Apocalypse Atlanta

by Rogers, David

  Feeling refreshed after his shower – but still a little out of sorts after having been forced to sleep, then get up and stand guard, then go back to sleep again – he went barefoot down the hallway to the kitchen. When he got there, he took one look inside and abruptly decided he was not going in.

  “Uh, Jody.” he called hesitantly. The kitchen was a whirl of activity. Every counter, and both sides of the so called dining table, was occupied by someone who was mixing or stacking or otherwise preparing some food item or another. Whatever they were doing, it smelled wonderful, but they also looked busy as hell.

  “Damn DJ, you looking extra fine.” Monique cooed.

  Darryl resisted the urge to scowl. She was still playing a hard press with just about any of the Dogz she could get to stand still long enough for her to say something to. And a few who kept moving. He wasn’t in the mood, but he also wasn’t in the mood for a fight.

  “What’s wrong?” Jody asked, turning from the sink where she was doing something under the faucet.

  “This shirt, it too small.” Darryl said, holding up the shirt that had been in the stack of clean clothes he’d been given shortly after awakening.

  “Hmm. Well, it ain’t cause you too fat, that much I can see.” Jody said, shaking her hands over the sink to get rid of a film of water that clung to them. Darryl shrugged. He wasn’t particularly modest about his body, especially when it came to women, but usually when a woman looked at him half naked it was because she was on her way to being naked herself.

  “Come on, let’s get you one that won’t rip apart at the seams.” Jody said.

  “You mean one that’ll fit over them firm shoulders of his.” Monique called as Jody went past Darryl and he turned to follow her.

  “Damnit, I wish she’d quit that.” he muttered.

  He’d intended the comment to himself, just as a way to vent a little, but Jody answered without pausing as she went down the hall toward the bedrooms. “She’s scared of being alone. Don’t mind her unless you don’t want to be alone either.”

  Darryl stopped in the doorway of the first bedroom, which Jody had gone into. The bed and little end table that had been in here were gone, replaced with stacks of neatly folded clothing.

  “What you mean?” Darryl asked as Jody bent to a pile of shirts.

  “What the size on that one you got there?”

  Darryl looked at the tag on the t-shirt they’d given him. Annoying though Monique was being, she hadn’t been wrong. He wasn’t fat, and the shirt was way too narrow across the shoulders. He might have squeezed into it, but odds were it was going to split pretty quick. “Uh . . . this a XL.”

  “How small is it?”

  “Too small.”

  “No, damnit.” Jody sat back on her heels, then shook her head. “I’m sorry DJ. I’m just busy. I mean, how ‘too small’ is that shirt?” she asked contritely.

  “Pretty small.” Darryl said, not sure exactly how to answer her. “I can barely get my arms through the sleeves.”

  “Hmm, let’s try a 3XL then.” Jody went back to looking through the pile of clothes. “What were you asking me?”

  “Why she scared? Or, I guess, what she scared of?”

  Jody sighed. “She afraid that since she a ex without no kids she might get kicked out if Bobo change his mind about who can stay.”

  Darryl blinked. “Why she think that?”

  Jody paused midway down the stack, double checking the tag, before she pulled it out of the pile. “Like I said, she just scared.” She shook the shirt out and held it up in front of Darryl’s chest. “Hmm, see if this fit.”

  “Uh . . . where the dirty clothes going?” Darryl asked, wondering what to do with the bundle in his hands.

  “You care if you get the same ones back or not?” Jody asked.

  Darryl considered briefly. “Naw, they ain’t nothing special.”

  “They go in here then.” Jody said, lifting the lid on a garbage can. It looked brand new, and Darryl saw it was half full with other clothes.

  “We throwing them out?” he asked as he dumped everything in his hands except the too-small shirt and his boots into the can.

  “Naw, but if you want the same ones to come back then I was gonna write your name on them.” Jody said, dropping the lid back down and pulling a silver sharpie marker out of her pocket to show him. “Bobo said we might see about finding a washing machine or something if things calm down. Otherwise we’ll be washing by hand.”

  “Alright.” Darryl put the boots down on the lid of the clothes can and pulled the shirt over his head. It was a little scratchy, but it was brand new so that was to be expected. It was black, which he liked, but there was a big generic picture of a gray wolf posing in front of a moonlit forest, which he liked less. But it was clean, which was important, and it fit properly, which was the key as far as he was concerned.

  “How that?”

  Darryl twisted at the waist, swinging his arms back and forth across his body experimentally. “Yeah, better. Thanks.” The shirt was still a touch snug across the shoulders, but he was used to that, and it wasn’t enough to be a problem.

  “You know, Monique not wrong.” Jody said.

  Darryl picked up his boots and gave Jody a curious look. “About what?”

  “You do look pretty fine.” Jody said, smiling faintly. “Maybe in a few days, if we get things settled down some and find a routine we all get used to . . . maybe you and me could spend a little time together.”

  His initial reaction was to say no, but he held his tongue, not wanting to hurt her feelings. As he did, he looked her up and down. Jody was a curvy woman, and not too short. He towered over most women, but she was tall enough that she was just short, not dwarfed, next to him. Her eyes met his with a fairly neutral look, though there was a flicker of something in them he couldn’t quite place.

  “How long until things get settled?” Darryl heard himself ask.

  Jody shrugged. “Maybe a couple of days. Depends on if people kick up a fuss or not.”

  Darryl gave her another look, then smiled. He almost felt like it was a fully genuine one. “Well, ain’t none of us going nowhere. Let’s see how it go.”

  “I gotta get back in there or lunch ain’t never gonna get done.” Jody said, slipping past him. She did brush against him as she went by though, and allowed one hand to trail briefly across his biceps. Her touch left him before he even thought to flex his arm to its best effect.

  “Damn.” he muttered after she was gone. He shook his head after a couple of seconds and pulled his boots on one at a time while standing there, then went back down the hallway without bothering to tie them.

  The backyard was again serving as a gathering point. The fresh air was nice, as was the chance to not be packed inside next to everyone else. So far the air conditioning was still running because the power hadn’t failed, but he knew if the power went there’d be a lot of outside time being clocked whenever possible.

  He traded nods with a few people and claimed a vacant chair, dragging it closer to the main grouping that seemed to be near the fire pit. He did note, darkly, nearly everyone was sitting on the far side of the fire pit, away from the house, and away from where all the deaths had been the previous day. The grass in those areas was already turning yellow from the bleach that had been poured on it.

  “DJ, what you think?”

  Darryl finished sitting down and saw a number of the Dogz looking at him. “About what?”

  “How long until zombies gonna get here?” Joker asked.

  “What the fuck kind of question is that?” Darryl said, barely managing not to turn his response into a snap or a snarl. He tried to cover the extent of his irritation by pulling his cigarettes out and tapping one from the pack.

  “Hey, all them zombies tearing through Atlanta, and they saying Athens is a damn hell zone – it a relevant question.”

  “Ain’t no need for none of us to go wishing for trouble.” Big Chief said. He had a beer in h
is hand, and Darryl suddenly paused with the Bic lighter unlit in his hands, looking around for the cooler. He could really use a beer. Maybe a couple of beers.

  “I ain’t wishing no trouble.” Joker protested “But we ready ain’t we? Why not thin the herd out some?”

  “Fuck man, that ain’t right.” a couple people muttered audibly.

  Darryl managed to catch Big Chief’s eye and made a drinking motion, gesturing to the can in the other man’s hand. Big Chief grinned and snapped his fingers at a nearby boy who was fiddling with a Gameboy. The boy looked up, saw Big Chief pointing at Darryl, and ran over to the barn. Darryl watched him go, then lit his cigarette.

  “You a damn fool.” Burnout was saying to Joker.

  “No, I for real.” Joker protested. “If nothing happen them zombies just gonna keep wandering around eating folks, right? Why not do what we can to clean them out some?”

  “Oh . . . Dog, just leave it the fuck alone.” Chrome said, shaking his head.

  “Come on now, someone gotta do it. Why can’t we help a little bit?”

  “They dropped some kind of bomb on Atlanta.” Low said, clearly nervous about it. “That’ll fix it, right?”

  Some people shrugged, but it was Tank who spoke first. “I ain’t never did figure out what kind of bomb they said that was. News didn’t explain where I heard”

  There was a general pause, and Darryl hid a grin. Typically, most of the Dogz didn’t want to come off as too smart. Even about something as presumably cool and macho as stuff getting blown up. EZ was the one who finally answered, but only after several of the Dogz were clearly looking at him to do so.

  “It a fuel bomb.” the biker offered when it became obvious he was supposed to say something. “You don’t know what that is?”

  “Naw.” Tank shook his head. “I know regular bombs, and I guess I know what nukes is, but this one I don’t know.”

  EZ grinned. “It a bomb that got a whole lot of fuel in it, right? They drop it, and before it hit the fuel get released in a big ass cloud. It go everywhere, just like air, cause it almost is air at that point. Air mixed with fuel.”

  “What kind of fuel?” Needles asked.

  EZ shrugged. “Just . . . like gas or something. I dunno. But after it release all the gas into the air, it go off and make the cloud go off. Whoomp!” He made a blowing up gesturing with both hands, holding them together then casting them apart in an upward direction.

  “Like a gas main blowing up?” Tank asked slowly.

  “Yeah, like that. But bigger.”

  “Whole lot bigger.” Big Chief nodded. “When it go, if it get dropped right, it as big as a small nuke.”

  “Yeah.” EZ grinned. “But no radiation and shit. Just bomb.”

  “Fuck.”

  Darryl saw the boy coming back from the barn with a can of beer in his hand. He reached out and took it when the boy reached him, giving him a grin and a thumbs up. Popping the top, Darryl tipped his head back and savored a long drink. It was even cold. When he lowered his head and sighed happily, he saw Big Chief smiling. Darryl tipped his head gratefully in response.

  “That don’t mean we ought not kill all the zombies we can get at.” Joker protested.

  Darryl abruptly decided he didn’t like where that line of conversation might go. “Joker?”

  Joker looked over at him along with nearly everyone else. “Yeah DJ?”

  “Shut the fuck up about it bro. Just relax, enjoy the day or something.”

  Joker held up both hands. “Hey, DJ, I ain’t trying to cause no trouble.”

  “Then don’t.” Darryl said, then took another long drink. He frowned at the can a little; it was already half gone, and he didn’t know what the deal with getting more was.

  “Hey, hey, hey.” Needles said, standing up and reaching into his pocket. “I know what we need to chill.” He pulled a slim metal case out of his pocket and spit it open in his hands. Darryl couldn’t see what was in it from where he was sitting, but Needles held something up that looked like a cigarette. Except he knew Needles, so it probably was a joint.

  “Yeah.” “Hell yeah.” “Shit, right on.” a number of Dogz said at the same time. Darryl hesitated, then shrugged. If he couldn’t drain a six pack, firing a burner would go over pretty good too.

  “Now there gonna have to be some sharing, so anyone who gonna partake need to get together in a good circle.”

  “Fuck you and your circle jerking.” Burnout said, but he got up and slid his chair closer.

  Darryl got up, but he looked behind himself at the roof of the clubhouse. To his surprise he saw a small pavilion had been set up. It wasn’t much, just some aluminum tube legs that were connected at the top by more to form a hollow square, but they held up a tarpaulin and provided some shade. That was probably a good idea, especially since sooner or later it was going to rain, but the important thing was he saw five guys sitting up there looking off in different directions.

  Dragging his chair into the assembling circle, Darryl went over to Big Chief and leaned in a little so he didn’t have to talk loud. “Who next up on the roof, and how long?”

  Big Chief looked a little surprised at the question ,then shrugged. “Uh, I ain’t sure.”

  Darryl straightened up and looked around. “Who next on the roof to guard?” Three hands went up; Burnout, Chrome and Fish. “When?”

  “When what?” Chrome asked.

  “When you going up on the roof?”

  “Oh, like two I think it was.”

  “That three hours.” Shooter offered, giving Darryl a slight nod of understanding.

  “Right.” Darryl said, mollified. He didn’t have anything against a good buzz, but it occurred to him the guards needed to be reasonably alert or there wasn’t much point in putting them up there. He sat down and finished off his smoke while the circle finished forming and Needles lit the first joint.

  “How much you brought?” Tank asked, accepting the joint after Needles had it going and took a big puff.

  “Shit, like a couple of pounds.” Needles grinned. “Lucky us. If them zombies had started eating everyone next week I would of done already moved most of it on.”

  “Word.” Tank said before taking an enormously big hit off the joint and passing it on.

  Darryl waited patiently. Like he’d told Jody a few minutes ago, there was nowhere to go. Needles got three more of the joints going, getting up and starting them at different parts of the circle. When one of them came to him, Darryl took it and pulled a nice long toke.

  As the sweet smoke swirled through his lungs, he took another moment to admire the joint before handing it on. Needles was definitely just a couple of bad days away from being a full on crack head, but he did know how to roll a good joint. His looked exactly like cigarettes; in fact, at one party, Needles had gotten cigarette style filters and rolled joints with those in the ends. A lot of people who didn’t normally smoke had fallen for that one.

  “Don’t be bogarting bro.” Low said from next to him. Darryl handed the joint on and glanced over to see how far away the next one was from circling over to him. He had a minute or two.

  “So, I got a question that been bugging me since yesterday.” 2C said lazily.

  “It hurt?” Stony asked with a clever look.

  “Naw, not yet anyway.” 2C grinned. “But I serious. For real. Heat, Lakers. How many LeBron gonna score if the Lakers all trying to eat him?”

  There was a pause, then just about everyone burst out laughing. Darryl shook his head, picturing the basketball player trying to dribble around five zombies. He himself liked to root for the Hawks, even if they did fucking suck most years. But he also liked watching a good game, and LeBron was damned good. But even so.

  “How they gonna run a game with LeBron against five zombies?” Stick asked.

  “Yeah, ref gonna call it for one on five.” Tank said.

  2C’s grin widened. “Not if the ref a zombie too.”

  More laughter. “Wait,
there can’t be no zombie pro team.” Evil said.

  “Why the hell not?”

  Evil shrugged. “Ain’t enough reporters and shit left around for LeBron to do another ‘Decision’.” he said, making quote marks with his fingers. “An ESPN busy broadcasting real news. He ain’t gonna change over to zombie without a hour on teevee.”

  This time there were a few boos intermixed with the laughs, particularly from the Heat or LeBron fans. Darryl accepted the next joint as it reached him and took a long toke.

  As he leaned back, he heard the outside speakers come to life as someone inside the house turned them on. But they didn’t blast music. Instead he heard an unfamiliar voice reporting on the status of outbreaks in various major cities around the country. Darryl shrugged, took another quick puff from the joint, and passed it on.

  Leaning back, letting the smoke dribble lazily from his mouth and up into his nostrils, he settled in to listen to what was going on as the Dogz continued shooting the shit. Sure enough, just as he expected, the world was still coming to an end.

  ###

  Afterword

  I wrote this story because it was trying to claw its way out of my head for a couple of years. I finally gave up trying to hold it back and sat down to write it. I’m better now. A few things come to mind that I’d like to leave you with.

  First, I didn’t set this in Atlanta because of another certain zombie franchise that is set in Atlanta. I set it in Atlanta because I live here, and because I know the city pretty well. At the risk of sounding pretty damned immodest, I like to think I’m using Atlanta more extensively than the other franchise is.

  Second, while I used a lot of memory, real life trips, and some sessions with Google Maps to help me block out scenes, some of the locations have been modified for the needs of the story. So if you’re also an Atlanta native and notice a store isn’t where I said it was, or that a building is occupied by different tenants than I portrayed it as, that’s why. Hopefully a minor thing that shouldn’t throw anyone too badly.