Wicked

by John M. Davis

  Lamar turned to his friend and smiled.

  “Just remember, we gotta smash in windows until we hear an alarm – then duck. This is a rich neighborhood so they should have plenty of alarms on their vehicles. We don't run – we duck, then wait for the others to start smashing.”

  “How many ways can this plan go south?” Derick asked.

  “Well, if we run before the others are ready, we'll end up stranding them out here to die. Then again, if we duck and wait and they can find another car alarm, the wicked will eventually pin us down and kill us.”

  “Oh.”

  “It's cool though,” Lamar began. “We've picked out the most expensive cars on the street. Now we just need to go from there.”

  “Who's doing the honors?” Derick asked.

  Lamar nudged his friend along an empty hand. Derick wasted no time; he wrapped his fist up with a thick red shirt and smashed his fist through the driver's side window of a rather pricey Mercedes. Immediately, his wrist began stinging like a dog's ass to flame. He pulled it back and clenched his teeth. Worse, even, was the fact that he heard nothing aside from small pieces of glass hitting the pavement.

  “Shit, no alarm,” Lamar said.

  “Damn.” Derick bitched under his breath.

  “We're gonna have to smash another.”

  Derick had been so quick to smash the first window, never realizing how much of a fight tempered glass put up. Now he had to do it again? He'd surely regret it later but was prepared to do what needed to be done. They remained ducked close to the pavement and moved ahead several feet to get beside a large white SUV.

  Lamar nodded.

  As Derick stood to his feet, he caught sight of something important enough to force him back to a ducking position.

  “What is it – is it a wicked?” Lamar asked.

  Derick shook his head. “No. Through the window of the SUV, I can see a pistol laying in the seat. I also saw a small back in the floorboard. Maybe somebody was getting ready to leave and-”

  “Well, someone would have to be a dumbass to leave this neighborhood. This place is about as good as it gets when it comes to dealing with zombies.”

  “Still, there could be a lot more shit in the SUV. Things that we need. If someone was prepping to leave, they likely packed it full of supplies.”

  “Man,” Lamar said. He took a moment to stand up and glance over the hood of the SUV. He could see at least two dozen wicked – possibly more. “We're not gonna have time to toss the vehicle. We'll probably only have thirty seconds or so before they're all over us.”

  “About that,” Derick grinned. “I also saw keys in the SUV. Right there on the seat.”

  “The fu-” Lamar began. He stood up and looked through the driver's side window. Sure enough, there was a set of silver keys.

  “See, I figure we just need to get and go through the keys as fast as we can.”

  “Man, there are a lot of fucking keys on that key ring.” Lamar warned.

  “I know,” Derick said. “You duck in behind these hedges and let me do this. If I get caught, it'll just be my ass. If I find the right key in time, I plan to put some distance between the SUV and these growling stiffs. That should give me a few minutes to toss the vehicle and find anything we can use.”

  “Nope. I'm going with you.”

  “I don't want to put you-” Derick began.

  “If this thing has an alarm, when you break that glass it's gonna draw a lot of attention. Once you find that key and we get to putting rubber on asphalt, we might as well be driving a damn ice cream truck. You do the driving and I'll toss the SUV. Once we're done, we'll park the SUV and haul ass back while doing what we can to avoid the wicked.”

  “We might both get killed trying.” Derick said.

  “Yea, that crossed my mind,” Lamar admitted. “But everyone else will get to the house clean and clear, with no worries. Plus...it's a nice ride.”

  “It's a 2008 Hummer H3 Luxury. I know my cars.” Derick said.

  “So I see.” Lamar looked impressed.

  “Gonna be a shame to smash its window in.”

  This time Derick kept his wrist as straight as possible. He reared back, preparing to smash the driver's side window in.

  “Wait, man, the keys are in the damn thing.” Lamar said.

  Derick looked over at him with confusion.

  “Try the door handle.”

  Derick exhaled slowly and eased up. Reaching down, he pulled up on the handle and heard a distinct CLICK. The SUV's door opened right up.

  -

  “Fucking amateur hour. What's going on over there?” A.K. asked.

  He, along with the rest of their group, ducked in behind a large Ford Expedition. They watched the white SUV that Lamar and Derick had taken a spot behind.

  “Not sure.” Carlos replied.

  Then, without any sort of warning, the engine of the white Hummer fired up and drew every set of eyes on the street – dead and otherwise.

  “They fucking leaving, man. I knew it!” Gordon said.

  “No,” Carlos said. Holding one hand out to the group. “Give them a second.”

  Immediately, the dead began running their hobbled fastest toward the SUV, which in turn began to pull out of its parking spot, turn and go. Lamar and Derick mashed the SUV's horn in for good measure and kept it there.

  “What are they doing?” Pam asked.

  “Making sure that we get to that house safely, if I had to guess. Just sit tight and wait for the dead to pass us. Then we'll bolt for the house.” Carlos replied.

  “What about Lamar and Derick?” she asked.

  “They're on their own right now. We can't help them.”

  “How are we looking back there, Lamar?”

  Like a Pygmy Gecko gliding on water, Lamar shuffled his hands around in the rear of the SUV.

  “There's all kinds of shit back here! I see flashlights, several boxes of Corn Flakes-”

  “The wicked, Lamar. Where are they?” Derick asked.

  For a moment he'd forgotten all about the dead. Looking up into the rear glass of the Hummer, Lamar stared for a moment. “They're about a hundred yards back and dropping fast. We've got this!”

  “Just get the important shit up front as soon as possible. Bagged, if you can help it. We can't drive too much further or I won't be able to find the street again.”

  It resembled an episode of some crazy reality TV show where a contestant just won a shopping spree. Except this one included a young man who was jacked up on adrenaline and couldn't drive worth shit – and the dead, of course. Knives, cans of food, and even packs of toilet tissue were all being thrown into the front seat.

  “Watch the sharp objects, man!” Derick said. “Some of this shit needs to stay behind. We can't go incognito and make our way back to the house holding 24-packs of 2-play Angel Soft ass wipe!”

  “I got bullets for that gun up there.” Lamar said.

  “Good. Grab those and keep this shit in the back.” Derick said. He grabbed several 24-roll packs of the toilet tissue and threw it back.

  “OK man. Give me a second to bag what I can.” Lamar replied.

  He crawled back from the rear of the SUV like a coal miner coming to daylight. Meanwhile, Derick noticed something he didn't much care for.

  “We've got lots more wicked coming out into the street.”

  Lamar turned his head again. The SUV was in front of the horde – for now.

  “Must be hundreds of them!”

  “We've gotta stop. The further we drive, the larger the horde is getting.” Derick said.

  “Almost...” Lamar fought with the zipper on one of the duffel bags. There were three in total, but this one was a bit overstuffed. “Got it!”

  Derick might as well have stood on the Hummer's brake pedal and Lamar fell against the dashboard in the process. A cloud of smoke rose out from beneath the vehicle and Derick wasted no time pocketing the keys. He grabbed the pistol (which he thought was a 9mm, silver
with black trim) and grabbed hold of the largest bag.

  “Can you grab the other two?” Derick asked.

  No answer came, just an open door breathing fresh air into the vehicle. Lamar had already snatched two of the bags and put his shoes on the grass near the road.

  “Shit.” Derick said. He wasn't used to being the last to go. Especially with hundreds of zombies now closing in on their position. There was still time, though, and he wasted no more of it. Derick hauled ass in hopes of catching up with his friend, who scaled a tall white fence that led into someone's backyard.

  The house was immaculate.

  Especially its interior, which was a perfect mixture of brick, bright whites, and soft greens. A large chimney rose up from one of the walls and the fireplace below it was encased in glass. There were two staircases, each on opposite ends of the massive living room, and the kitchen rested only a few steps up on the far side of the living room.

  Surprisingly, the door was open. Not what they'd expected.

  “Hold up,” Carlos whispered.

  He then approached the kitchen and eased a stainless steel frying pan into his hand. With the other hand, he began knocking against the pan with the tip of his shotgun. It gave a distinct sound that was loud enough to be heard throughout the large, echo-prone house, while quiet enough to remain inside – not outside.

  The group could hear a set of footsteps pounding against one of the staircases and they immediately knew that the slow, lethargic steps were coming on the heels of a zombie. There was no mistaking it.

  “One.” Carlos whispered.

  A.K. positioned himself at the bottom of the staircase, hidden from plain sight, and pulled a knife from his belt. Sure enough, a wicked made its way down the staircase and spotted the entire group – save A.K.

  She had been an older woman prior to the infection and moved even slower now. Though dead, it was dressed in the kinds of clothing that shouted money. This was her house, or at least there was a damn good chance that it was.

  As the zombie reached the bottom of the staircase, A.K. stepped from the shadows and sunk his knife right into the wicked's forehead – instantly killing the thing.

  “The bitch ain't got no teeth.” A.K. said, having knelt to remove the blade of his knife before wiping it clean.

  As the rest of the group looked on, but Gordon couldn't contain his laughter.

  “She was gonna gum 'yo ass.”

  His laughter was quiet but continued to bellow out, and he was soon joined by the rest of the group.

  “Poor lady,” Pam said. “Why did she need this huge house?”

  “You'd be surprised,” Carlos replied. “People deal with their issues in different ways – same as us out here trying to survive. She was probably old and lonely, or maybe she needed this big of a house once upon a time.”

  “Don't nobody need a house like this-” Gordon said. “Man this shit is fine right here. Got me thinking I'm a movie star or something.”

  “Good. Then get to moving your ass over here to help me get this body outside.” A.K. said. Teeth or no teeth, he didn't like the idea of a dead body laying on the floor of their new home.

  “They'll be OK.” Carlos said.

  “I hope so.” Pam replied.

  He'd seen the worry on her face and had come to know her as a very honest person. Certainly the most honest of the group. Carlos respected that in a person.

  “It's getting dark, but if they aren't back by morning then we'll put together a group to go find them. OK?”

  Pam nodded and placed his hand around her for a brief moment.

  “But I need your head in the game right now,” he continued. “This is a nice house, but it's also a very big house. We need to find a way to seal it off. That iron gate outside has done a nice job of holding the wicked back, but eventually, the wrong kind of zombie is gonna stroll in here and figure it out.”

  “One of them thinkers.” Gordon said.

  “Yea. Or even worse, humans. People who want to take what we've got. So we need to make sure that we can keep this place safe,” Carlos said. “So A.K., you and Gordon get that body outside and try to find some tools. I'll stay here with Pam and we'll go through these cabinets to see what we have.”

  Moments later, A.K. and Gordon hoisted up the body of a woman who'd died all alone and began carrying it out into the backyard.

  -

  Derick held his hand out. Standing in a dark building with Lamar, they watched in silence as dozens of wicked walked past. Most of the rotting dead had concentrated their efforts on the SUV, but some of them had watched the two bag-toting survivors sprint away. They'd done their best to give chase, staggering about like closing time at the local VFW.

  Lamar knelt behind a large riding lawnmower while Derick stood close enough to the door to look out of its crease between door and frame. Very little daylight trickled in – in fact, there was very little daylight to speak of. The night was closing in faster than a speeding dachshund fetching a bone twice its size.

  After several minutes, the miniature horde passed.

  “That was close.” Derick said.

  Lamar exhaled. “How do you plan on getting back?”

  “I don't,” Derick replied. “At least not tonight. You saw how many of these damn things are out there. Going out after dark would be the equivalent of suicide.”

  After shuffling around in the large bag he'd carried to the out building, Derick pulled a small flashlight to the ready. He shot its bright beam across to the other side of the building as covertly as possible.

  “Looks like a utility shed.”

  He then stopped on a pair of bikes; mountain bikes, the kind with big ole stubby tires and flat handlebars.

  “Oh hell no.” Lamar replied.

  “In the morning – not tonight.”

  “On bikes?”

  “You saw how slow they were out there,” Derick began. “All we need to do is start peddling and then glide our way back down that hill. He can dump the bikes when we get close enough to the house.”

  “And then scale that big ass iron fence,” Lamar said. “And one of the bikes is bright pink, man.”

  “We can paper-rock-scissors for it.” Derick said.

  “Seriously?”

  “I mean, if you have change in your pocket we can flip-”

  “No man, I don't have any change. I guess it's gotta be paper-rock-scissors.”

  Always take the rock. Derick thought. Rock always wins.

  When Lamar showed paper, Derick's stomach dropped about a foot lower. Who takes paper? Who the hell takes paper? The same person who tried to bring along five cases of ass-wiping paper, that's who.

  “You're gonna look pretty spectacular drifting down that hill on a pink bike.”

  “Yea, yea,” Derick began. “Pretty in pink. Listen, try to grab anything you can find in this shed that might be useful later on. Hammers, saws...whatever you can find.”

  “You mean whatever we can carry,” Lamar said. “If we're riding bikes our loot has got to be limited.”

  “Good thinking,” Derick admitted. “Just rummage through this building and do it quietly. After that, you can get some sleep. I'll take first watch.”

  “You sure?” Lamar asked.

  Derick used a nearby rope to tie up the building's door handles as best he could from the inside. There was still one hell of a crack left between the two metal doors, but it would hold up temporarily against a zombie or two if needed be.

  “Yea. I'm good. I'm going to try and memorize what I see outside of this door, in case we ever need to make it to a different house.”

  Lamar nodded. It was a good idea, as was the idea of him getting some sleep. Resting his body had been a long-time coming.

  -

  “Time to get up.” Derick said.

  Lamar came to immediately. Daylight seeped in through the small crack between metal door and frame. “It's daytime. Why didn't you wake me up?”

  “I couldn't sle
ep, so I decided to pull watch instead. I figured you could use the sleep.”

  “Yea but-”

  Derick shook his head. “Don't sweat it, man.”

  “OK, well thanks,” Lamar said. “I was having this dream and we were all together in the house – safe. Pam was with me. I can't remember what you were doing.”

  “Was she safe?” Derick asked.

  “Yea man, she was laughing about something. “I'm not sure what it was, but I do remember that we were all pretty relaxed.”

  “Oh,” Derick began. “Well, we've got a few streets to get down before we're relaxing. You still up for it?”

  “Riding bikes?” Lamar asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Yea, it's the fastest way.”

  “Good,” Derick replied. “I took it upon myself to pack the absolute essentials into the three bags we have. I can carry two of them.”

  “Are you sure? It's gonna be hard to pedal with two of these babies slung across your back, man.” Lamar replied.

  “Yea, I'm sure.”

  “OK.” Lamar said. He grabbed the third bag from the floor and positioned it onto his back. It wasn't a backpack, but rather a large duffel back that would surely slide around on his back before it was all said and done.

  Derick lifted his pink bike upright and shook his head.

  “Real men wear pink.” Lamar said with a grin.

  “Or ride pink, in this case.” Derick replied. He positioned both bags against his back and they were certainly heavy enough. Still, he managed to extend his arm out to begin untying the door from the building's frame.

  Both men took several deep breaths. It would be a short bike ride and much of it would be downhill, but there were a lot of wicked between their current location and the large house where the rest of the group had squatted.

  “Can you hang behind me just a little bit?” Derick asked. “I won't be able to look back that much because of these packs, so I need to know if they get too close. I can always drop the packs if they do.”

  “Sure, man.”