“A what the fuck?”
“Just giving you shit, man. Hey, Douglas was looking for you. I told him I’d hunt you down.” Mateo said.
“I was just looking for him, or looking for something to do.”
“I heard you’ve been doing good stuff. No complaints, and you’re always up for a task when one comes along. They like that here. Complainers don’t last.”
“They kick them out?”
“Don’t know and don’t want to know. It’s not like we’re living in a world where you get to file a lawsuit if you get fired for being a lame-ass.”
“Never thought of it like that,” I said.
“I wouldn’t worry about it. Seems like Douglas likes you, and that’s enough. So if you’re a spy or some shit, I guess I’ll have to be just as disappointed as him.”
“A spy? Christ, man. Why would you worry about what Douglas says?”
“Think about it, bro. We have a good setup, and it would be a real nice place for someone to take over. We’ve had spies before and had to send them on their way,” Mateo said.
“Lemme guess: sent them on their way with a bullet to the head?”
“You used to watch a lot of movies. I think they just get kicked out. Honestly, bro, it’s not my business.”
“How’d you end up here, anyway?” I asked.
“Not much to tell. I have a membership card.”
“I don’t. Think they’re going to kick me out?”
“Best not to think about that,” Mateo said, offering a half-smile. “Out there is no fun.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve been on the run for over a month now.”
Mateo escorted me to the chow line, which was really just a couple of tables with rations. I got a packet of oatmeal, a power bar, and an orange. There was even a huge carafe with a spigot. I looked at it like I was dreaming.
“This is better than the chow we've had the last few days,” I said, and suppressed drool from dripping out of my mouth.
“Yeah, Wednesdays and Sundays we get the good stuff. It’s all good, if you ask me. Beats the hell out of starving.”
I poured a little bit of dark liquid into a cup and took a sniff.
“Oh my god. Coffee.”
“Only leaded, man. You want decaf you’re out of luck, because no one else drinks that stuff here,” Mateo said.
An older guy dressed in overalls and sporting a bright checkered red shirt manned the line. He looked me over.
“New here?”
“Yeah. Got here a few days ago.”
He reached under a table and dug out a travel mug. It was covered in dust, and it was bright orange. I couldn’t care less. I snapped the lid off and blew into the interior in an attempt to halfway clean it.
“There’s a Sharpie around here somewhere. Put your name on that and don’t lose it. It’s yours from now on.”
“Thanks, man. I’ll treat it like a diamond.”
Mateo produced a mug of his own and filled it halfway with coffee.
“Damn, I love coffee days.”
“Is that how it’s rationed out?”
“Yeah, man. Can’t have this all the time. We’d get used to living the good life. Next thing you know, we’re tooling around inside in Mustangs and Corvettes with the sun roofs down, looking for a Starbucks drive-through,” Mateo said.
I snorted and followed his lead by filling my mug half way to the top. I took a sip and just about had a fucking orgasm right on the spot.
“Dump your oatmeal in there for a real treat,” Mateo said.
I thought that sounded gross, but he was serious. He ripped his little brown bag open and dumped the oats into the black liquid. Then he put the lid on his mug and shook it.
“That is nasty, man.”
“You get used to it.”
He told me the times when they served the good stuff, but I didn’t have a watch.
“No problem, brother. You like one of those big watches like divers use? Got about a hundred of those left over. Got a few high-end watches too, but you might have to do some favors to get one, if you know what I mean,” Mateo said.
“I don’t want to know what you mean.”
“Just pulling your leg, man. I’ll get you a watch.”
“I think I’d rather watch my dog take a crap.”
We wandered around for a few more minutes before Mateo found Douglas.
I hadn’t seen all of the building, and didn’t know where the damn shuffler was being held. All I knew was that I wanted it erased. Douglas and company were playing a deadly game by keeping it here.
“Jackson, good, glad you’re here. We need someone to scout to the east. There’s word of a horde, and we need to know how large it is. Take Mateo with you. We’ll provide communication from here.”
“That’s it? Go out and see what’s happening and come back?”
“Yeah, earn your keep, Jackson.” Douglas clapped my shoulder.
“I’m pretty sure I can make an educated guess at a horde. We captured a ghoul. Rather than blowing its head off, you brought it home like a rescue animal. Now you want to feed it, give it a name, but there’s a problem: there’s a whole pack of wild animals out there looking for their pal. Dude. Do yourself and everyone here a favor and put that thing down.”
“It’s well-sedated, and hasn’t moved in days,” Douglas said defensively.
“But it’s moved since it got here, which means it’s used that freaky telepathic shit to call its brothers,” I said.
“We don’t know that for sure. They may have some kind of signal, but all that paranormal stuff is probably nothing more than paranoia,” Douglas said.
“Think what you will, man. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Douglas said. “So can you make the scouting run?”
“I’ve been resting up, and if you need me to help, of course I will. I may be a paranoid fuck, but I’m a paranoid fuck who is grateful.”
Douglas nodded and shook my hand.
“Just be careful out there and follow Mateo’s lead. You’ll do fine.”
I wondered if he’d give the scouts manning the two overrun houses the same spiel a few days ago. They were all dead now but Douglas had gotten his prize. It takes a special kind of person to knowingly send friends out to their death.
After he departed, I considered his words. I considered a lot of things.
Far from the boogeymen the Reavers had been made out as, these guys were pretty low-key. They weren’t out reaving or pillaging. They weren’t raping and stirring up shit, looking for a fight.
They had a little community, and wanted to make the best of their situation. So what was all that talk back in Vista about the Reavers being a cult or a bunch of crazy people fighting Bright Star?
I tried not to think about the guys in the back.
It had been eating at me, so I took off in pursuit of Douglas. He’d rounded the food prep area and was on his way to an office set back near the restrooms. Some yellow caution tape had been set across this area, blocking off the toilets. That made sense to me; you didn’t want people taking a crap back there if the toilets didn’t flush.
“Hey,” I called.
Douglas spun, and instead of the kindly man I’d seen over the last few days, his eyes flared with anger.
“Jackson. Did we have a miscommunication?”
“No, man. I have a couple of questions.”
“Can you save them for after the scouting mission?” he asked. “This is important.”
“Sure, but I gotta know.” I stopped speaking, because I noticed something on the wall.
Someone had done a half-assed job of cleaning it up, but not enough to truly cover up the blood or bullet holes. The painted cinderblocks had been filled with bullets at some point, and then someone had cleaned the walls. They still maintained a crimson hue, though--shades of it in swipe patterns.
“What is it, Jackson?” Douglas asked in annoyance. He stepped in front of
my line of sight, blocking off my gaze.
“Damn. That’s a lot of bullet holes.”
“Yes. It was a bloody fight to secure this location from the infected. We had to push them back, and it was not pleasant. Are we done here?”
“Why is everyone so scared of Reavers? From what I’ve seen, you’re all as peaceful as lambs. Got the whole welcome committee, food, a place to sleep. You don’t seem all that scary.”
“I have no idea how we developed that reputation, my friend. The fact is that Bright Star has been spreading misinformation from the very beginning. They’ve done very little to help unless it advances their goals,” he said.
“And what goals would those be?”
“I have no idea, Jackson. Maybe you should go and ask them.”
I bit my tongue, unwilling to admit I’d been with someone in Bright Star for over a month. In all of that time Anna had been secretive, but I’d never seen her do anything except lend a helping hand.
She’d also lobbed some great one-liners at me, often at my expense. Then there was the night we’d managed to get intimate. Was that clouding my judgment of the force she worked for?
“So if Christy and I decided to leave, you’re still okay with that?”
“As I said before, several times by my count. We’re not monsters, Jackson, and we’re not jailers. If you wish to leave, you know where the door is. Christy, however, she would have to make up her own mind.”
I knew she’d probably want to stay now that she’d found some of her family. I wasn’t about to run away from this safe haven unless I had to. I was sick to death of being chased by Zs, shufflers, and assholes who thought they had the right to use force to take whatever they wanted.
Mateo caught up with me and gave the wall the same strange look that must have appeared on my face.
“We need to gear up, man,” he said.
“Thank you, Mateo. We need this horde scouted and soon,” Douglas said.
Something thumped in the direction of the office he’d been headed toward. Diane appeared in the doorway and gestured for Douglas. The two consulted together while Mateo and I walked away. I kept my eyes on the pair, but also let them drift over the formerly blood-splattered wall.
“Hope we can chat more, Douglas,” I said, trying to sound the way Joel Kelly did when he put a dose of badass Marine into his tone.
I guess he didn’t hear me, because he was already gone.
###
10:15 hours approximate
Location: Somewhere near Vista, CA
Mateo and I got kitted up over the next twenty minutes. I was handed my pistol and wrench. The gun was welcome, but the eight-pound hunk of steel was a godsend. I felt like I was being reunited with an old friend. Mateo eyed the tool and shot me a questioning glance.
“Never runs out of rounds,” I said as I hefted the wrench.
“Guess not. Just don’t swing and accidentally crush my head.”
“I’ll be careful. I hope I don’t have to swing at anything.”
I was handed a box of Hornady shells. I cracked the cardboard and did a visual. Fifty rounds of 135-grain 9mm. The XDM felt light in my hands. When I dropped the magazine into my palm, I found it had been emptied.
Mateo had settled on a larger gun, and was handed a box of rounds.
“.45?” I asked.
“1911 Kimber, yep. Finest handgun in the world. What ya got there?” He pointed at my sidearm.
We chided each other over our carries. He talked about power, and I talked about capacity. While we chatted I loaded a mag and racked a round into the chamber.
“Hey man, lemme get an extra clip,” Mateo asked the guy behind the gunnery counter.
“It’s called a magazine,” I said offhandedly.
“Whatever, man.”
“A clip is something you put in your hair.”
“Does it matter what the dumb thing is called?”
“Yeah, it does,” I said and then stopped and laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. I just realized how much an old friend rubbed off on me. I miss that son of a bitch, even if he did abandon me.”
“If he was your boyfriend, it’s cool. I promise not to get in the way,” Mateo winked.
I shot him the finger.
“Like I said, not in the way.”
I asked for another magazine as well, and more ammo.
“Planning to shoot your way out of a bad place?” the guy behind the counter asked. He was dressed in flannel and wore a black ski cap over his head like some wannabe hipster. His beard was trimmed and neat.
“I’m always planning to shoot my way out of a bad place. That’s why I’m still alive,” I said.
“Yeah, hand over more ammo, bro,” Mateo said.
“Here you go, bro,” the kid said, with derision. If he eye-rolled, I was going to pop him upside the head.
Mateo snorted and took the ammo. He handed me my extras and led me to another table.
“Find your size, man.”
I looked over the assorted armor and located some stuff to attach to my forearms and shins. Like something a skater would wear, the pieces had been garish, but someone had spray-painted them black. I strapped them on and nodded at Mateo.
“Ready,” I said.
“What about body armor?”
“It would slow me down.”
“Suit yourself,” Mateo shrugged.
Something crashed inside the confines of the building, something from the direction we’d come. I lifted the XDM instinctively and held it near my chest. Press-checking this handgun wasn’t required, because the barrel had a small metal nipple that stood up when there was a round in the chamber.
Another crash and a scream.
“Oh shit,” I breathed.
I used my improvised sling to place the wrench under my arm. Then I snatched up the extra ammo and magazine, and shoved them into my pockets as I drifted toward the noise.
“Hey man, they got that, let’s get started on our mission,” Mateo said.
I moved back into the building, toward the area where I’d left Douglas. Someone stumbled into me; I caught her, and when she spun to confront me, I found Melissa looking up. She was scared, but also looked determined.
“Let me go, I’m fine,” she said, shrugging free.
“Hey, you ran into me,” I said. “Lemme guess. That shuffler got loose.”
“Yeah, but not for long. Stay out of it, Jackson.”
“Stay out of it, my ass. Someone needs to put that thing down.”
The shuffler wasn’t far away. He leapt atop a table covered in food and hissed in our direction.
I lifted my gun and drew a bead on its head. I exhaled as I stroked the trigger, but Melissa knocked my hand up and the shot went into the ceiling.
“No! We can handle this,” she implored me.
Half a dozen guys appeared, and they were not the normal kind of survivors I’d seen sitting around the Costco. These were the guys who were cooling their heels in the rear of the building. Dressed in paramilitary gear complete with guns, long knives, and magazines on ammo belts, they spread out and surrounded the shuffler.
The thing’s eyes glowed with intelligence as it surveyed the men and women gathered around it. It didn’t take long to come to a decision. It leapt onto a smaller woman--the same one who’d threatened me a few nights ago.
The shuffler’s move was a mistake.
She spread her feet and shifted her body weight as the shuffler landed on her… or should I say, was tossed across the floor like a large bag of flour. She’d gotten her hands up and then slid to the side. The move was fast, and looked like something out of a martial arts movie.
I pushed past Melissa, intent on killing this thing. Damn the consequences. If the shuffler wasn’t killed, it meant we were all going to die.
I drew a bead on it as it came up on all fours.
Mateo pounded up beside me and grabbed my gun's barrel. He pushed it down
toward the ground and then twisted it. I had to either let go of the gun or have my wrist snapped.
“The fuck, man?” I said in indignation.
“Bad hombres, let them do their job,” Mateo said under his breath.
Two of the paramilitary shot the shuffler with Tasers. One missed, but the other struck. He held down the trigger until the charge ran out; then another guy followed up with a blast. The shuffler spasmed on the ground.
Melissa ran to the shuffler's side and motioned for help. She and the others fell on the ghoul and held him down. She shoved a needle into his arm and pumped him full of drugs. After a few seconds, his eyes rolled back in his head, and the faint green glow faded.
“Mateo, I can’t stress this enough,” I said as I holstered the XDM. “That thing will bring a world of hurt down on us.”
“Maybe, but let me give you some advice. Don’t mess with those guys in blue. They aren’t nice like some of us.”
“Jailors?”
“Muscle, pure and simple. No one knows much about them except they keep the peace and they do a lot of patrols. Those guys are well-trained and don’t take any shit.”
“Which is why we’re going out on patrol? That makes no sense, man.”
“Doesn’t matter what they do. We’re going to do our job and smile about it when we get back. I’m not asking questions anymore, because I love coffee and two squares a day too much.”
I bit my tongue and followed, but I had questions--so many questions about this supposed paradise amidst a dead world.
###
10:45 hours approximate
Location: Somewhere near Vista, CA
We hustled around the side of the building and hopped into a big white Chevy pickup. As I slid inside, I noticed the new car smell. I guess that if you’re going to survive the zombie apocalypse, it’s okay to do it in style. The Escalade had taught me that much.
Mateo jumped in the driver's seat, and that was fine with me. I was still hopped up on adrenaline, and my hands shook. My heart hammered in my chest. I was mad, confused, and disappointed. These people had no idea what they were doing by keeping that fucking shuffler around.
Reavers (Z-Risen Series Book 4) Page 10
