Apocalypse Asunder

by David Rogers

  “You’re staying with me.” Jessica said. “Stay close, keep your eyes open, and be careful. Don’t touch things, stay between me and Austin, and just . . . remember the rules.”

  “Got it.” Candice nodded.

  Jessica shut the engine off and pocketed the keys before checking around outside the car twice. Still clear, so she got out and started to draw the Taurus, then reminded herself about the ammunition situation and reached behind her for the Shield. Clutching it in both hands, she turned in a circle, then in another one while crouching so she could look beneath the cars. The area still seemed quiet. Austin was out by the time she rose, his head swiveling steadily as he took everything in. Candice opened her door and slid down out of the seat, moving to join her mother.

  Once the girl was with her, Jessica headed toward the garage. Austin came around the Toyota and moved with her, staying about six steps back with the MP5 leveled. She checked through the windows when she got near the building, then reached out and tried the door.

  “Locked.” she said, glancing around the area again.

  “Want me to have a go at it?” Austin asked. He’d automatically turned to put his back toward her, watching the parking lot and road.

  Jessica started to disagree, then stopped herself. The cache of extra ammunition they’d started with – and added to from what had turned up in house searches back in Georgia – was locked in the wrecked SUV in Ocala. She could break a window, but as far as forcing the door . . . she’d need tools and some serious sweat to pull that off. Or bullets; which were loud and not exactly inexhaustible. Especially not with the bulk of what they knew about locked in a wreck in the middle of the zombie infested city of Ocala.

  “Yeah, okay.” she agreed.

  When she stepped back, she almost tripped over Candice. The girl hopped back quickly though, and Jessica kept her feet. Austin moved past her as she turned, taking up his rear watch duties. She heard the knob rattle, then a heavy, splintering thump as he hit the door somehow. Jessica kept her eyes on the road and parking lot, steadily sweeping from one side of the building all the way around to the other for any sign of zombies, as Austin hit the door a second time.

  Whatever he was doing to it, the third impact did the trick; the sound of the door flying open and slamming against the interior wall was unmistakable. A quieter, more muffled thud came next, then he spoke.

  “Going in.”

  Jessica started to object, then stopped herself. Arguing was silly. After her latest sweep of the building’s exterior, she turned and moved in after him.

  The interior was dim, but not dark; plenty of sun was streaming in through the windows, and more from the garage next door. The carpet was worn and all but threadbare, but basically clean and tidy. Well, except for a thick layer of dust. But beneath that she saw care had been taken to maintain it despite its age.

  The room was obviously some sort of waiting area; hard plastic chairs, a couple of low end tables with magazines, and a small television set mounted up high in the corner behind the little counter. That was where the register was, along with some little cardboard stands holding brochures for AAA and some travel-tourist locations. A small mini-fridge stood on the floor at the end of the counter, with a cardboard box of snacks on it. A sign stuck to the box read “$1.00 each.”

  Dominating all of it, however, was the massive bloodstain. It covered the wall behind the counter, rust brown and bumpy in texture with long since dried and crusted over blood and bits. Jessica stopped just inside the door, staring, then kicked herself mentally and turned to face out of the door. Staring at the remains of the inside of someone’s head wasn’t beneficial; or safe. “Candice, you okay?”

  “Fine.” the girl replied.

  “Suicide.” Austin said. “There’s a shotgun back here, and a box of shells. Body doesn’t look like it’s been disturbed. Shop clothes, nametag on the shirt says ‘Evan’ . . . I think this maybe was the owner.”

  Jessica shrugged slightly; whatever had happened, ‘Evan’ hadn’t wanted any part of it or what came next. “No threat?” she asked.

  “No threat. Hold tight while I check the bathroom and office.”

  Jessica had seen the marked doors, and remained where she was in the doorway to the outside as Austin opened the others. Everything remained quiet outside as she heard hinges creak and door tongues click and scrape behind her, then Austin spoke again.

  “Clear. Pull that shut and let’s check the garage.”

  Jessica stepped back slowly, giving Candice time to anticipate her movements. When she had room, she nudged the door closed with her foot and pushed it fully shut with her left hand so it latched. Only then did she back another couple of steps and turn to face Austin.

  He had his hand on the doorknob of the last door in the room, the one that separated the office and waiting area from the garage bays. The large interior window in the same wall let her see out into the garage; showing what she took for a typical mechanic’s scene that was as quiet as everything else was. When she was ready to back him up, Austin opened the door and went through.

  He moved quickly, his head and the gun in his hands swiveling and turning rapidly with almost machine-like movements. By the time Jessica reached the doorway and took her first direct look at the bays, Austin had moved right, toward the big bay door and the back of an older, but seemingly well maintained, Cadillac with its hood up.

  As she watched, Austin checked across the inside of the garage doors at the rear of the Cadillac, then moved behind it. Jessica bit her lip momentarily, then spoke. “Austin, I can’t cover you from here.”

  “Hold tight.” he said without looking at her, continuing his sweep. Jessica frowned, but waited with the pistol at the ready as he checked around the other vehicle in the garage – a late model pickup truck that was raised up on a hydraulic lift – and finally circled around and back to her.

  “Clear.” he said, straightening from his ready pose.

  She didn’t bother to ask if he was sure; confirmation was what he got from her on things like this, not the other way around. He knew what he was doing. So did she, mostly, but she was still new at it. Austin was the expert.

  “Step two, let’s have something to eat.” she said, clicking the safety back on the Shield and slowly replacing it in the holster.

  “Chips and crackers?” Austin asked.

  “Yeah.” she shrugged. “Unless you saw something better in the office.”

  He shook his head as he went back into the office, headed for the outside door. “Nope. I’ll go grab some drinks out of the car.”

  Jessica looked around the shop area again, then at Candice. “Stay right here.” she told her daughter. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  Candice flinched, hesitated, then slowly nodded. “Okay.” she said carefully, glancing around.

  Jessica went into the office and grabbed the entire box of snacks off the mini-fridge. Returning to the shop, she dragged an old empty milk crate over to the floor just outside the office and deposited the box on it.

  “Sit down honey, eat something.” she said, starting to fold herself downward.

  Candice grabbed for a package of ‘cheese’ filled pretzel snacks immediately, and had it open and the first handful in her mouth before Jessica could even lower herself to the floor.

  “Slow down, don’t choke.” Jessica admonished as Candice crunched loudly. There had been no dinner in the attic, no breakfast either, and it was closer to noon than dawn; but they had something to eat now, and things were safe for the moment. “The food’s not going anywhere.”

  Candice mumbled something that sounded apologetic, but kept chewing. Jessica looked at the packages of peanut butter crackers in the snack box, but changed her mind and selected a bag of Chex Mix instead. Even as hungry as she was, she was tired of peanut butter crackers after the past few days. She turned as Austin came back in carrying a number of sodas clutched against his chest in his right hand. His left still held the submachine gun,
though it was pointed down at the floor.

  “Here.” he said, leaning down so Jessica could reach for the bottles. Between both of them, they got the drinks transferred to the floor without dropping any, and he sank down to sit cross legged with the MP5 at his side. He apparently wasn’t bored with peanut butter crackers yet, she saw, because he immediately reached for three of the five packages in the box.

  For the next few minutes, there was nothing but the rustle and crackle of wrappings being removed and torn, and the crunching and chewing of junk food. Despite her admonishment to Candice about not bolting the food, Jessica herself went through the bag of Chex Mix quite quickly. She followed it up with a bag of corn chips, and then started on a package of Hostess cupcakes. Candice ate the pretzels, half of a bag of barbecue potato chips, then started on some Oreo cookies.

  Finally, her stomach full enough with empty – but welcome – calories to sate her for the moment, Jessica sat back from the impromptu feast and looked around again. She knew almost nothing useful about cars, but there seemed to be a lot of parts and tools scattered around the engine compartment of the Cadillac. And a shop light was hanging beneath the truck up on the lift, and an open tool chest was there along with more parts laying about on the floor.

  “Think either of these are running?” she asked.

  Austin shrugged and followed her gaze over to the vehicles in the bays. “Maybe, but my guess is they were being serviced.”

  “We need something better than the Toyota.” Jessica thought out loud.

  “Something with more cargo room, sturdier, right?” he asked.

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, there’s another truck outside.” he shrugged again. “And that sedan. And if none of those work out, we can check down the road a little ways. We’ll find something that’ll work.”

  “Hopefully without needing to spend the rest of the day looking.” Jessica agreed.

  “We’re okay. And something usable is around here somewhere.”

  “Yeah, but the quicker we’re in something more capable, the better I’ll feel. I want to see about recovering the stuff that got left in the SUV.”

  Austin started to say something, hesitated, then grimaced. “Yeah.”

  “What’s wrong?” Jessica asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “You don’t think we should go back?”

  “It’s a lot of supplies, but a lot of it we can probably replace with some looking.” he said slowly. “Like the food and clothing; shouldn’t be that tough to look around and come up with some more. But the ammunition, the gas and water cans, all that bleach . . . that’s some stuff we definitely have a use for. Especially the ammunition . . . that’s a lot of rounds that we won’t have to scrounge up replacements for in drips and drabs, assuming we can even find replacements.”

  “But . . .” she prompted him, reading his face and seeing there was more he hadn’t said yet.

  “But, getting at the SUV might take some doing.” he said.

  She frowned, but nodded. Whatever had happened to or in Ocala, now it was well and truly zombie infested. The events of the past nineteen or twenty hours had made that clear. But . . . “I’m not intending to go on some heroic recovery mission,” she said slowly, “but if we can get at it, I’d like to recover what got left. It’ll save us weeks of trying to replace it, which is weeks we won’t have to spend on survival scrounging while looking for somewhere to spend the winter.”

  “No argument.” he said before stuffing the last cracker of the third package in his mouth. He crunched twice and swallowed before lifting his soda for a drink.

  “You don’t think it’s a risk?”

  Austin held up a finger as he guzzled soda. When he lowered the bottle, he gasped quietly, belched a little, and took a deep breath. “Everything’s a risk.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He shrugged and looked at her, his eyes a little tired but clear. “I do, but the principle stands. Everything’s a risk. Is going after a known cache safer than finding replacements for it all in a dozen, two dozen, or more other places? Places we’ll have to look for? That we’ll not even know whether or not if they exist?”

  “It’s not like what we were carrying means we don’t have to get more besides—” she started, but he shook his head.

  “I know. But it’s a buffer against other problems. It buys us time to not have to take a lot of other risks.”

  “Hello?” a new voice called from behind her.

  Jessica spun around on her butt in alarm, reaching for the Taurus, but Austin moved like he was on springs. By the time she was able to pivot and draw the pistol, the big man was already on his feet with the MP5 in hand and pointed at the window dividing the shop from the office.

  Beyond the window, a middle aged man was standing with his hands held outstretched to the side, above his shoulders with the fingers spread. A rifle barrel poked up past his shoulder, hanging from a sling; and he wore a broad brimmed fedora above a calm expression.

  “Surprising people can be dangerous.” Austin said as Jessica scrambled to her feet, clutching the Taurus.

  “I know, which is why I called out and made sure I wasn’t moving.” the man replied.

  “What do you want?”

  “To talk.”

  “About?”

  “Survival.”

  “We’re surviving just fine.” Jessica said loudly as she kept her thumb on the lever for the Taurus’ safety.

  “Huddling in an abandoned auto garage eating snack cakes?” the man said.

  “Spying isn’t friendly friend.” Austin said in a matter-of-fact tone that managed to somehow edge itself with harshness despite the lack of any overt hostility.

  “Caution, not spying.” the man replied. “Look, I’m not alone, and I’m not here to cause any problems. Can we just talk?”

  “Who’s with you?”

  “Some friends. They’re outside, watching things.”

  Jessica frowned. “I don’t want to sound unfriendly, but that sort of sounded like it could turn into a threat.”

  The man shook his head. “No threats. Wandering around alone isn’t the best idea these days. And, it’s just . . . we’ve had a few bad experiences.”

  “Yeah, us too.” Jessica answered.

  “Okay, so why don’t we put the guns down and just talk?”

  Jessica hesitated. The man looked perfectly ordinary; like a PTA dad who did his own yard work, or an office worker with outdoor hobbies. His expression didn’t hold any lurking negative emotions that she could detect; no anger or greed or jealousy.

  “Alright, let’s talk.” she allowed. “But just you. Your ‘friends’ stay outside.”

  “Fine.” he said. “Okay if I let them know we’re good in here?”

  “You do that.” Jessica said, taking her thumb off her pistol’s safety.

  The man turned and stepped outside. “No problems. Going to talk for a bit.” he called out. A moment later someone answered, their voice indeterminate from where Jessica stood, but he apparently heard it just fine. “No, just keep an eye on things out here and yell if anything develops.”

  Austin had lowered the MP5 somewhat, but it was still in his hands, and Jessica suspected even without properly aiming it he’d be able to shoot the man if necessary. She lowered her own weapon, but kept it in her hand as she watched the man turn and start walking through the office. His hands were lowered somewhat, but not all the way down at his sides; sort of like he was splitting the difference between acting normal and trying to project harmlessness.

  “I’m Stuart Bryant.” he said when he reached the doorway between the office and shop.

  Jessica dug for what she hoped was, at least vaguely, a neutral voice. “Jessica, Austin, and my daughter.” she answered, reaching behind her and putting her left hand on Candice’s shoulder. The girl had risen and was standing with Jessica between her and Stuart.

  Feeling Candice using her as a shield, Jessica had to r
emind herself to dig for her own resolve. She wanted a shield. She wanted everything to stop being so complicated and dangerous; for it all to just go back to a normal give and take that didn’t end in pain and violence and despair. But there was only a step at a time, like Austin had been saying for weeks. Always take things a step at a time.

  For her next step, she still wasn’t sure if she was ready to trust people. Part of her was beginning to feel like she was being silly, but she couldn’t help it. Knoxville had just been too close of a thing. Her priority was safety and survival . . . other people had proven their definitions of safety and survival didn’t necessarily include hers.

  On either count.

  “What do you want to talk about?” Austin asked. His tone, while continuing to lack any overtly unfriendly qualities, wasn’t entirely welcoming either.

  “We wanted to see if you folks were looking for a place to stay.”

  “What?” Jessica asked in surprise, though she felt her expression coloring back over almost immediately with suspicion. “Why would you want to know that?”

  “Hey, we’re just talking, right?” the man said, lifting his hands out and away from his body a little more.

  Jessica sat firmly on her impulse toward alarm and made herself consider things calmly. “Right, talking. What makes you think we’re looking for a place to stay?”

  “We saw you stop to check this place out—” Stuart began, only for Austin to break in.

  “Saw us? Who’s we?” he asked, his tone still purposefully not edged with threat. That just left it sounding that much more dangerous, Jessica noted, as Stuart eyed the big man uneasily.

  “We’re from Sandy Summit, over that way.” he said quickly, pointing. His hand was gesturing at the wall of the garage past the truck, but Jessica took his meaning easily enough; he was from somewhere in that direction. “We keep folks on watch for anything that might be something to investigate or come handle.”