“Dude. Are you tripping?” Grinder studied him.
Lester looked up and grinned.
“First rule of the game: Never partake. Second rule of the game: Don’t do stupid shit. Didn’t take me long to break those two,” Lester muttered.
A scream from the street.
“Ah! Fuck me running!” Lester broke into a sprint down an alley. Grinder pounded behind him.
“Find somewhere to hide!” Grinder hissed.
There were a couple of metal doors along the walls, but people didn’t just leave them unlocked like they did in movies. If Jackie Chan were here, he could probably Spiderman his ass up the side of the building.
Lester tried a door anyway.
Click.
“Gee, the fucking door is locked, dumbass,” Lester muttered.
Grinder ran across the small street and checked the other door, which led to a pawnshop, according to the sign. No shocker, it was also locked. A fucking pawnshop. Bet they had weapons galore. Probably had an AR-15 just like the one he left at the front gate a few days ago. He guessed they would have samurai swords as well, probably give that weird chick, Kate, the female equivalent of a boner.
Lester looked up, but there were no convenient fire escapes. No ladders of any sort. Not even a pipe he could try to shinny up. There was a dumpster, but it wasn’t that high. They might feel safe up there for all of thirty seconds.
Another howl from the direction of the street made his balls shrivel up and try to find his abdominal cavity. Why the hell hadn’t he at least grabbed a weapon on his way out of the stadium? Even a damn bat would have made him feel safer than he did holding his dick in one hand and jack shit in the other.
“There!” Grinder grabbed Lester by the shoulder and tugged him to the only feature in the pitiful alley. The one that Les had already discounted.
Lester practically fell to his knees as the big guy tried to drag him along. The combination of drugs, fear and fading adrenaline left him as weak as a newborn lamb. He wanted to lie down right there and take a nap. But if he did that, he was dead meat. He would never be able to take revenge on the monsters that had taken his girl if he died now.
Grinder worked at the dumpster’s latch. It was trussed up with a piece of thick wire, then tied in a knot. He pulled at it, even leaned over and got one end between his teeth and tugged.
“It’s not a dog bone,” Lester cackled.
“Vuck you,” Grinder said through a mouthful of wire.
Another howl, and Lester was ready to make a run for it. He turned and froze as a shape ran past the alley entrance. It didn’t look their way. Thank God for small favors. Now how about a big one, like a portal to Aruba? One-way was fine with Les.
Grinder grabbed the wire, braced his boot against the side of the dumpster, and pulled. He ripped the binding back and forth and ended up on his ass when the knot gave way.
“Mother …!”
“In! Get in!” Lester interrupted. He jerked the lid up and wished he hadn’t.
Lester dove into the container and scored a 7.5 for style. It smelled like someone had ripped out a bunch of moldy intestines and mixed them with pure ass. He gagged, held it back, retched and almost lost it.
Before he could say anything sensible, like “Let me the fuck out,” Grinder dove into the trash container and closed the lid with fingertips splayed out, nice and slow to keep the noise down.
“Fuck but that is rancid. Reminds me of the night I woke up behind a hotel in Hong Kong,” Grinder whispered.
Lester wanted to punch him in the face, but the sound of a snarling deader in the alleyway stopped his fist and his mouth.
Footsteps. Running. Walking. Sniffing. Grunts and growls. It seemed to go on for hours.
Lester did his best to remain calm and to breathe as little as possible. He pinched his nose shut and concentrated on breathing through his mouth, but he could taste the rot. He tried to envision burgers and steak fries, but it was no use.
They listened in the dark, plastered against plastic bags that crinkled and threatened to burst at the barest twitch. Something wet lay against the back of Lester’s neck. It felt like a tongue. He wanted to reach back and move it, but he was scared the things would hear anything, even a baby’s fart, so he kept perfectly still.
What if a deader had been slaughtered and tossed into the box before they moved in? What if deader cooties were, even now, trying to infiltrate his system?
“You think they’re gone?” Grinder whispered after five or six minutes of quiet. The longest five or six minutes of Lester’s entire life.
“I am about fucking ready to get out of this pit, even if it means being eaten,” Les admitted. He would reach into his pocket and grab his bag of goodies, but he didn’t want to touch anything with fingers that had been within a mile of this biological wasteland.
“Fuckin’-A, brother. Let me take a peek. Just be still.”
“What else am I going to do? The goddamn polka?”
“Shhh!” Grinder hissed.
Ever so slowly, the form across from Lester moved. Bags crinkled, and stuff shifted. A small pool of liquid had been seeping into Lester’s jeans. As Grinder moved, the line progressed at least half an inch farther up his leg. When he got out of here, he was going to take a couple of showers and then burn his clothes. Angela’s DNA or not, they were going onto a pile of logs, then being doused with gasoline and set the fuck on fire.
Something touched the top of the lid and lifted it barely half an inch, just enough for light to filter in and blind him. Then there was a clank as the lid moved farther. More light poured in, and Lester took the opportunity to shift his body out of the puddle of liquid. All that did was set his ass in something that squished.
He nearly gagged again when he realized he was in a pile of old meat and bones. At least they didn’t look human; they looked like they were tossed out after a meal. That shit was in someone’s mouth a day or two ago.
“Let’s go!” Lester said. He was just about done with this stinky prison. If he didn’t get out soon, he was going to scream.
“Uh, dude, we have a slight problem.” The lid banged up and down a few times. “The stupid lid is stuck.”
Kate
“Maybe they’re all gone,” Anders said. He struggled to utter the words, his gaze darting up and down the stairway.
Right, thought Kate. They just up and left when they knew the cavalry was on the way. She knew exactly what they were going to find: bodies, some still moving.
After the incident in the auditorium, they moved down toward the next floor. Before they set foot on the stairs, Mark pointed out a huge puddle of blood that dripped over the side of the balcony below.
She slipped to the railing so they were spread out, no sense in bunching up. Anders pointed his gun down the stairway and took a few steps. Mark followed, peering over the edge, probably trying to determine what had bled out just below them.
“We’re not leaving without my sister,” Anders fumed. “Next floor down. I’m sure she said she was on five.”
“If there were anyone still alive, I’m sure they would’ve made themselves known by now.”
“She could be hurt or hiding in a closet. I have to know. I can’t just abandon her.”
Mark nodded once. He wouldn’t leave his friend behind, but Kate could go. She wasn’t attached to them in any capacity. Not that she was going to run off at the hint of danger. But the option was there. She could just make a run for the stadium. If she was careful, she might make it. If not, she would find a place to hide, wait until night and then take a more cautious route. While Anders farted around trying to find life in this tombstone of a building, he was putting them all at risk.
She needed to let them know about the conversation she’d had with Mike. Trains loaded with civilians rolling out of town. That sounded great to her. A chance to escape the deaders, maybe get away and start a new life in another city. Settle down and hope the stupid virus was contained here. If not
, soon, nowhere would be safe. She had a wad of bills stashed in her backpack, not enough to completely start over, but enough to get by for a few weeks.
Kate sighed and considered her options.
Mark looked up and grinned.
“Coms are back,” he said.
“What’s the word?” Anders asked.
“Hang on; there’s a lot of chatter.”
Anders shrugged, and Mark moved away a few feet and pressed his hand to his ear.
“About the trains?” Kate followed as if she would be able to hear whatever was coming over his headset.
“How did you know about that?” He looked puzzled.
“I know people.”
“Yeah right. Do you know anything else?” It wasn’t the question; it was the way he phrased it. He wanted to sound casual, but his tone was a little too high. He was anxious about something.
“You first.” She tried to bluff. She couldn’t meet his eyes, though, and looked down as if examining the gore on her clothes.
“Look, Kate. We can take you back to the other floor, and you can join Bug. You don’t have to go any farther. No one will think less of you. We saw you in action and …”
“Is this because I have boobs? I’m far from beat. And just so you know, you haven’t seen me in action. Not by a long shot.” Anders tried to look unimpressed, but Mark’s mouth dropped open like it had a loose hinge. “And one more thing. Her name is Anne. Stop calling her Bug, for fuck’s sake. Do you know how degrading that is?”
“Just go back and wait for us,” Anders said in exasperation. “Haven’t you had enough playing soldier for one day?”
“Playing soldier? Is that what you think?” Her hand itched to reach behind her neck and pull the sword. He was less than three feet away and wouldn’t know what hit him until his head rolled across the floor.
“Enough!” Mark snapped. “Let’s complete the mission and get the hell out of here. We don’t have much time.”
“Oh?” Anders’s brows went up.
“A few hours until showtime,” was all Mark said before he moved to the stairs and took them a couple at a time.
They didn’t talk at all, and Kate was fine with that. She was embarrassed enough that Mark had to save her. If she had to be rescued one more time, she was going to go up to the roof and dive head first into a mob of deaders.
They reached the landing and found the source of the blood. A body lay in a heap. Its head was bashed to a pulp, and the likely culprit was a small fire extinguisher lying near the door. The body twitched, then moved an arm. Mark slid aside while Anders pointed his gun at it. Mark shook his head and used his foot to turn the thing’s head so its eyes didn’t stare at them.
Kate took out her sword and finished the deader. She wiped the blade on its shirt to get most of the blood off. Then she sheathed it and waited for the boys to do their thing.
“Ruthless.” She was sure that was what Mark muttered.
Anders turned from the gore and then listened at the door while Mark checked his magazines. Kate watched as he extracted one from his handgun and eyed it. Then he slapped it home and did the same with his rifle. Kate took the cue and checked hers as well. The magazine was considerably lighter, so she dropped it in a pocket and extracted a full one. It was like a brick in her hand and easily added a pound to the piece. Then, just like they had taught her, she pulled back the charging handle and made sure there was a round in the breech.
Mark had told her the gun fired 5.56 rounds. She wasn’t sure what the hell that meant, but she had enough of them to clear a room, and that was what she really cared about.
“That deader was in bad shape. You think the people in there did that? Why didn’t they at least finish the poor bastard off?” Anders shook his head.
“Not everyone can just smash in a skull. Although someone did a pretty good imitation. We should still be careful.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” Anders frowned. “Just don’t go in shooting. If Kara is in here, I want her in one piece.”
Kate smirked. There was only one thing in the next room. Was she the only one who knew what to expect? Kate reached over her shoulder and slipped the blade up out of the sheath an inch, then let it fall back. She rolled her shoulders and lifted the assault rifle.
“I can hear movement in there.” Before Mark could say anything, Anders jammed the little crowbar in and ripped off the lock. He pulled the door open and strode into the dark room.
“Kara!” he called, looking around wildly.
“So much for subtle,” Kate observed.
Movement everywhere. Shapes rose behind short cubicle walls. Light filtered in from blinds that were just slits. Dust motes danced all over the room, and Kate was shocked at the smell. A bunch of people stuck in a building for a few days was not a pretty sight, but this was worse. The room reeked of sweat, but there was an undercurrent as well: the stench of fresh blood. No one was more aware of that particular smell than Kate.
“Ah hell!” she muttered, exasperated at the lack of coordinated effort Anders was demonstrating and went in after him.
Mark was right beside her, and he didn’t have that goofy schoolboy look on his face anymore. Good thing, too, as she was just about ready to wipe that expression off with a blade. Just a minute ago, she had imagined straddling him while he was buried inside her, her blade out and pressed against his neck. That way, if he did anything stupid, she could just end him.
“Get the fuck ahold of yourself!” she mouthed.
“What?” Mark didn’t look at her; he kept his gaze on the shapes moving in the room from over the top of his assault rifle.
“Are they alive?” She tried to cover her words.
“Hell if I know. Just stay close, okay?”
“I don’t need a goddamn babysitter.”
“I know you don’t. I want you to watch my back while I watch yours. Safer that way.” He still hadn’t taken his eyes off the people shifting around in the murky and oppressive room.
The damn place hadn’t seen air conditioning for at least a week, judging by the thick air with its taint of blood.
“Shit. This room has seen some action.” She lifted the gun and moved close to Mark. She shifted so she could see the door through which they had entered. Watch his back, huh? Well, it beat having one of those things fall on her again.
Anders didn’t seem to care about the danger they were in. One of the things lurched around the corner of a cubicle, then it howled and dropped to all fours. The noise was shocking in the small room. Kate felt goose pimples ripple across her body.
She was horrified to see it leap into the air and smash into Anders. They went down in a heap, and Anders must have been aware of how terrible it had been for Kate a few minutes ago.
Mark was the first to respond. He took a pair of huge striding steps, swung his foot for a third, and connected his big boot with the creature’s head. The deader had been snarling toward Anders’s horrified face, but the strike made it stop making noises and flop over on its back. The deader lay on Anders’s side, in some kind of zombie shock. Did the blow rattle something upstairs?
Kate would never know, because Mark followed up by lowering his gun and blasting the deader in the head. She kept an eye on Mark, then spun around to check the door again, but nothing entered.
She came around ninety degrees and shot at one of the deaders that was making a beeline for them. It might have been carousing in Cubicle City a few minutes ago; now it was interested in food. Kate grimaced as a girl came under her line of fire. She had at least five earrings in one ear and a group of hoops in her eyebrows. A tattoo peeked out of a torn shirt. The deader snarled and drew its lips over bloodstained teeth.
Kate pulled her gun up to her shoulder, set her cheek against the stock, got the girl’s head in her sights and blew it apart with three rounds. The gun wavered after each blast, even though she did her best to relax and drag the target into view. It hammered against her shoulder, and her hearing was tugged a
way as the deader fell in a heap.
A deader came out of a side door just a few feet away. They hadn’t even had time to sweep the room, and that put them at a tactical disadvantage. Kate might not be able to play soldier, but she knew when things were not in her favor.
The deader gurgled as it came at them. A guy in a ripped white shirt. He was balding but had a huge hunk of hair that flopped in front of his face. The deader might have been trying to scream, but his neck was mostly gone, so it came out in a hiss as air and blood spewed out of the hole that had been his trachea.
Mark dropped his rifle, but the sling kept it from hitting the ground. He drew his sidearm, aimed at the snarling face that still somehow wore a pair of glasses that dangled from one ear and slapped his lips. He shot the deader twice in the face. Mark lowered the gun and shot him once in the chest.
Then it was all gunshots as they worked on clearing the room.
At least five deaders came at them, maybe more. Kate didn’t mind one bit. She loved the feeling the rifle gave her. She could satisfy the Other, keep it at bay for a while. No elaborate games, just the satisfaction of killing. She didn’t have to lure someone, then take the pains to hide her tracks.
It was exhilarating.
Blasts echoed around the room, and bodies thumped to the floor. Kate accounted for two while the boys claimed the others. Two of the forms continued to move. Kate moved to finish them off, but Anders waved her away. He went to the end of the room and practically ripped the blinds off in his haste. Light streamed in, and Kate swore the temperature in the room went up ten degrees.
It didn’t take long to get a look at the carnage. It was one thing to see the bodies fall in the dim light. It was quite another to see the damage and blood. Splatters against the remaining closed blinds. Spots on cubicles and chunks of meat on the floor.
Of the deaders they had shot, two still moved around, though they didn’t have much vigor left. Kate put them out of their misery.
Mike
A cry came from ahead. A massive wail like a crowd gearing up for a sporting event. My eyes followed the noise. I had to stand on my tiptoes to see over the mass of people.
Among the Dead Book 2 (Among the Living) Page 13
