Zombies on the Rock (Book 2): The Viking Trail

by Carberry, Paul

  "This guy is a mystery." Jason let out a hearty chuckle.

  Frank watched as Hank disappeared over the top of the ladder onto the roof. Once he was out of view, he looked over at Chris who was looking on in disbelief.

  "What do you think?" Frank asked Chris. The young man hadn't said anything since they left the police station. Usually Frank couldn't get the kid to keep quiet, now his silence worried him. Frank had seen his officers get posttraumatic stress from confrontations before and he was worried that the confrontation earlier had rattled the youngster.

  "We don't really have anything else going on. This might be fun." Chris held a duffle bag of guns in his lap. "Besides, if anything goes wrong, we just get out of here and head back to Howley."

  If only things were that easy. Chris was young and eager, but foolhardy. "We have lots of work to do once we get back to Howley," Frank reminded him. At least Chris still had the same piss poor attitude of a teenager that was rebelling against adulthood. It was good to know the chaos? Carnage? Horror of the last few weeks hadn’t stolen everything from him.

  "I know, but Matthew still believes that we should check out the Pelleys’ compound." Chris looked back at Matthew for support. They found it hard to believe that there was a fenced in compound that had been left vacant.

  “Let’s keep focused on the task at hand. We can’t afford any distractions.” The Pelleys were descendants of the founders of the town of Howley. They had controlled everything in that town when the world still belonged to the living and he knew those cockroaches would find a way to survive. Frank knew them from his days as the chief of police, for they controlled the drug trade for the West coast. Even though Frank was never able to discover any evidence to link them to any of the trafficking, everyone knew they ran the entire operation. The Pelleys also owned the local mall and tavern, which they used to launder their dirty money. The last time Frank had checked on them, the two brothers had left town for St. John's. He hoped they were still there as Frank didn’t want to have to deal with those two. They were extremely dangerous individuals leading a group of loyal maniacs, and backed by a motorcycle gang called The Highway Hangmen. This gang had supplied them with the most sophisticated weapons available. In conclusion, the Pelleys had a small army at their disposal with men willing to do whatever was commanded them, no matter the personal cost.

  Frank looked back at Eric and Jason, the two men were keeping a vigilant watch for an zombies who might have been attracted by the racket made by his old Ford pickup. Suddenly the small door opened and Hank stood there motioning for them to come inside. Frank turned the engine off and pushed the door open; the rusted metal groaned and creaked as everyone got out. Even in the post-apocalyptic world, Frank was embarrassed by the corroded hunk of scrap metal. It also made him worry that it was going to break down at any moment or that the brakes would stop working without notice, but you had to make do with whatever resources you could muster.

  Jason and Matthew laid Nick down on an old couch. It was a hard struggle to get Nick’s dead weight up the ladder that led into the old control room of the wood room. It was too narrow for all three men, so Jason had to back up the ladder carrying Nick by the shoulders while the Matthew struggled to keep Nick's legs off the ground.

  "So, how did you guys end up here?" Eric asked a large, bearded man. His hair was greasy and slicked backed. The dirty, scruffy look suited him though. His old, blue coveralls were covered in filth and a black substance that looked like oil. The man probably looked this way even before the apocalypse, as his hands belonged to a man who worked with dirt and grime for years.

  "We used to work here. We were working the night shift when this all happened." He paused for a moment and looked over at the man wearing what looked like a guard's uniform. "Sam over here locked the gate just in time before more people could get in. The fences around the building have kept the roamers out and the smell of this place doesn't draw them in."

  "Yeah, we haven’t left this building since the first few days. We seen the chaos happening all around us and decided it would be best to wait for help." Sam had kept his hair much shorter and his uniform was miraculously still clean. His eyes were tired looking with heavy, black bags under them.

  "Sam keeps watch most nights, while we make sure the wall stays upright." The giant man in blue overalls stood up. "Name's Kevin, that's Pete and Alex over there." The two other men nodded. "Gary is out right now repairing a section of fence over on the far side."

  "This is quite the place you have here, boys," Jason complimented as he stood up and shook Kevin's outreached hand.

  "We want to keep it that way; we don't just let anyone in." Kevin's voice was gruff.

  "We just need to a place to stay until this guy gets up," Hank assured them.

  "What happened to the guy?" Sam asked. He leaned over Nick, looking at the wound on the back of his head. Jason had wrapped an old shirt around Nick's head to try and stop the bleeding. "Was he bitten?"

  "It was the military. They took an ambulance full of medical supplies from us." Eric's voice was full of contempt.

  "Those guys -- stay away from those guys. They've gone mad," Pete warned them.

  "I'm getting my stuff back. We had a lot of medical supplies in that ambulance," Eric stating, ignoring the warning.

  "Good luck; those guys control this city. We had to supply them with all kinds of stuff just so they'd leave us alone." Sam sounded pissed off. "About a dozen loads of logs, most of our oil, and the few working tractors we had."

  "Why would they want that kind of stuff?" It didn't make any sense to Jason.

  "For those giant fires you've seen." Hank leaned against the wall. "They’re luring the zombies into the hockey rink."

  "Why?" Frank scratched at his mustache.

  "They’re going to implode the building, try to kill as many of those creatures as possible." Alex opened up a first aid kit and handed Jason a roll of gauze.

  "Thanks." Jason went over to patch up his friend. The hair on Nick's head was wet with blood. It made it difficult to find where the wound was underneath the wet mess. Jason had to part Nick's hair to find the source of the bleeding: a jagged, open wound about an inch long and half as wide at the crown of his skull. In a matter of seconds, Jason's hands were slick with red fluid.

  "So unless you have something to trade with them, don't bother." Pete fiddled with something in his hands. It looked like some kind of tool that an electrician would have used.

  "We got guns, lots of guns," Eric proposed.

  "Hold on a second. We need those," Frank interrupted.

  "Hey, medicine for guns. Nick will need something when he comes to." Jason stood up and got in Frank's face.

  "They don't care about guns, they have enough of those. Probably better than the ones you have," Hank tried to diffuse the situation between the Jason and Frank but only reminded them of how desperate their situation was.

  "What if we search the pharmacies around town for medical supplies?" Frank had to look up to meet Jason's stare. He was not about to back down. He needed those guns to keep his people safe.

  "Not going to work; the pharmacies have already been picked clean. We need to find something that they need.” Hank was very clear about this point and it was frustrating Frank.

  "We shouldn't get involved with them if they’re dangerous. We’ll have to find another way to get Nick what he needs. I won't get involved." Frank stood his ground.

  Jason bumped into Frank with his chest, sending him stumbling back a step. Chris tried to intervene, but Frank motioned for him to stop. They didn’t need to be fighting amongst each other. “I’m not afraid of them – I’ll take them by force if I have to,” Jason barked at Frank.

  And then Eric brought the whole argument to a crashing halt with: "Hank, how much do you think a helicopter would be worth?" Eric looked at Jason with a sly look on his face.

  The room was silent for a brief moment. Hank looked around at the shocked look on everyone
else's faces, knowing his own looked the same. "Did you say you have a helicopter?" Hank managed to blurt out.

  "Yeah," Eric said casually, as if it were no big deal.

  "Then why didn't you just fly somewhere that was safe?" Hank looked annoyed, and he shook his head in disgust.

  "Do you know how to fly a helicopter?" Eric seemed to be taunting Hank.

  Hank held his tongue for a moment, then let out a long sigh. "No."

  "Yeah, me neither." Eric looked around the room. "Does anybody?" It sounded like a genuine question.

  Nobody answered.

  "How did you end up with a helicopter?" Pete spoke up from the back; he had sat down on a foldout metal chair.

  "The pilot was with us when it all happened. Saved our asses, but he got bit." Eric looked down at the floor, a sombre look on his face.

  Frank moved across the room and grabbed Eric by the shoulder. “Was it Kenny?”

  "It was Kenny," Eric admitted, brushing Frank's arm away.

  Frank’s arm fell limp at his side. "Shit, he was a good man." Frank shook his head.

  "We all lost a lot of good people that day." Alex raised an empty glass as a gesture to the fallen.

  Again the room fell silent. Jason thought about his wife, Tracy, and how he would stop at nothing to get her back from Pharmakon. He thought about his parents, his coworkers, and his friends. He wondered how many of them were still alive, and if he would ever see any of them again. Revenge was the only reason Jason kept going – he’d made a promise to himself that he would get his vengeance against Gordon Purchase and David Steele no matter what he had to do.

  "So, what are we all going to do?" Frank finally broke the silence.

  "We could use some help." Kevin stepped forward. "I think we could get power restored if we get the power station in Deer Lake running again."

  "That building does run on hydro power. Does anyone know how to run it?" Frank was intrigued by the opportunity. His eyes seemed to light up at the prospect.

  "Alex used to work at the power plant about a year ago before he switched to the steam plant, so he knows how to get things going, and Pete is an electrician. Between the two of them, they should be able to get it running." Kevin's face cracked as he smiled. The dirt on his face was so thick that it had formed a crusty mask.

  "We can give you a lift out there." Frank was almost too eager. Jason thought he was acting like a kid in a candy store wanting to buy everything, but would only end up with a bad belly after taking on more than he could handle.

  "We'd need someone to watch our backs." Alex's voice was soft. His frail frame suited his timid voice.

  "I'm sure we can arrange something." Frank looked over at Eric. "You, Jason, and Nick would be perfect for that." Frank seemed like he was negotiating with Eric.

  "I have to think about it, but first I need to get my family to a safe place. I still don't know if we should head to Howley or stay where we are." Eric left the room, and Jason quickly followed behind him.

  "Well, Chris, you and some of the other men could do it." Frank sounded hesitant now.

  "Sure thing, boss." The youngster seemed eager to please the old Chief of Police.

  "Cool, so when do we head to the hydro plant." Kevin grabbed a box of crackers and offered them to the group. He was ready to celebrate and in these days, a box of crackers was as good as a birthday cake.

  "Let us scout out the area first. We’ll come back to get you." Frank held his hand out for a handshake and Kevin quickly grasped it. Both men seemed like businessmen finally coming to terms on some huge blockbuster deal. "We should get going." Frank motioned for Chris.

  "Hope to see you soon." Kevin held the door open for them.

  Hank looked past the men in the doorway to Eric and Jason. It looked like they were arguing about something.

  As Frank left the room, he placed his hand on the back of Eric's shoulder. "Look, son, if you ever need help you know where to find me. Okay?"

  Eric never turned to face Frank. "Frank, I just don't know what we're going to do." After an awkward moment, Frank finally left and headed down the ladder.

  "Eric, I think we should give it a try. They seem to be doing way better than we are,” Jason said.

  "You just have to trust me, Jason, we’re better off where we’re to." Anger was heavy on Eric's voice. "You notice he left us without a ride to the military base?"

  "Hey, we’re better off on foot," Hank interjected.

  "Are you kidding me?" Eric snapped back.

  "No, I'm really opposed to cars. The noise draws too much attention. You draw a mob of those undead freaks to the military base -- they won't deal with you. They’ll just kill you." Hank met the furious eyes glaring back at him with reason.

  "Alright, but then how do we approach the military base?" Eric was finally calming down.

  "I’ll do it." Hank grabbed his backpack from the floor and flung it over his shoulder.

  "They won't try to kill you?"

  "Nah, I'm a fucking movie star. Those guys love me, man." Hank laughed.

  "I'll stay here with Nick, if that's alright with you guys?" Jason asked Kevin.

  "Uh, yeah, sure." Kevin looked back at Sam who gave a nod back. "That's fine."

  "Alright, Hollywood, I guess I'm your entourage."

  CHAPTER SIX:

  GUN FIGHT

  A smashed-in window on an old Chevy Cavalier, the bottom edge showing signs of rust that long preceded the apocalypse, caught Eric's attention. The back window was grimy and covered in filth, and every window had cracks that mimicked spider webs. The front passenger’s door was buckled in with a large dent along the bottom and there was a pool of dried blood on the pavement underneath the car. Large skid marks about seven feet long indicated that the car had been struck at the nearby intersection and thrown across to the opposite side of the road. All it took was a simple application of his detective skills for Eric to deduct that a car crash had caused the passenger’s demise.

  A dark red bloodstain stained the splintered cracks in the passenger window. A dead woman slumped forward in the seat, her head resting against the dashboard.

  THUD!

  A bloodied hand banged the window, startling Eric and causing him to jump back. Low, hungry moans escaped the throat of the passenger.

  Eric made his way to the front of the car. A young woman was still strapped into her seat. The seatbelt was cutting into the flesh of her neck as she strained to free herself. Her bright red hair was matted to her face, partially covering her blood shot eyes. The creature’s milky eyes fixated on Eric. Blood from a giant gash on her head had dried and stained her olive coloured jacket. A mixture of blackened blood and brown slime ran down her face while the zombie salivated over the potential meal just outside her clutches. The driver’s side door was left ajar; whoever had been driving the car left her for dead.

  "How could you just leave someone to die like this?" The thought revolted Eric.

  "You weren't here in the city the night this all took place, were you?" Hank chuckled, seemingly mocking him.

  "Actually, I was at the hospital trying to save people's lives. I barely made it out of town with a handful of survivors." Eric walked over to the driver’s side.

  Hank fell silent for a moment. "…Sorry," he said finally.

  "Don't apologize." Eric gazed into the monster's eyes and he realized that he had known her before she turned. He remembered responding to several domestic abuse calls from an apartment downtown. The young woman was the victim of her alcoholic boyfriend, too afraid to leave him in fear of retribution. They had had a child together, Eric remembered as he looked into the backseat and seeing the bloodied child car seat. He was too afraid to get a closer look. It was ironic now: she had been too afraid to leave her abusive boyfriend, but his fear has led him to run away and leave his family for dead. The cowardly excuse of a man had fled the vehicle while the impact of the accident probably left her unconscious and vulnerable to the wandering flesh-hungry ghoul
s.

  "I can't believe this happened." This was his first encounter with someone he had interacted with in the community. "She didn't deserve what happened to her in life."

  "None of us deserved this." Hank held out the pickaroon for Eric. "You can end her suffering."

  Eric looked at the poor young girl. "Some people did." Eric thought about the pathetic excuse of a man she had chosen to waste her life with. At least now he could offer her some peace with this act of mercy. Eric drove the pickaroon through the broken window into the car, the sharp point sinking easily into the softened skull. A trickle of sludge oozed out of the wound as her head went limp and her body slumped over the dashboard.

  Eric pulled the pickaroon back and admired it. "Where did you find this?"

  "My grandfather was a logger." Hank reached out for the menacing tool.

  "What were you even doing here? How did you get stuck back in this shitty old town?" If Eric had ended up becoming a celebrity, he would have never come back to Corner Brook.

  "I checked out of rehab early to see my grandfather. They told me he was dying." Hank paused for a moment. "The night this all happened we were having a drink in his shed. I thought he passed out drunk, but I guess he... passed away." Hank sounded mournful.

  Eric was at a loss for words.

  "He came after me like he never knew who I was. I panicked and grabbed the pickaroon... " Hank trailed off and then started walking, not waiting for Eric to follow.

  Once Eric caught up, leaving the corpse and car behind, they walked in silence for several minutes. Only the wind blowing through the trees broke that awkward silence, the tree branches moaning overhead. Occasionally a leaf would flutter from a branch and float around before falling to the ground. Neither man said a word as they walked down the street. Occasionally they heard the scuffle of feet behind them. With every shuffle, Eric twitched and fought the urge to glance behind him.