this madness as you, and maybe a lot more. I’ve seen what a bite from one of those things can—”
“Zombies are what they are. Call them zombies.”
“Sky! Don’t go crazy on us. I know you’re upset, but please. There’s no such thing as zombies.”
“You said their eyes looked just like dead people eyes. The dead don’t have souls. These people are soulless zombies walking the Earth.” Skylar was on her knees and leaning her head between Troy and Mason.
The zombie goo smeared across the windshield when Mason turned the washer/wiper knob. The water reservoir was dry. “Son-of-a-bitch. I can’t take this anymore. Troy, hand me one of those beers down there.”
Troy reached down and pulled one from the plastic ring. “Hey, this is still cold. Where’d you get that?”
Mason snatched the beer and popped the top using only one hand. After a long chug, he said, “I stopped on the way to your place. I found a half bottle of JD too. It’s under the seat. You want some?”
“You stopped at a house along the way and took their alcohol.”
“Yep. That’s pretty much it in a nutshell. No one was home. I’ll make it up to them when this blows over.” Mason took his foot off the accelerator and braked to a stop.
Once outside the truck, he removed his shirt, and sloshed some beer on the windshield. He used the shirt to wipe off the mess. Once he was finished, he removed his badge, and tossed the shirt in the bed of the truck. He pinned his badge on his black shirt right over the fleur-de-lis before getting back behind the wheel.
“Where’re we going now?” Skylar asked.
“I was heading back to the station when I thought about you being at your house alone. I was hoping to find all the answers at the station. That’s where we’re heading now.” Mason put the truck in drive and resumed the trek. Mayb
e this time nothing would get in his way from reaching his destination.
“You know, Mason, we could bring Skylar over to the next parish and come back,” Troy said.
“We could do that, but we’re not. I’ve been trying to get to the station for the last few hours.” Mason pointed to the passenger’s side floorboard. “Get me another beer.”
Troy opened the beer and handed it to him. “We don’t know what we’re up against back in town. There may be more of those monsters we’ll have to deal with. If it’s anything like my house, we’ll be grossly outnumbered. What do you say? Let’s get over the parish line and hook up with Sheriff Gaston.”
“Fuck that. This town is my responsibly. I’ve waited too long to get back there as it is. Do I really have to remind you that it’s your responsibility, too? To serve and protect?”
“My first obligation is to my wife. I’d feel so much better about the situation if I knew she was safe. Nothing could keep me from coming back and cleaning this mess up. This is my home, too.”
“We wanted to have children,” Skylar broke into tears again.
Mason rolled his eyes and filled his mouth with beer.
“How about we—”
Mason slammed on the brake and skidded to a stop. Skylar almost went head first into the front seat. Troy’s right shoulder smashed into the dash.
“Here are your options. You can both get out now and go wherever the fuck it is you want to go. Or, you can sit back, shut up, and follow the chain of command here. I’m the sheriff. I’m in charge, and I call the shots. If we don’t work together, we’ll certainly die apart. I don’t want to go this alone, but I will. I was a U.S. Ranger in another lifetime. We lived by a creed. Part of the creed demands a Ranger to meet all enemies of the country and fight to the death. Surrender is not an option.” Mason let his words sink in. “Are you with me or not? Because if you aren’t, then you can hand me your badge and get out.”
Troy turned his gaze to the floor. “We’re with you, Mason. We’re with you. I’m sorry I lost my focus. It’s just, I’m worried about Sky.”
Insurgent Z: A Zombie Novel Page 15
