by T. W. Brown
“Thanks for sharing, Snell,” TJ said. “But Shaw says we wait.” A series of grumbles and curses came from the van, but the men were pulling their pants back up.
“So you’re a gang of rapists?” Darrin had gotten his air back.
“That is such an ugly and antiquated word.” Shaw clucked his tongue. “We’re conquerors. We are rebuilding our society through selective breeding. All my men are fighters...warriors. We will create a strong tribe that will survive and flourish. To that end...we require women.”
“Rapists.” Mike nodded.
“I’ll tell ya what,” Shaw knelt beside Mike, “why don’t you call it in. If you want, I’ll let you write down our license plate numbers.”
“The men are ready to roll.” TJ came over and patted Shaw on the arm.
“Well then,” the man rose to his feet, “I imagine I should tell you two how this works. You make any attempt to follow us—a monumentally stupid idea I’d have to say—we’ll just kill you. I’m sure a couple of smart guys like you can scavenge up some new stuff. You have made an honest mistake and ventured into our territory. We’ve collected our toll, and now you have twenty-four hours to be gone. If we find you again after that, well...”
Without warning, TJ brought a huge handgun from a shoulder holster and fired. Darrin’s body lurched. There was enough light from the surrounding vehicles for Mike to see the hole in the center of his forehead.
Mike screamed in frustration, and heedless of Shaw or the men still milling about him, scurried over to his friend. Darrin’s eyes were wide open, but there hadn’t even been enough time for him to register surprise.
On the roof where Kevin watched all this, he warred with the desire to take as many of Shaw and his men down as he could. However, it wasn’t fear that stayed his hand, he’d heard something in all the talking that was important. Getting into a shootout now would be a brief and fatal tactic.
Mike held Darrin’s head in his lap, sobbing unabashedly. Eventually, only Shaw remained standing over the two. “That was as much of a warning as I give. Get out of our territory or I assure you that you’ll wish you could trade places with your friend there.”
“Can I ask one question?” Mike looked up at Shaw with tears streaming down his checks.
“Two reasons,” Shaw didn’t wait for what he assumed to be the obvious question of why, “first, you showed spirit and I respect that, while your friend just laid there accepting things. Second, I want it clear that this is our territory, and uninvited trespassers will be dealt with accordingly.”
“Actually,” Mike wiped his nose on his sleeve and took a deep breath, “what led you to us? You drove past a few hours ago and didn’t show any indication of coming in.”
“The broken gate was a giveaway,” Shaw hiked a thumb over his shoulder, “but having the lights on in your RV was like a beacon. We decided to give you time to relax and go to sleep so as to minimize any losses we might take. Living people that fit our requirements are a very finite resource.”
“You know,” Mike was regaining his composure slowly, “Hitler tried the Master Race thing. It didn’t end well for him.”
“You got a lotta spirit, man,” Shaw laughed.
“I’m stating facts. And you can play Sparta all you like, but those who don’t know history are—”
“Condemned to repeat it,” Shaw interrupted. “We aren’t stupid, man. Only, the prevailing thought is that guys,” Shaw waived his hand dismissively at Mike and Darrin, “guys like you who thought that they were so smart, likely were the same guys that are the reason that this happened. You banned prayers. You banned the Pledge of Allegiance. And, if your Big Bang or Evolutionary doctrines were ever questioned by honest, God-fearin’ folks...well, you brought your lawyers and liberal media and made us look like idiots. We don’t need your type.”
“And what the hell makes you think I’m a scientist or whatever?”
“We’ve been monitoring you guys for the past few days. We’ve heard your ridiculous conversations and arguments over some pretty stupid shit.” Shaw shrugged.
“That’s how you knew we had women,” Mike breathed.
“We also know that you had a third guy.” Shaw looked around like he could see past the dim glow of lights from the idling vehicles. “If you didn’t already run him off and he’s seeing and hearing this...he’s on the same twenty-four hour clock you’re on.” With that, Shaw turned and walked to the truck, climbed into the driver’s side and led the procession—which was now one U-Haul truck richer—out of the park and into the darkness.
“Mike!” Kevin yelled once he was certain the vehicles were gone.
“They killed Darrin!” The anguish in Mike’s voice seemed to have flooded back in the absence of a threat.
“I know.” Kevin swung over the edge and dropped to the ground, “Mike...I wanted to do something. Anything. But—”
“You’d have gotten killed, and me along with you,” Mike said. “I know, man. I’m not stupid. There wasn’t a damned thing any of us could do.”
“I’ve never felt so useless.” Kevin walked over to where Mike still sat on his haunches holding Darrin’s head in his lap.
“Why?” Mike asked the sky.
Kevin didn’t need to see Mike’s face to know he was crying. He was thankful for the darkness because he had tears trickling from his own eyes. Struggling to control his voice, “You know as well as I that nothing needs to have a reason any-more. People are going to revert to their base—”
“Jesus Christ, Kevin!” Mike yelled. “For once, just once, don’t spill out some convoluted bullshit answer that you think sounds like the logical thing to say. Be fucking human! A friend of ours was shot in the face for no damned reason! Four women were loaded up like chattel by some gang of extremist lunatics! Those wanna-be-warlords are going to rape four women that, despite our recent disagreements, we were responsible for. Those women were part of our group.”
“And I know where they are...or rather where they are being taken.” Kevin knelt beside Mike.
***
After carrying Darrin into the RV that he and Mike had been staying in, the two poured gasoline all over the interior. They finished just as the sun began its slow journey skyward. Both men stood outside the open door. Neither said a word and left the other to his thoughts.
“Let’s go.” Mike finally broke the silence.
The two stepped back several feet. Kevin produced the road flare from his back pocket. Igniting it, he glanced at Mike who nodded. Kevin underhanded the flare into the open doorway and he and Mike turned and ran for the cover of the bathroom structure. There was a loud ‘FWOOMP’ as the interior of the RV erupted in flames, blowing out all the windows that Kevin and Mike hadn’t been able to roll down.
“We’ll need a new map,” Kevin announced.
“So,” Mike turned to follow, “Where are these guys? And how do you know where they are hiding out?”
“One of them said something about heading back to The Basket.”
“You’ll have to forgive me,” Mike struggled to keep the impatience from his voice. Really, for cryin’ out loud, why couldn’t Kevin just tell him instead of treating this like some top-secret kernel of information that he had to parse out in bits and pieces.
“When I was seventeen, my family took one of those horrid see-the-country road trips for summer vacation,” Kevin explained.
“I remember.” Mike nodded as the two walked past the gatehouse and turned right on the road, moving into the center of it to better avoid being surprised by a zombie. “Your dad said Clinton was gonna get the country nuked and you might never have a chance to see the Heart of America again.”
“Something like that,” Kevin scowled. “Anyhow, we stopped near here, and the next day we toured this building shaped like a giant picnic basket that had just opened. Even met the owner and my mom got his autograph on a basket she’d purchased. His name was Dave Longa-something.”
“Weird,” Mike said,
scanning everywhere at once. He and Kevin had one gun, less than thirty rounds, a baseball bat and a sword. Any serious zombie threat would not go well.
“You have no idea,” Kevin sighed. “But I’m positive that place is nearby. Why else would that guy say something ‘bout going to The Basket?”
“If you’re right…” Mike’s voice trailed off.
***
“What’d you say this town’s name was?” Mike leaned against the wall of the remains of an unidentifiable and mostly burned down building.
“Heath,” Kevin said as he wiped the sweat from his eyes and peered around the corner.
“Yeah, well I hate this place.”
“Me, too. Six more coming, and they know we’re here. They’re beelining for us.”
“That gas station better damned well have maps.” Mike pushed off from the wall and shook out first his right arm, then switching the sword to it, did the same to the left.
Kevin stepped out from his useless hiding place. He never got used to caving the skulls in on women and children. The nearest zombie had been a girl no more than ten, hair still in stringy, filthy pigtails. Her mouth was an over-exaggerated oval from all the dried-on blood and goodness-knows-what-else on her face. Equally gruesome was the gore caked on her bare arms well past the elbows. With one swing of the bat, he brought it to its knees. A couple more pile-driving-type blows cracked open the skull, spilling vile fluids and dark spongy matter. He and Mike worked their way through the small group and bolted for what appeared to be the only gas station that hadn’t burned to the ground.
Along the way, they had to dodge or hurdle decomposing bodies and piles of garbage. The smell, coupled with the hordes of buzzing flies, caused both men to struggle with not vomiting. If it was this bad in a small town, what must the large cities be like by now? They reached their destination and caught a major break. The entry door had already been shattered. Glass cubes littered the floor of the small customer area.
Kevin ducked in as Mike stood watch. He saw several zombies shuffling their direction, none close enough to be any serious threat…yet. Mike heard Kevin rifling through things behind him, but he wouldn’t risk taking his eyes off the surroundings.
“Got it!” Kevin called triumphantly.
As he did, a grisly remnant of what looked like a prom queen staggered around the corner of the gas station a mere ten feet away. A once shimmering dress hung in shreds. It opened its mouth and moaned as its arms reached out, leading the body. Mike’s eyes widened. The mouth was moist with fresh blood! Taking a closer look as he raised the sword and prepared to take the pitiful creature down, he noticed both wrists were marred with what looked to be severe rubbing caused by restraints. One ankle still had a thin leather strap buckled in place.
He swung as it stepped into range. The head split down the middle and the body toppled. Kevin stepped up by Mike’s side. Both men stared horrified. When the body fell, the dress rode up far enough to reveal the absence of panties…and a thick smear of wetness inside both thighs.
“What the fuck?” Kevin gasped.
“Shaw’s men?” Mike asked.
“Why?” Kevin couldn’t peel his eyes away. Little facts were beginning to reveal themselves. Like, even the most horrific injury—a gaping rip on the neck—was cleaned. The dress was in tatters, but it had been torn recently. The dress itself was clean. Shaw and his group obviously have living women to…
“She’s wearing make-up,” Mike said.
“And her hair’s been washed recently.” Kevin pointed.
“What do you guess her age to be?”
“A little older than Erin maybe…Sixteen?” Kevin used the toe of his boot to nudge the dress back down.
“Sabrina,” a voice called. Several of the zombies in the area shifted directions.
“C’mon,” Mike hissed, nudging Kevin and took off towards the sound of the voice. While the concentration of zombies was increasing, they remained spread out enough to not be too much of a concern.
A man less than a block from them shoved away an approaching zombie dressed like it had just come from a night at the nearest country bar. His left arm was wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage. He carried no weapon that either Mike or Kev-in could see and appeared completely unfazed by the handful of undead heading for him.
“Something feels wrong,” Kevin said.
The man’s head snapped over to Mike and Kevin at the sound of voices. A look crossed his face. He seemed suddenly much more frightened at the arrival of two living, breathing people than he did of the slowly growing number of undead.
“Nasty wound you got there,” Kevin said, shooting a look at Mike, and then moved away to the left, putting some distance between them.
The man took a step back, his eyes darting everywhere at once. Then, without warning, he bolted in the direction of several zombies!
“Decide quick.” Mike guessed the number of approaching undead to be in the forties.
“I gotta know.” Kevin shrugged, and took off after the man.
He wasn’t hard to follow. Kevin guessed him to be a few inches under six-feet tall, but easily over two hundred-and-fifty pounds. From the back, the man displayed a well-defined bald spot and a braided ponytail that swayed back and forth. The corpulent man barged through several converging zombies, unfazed by their outstretched hands, shoving or elbowing aside any that came close.
Mike and Kevin had more difficulty keeping up as they reached the cluster. With bat and sword they made their way, losing a little ground, but still keeping the man in sight. They followed, and were actually relieved when he ducked into a large, whitewashed, three-story building. The sign out front read Heath High School.
The two cut across the shin-high grass of the front lawn and to the wide stairs that led up to four sets of double-doors. The building itself, at least from what they could see, was set up so that the first-floor windows were a good seven or so feet off the ground. The front doors were covered from the inside with what looked like a mixture of corrugated metal and plywood. A few small windows—inches above the ground—were both too narrow and low to be much worry, but they all appeared boarded up as well.
They bounded up the stairs and gave the doors a tug. Each set was locked. Looking around, Kevin climbed onto the concrete banister and stretched over to the nearest windowsill. Of course, he scoffed as he tried to wedge open the window. It was locked.
“Watch out!” Kevin called over his shoulder as he swung the bat. Glass shattered. Clearing out as much of the remaining shards as he could, Kevin easily swung over and in the new opening. He was inside an office. He only had a couple of seconds though as the door burst open. The man they’d chased was there, a gun pointed, albeit shakily, at Kevin.
“Put the gun down!” Kevin yelled, hoping Mike would hear and take the hint.
“You can’t stay here.” The man’s voice was even shakier than the hand holding the large, black revolver.
“That’s a nasty wound you’ve got there.” Kevin pointed to the bandaged arm that was dripping on the gray indoor-outdoor carpet.
“You can’t stay here,” the man repeated. “You have to leave now.”
The sound of glass crashing made both men jump. Mike was obviously making his own entrance. The sudden distraction caused the man to turn away from Kevin. Seeing the opportu-nity, Kevin lunged, coming down hard with his bat on the arm that held the gun. The weapon fired, and the useless computer monitor on the large walnut desk toppled to the floor. Kevin felt, rather than heard, the sickening snap of the forearm. The man howled in pain, and the gun fell to the ground. Kevin brought the barrel of the bat up, catching the man under his jaw. The man fell back out of the doorway, bounced off what looked to be a long reception desk, and collapsed to the ground in an unmoving heap.
“Kevin!” Mike yelled.
“In here,” Kevin answered, stepping over the prone body and fully into what had once served as the front office for the school.
Mike burst int
o the office slamming open the frosted glass door. “I heard a gunshot.”
“He missed.” Kevin held his arms up and turned so Mike could see he was fine. “I knocked him out with the bat. I don’t think I killed him.”
“Not that it would matter,” Mike stepped through the waist-high swinging-gate to join Kevin. “That asshole’s obviously been bitten. We may as well just put him down now.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Kevin shook his head. “He was looking for somebody named Sabrina. My guess is that it’s the girl we took down. That probably means that this dude’s doing some weird shit.”
“So?” Mike shrugged.
“He also seems to be the last living soul here in Heath. I say we tie him up, then offer him a quick death in exchange for information, like any running vehicles nearby and where we can find supplies.”
“It’s not like we have anything better to do…or… umm…a twenty-four hour time limit.” The sarcasm was creeping back into Mike’s voice.
“Well,” Kevin snatched a phone cord and stepped back into the principal’s office, “this guy seemed to be existing under Shaw’s radar without any problem. Maybe Shaw doesn’t come into this town.”
With that said, he dragged the body back into the office. Within a few minutes, using phone and power cords, they had firmly tied the man to the chair behind the principal’s desk.
“I say we go look around and see what is here that we might use. Best gather stuff in case we need to beat feet in a hurry,” Mike said.
The two crept out into the dark, shadowy hall with their weapons at the ready. A staircase was on the left past a section of lockers. Together they peered around the corner. They had two choices: up or down.
