DEAD_Snapshot_Book 5_Estacada, Oregon

by TW Brown

  Once more, he was struck by the idea that the world was changing too fast to process. Just a few yards away, one of their own was sitting in the cab of the truck they were forced to abandon—this was the dead body of their friend. A man that many of them had known for years. Hell, some of them went all the way back to their high school days. And yet, they were simply walking away to leave his corpse to rot with the branch of a tree through his chest.

  As the trucks rolled away and turned onto Highway 224 towards home, Ken couldn’t help but look in the passenger’s side mirror at the truck he’d been driving. The undead were closing in on it and would have it surrounded soon. He only hoped that Terry was truly dead. As awful as that thought might be, the alternative was that they were leaving him to suffer a lonely and painful death. If he was, by some awful miracle, still alive, he would now be subjected to one more terrible and final event: being eaten alive.

  He felt his eyes growing heavy again and started to close them, but an elbow to his side caused him to jerk awake. Of course, that action sent a wave of dull pain through his body along with a terrible nausea.

  “Stay awake with us, Ken,” Sean’s voice drifted to this ears through the fog in his brain. “You probably have a concussion…at the very least. And there is no doubt you will need stitches. But you have to stay awake until we get back.”

  Ken sat back and tried to keep his eyes open, but he found the blurry passing of the scenery was causing him to feel even more nauseous.

  “Stay with us, Ken,” Sean implored.

  “Just closing my eyes. I feel sick and this ride isn’t helping,” Ken managed around a tongue that felt twice its normal size and his need to push the bile down that he could feel creeping up the back of his throat.

  At last, they rolled into town and came to a stop in the parking lot of the Harvest Market. When the truck stopped and gave a bit of a shudder, Ken had to increase his efforts not to vomit.

  He was helped out of the cab and heard a gasp and cry from somewhere close by. He didn’t need his eyesight to know it was Bennett.

  “What happened?” she demanded.

  “His truck crashed,” Sean answered.

  There was a ripple of concerned reactions. Ken wiped at his face again and allowed Bennett to get under his arm. She was leading him through the crowd when a voice called out.

  “Where is Terry?”

  Ken recognized Terry’s wife’s voice. Gretta Kroger was a woman who was as large as Terry was slight. She was perhaps a shade over five feet tall, but easily over two hundred and fifty pounds. She always had a smile, and you couldn’t go to one of the high school sporting events without seeing her. She worked concessions and was a huge part of the local booster club. Her vehicle still bore all the decals from her son’s years in the football, basketball, and baseball teams.

  John Kroger had graduated two years ago and enlisted in the military. Last Ken heard, the boy was in Iraq. While most parents moved on after their child graduated, Gretta Kroger remained a fixture. Between that and church functions, the woman never seemed to rest.

  Ken pulled away from Bennett and turned towards her. She was searching the faces of all the men that had come with him on the run. None of them looked all that anxious to break the bad news. He noted that even Sean was looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here at the moment.

  “He didn’t make it, Gretta,” Ken managed around the dizziness still trying to turn his stomach inside out.

  “What happened, Ken?” the woman asked as she spun in his direction. “Did one of those things…eat him?” Those last words had come out as almost a whisper.

  Tears were now spilling freely down her cheeks looking so out of place on a face that he’d never seen with anything but a smile. Gretta Kroger’s rosy cheeks were pale, and suddenly, she looked like the most miserable person in the world.

  “No, he died in the crash.”

  Ken saw no reason to divulge the horrific details. It was bad enough that he’d died in such an “old world” manner.

  “And you all left him?” she shrieked.

  Her expression changed from miserable to furious in the blink of an eye. She stormed over to Ken with such intent that he believed she was going to strike him.

  Stopping directly in front of him and staring up, her bottom lip quivering, Gretta Kroger spat, “How dare you just leave him out there Ken Johnson.” She spun to the others. “All of you! How could you just leave my Terry out there?”

  “Gretta,” Sean tried to speak, but she spun around to him so fast that he took a staggered step backwards and closed his mouth with an audible click.

  “There were hundreds of those things coming, Gretta,” Ken finally said after it was clear that nobody else would speak up.

  “So you left him to be eaten?” The woman was reaching a hysterical level and her pitch was rising to an unnatural point.

  “He is in the cab of the truck,” Ken replied in as soothing a tone as he could manage. “We will go back for him, okay. Those things won’t stick around. By tomorrow it should be clear, and I will personally see that it is done.”

  He felt Bennett’s grip on his arm tighten, but he chose to ignore it. That was the least of his concerns at the moment. He knew for a fact that the driver’s side door had been left open. If the zombies had crawled into that cab, how much of Terry Kroger would be left for him to bring back?

  The woman continued to glare at him, but after a moment of tense silence where everybody seemed to be holding their breath and waiting for a response, her shoulders slumped and she turned and walked away. Ken watched her make her way to their car, climb in, and then drive off without so much as looking at a soul. He couldn’t say that he blamed her.

  He turned to tell the group to tend to unloading the truck and that he was going to go home when the sound of a large vehicle approaching at a high rate of speed took his attention. A lone pickup truck turned onto Broadway, fishtailing as it came much too fast. Ken could see three people in the front cab. He waited, expecting at least another truck or two, but this lone vehicle was apparently by itself. That did not add up, and even in his foggy state, he knew something had to be terribly wrong.

  The truck skidded to a stop in front of the brewery where everybody still stood gathered around. The driver’s and passenger’s side doors flew open almost simultaneously.

  “What’s going on?” Sean asked, stepping forward. “Where are the others from your group?”

  Ken scowled as the same questions danced just out of reach as he struggled to get a grasp on what was happening. He started forward to join Sean as he greeted the group but Bennett did not let go of his arm and for some reason was able to hold him back with apparently no effort.

  “They didn’t make it,” one of the men answered.

  “What do you mean?” Sean pressed.

  “We were pulling into the Home Depot when this group arrived almost on our heels. We didn’t even think anything of it. I mean…” The man paused as he ran his fingers through his hair. That was when Ken noticed speckles on his face that he now figured to be blood. “Hell, why would anybody think they needed everything in someplace that size. We figured it would actually be helpful to have more people inside in case there was any trouble.”

  “They didn’t even say anything to warn us,” Colton blurted as he stepped forward. “They said something about how this place was theirs and then they whipped out guns and started shooting.”

  “Just like that?” Sean asked, obviously shocked.

  “They took out four of our people before we even realized what was happening.” It was obvious that Colton was fighting back tears. His voice was strained and raspy as he continued. “We all scattered at first and the bastards started hunting us. “

  “You didn’t fire back?” Bennett stepped forward, bringing Ken with her.

  “Most of us still had our rifles either in the backs of our trucks or were trying to pull pistols. Only two of us had handguns. We sure as hell didn�
�t think we needed to have weapons at the ready when we pulled in. There were only a couple of zombies in the area…none of them close,” Colton explained.

  “We had to run,” another of the trio blurted. “The three of us managed to get to a truck, but the fight was still going on as we drove away. Our people are still back there. We need to go back and help them!”

  “I doubt they are still alive,” Sean said softly. “The drive on the best of days was a half hour.”

  “So we are now making it a habit of just leaving our people behind?” A woman stomped into the midst of the gathering.

  Ken opened his mouth to respond when a gunshot shattered the silence. There was a moan and then a scream.

  7

  The (In)human Condition

  Something warm and wet splattered Ken’s face and he saw one of the men standing next to Bennett drop to his knees. The bloom of blood growing on his chest told the man’s fate, but he was still alive long enough to look down at it and brush the growing stain with his hands as if he thought he could just wipe it away.

  A woman a few feet away began to scream and shriek as if she’d been the one shot. Just then, another shot rang out. The screaming woman’s noise ended abruptly as she fell on her side. A halo of darkness was spreading on the sidewalk around her head.

  “Everybody take cover!” Ken shouted.

  Apparently that had been what it took to break the freeze spell that had kept everybody rooted in place. The small crowd scattered with nobody heading in the same direction. It took Ken a moment to figure out that he was lumbering along, but that Bennett was not at his side.

  He stopped, turning to look back just as she was about to disappear inside the brewery, the door held open to admit her and at least one other person. She glanced back over her shoulder once, and Ken gave her the slightest nod. Adrenaline dumped into him and shoved back the wooziness from his bump to the head. He saw that look of concern, but this was absolutely not something he would trust to anybody else.

  Just as he rounded the corner and ducked behind the building, another shot rang out. He peered back a few seconds later to see yet one more body lying sprawled in the middle of the street. He hadn’t been looking for more than a span of a few heartbeats when another shot came. The brick just above his head erupted in shards of wicked shrapnel, some of it raining down to sound like hail hitting his wide-brimmed cowboy hat.

  He jerked himself back behind the cover of the building, but he’d been able to get an approximate direction of the gunfire. It was coming from up the street towards the pizza place a couple of blocks away.

  Looking around, he didn’t see anybody else. It seemed it would fall on him to handle this newest calamity. Despite his pounding headache, he would do what needed doing. Besides, at this point, he was still unsure how many of the others understood just how dire the situation had become…or if the fact that the old rules no longer applied.

  Moving down to the intersection that would allow him to circle around, Ken tried to devise a plan but soon decided he would have to simply play it by ear. If he could get to city hall two blocks away, he could possibly move in behind whomever this was that was sniping them.

  As he hurried along in a crouch, approaching the only street he would need to cross that might put him in view of this mystery person, he drew the pistol he still had on his hip. As he reached the end of the block, Ken took off his hat and risked a look around the corner. His timing was ridiculously perfect as the mystery sniper fired from the doorway of the pizza place.

  From the looks of it, this person had busted in the bottom half of the glass door and taken up a position just inside. He had no idea if the person was man or woman. He also did not understand what this person thought to accomplish by trying to take on an entire town from inside a tiny pizza joint.

  Easing himself down to a crouch, he watched the movements of the individual inside the building. He could not see the person clearly, but there was enough ambient light for him to tell when they were looking away. As soon as the person fired again, he or she reached into a small knapsack.

  As they reloaded, Ken took off across the street. He was now able to cut through the parking lot of city hall and move in behind this apparently short-sighted individual. He reached the end of the lot and got into position so that he could see the pizza place. He could no longer see the person inside because of the angle, but he was able to see the entry.

  After a moment, he started forward. As he got to within about five feet, he heard some low conversation from inside.

  “You don’t want to do this,” a voice that might belong to a teenager or perhaps even a girl whispered. “It’s bad…wrong.”

  “Shut up. You can’t tell me what to do. I’m in charge now. The monsters came and now I’m the boss,” a second voice that sounded gruffer but not much older snapped.

  “But why are you shooting those poor people?” the first voice practically whined.

  “They want my pizza.”

  ”There is plenty…we can share.”

  “I found it…it’s my pizza.”

  Now Ken was almost certain that he was dealing with a young person. The jumps in logic were verging on insane. To Ken, that simply meant this was a pair of kids. Chances were that they’d somehow walked into town since he didn’t see a car. One of the first places they saw was the pizza place and they broke in.

  He almost felt bad for what he would have to do, and he did not see any choice but to kill them. After all, they’d killed at least three people that he knew of, and had fired several more shots as he’d moved to get into position.

  Bracing himself for what he knew would be a very unpleasant task, Ken checked his handgun, ensured it was ready to kill, and then counted himself down silently. On three, he rushed for the entry. As soon as he spied the first shadowy figure, he fired three rounds into its center mass. It staggered back and then crumpled to the floor.

  The entry to the pizza place was small. There was no place for the second person to hide, but looking around frantically, he did not see the other person.

  Dropping to the floor beside the one he’d shot, Ken could hear the labored and rattling breath of a person with a severe sucking chest wound. He was surprised to see the face staring back at him. It was a man perhaps in his twenties. He had several days of stubble on his face, which was smeared with dirt and grime. His eyes were already losing focus, but they still seemed to be able to track Ken as he leaned in close.

  The stink of a person who hadn’t washed in days or perhaps even weeks wafted in an invisible fog around the downed individual causing Ken’s nose to involuntarily wrinkle. There was the acrid stench of ammonia which was easy to trace to the large stain at the man’s crotch.

  A rather expensive looking hunting rifle lay on the floor a few feet away where it had fallen when the man had been shot. It seemed a bit out of the price range of what Ken took now for just some vagrant; although, he still looked around wondering where the second person could be hiding. The kitchen area didn’t really offer much to hide behind with the exception of the counter.

  “If you don’t want to end up like your friend here, you need to just come out,” Ken called.

  The body on the floor said something, but it was unintelligible. Ken risked focusing all of his attention on the man for a moment.

  “What was that,” he urged.

  After a moment, the man gasped and then spoke in a voice that made the hair on the back of Ken’s neck stand on end. The pieces fell together quickly causing Ken to fall back and end up sitting on his butt, staring in disbelief.

  “He’s gone now…won’t hurt anybody…else…” the man rasped, but it was clearly the voice of what he’d taken to be a young girl. “You sent him…back…”

  The body shuddered once and let out a long, rattling breath and then was still. His head had turned so that dead eyes stared emptily at Ken. As strange as it seemed, the dead man’s lips appeared to be curled up slightly in a bit of a smile.
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  Ken got to his feet. Stepping over the body, he picked up the hunting rifle and slung it over his shoulder. He stepped out of the pizza place, his eyes tracking up the street. He could see the bodies scattered on the ground. That was perhaps the only thing he could cling to as he sought to wipe the stain of murder from his conscience.

  As he stood on the corner, he realized that his hands were trembling. While nobody would ever consider Ken to be soft, that did not mean he was free from human emotion when it came to the taking of a human life. Killing a living person was not something a stable individual could do without some sense of guilt or remorse, and Ken was about as stable as they came if you asked around.

  A burning sensation in his chest let him know that he hadn’t allowed himself to breathe for a bit. He sucked air into his lungs in greedy gulps as he tried to compose himself.

  Once he felt confident that he could move without falling to his knees, he stepped outside onto the sidewalk. Not sure what else to do, he started up the street toward the brewery.

  He was about a half a block along when people started peeking out from around corners or from a few of the doorways along the way. He spotted Bennett as she came out of the brewery. Sean Drinkwine was on her heels along with another woman.

  “What happened?” somebody called.

  For some reason, that sounded incredibly loud to Ken at this particular moment. He just held up a hand in a sign that he hoped everybody would take as him asking them to wait for his account until everybody had once more gathered at the brewery.

  Once he reached his wife, she stepped up and took her place at his side. He let her take his arm and drape it over her shoulder. He knew the gesture for what it was; she could see that he was barely able to stay on his feet. Between his pounding head and the fact that the adrenaline that had flooded him when he approached that pizza place and was now gone, he could feel his body tremble.

  It took a few minutes for everybody to return to the brewery. In that time, Ken tried to get his heartrate down. For some reason, it felt like a runaway train gaining speed as it careened down a hill with no brakes. A wave of dizziness caused him to buckle slightly at the knees.