Dying Days 8

by Armand Rosamilia

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?” Terry asked.

  “Barbara.”

  Terry smiled. “They’re coming to get you, Barbara,” he said slowly in the spookiest voice he could muster.

  She looked confused.

  “Seriously? Night of the Living Dead. No one has ever said that to you?” Terry asked, incredulous.

  “I don’t know what that means,” she said.

  “It’s the greatest zombie movie ever. Don’t you see the irony?”

  Barbara wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think that’s very funny. Not with zombies trying to kill us.”

  Terry shrugged. “Sometimes you just need to lighten the fuck up.”

  “Profanity is so common,” Barbara said.

  I guess I’m not banging this broad, Terry thought. Her loss.

  Instead of stopping at the rows of house-racks set up, Barbara led him across the store and into the backroom.

  “Where are we going?” Terry asked.

  He was still leery about Mister Borden and his intentions.

  It would be easy for the zombie fucker to get inside Terry’s head and scramble it like eggs, but maybe he was bored with killing people so easily.

  Maybe he wanted to torture Terry for his secrets.

  They went past the bathrooms and Barbara opened a door, waving her hand in obvious disgust so Terry could enter.

  “Is this a joke?” Terry asked.

  Barbara didn’t look too happy. “Mister Borden insisted you get this room and everything in it. Frankly, I… I’ll let you enjoy your new place,” she said and walked away.

  Terry didn’t even bother staring after her because he was too busy trying to wrap his head around where he’d be staying.

  The room had once been the break room. All of the tables and chairs had been removed but Terry could see the store posters and signs on the walls. By the scuffs on the floor, it had also had a couple of refrigerators as well.

  Now the room had a pile of area rugs in one corner and the nicest bed Terry had ever seen. It looked fluffy with six oversized pillows and a thick mattress. He had a couch and a plush chair angled to face the ninety-inch TV on the wall, a pile of DVD’s four feet high on top of a BluRay player.

  The counters were packed with a couple of video game systems and dozens of games, two cases of Terry’s favorite beer and bags of pork rinds.

  Terry was about to ask how Mister Borden would know his favorite things but then smiled. The fucker read your mind.

  “Terry, are you home?” Mister Borden yelled from down the hall.

  “Yep.” Terry went to the doorway.

  Mister Borden smiled at Terry, as he approached with six armed men in tow.

  “Enjoying your new accommodations? Much cooler than the cage outside. I do have a question for you,” Mister Borden said and smiled.

  Terry knew he was going to hate when the man smiled.

  “How would you feel about helping out around here?” Mister Borden asked.

  “Sure. You need me to sweep the stockroom? I make a mean peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I can pitch in for lunch,” Terry said.

  Mister Borden shook his head and glanced at the men behind him.

  “I need you to take a team out to where you used to live. Give me an update. Don’t engage. Just let me know their relative strength right now,” Mister Borden said.

  “What if I say I’d rather sweep floors than go back and see those people?” Terry asked, knowing the answer.

  Mister Borden shrugged. “I’m sure we can find something better suited than sweeping for you. Of course, you being the new guy, it would be much better if you became a team player right off the bat. Carry your own weight, especially since I’ve given you such a nice place to stay. Don’t you think?”

  Chapter Twenty

  He knew Jada and even Big Man thought he was wasting his time, but what else did he have to do right now? Time was fleeting. Time was the enemy. Time was the main thing they didn’t have anymore, so why let it slip away without taking some chances?

  Profit made sure he had on his finest clothes, which meant his other set that wasn’t filthy.

  He found Bernie, on the side of the stage, talking to a couple of women.

  When Profit approached, they faded into the crowd and Bernie smiled.

  “I know you’re busy so I’ll make this quick,” Profit said. “Where can a man take a pretty woman for a date in the apocalypse?”

  Bernie stared at him. “What’s the punch line?”

  “No punch line. A simple question.”

  He could see she was embarrassed.

  “We don’t get many chances to be normal. I just thought maybe you’d like to forget about all of this for a few hours and have some fun with me,” Profit said.

  Bernie put her hands on her hips. “You think you’re going to get in my pants?”

  He waved his hands. “No. Of course not.”

  “Are you gay?” Bernie asked.

  “No. Wow. No.”

  She laughed. Bernie was enjoying making him uncomfortable.

  “If it came up during the night, I wouldn’t be opposed to taking those tight pants off of you,” Profit said.

  Bernie swiveled back and forth. “My pants are tight? You’re saying I’m fat and they don’t fit me?”

  Profit put a hand on his chin and laughed. “Bernie, you are something else. Let me start again.”

  A man ran up to Bernie, out of breath, and stooped with his hands on his knees. “We have a problem. New arrivals and they’re lining up to attack the bridge.”

  Jada and three others in his team were out with Tosha but he had more than enough firepower in his group. “Give me five minutes and I’ll have my crew moving.”

  Bernie looked like she was about to argue but simply nodded.

  “Gather twenty who can shoot and send them to the bridge. I also want twice that many going north in case this is a diversion and they’re trying to sneak up on us from A1A. Go,” Bernie said to the messenger.

  “I guess I’ll see you at the bridge. After we scare off these newcomers, we’ll figure out where we’re going on our date,” Profit said.

  “Are you always so sure of yourself?”

  Profit smiled. “Only around a pretty lady.”

  “You’re wasting time,” Bernie said and ran off.

  Profit liked her style. He loved her focus. Bernie was the kind of woman he could have a long and wonderful relationship with.

  If he did what he was told, like gathering the troops.

  He ran back to the bar and, when he entered, he shook his head. Most of his team was lounging around. Some of them had either found liquor or weed because they looked out of it. A poker game, with six at the table, was in full swing.

  “We have a problem. Marauders at the gates,” Profit said.

  “Not our problem. They have enough to stop it,” one of the men at the bar said.

  When Profit turned to see who it was that had spoken, everyone looked away.

  “We’ve been here a few hours and already everyone forgets how bad it is outside?” Profit went to the poker game and put his hands on the table. “Four days ago we were shot at. We don’t even know who did it, either. Not that it mattered. There are bad people and they’re always going to fuck with us. They’re trying to get over the bridge right now.”

  Everyone was staring at Profit.

  “Bunch of fucking pussies all of a sudden,” Profit yelled and flipped the table, scattering cards and chips. If it wasn’t for the two players seated on the other side, the table would’ve slammed into the wall.

  Profit raised three fingers. “You have until the count of three to get your asses outside, in full gear, and ready to roll. Anyone who doesn’t move quickly enough will need to find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

  Everyone started moving.

  “Where’s Big Man?” Profit asked.

  No one had seen him.

  I’ll worry about his fat ass later
, Profit thought. It wasn’t like everyone was confined to the bar but it would’ve been nice for Big Man to tell someone where he was going.

  Everyone was lined up with full gear and weapons in a few seconds.

  Profit knew those who’d been drinking or smoking would be fine by the time they double-timed it to the bridge.

  A few other survivors were on the street and they stopped to stare.

  Profit had to smile. Even though they had no intention of messing with the pecking order on Main Street, it was always good to keep others guessing. If they looked too formidable, the assholes would go seek weaker prey.

  “Let’s show these amateurs how Profit’s team works,” he said and started running up the street. Everyone followed behind in the same cadence, creating a great noise even though there weren’t as many as there had been when they’d begun.

  As he ran, yelling for them to open the gates, he couldn’t help thinking about the past. How he’d gotten this far and all of his friends who’d fallen each day in order for him to live.

  Profit knew there was a God above who was protecting his every action. The people around who believed, too.

  “Need a lift to the front line?”

  It was an open-backed vehicle, old school military.

  Profit and his soldiers quickly piled in and were at the gate in a few minutes.

  Profit had his men spread out behind the barriers and walked to Bernie.

  “It looks like fifty or so. They’re well-armed and nasty. Their leader is some young kid. Looks like an accountant. No clue why these people are following him,” Bernie said.

  “Has he tried to talk to us yet?”

  “Only with a loudspeaker to tell us we need to surrender or he’ll cross the river and burn our city to the ground. Kill all of the men. Enslave the women and children,” Bernie said. “The funny part is he does it with a straight face and his little accountant voice.”

  “We can deal with fifty easily. He has to know we outnumber him,” Profit said.

  “Which makes me believe he has a lot more he’s not showing. He came from the north so I don’t think he ran into Tosha. My fear is they also crossed onto A1A up the road and are going to try sneaking in. Our defenses are in shambles there. I sent a group but I hope it was enough to keep them at bay,” Bernie said.

  “You want me to go talk to the accountant? I can be persuasive,” Profit said.

  “Not a good idea. I say we wait to see what his next move is.”

  The loudspeaker gave feedback from across the river. “I’ll give you an hour to decide what you want to do. Open the gates or die. Those are your only choices.”

  “You’re right. He does sound like an accountant,” Profit said.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Tosha actually did feel bad about sacrificing Mister Questions to see what would happen. She remembered all the times Mathyu had been mad when they’d play video games together. Tosha always wanted to open every door and fight every monster while her sister wanted to figure things out, conserve her ammo and ultimately build the perfect character in the game.

  She could see a few people were looking sideways at her while they worked.

  The crew who’d gone into the mall had begun dragging out furniture and displays. They’d even found hundreds of feet of thick rope, which Tosha knew would help hold all of this together.

  It wasn’t going to be pretty but it would be a barrier to funnel the zombies down one road and slow their progress.

  “I remember hearing about a battle in high school. It might’ve been the Civil War or maybe the Revolutionary War. As the soldiers retreated, they burned everything in their path, salted the fields so the enemy couldn’t plant and flooded the areas with water so it would be slow-going,” Mitch said.

  “That’s why we’re putting the barrier up,” Tosha said.

  Mitch shook his head. “It’s too little. We can’t do this all the way to the bridge. That’s too many miles and, at any moment, these lines are going to step forward.”

  “I’m open to suggestions,” Tosha said.

  “Once we’re finished with this project, maybe we start from the foot of the bridge on this side. Do the same thing. There are still plenty of houses we can tear down. Get better sighting of the zombies as they cross the river. Maybe block easy access to get into the water for them. Force them to bottleneck to the bridge itself,” Mitch said.

  “Take three people back with you. Let Bernie know so she can get us more help. You’ll be in charge of it until I’m done with this. We stashed two vehicles at the bank on the corner. Take one of them so we still have the bus,” Tosha said.

  Mitch nodded.

  “Hey, before you go…” Tosha hesitated.

  “Yeah?”

  Tosha looked back to the line of zombies. Mitch had dragged the body of Wes away and had quickly buried him in the flowerbed in front of a department store. There was still a bloodstain on the pavement.

  “I’m sorry I let your friend die,” Tosha said.

  “He wasn’t my friend. In fact, he was part of the group with Terry. I know we’re going to have to talk about what happened at some point. If it wasn’t for everything happening, I’d be dead right now,” Mitch said.

  “Very true.” Tosha needed to focus on one thing at a time. “Hurry up. Maybe you’ll be able to start before nightfall. At least have a plan in place for tomorrow. I should be done with this by the end of the day.”

  Mitch nodded. She could see there was so much more he wanted to say. Give his side of the story. His reasons for pulling the trigger and starting a war, with a zombie, they almost hadn’t won.

  She was glad when he ran off to gather his group to leave.

  Tosha went back to work, helping a woman as she tried to drag a large shelving unit by herself out of the mall.

  “If we had a bulldozer, we could knock down the mall and spread the rubble,” Tosha said.

  This was going way too slow.

  “We have a tank,” Jada said.

  “That tank is ours,” a blonde woman with cracked lips said. “Our group brought it in. We’re low on fuel and only have a few shells left. That’s for an emergency.”

  Jada was in the woman’s face before anyone had time to blink.

  “I thought we were all a team now. All for one and one for all shit. If the boss says we need the tank, we need the tank. I’d hate to have to hurt you over something so trivial like something you have no real control over,” Jada said.

  Tosha saw her knife was out again and touching the woman’s side.

  “Everyone calm down and get back to work. For today we’ll worry about building the wall. We’ll let Bernie hash out whether or not we need the tank to destroy things,” Tosha said. She knew it would really help. A fucking tank.

  Tosha wished someone had mentioned the tank before she’d sent Mitch away. It would make more sense to have the tank to use right now. They could knock the damn racetrack, across the street, to the ground and use the seating to block the road on either side.

  At this rate, doing it by hand, it would take a month to go a mile.

  They didn’t have a month.

  “What’s your name?” Tosha asked the blonde woman.

  “Donna.”

  “We’re going to take a ride back to Main Street. Get us a tank to use,” Tosha said. She put her hand up. “No argument. It’s not up to you and me. Let’s go.”

  Jada came close to smiling.

  “You’re in charge, Jada. Just don’t kill anyone,” Tosha said.

  “So do the opposite of what you do?” Jada asked.

  Tosha wanted to pull her weapon and shoot the bitch in the face but Jada looked like she was ready for it. She was going to be a problem if they all lived long enough.

  “Just try to keep everyone alive and watch your backs. It’s not only zombies we have to worry about,” Tosha said and stared at Donna. “Ready when you are.”

  “They aren’t going to like this,” Donna said.


  “I don’t give a fuck who they are or what they’re going to like. Got it?” Tosha started to walk away, hoping Donna was following.

  Tosha didn’t need any more shit from anyone. Tonight, when they returned back to Main Street for good, she’d have a frank conversation with Bernie about the newcomers and the shit they were going to pull.

  They needed the numbers and their weapons but not the attitude.

  Donna was right behind Tosha as they got to the bank and Tosha decided on which car to take. She decided the Camaro was the best option. She’d personally stocked it with a few things she might need this far west from Main Street.

  “I’ll drive,” Tosha said as a joke. Donna didn’t break a smile.

  Tosha took off, hitting eighty and enjoying the speed, knowing the zombies weren’t going to get in the way of the road right now.

  She was almost in sight of the bridge when she took her foot off the gas and slowed down.

  “What the fuck do we have here?” Tosha asked, pulling the Camaro to the side of the road and turning off the engine. She reached behind the seat and pulled out the shotgun hidden under some old blankets.

  Mitch came running with the people he’d gone off with a while ago and he didn’t look too happy.

  Tosha got out. “What’s the problem? Who are they?”

  “New group. Telling Bernie they’re going to attack if the gates aren’t opened and everything isn’t turned over to them,” Mitch said.

  Tosha smiled.

  “I’m not sure why you think that is funny,” Mitch said.

  Tosha leaned the shotgun against her shoulder. “It’s been too long since we got to fight something fair and square. I can’t wait to shoot someone again.”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  April and Carlie had been halfway out the gate of Main Street before they were called back and their plans changed, which suited April fine because her morning had been a bust.

  There were no signs of Terry and she knew she’d need to expand the area to look for the elusive man.

  Bernie wanted April to lead a group to the north, just inside the walls of The Promised Land, to make sure no one was trying to get around them.