Wicked

by John M. Davis

She was pinned in against the sink in the next room – kicking up at one of the infected plague-bearers for her life. Derick sprang to his feet and began to hustle into the kitchen. Quickly finding himself in the midst of three more.

  How the fuck?

  The boards had not been pried from the windows. The front door was still locked twice over, with a large bookshelf pushed in its path. But the basement door stood open.

  Shit!

  Making things worse, the growls of starving dead echoed around as lots of feet made their way up the steps.

  “Lisa!” he shouted.

  Just as loudly, footsteps of the living shuffled downstairs in order to find out what was going on. Rudy knew right away that it was over.

  “Derick,” he shouted. “You can't save her!”

  “I've got to.”

  Derick fired a few blind shots in the dark, taking caution in not aiming them anywhere near the woman he loved. But there was now at least a dozen dead infecting shuffling about. Lisa continued to cry, but the tone of her pleading had changed. They'd gotten to her.

  Derick began to chop his way to Lisa, using the heel of his pistol.

  “Derick-” Rudy said.

  He grabbed the desperate man from behind, wrapping both of his strong arms around his torso. Soon after, he began dragging him up the stairs.

  “Let me go!”

  “Derick,” Rudy argued. “She's gone. He screams are gone.”

  Derick pulled away with aggression but didn't try to get to her. Rudy was right. The dead had overtaken her in her sleep and were already mauling at her flesh. He could hear their snarls of murder.

  “Goddam it!” he shouted.

  “Derick, we need to get upstairs and block the staircase while we still can.” Rudy said with desperation in his voice.

  He said nothing, but Derick began up the staircase in shock. His body tingled with surreal numbness. He questioned wanting to live.

  “Lamar,” Rudy whispered loud. “Help me get something in front of the stairs!”

  “Yea.” Lamar replied.

  He stumbled about, still half asleep. Yet he threw his back into whatever they could find. At first, it was a clothing armoire made of solid wood. They would lay it down onto its side and completely block the stairs in the process. Still, they would heap more things up into a pile – completely roadblocking the dead, who were still feasting on Lisa's remains.

  Desks, a large bathroom cabinet and a couple of television stands.

  “We need to fill any drawers we see up with anything heavy.”

  They were now stripping all of the small things from each of the rooms upstairs and dumping them into the drawers of the cabinets, which gave the pile of junk serving as a roadblock a lot more authority.

  As dead began to claw at the pile, they found that it wouldn't budge. The stairs were too narrow to get many bodies shuffling up at one time. Three, maybe four sets of hands pounding against the thick wood...that was it.

  Lamar looked over the edge, across the banister and shook his head.

  “Must be fifty of 'em down there.”

  “We're good,” Rudy said with sweat on his brow. “They aren't coming up here anytime soon, but we can't take our eyes off of this pile. Just as a precaution.”

  “How long will it hold them?” Pam asked.

  “A long time,” Rudy replied. “But most of the things were need are downstairs. We need to find a way out of here as soon as possible.”

  “It's my fault.” Derick admitted.

  “What are you talking-” Pam began.

  “Lisa is dead because of me. I was supposed to be on watch – I fell asleep.” Derick admitted, swallowing his pride.

  “Hell kid, you haven't slept in almost four days. It was bound to happen,” Rudy said. Doing what he could to cheer the young man up. “Besides, she never should have stormed off to go downstairs in the first place. That basement door didn't hold. Lots of things played into this. It isn't your fault.”

  “What are we going to do now?” Lamar asked.

  “I don't know.” Rudy replied.

  I don't know.

  For a moment, everything was beautiful. Sunlight began to peek through the curtains upstairs and Derick could see the sun snooping over the horizon. A magical splashing of reds and yellows followed behind, lighting up the clouds around it.

  He wanted to believe that it was Lisa's way of telling him that she was better off now. That sunset was her apology.

  No, she shouldn't have run downstairs in a tirade and he certainly shouldn't have followed her. But he'd made plenty of mistakes since the first hours of the plague, too.

  Making love to Lisa certainly wasn't one of them.

  “You ready?” A.K. asked.

  “There's liable to be a lot of the dead take interest in us once we fire the engine up.” Carlos replied.

  He was a bit cautious, though certainly not afraid. They'd spent the better part of the day rummaging through the vehicles nearby and had found a few things of interest. Three bottles of prescription antibiotics – one of which was half-empty; several bottles of water, a handful of small arms ammunition, which would fit a 9mm pistol; a battery-operated radio; four flashlights: a bunch of batteries and a shitload of dead bodies.

  Interestingly, Carlos had also found a map of some sort. Ranch Seventeen it read. Beyond that, there were no real markings, just a lot of roads. He assumed it was a layout of the greater downtown Charlotte area, but didn't ask. In fact, he concealed the map from A.K.

  He wanted to trust his new partner and for the most part, he did. But Carlos remembered something he'd learned back in prison, during his first full week as a convict. His cellmate Tasker had shared words of “infinite wisdom”, as he'd called them.

  Never trust a cop. Once a cop, always a cop.

  Carlos wasn't sure if that even applied now, given the fact that pretty much everyone he'd ever known was either dead or missing. But A.K. had been a cop. He still moved like one, even down to the way he handled a pistol. Carlos had no problem splitting the work of survival with an ex-cop, but he understood that there would likely come a time when an ex-cop and an ex-con wouldn't be able to coexist. So he wanted to keep his options open.

  Closing his eyes for a moment, A.K. turned the key.

  The engine of the Hummer began purring like an extraordinarily loud kitten. Firm, yet subtle, proving that is was indeed luxury first. They'd filled the tank with gasoline from other vehicles. A machine so fine probably wasn't used to the lower grade stuff, but they needed to face the facts. They'd both likely be dead long before the Hummer's engine started knocking around with second rate gasoline.

  At first, the mammoth vehicle eased out from around the car that had pinned it in. Someone had panicked for sure. It didn't take long for the two men to maneuver around several abandoned cars and get rolling. Though to the original owner's credit, there had likely been a horde of dead pursuing fast.

  Just as they'd predicted, dozens of dead who'd been scavenging their own loot in the form of salty flesh took notice. Quickly standing with curiosity and then beginning sprints as though they were truly wild animals. Even their howls were gut-wrenching.

  “Step on it.” Carlos said.

  “I'm trying,” A.K. replied. “They're all over the place.”

  “Run 'em down!”

  A.K. hesitated for a moment. As loud thumping took hold, the Hummer shook for a moment. Passing over a clump of infected flesh. And then another. Once he realized that the SUV could take the pounding rather easily, he pushed the accelerator down hard and began running infected over as they came. The windshield of the vehicle quickly became covered in a mist of blood droplets, but he never slowed down.

  Shortly after, they were in the clear and moving quickly away from the cars that had jammed the interstate up in a panic. They saw nothing but open road in front of them with a few desperate infected sprinting behind.

  ** **

  “Look at 'em.” Lamar said.
r />   He and Pam stood on the top floor of the home, looking over the balcony. Dozens of living dead had gathered down below. Each of them snarling as they looked upward, hoping for some sort of mishap. In which case, they'd indeed eat those they'd spoken for.

  The staircase was completely blocked and the dead had all but given up hope on making their way upstairs. There was an occasional beating against the wooden wardrobe that blocked their path. But even the dead weren't dumb enough to believe they could actually push past it...not after hours of trying.

  “What are we going to do?” Pam asked.

  She'd joined Lamar in looking over the high railing.

  “Not sure,” he replied. “But it's a safe bet that whatever we come up with isn't going to involve going downstairs.”

  Pam watched as the dead snapped up at them. The winding staircase had put them nearly twenty feet higher than the first floor of the home. Just enough to get them out of harm's way, while teasing their famished eyes.

  “These used to be people.” Pam said.

  “I guess.”

  “They had jobs...and families,” Pam continued. “And now look at them. A part of me wants to feel sorry for them.”

  “I don't hear you crying the blues when they're chasing our asses.” Lamar grinned.

  Pam joined him in smiling.

  “I don't feel that sorry for them,” she admitted. “But I do think about all of the families that have lost loved ones.”

  “Think about all of the families that have lost because of them,” Lamar said. “That's what keeps me going with a clean conscience,” turning, he looked at the bedroom's closed door. “What do you think they're talking about in there?”

  Pam shrugged.

  “I think I have a plan.” Rudy said.

  “Good.”

  “Well, I wouldn't say good,” he admitted. “It's a half-assed plan at best. And it involves a lot of risks.”

  “Oh.” Derick replied.

  “I've kept my eyes on these windows. This neighborhood is overrun – you and I both know that. But this window,” he pointed. “Leads to a short backyard and then a treeline. It's the only one. The rest of the windows we have up here either lead out onto the street or to one of the sides of the house, and everything down there is overrun.”

  “So what's the plan?” Derick was curious.

  “Back at the sporting goods store, I picked up some rope. I didn't think too much about it, honestly. It was there and lightweight, so I grabbed it. I think we can make it down to the ground through that window and with any luck...to that treeline.”

  “You said it yourself; it's overrun down there.”

  “Yea, but maybe we can lure them inside of the house. Most of them, anyway. If we could just somehow get their attention long enough to get away.”

  Derick looked around for several moments. Finally, he spotted the answer.

  “I think I can rig something up.”

  As he began making his way to an alarm clock, Rudy grabbed his shoulder.

  “I'm going to need you to have your head in this.”

  “It is.”

  “I like Lamar and Pam's one hell of a fighter...but you and I are the strong ones here. That's why I'm going over this plan with you instead of them.”

  Derick nodded.

  “You were right, you know?”

  “About what?” Rudy asked.

  “Lisa,” he admitted with a soft tone. “You said she was weak and it was only a matter of time. I didn't want to believe it. I thought I could protect her, but you were right.”

  “I know,” Rudy said. “But I didn't want to be.”

  “I know.” Derick replied.

  He'd miss the comfort that Lisa's smile brought him. Her innocence had radiated in such a way that he'd not had to think about a lot of the things they were doing in order to survive. These people were infected, but they were still people.

  “You good?”

  “Yea,” Derick replied. Missing her smile so much that it hurt. “I'm good.”

  ** **

  Run.

  No other thought came to A.K.'s mind at that very moment. Just a very primal instinct; it was the zombies or him.

  “Better pray this thing's unlocked!” Carlos shouted.

  As they sprinted for the only door in sight, hundreds of infected ran them down from behind. They were less than twenty feet away and closing fast. The Humvee had brought them to the hospital's property, but they'd quickly found the roads blocked by what had once been military checkpoints. Vehicles sat there, burned out for the most part. The roads beneath them were blackened and thousands of loose casings lay scattered around, as did the unfortunate bodies of soldiers. Severed limbs, heaps of rotting guts and literally hundreds of infected – the latter taking interest in the roar of their Humvee as it approached.

  They'd realized fast that it wasn't a matter of outrunning the horde. They'd need to stop, begin turning and it would take a few licks to get the SUV pointed back in the opposite direction. So without a moment to spare, both men had jumped from the Humvee and began running with every ounce of life they had.

  Carlos reached down to the linear door handle, praying that it opened.

  Click.

  His prayers had been answered, and just in time. Pulling the door open gave a whooshing sound and brought a smell of death with it.

  “Get in!” Carlos yelled.

  A.K. was inside first, nearly falling over his own feet with hurry. Steadying back fast, he hoisted his rifle. Carlos rushed in behind him. He could think of no other way to stop the horde. Without hesitation, Carlos slid his own rifle sideways into the linear handle on the inside, which held it in place against the wall. Immediately, the door began to shake. Hands of the hungry dead were trying to peel the door off fast.

  “Quick,” Carlos said. “Find something to jam in here!”

  A.K.'s hands scrambled around the dark hospital for a moment. Emergency flood lights were on, but he wondered how much longer they'd last. Batteries eventually wore out. Grabbing a metal pole that normally held IV bags and equipment, he began kicking the base of it off. Finally handing the metal pole over to Carlos.

  It was tricky. He'd need to slide the pole into the door's handle while pulling his rifle out. They both wouldn't fit and the slightest miscue would be a death sentence.

  “We'll do it on three,” A.K. began. “I'll pull the rifle out...you slide the pole in.”

  “Shit,” Carlos said. Taking a deep breath, he agreed. “OK.”

  Three. Two. One...

  A.K. jerked the rifle out and Carlos immediately slammed the IV pole in its place. The door held just fine. Carlos wasted no time – he began curling the ends of the pole as best he could. Leaning into it with all of his might.

  “Here.” A.K. said. He stomped another pole's base and wheels away.

  Carlos nodded; he then slid it in behind the first. And with a great deal of effort, he bent the ends around. Ensuring that neither pole could be shaken loose.

  “Fuck that was close.” A.K. said.

  Both men were exhausted. Their skin was damp with sweat and each took a seat at the base of the door – staring off into a hospital that was almost completely dark. For better or for worse, they'd made it to Charlotte's largest hospital.

  “There are bound to be infected inside.” Carlos said.

  There had to be. If the door was open for them, there was no telling how many of the brainless rots had found their way in, too.

  “Yea,” A.K. replied. “But they aren't nearby, otherwise we'd be dead right now.”

  “Good point.”

  Clicking a flashlight on for several moments, Carlos moved his light and gun back and forth in a sweeping motion. He saw a nurse's station, lots of technology that served as nothing more than bricks of plastic and metal without electricity and several doors.

  The beating against the thick metal door had subsided. There was still a random smashing of dead fist against steel, but it was done wit
h spite. The wicked had lost their meal and they didn't have the attention span to keep trying. Instead, they moved along rather fast, in search of a rotting carcass on the hospital's campus.

  “We need to find a place to call our own for a few hours.” Carlos said.

  “Agreed.”

  Both Carlos and A.K. slowly rose to their feet. Each held a rifle out and Carlos continued scanning the area with his flashlight. They prepared to clear the area around them, room by room. Hoping like hell that it was as empty as it looked.

  Chapter 7

  “Can't believe we're about to do this shit.” Lamar said.

  The house still had power. But for how long? That was anyone's guess. So they needed to do this now, rather than later. Lamar stood back to his feet, having hooked up a surround sound system to a television that they'd positioned at the top of the staircase. Several extension cords fed a line of power to the install.

  “I thought of you as soon as I saw it.” Derick replied.

  “Yea, well...it'll be loud enough. That's for sure.”

  “We need to make a lot of noise.” Rudy admitted.

  “Trust me,” Lamar began. “This is the MX-JS9500.”

  “The what?” Pam asked.

  “It's top of the line,” he replied. “When we fire this thing up, it'll sound like an airplane getting ready to take off.”

  “I found a DVD.” Derick said proudly.

  “A DVD?” Lamar asked.

  “Yea...” Derick stopped in his tracks. “No?”

  “I mean it'll work, but damn. Who spends a grand and a half on a surround sound system and uses DVD's?”

  “I dunno,” Derick replied. “I use DVD's and a 13-inch television.”

  “Cord-cutter here.” Pam admitted.

  They turned to Rudy.

  “I read books,” he said with a scowl. “It's cheaper.”

  “Top Gun?” Lamar asked.

  “Nice.” Rudy smiled.

  “It's the only one I found sitting out in the open.” Derick admitted.

  “I'll lower the rope,” Rudy said. “When I give the signal, you start the music. Derick, you're down first. It should be pretty clear as long as the music is loud enough. Pam, you're behind Derick. Then Lamar and then I'll come down last.”