by Todd Sprague
John did a quick count as the light steadied. Fifteen. Six men, nine women. At least half were armed with guns. He twisted so his P90 was aimed at the nearest person. He saw Sara do the same out of the corner of his eye and smiled in approval. Good girl, he thought to himself even as he took stock of this new threat.
The old woman they’d met outside took that moment to walk through the door. She let out a high-pitched laugh as she walked to the center of the room. She pulled a rusty old revolver from a black sequined purse and pointed it at John.
“Now you can join your blasphemous friend in serving the flock.” Red spittle dribbled from the corner of his mouth. Several of the people in the room shouted “Amen!”
“Flock?” John asked, keeping his gun trained on the man closest to him. The man held a double barreled shotgun. John judged that to be the most dangerous weapon being pointed at them.
“Azrael’s flock, you heathen!”
“Who the fuck are you people?” Sara shouted angrily. John feared she was losing control of her temper.
The old woman turned to Sara. Her voice dropped an octave as she spoke. “My child, we are Azrael’s flock, saved by the Lord to serve the Angel of Death in his reclamation of this world.”
“What are you talking about?” Sara asked. Behind them, they heard movement in the other cages. John didn’t dare risk looking behind them to see what was going on, though.
“The good Lord sent his Angel of Death, the mighty Azrael, to take his world back from the heathens and the sinners, child. We serve His Angel, and He has given us His bounty to sustain us.” The old woman pointed to one of the tables. John saw that the body on the table, a woman, had had most of its legs removed down to the bone. Heaps of bloody meat were piled high on several plates. A butcher knife stood up from the dead woman’s chest. As he watched, the woman walked over to the table and picked up a chunk of meat. She brought it to her toothless mouth and bit into it. Blood ran down her chin as she gummed the meat. She giggled.
The man with the shotgun spoke up. “Should we put them in the cage with the meat, or convert them?”
“What do you mean, convert us? No one’s converting me!” Sara yelled. A dangerous tone had entered her voice, one John had never heard before.
The old woman spat the chunk of flesh onto the floor. She wiped the back of her hand across her chin, smearing the blood all over her face. “Those who don’t serve to feed the loyal flock become His undead servants, child.” She pointed to the cage on the far right, just beyond the one that held Jose.
John chanced a quick glance in that direction. A Zed stood in the cage, a chain wrapped around one ankle, anchored to the far wall. On the floor next to the Zed, a half eaten arm lay in a pool of blood.
“What the fuck...you sick fucking bastards!” John said, bringing his gaze back to the man with the shotgun.
“Oh my God...are you feeding that thing?” Sara asked.
“Of course we feed it, child. We feed it so it can serve mighty Azrael in converting sinners to do His work. Only when all have been converted will His work be done!”
“Amen! Praise the Lord!” Shotgun man shouted.
John looked at the old woman. “Why aren’t there any Zeds outside?”
“If you mean servants of Azrael, the hand of the Lord protects us and disguises us so the servants know we also serve Him.”
John shook his head, not knowing what to make of the woman. He opened his mouth to ask another question, but Sara beat him to it.
“Let us take my brother out of here, or I’ll kill you.” John let out a sigh and shook his head.
“Oh you’re not going anywhere, child, not until you have become one of His servants. And your brother there is going to be honored by feeding His flock. It has been decided by God, and can not be undone! Praise Azrael. Praise God!”
Sara squeezed the trigger of the P90 and held it as the little gun coughed in her hand repeatedly. The old woman’s head burst apart as no less than six 5.7mm steel cored bullets tore through her and struck the wall behind her. The woman’s body jerked and spun in circles.
The man with the shotgun fell half a second later as John shot him in the eye. Before he hit the floor, another man behind him met the same fate. John pointed at a third as Sara ducked behind a barrel. She pointed her gun at the other end of the room and sprayed it back and forth, raking the entire area with the deadly little slugs. John saw several people fall as the first shots rang back at them from the flock.
“Jose, get down!” Sara said through gritted teeth as she shot another follower in the leg, then the head. Bullets zinged past the pair as John dropped another zealot with two well placed shots to the chest. He flicked his selector to full auto and joined Sara in spraying fire at the flock. The return fire stopped almost immediately.
Sara pulled the now empty magazine from her weapon, dropped it on the floor, and drew another from her pocket. She slammed it into the magazine well on top of the weapon and shot a woman as she crawled across the floor toward the door. The woman stopped moving.
Only a handful of flock members were still conscious and moving, most having cowered behind wooden chairs or boxes. John took careful aim at the obstacles and fired his weapon. The steel cored bullets easily tore through the wooden obstacles and killed the men and women behind them.
In a matter of moments, the fight was over. John stood up and walked across the room. Moans came from behind a stack of crates. He pulled the crates over, causing them to crash across the floor. A gray haired old man cowered there.
“Mercy, grant me mercy, I have done the Lord’s will!” he begged.
John lowered his weapon. He started to turn when he noticed the bloody butcher knife stuck through the man’s belt. John turned back to the man and pulled the trigger twice. The gray haired old man slumped to the ground, dead.
John turned back to the cages. Sara had already opened the cage door that held Jose. She knelt down and pulled the tape from Jose’s mouth. The boy’s dry throat emitted what would have been a scream.
“Sara, get me out.” His terrified whisper was quickly followed by tears.
John reached the cell and handed his knife down to his wife. As she began slicing through the boy’s bonds, John shot the Zed in the head. As the creature fell to the ground, John noticed the priest’s collar around its neck.
Jose stood up, rubbing his raw wrists. He pointed to the cages on the other side of his. “You have to let them out too.”
John looked at the cages and noticed for the first time each one held several cowering figures. They had hidden in the corners or pressed themselves to the floor as the shooting had started. John opened the first cage, which held a teen-aged girl and an older woman. A third figure lay prone on the ground. The woman looked up at John. “He fell when the shooting started. I think he’s been shot.”
“Do you know him?” John asked as he rolled the prone man over, he saw that she had been correct. An entrance wound lay just over the man’s heart. He felt for a pulse but found none.
“No, he was already here when they brought my daughter and me in four days ago.” She pulled the teen girl close as they walked past the dead man.
John moved on to the next cell, and the one after that. Each one had three people in it. Sara helped Jose out of the cage. His legs were not yet working correctly as they moved out and headed for the doorway. She held her P90 out in front of them one-handed. John noted with pride that the gun pointed steadily in front of her.
The other prisoners followed them, some picking up weapons from the dead zealots, with John bringing up the rear. As he walked past a body he noted again the strange smell, stronger than ever before. As he bent down to examine the body closer he noticed from the corner of his eye that Sara had crossed back into the room.
She had stopped at the old woman’s corpse and bent down to see what was left of her skull. Standing again, she began to kick the body in the stomach. “You mother fucker,” she yelled. “You sick bitc
h! My brother? Who the fuck do you think you are?” She kept screaming, words phasing into animalistic yells. The mother of the teenager covered her daughter’s ears.
“She’s not normally like this,” John attested to the crowd of the newly released prisoners.
Jose crept over to his sister, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her away from the woman. “I’m okay, Sara. I’m right here. We’re okay. Please, let’s get out of here.”
Sara regained herself, but the look of rage didn’t leave her face. “Yeah, let’s go,” she said, retraining her P90 and leading the group up the stairs. John held post at the back, trying not to look at the faces of the fallen strewn on the tables.
They walked out of the church and into the sunlight. Some of the ex-prisoners cried openly in the parking lot of the parish. Sara urged the group on towards the waiting Humvee. John scanned the area but saw nothing threatening. Not willing to take any chances, however, he pulled open the passenger door.
“I know it’s going to be a tight fit, but everyone climb in. Sit on someone’s lap if you have to. Sara, you drive. I’ll be in the turret.” He reached in and grabbed the extra P90 he’d brought. Jose’s face broke into a toothy grin as John handed the little gun to him.
“The selector switch is here, and the shells drop from here...” John began, glad to know that at least something would be able to make his brother-in-law smile.
“Duh, man. I know all about the P90. I have one in Call of Duty!”
John shook his head and handed Jose a couple of extra magazines.
“Alright, we’re heading back to our compound. You’ll be safe there, and there’s plenty of food. Anybody who doesn’t want to come, you’re free to go.”
People began climbing into the Humvee. Jose pulled John aside. “We have to go pick up the plastic for the armor. It’s not very far away.”
“Forget it, Jose. We have to get these people back to the compound.”
“No, we have to get the plastic. I can finish the armor. We’ll be safer every time we leave the compound. John, we’ll have a... what’s the word...a tactical advantage.”
John looked at Jose. The teen’s face showed none of the horror he’d endured, just hope and enthusiasm. He thought back to all of the family members he’d lost to Zed attacks. Simple little slips that led to bites. He thought about who would still be with them if they’d had such an advantage. Dad, he thought. Dammit.
He sighed. “Alright, but we’ll have to make another trip. We don’t have room for anything extra. It’ll be tight as it is.”
“Take me back to my truck. It still runs. I hit my head on the steering wheel when they sideswiped me, but it’ll go.”
John thought for a moment. “Alright, we’ll go get the truck, but I’ll drive it. You’re with Sara. You were way out of line leaving the compound like that, and don’t think I’m going to forget it any time soon. I’m not taking any more risks than I have to with you. Jesus, kid, don’t you know what it would do to your sister and your mom if anything happened to you? I don’t think you realize how much they love you, Jose.” Even as he yelled at Jose, John pulled a roll of duct tape from the rear compartment of the Humvee and began wrapping it around Jose’s wounded arm. Sara heard the yelling and walked over.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“We’re going back to get Jose’s truck, then I’m going to drive it to the plastics factory.”
“What? Oh no you’re not!” Sara stomped her foot angrily.
“Sara, sweetheart, I know. Believe me, I know. But Jose’s right, we need this advantage. I believe he can get the armor to work. Think about it.”
“But John, we almost lost him once. We have to get back home!” Sara said, lowering her voice.
John pulled her close and held her. He ruffled her hair and kissed the top of her head. “Don’t you patronize me, John,” she mumbled.
He stopped, realizing he was coddling her. “Baby, we need this. Think of everyone we’ve lost. If we can do anything to keep our people safer, you know we have to do it.”
Sara ground her teeth in frustration. Finally, she softened and relaxed into John’s grip. “Alright, but you’re not going alone,” she whispered. John hugged her tightly.
* * *
The Humvee pulled up to Jose’s pickup truck. It was exactly as they’d left it, sitting across the middle of the intersection. John climbed down out of the turret.
“Jose, you’re in the turret. Don’t fire at anything unless it gets close to the trucks. We’re not here to take any extra chances.”
Jose nodded and scrambled up into the turret. He pulled his P90 up with him and sat there. Somehow he’d acquired a white head band. He sported the duct tape on his arm like a badge of honor.
John looked into the Humvee and pointed to a grizzled, bearded man in his 60’s. The man now carried the double barrel shotgun and a belt of cartridges.
“Do you know how to use that thing?” John asked.
“Well, it ain’t the M60 I used in ‘Nam, but it’ll do for now.” The man drawled lazily. A heavy scar marred the tanned, wrinkled face, running from forehead to jaw on the left side of his face.
“Good enough. I’m John. John Mason. That’s my wife Sara, and you’ve already met her brother, Jose.”
The man climbed out of the Humvee and shook John’s hand. “Emmet Stoltz.”
“Emmet, I need you to come with me in the truck. We’re going to pick up some supplies at a factory nearby, and then we’ll get you folks to safety. You up for it?”
The older man nodded. “Guess I owe you folks anyway. Might as well start working on that right now.”
John motioned to the truck and ran around to the driver’s side. Emmet jumped in to the passenger side, and John started the vehicle. The engine turned over on the first try. He barely heard Jose’s “I told you so!” as he pulled out in front of the Humvee.
* * *
The trip to the plastics factory took less than ten minutes. The strange absence of Zeds continued almost until they reached the factory. Just outside the parking lot, a lone Zed in a blue uniform with a badge and a hat that had “Security” emblazoned on it, wandered back and forth, less than twenty feet from a little guard shack. Sara sped up and passed John as they saw the Zed. Jose shot the Zed several times in the chest, neck, and head, as the Humvee approached the parking lot.
John frowned as he pulled into the empty parking lot behind the Humvee. He jumped out and started walking toward Sara, words of rebuke forming on his lips. She slid out of the driver’s seat and held up her hand.
“Don’t, John. Don’t say a fucking word. Just get in there, get what you need, and get back out in one piece.” She said. John heard how brittle her voice was and said nothing.
Jose climbed down from the turret. “I don’t know where the stuff is, but it’s got to be around here somewhere.”
“Tell me what I’m looking for, exactly,” John said to Jose.
The teen thought to himself for a moment. “Just big sheets of plastic. The ones that I have at the compound had this company’s logo on them, so they might have the exact same things here. That’s what we need.” Jose sketched out the general size and thickness of the plastic sheets he need to John.
“Okay. Emmet, come with me. Jose, back up into the turret. Don’t let them sneak up on us.” John and Emmet ran to the employee entrance on the side of the factory.
The two men pushed through the door. John took it as a good sign that the parking lot was completely empty. He pulled out his flashlight and thumbed the switch on, lighting up what seemed to be an employee break room. John led the way, with Emmet a little ways behind. Despite the fact that he had just met him, John felt that he could trust the older man.
They walked past the break room out onto an assembly room floor. John saw light coming from a loading dock area and headed in that direction. As they crossed the big open work room, they were extra cautious. The big machines were mostly hidden in sha
dow. What little light there was came from several small skylights high above that had long since been covered in a thick film of dust. The entire factory was completely silent, so quiet that every breath the two men took echoed eerily off the walls.
Finally they reached the dock. John played the flashlight around the area until he found what he was looking for. Six big pallets of bundled plastic sheets sat next to the loading dock door. He pointed them out to Emmet. “That’s what we’re here for.”
Emmet didn’t even question John. He simply nodded and pointed to a hand truck, a metal cart with two forks that slid under the pallet and jacked it up for transport. He maneuvered the first pallet to the loading dock and slid the big metal door up. Despite the lateness of the afternoon, bright sunlight poured in, illuminating the interior of the building. Dust motes floated about, but nothing more moved within.
“Wait here, I’ll get the truck.” John jumped down off the loading dock and ran to the pickup. He jumped in and backed the truck right up to the dock. A three foot drop from the dock to the truck bed didn’t stop Emmet as he tipped the pallet off the edge of the building. It slid until it fell over and dropped into the bed with a loud crash. The truck bounced dangerously, but quickly stabilized, though it rode noticeable lower on the tires.
“One’s enough. Let’s get out of here. Are you coming with us to the compound?” John asked as Emmet jumped down and got in the passenger side.
“I might as well. I don’t have anywhere else to go. Damn zombies found my hidey hole. Only reason I got bushwhacked by those sons-a-bitches in the first place. I was on the run.”
“Well, good. Glad to have you.” John drove over to the Humvee and pulled up next to the driver’s side. Sara tried to roll the window down but soon realized it didn’t come down and opened the door.
“We’re going to go down into Guilford and loop around through the back roads to the compound. We’ll come in through the southern barricade. We’d never make it back through town.”
