Jackson Kidd (Book 1): Surviving

by West, Mark

  To my right is a blue sign with the words Loading Dock on it. I turn to the others, huddled together behind me. ‘You guys ready?’ They all nod and follow me through the door into the storage area. It’s all clear. There’s a white door with the words Store Entrance written across the top. I grip the handle and turn it slightly. It is unlocked and twists easily. I turn it all the way and push it forward a nudge until the latch is free of the striker plate.

  ‘This is it,’ I whisper. With my gun resting in under my arm, I open it all the way.

  Bright white lights shine on my face, oversized spotlights casting a blinding beam from the ceiling above. The glare disorientates me for a moment, causing me to stumble backwards, and I bump into someone behind.

  I peer around the room and see rows and rows of shelves covering the floor from back to front. Virtually a Bunnings knock off, the hardware store is large enough to house a jumbo jet if it needed. I’m surprised, it’s even bigger than it seemed from the outside. The front of the store is at the other end. ‘Let’s start at the checkouts and work our way back,’ I whisper.

  Concentrating most of my attention in front of me, I’m barely aware of the others and ignore the aisles as we walk past, forgetting to check if they are empty. Luckily, we arrive at the front of the shop unscathed.

  ‘So, what now?’ Doug asks, lifting a pair of gardening gloves from a pallet stack and giving them a casual inspection before placing them back down.

  I turn to the others. They are gathered in a tight arc around me, waiting for orders. ‘We should split up. We can clear the place quicker that way. Wait, where’s Rohan?’

  A booming voice echoes through the store. ‘Hey guys!’ Rohan’s standing by a register. The cash drawer is open and he’s holding up a pile of notes. ‘Look at all this cash!’ He flashes the fistful of colourful bills like a fan, smiling at everyone then throwing them into the air. ‘We’re rich!’ They fly high above his head before reaching their peak and floating softly down, some landing on his body, most falling on the floor.

  ‘Shhhhh!’ Lincoln hisses. ‘Keep it down you fool. Do you want more of those things coming out? Besides, money’s probably worthless now.’

  Rohan brushes off the notes resting on his shoulders. His face is glowing from embarrassment as he walks back to join the huddle. ‘We can only pretend,’ he mumbles.

  ‘Okay, all good here?’ The group murmurs back so I continue, ‘Alright then. Lincoln and Rohan, you check the front of the store while Doug and I check the back. Remember, don’t hesitate to kill anything that doesn’t seem human anymore. And yell for help if you need it.’

  ‘Ready?’ Rohan asks, tapping Lincoln on the shoulder.

  ‘Ready.’

  I watch as the two boys disappear behind a shelving rack full of silicone tubes, and then lift my arm and point to the back of the store.

  When we get to the centre of the store we decide to split up. Two wide aisles run side by side leading to the back, running past rows of shelving. Doug takes the aisle on the right; I continue on the left: a lone wolf.

  A couple of rows along I come across the kitchen display area. The area seems clear enough, but I hear a low groan coming from a row of ovens. I raise my gun and point it in the direction of the sound.

  There he is, a middle-aged man still wearing his green sales uniform as if nothing has happened. He spots me straight away and lurches towards me with his head lowered. The closer he gets the more I realise he is a lot shorter than me with my six-foot frame. I decide I should try and save my ammo, placing my gun to my side and quickly searching for something else to use as a weapon.

  I’m standing next to a shelf full of door handles. I grab one and stuff it into the back of my pants. It’s the length of a ruler and has a sharp point at each end. To my right are cupboard door panels with coloured dots along the edge of the cardboard packaging; one for every colour of the rainbow. I dart over, picking up the first one I come to and lift it up. It feels heavy and solid, and strains my arms. I hold it front of me and charge.

  I slap the panel across his face. It sends him crashing into the corner of a shelving rack. He falls face first onto the concrete floor and I run over to him, pulling the handle from my pocket and holding it like a dagger. This is my chance. I lunge forward but unexpectedly feel my muscles freeze up as if I have a cramp. It causes me to jerk awkwardly and I drop the handle as the man swings an arm. I cop it in the face.

  ‘Argh.’

  The blow sends needles shooting along my jaw and stars into my vision. I stagger back and trip over a pallet stack, hitting the concrete floor with a thud. Shooting pain radiates from my tailbone. I wince, rubbing the area furiously.

  ‘Dammit!’

  My knife has slipped from its sheath, the door handle is nowhere to be seen and my gun is somewhere out of reach behind me. I’m defenceless. I glance up to see the Infected now on his feet and coming for me.

  I’m struggling to stand when he leaps forward. I catch him mid-air, his mass leaning on my outstretched arms. He snaps at me like a turtle. I scream. ‘Help!’ No response except the man’s groans of anger.

  He wriggles like an eel, attempting to break free from my grip. I clamp tighter, his uniform acting as a perfect hold. But I can’t hold him forever. I can feel the muscles in my arms beginning to burn and slowly weaken.

  I inspect my surroundings trying desperately to see or think of anything that can remove this monster. Near me is another handle that has fallen under the shelving. It’s about the same size as the previous one, except this one has a more jagged point to either end. It’s close, but just out of reaching distance.

  I turn back and stare into the man’s eyes. His expression has not changed. He’s pissed off and hungry for blood. I can taste his raging breath; it bathes my face. My nostrils burn fiercely from the putrid smell.

  I need a plan and I need one fast. Options flood my mind as the man’s dead weight gets heavier by second. I need to do something, and I need to do it now before my friends find me wandering the halls like this guy.

  I push my elbows hard onto the concrete surface and attempt to push my body closer to the handle, still gripping the man tightly. It doesn’t work, so I lift my knees and push with my feet like a slug. There’s a slight shift of momentum.

  I continue the motion, moving closer to the rack. My muscles scream to give up and rest, but I keep going until I’m just an arm’s length away. One more push should do it. I repeat the motion, sliding along the ground until I’m resting hard against the rack. I see the handle in all its glory. Now to grab it.

  It happens in a blur. I summon all my strength, pushing the man into the air and freeing my left arm so I can snatch the handle. I grip it tightly and spin it around so the point is facing his face. With the help of gravity, the point slips though the centre of his eye. The jagged end cuts the soft tissue, continuing into his even softer brain and killing him right before me: his face frozen in a deathly gasp.

  Exhausted, and with the last ounce of strength, I push the man off me. I suck in gulps of air now that his weight is off my chest. I slip a rag from my pocket, wipe my blood-soaked face and toss it to one side, thankful I got no blood in my eyes or mouth. I lie there on the floor for a few more minutes, catching my breath, until I hear footsteps and the sound of Doug’s voice calling out,

  ‘What happened?’

  I open my eyes, to see Doug standing above me. I roll onto my stomach, arms feeling a little better now as the strength returns. ‘Where were you?’ I ask sternly. ‘I was almost lunch.’

  Doug holds out his hand to me and I snatch it reluctantly, still annoyed that he didn’t come running when I called for help. ‘Mate, I had one to deal with myself.’ I spot the fresh blood glistening on his jumper. ‘I saw him at the last second leaving an aisle, back there.’ He points back down the main aisle and I follow his gaze. ‘I followed him for a while before killing him with an axe.’

  I roll my eyes, but understand that he also had h
is hands full. ‘Yeah, okay. Fair enough. But I did call out. I’m guessing you didn’t hear me?’ I glance around in search for Lincoln and Rohan. ‘Where are the boys?’

  Doug shrugs his shoulders. ‘Not sure, but I think the place is clear though. I checked the last few rows as I came looking for you and didn’t see anyone else. What should we do now?’

  I locate my knife and pick it up. I re-sheath it, then grab my gun. ‘Good. Let’s find the others and get cracking.’

  We search for around five minutes, checking every aisle twice, but find no sign of Lincoln or Rohan except for a woman who has been recently killed by a blow to the head.

  ‘Rohan! Lincoln!’ I yell, cupping my hands around my mouth. I feel flakes of crusted blood fall from my fingers. I rub my hands furiously on my pants, trying to remove the biological hazard with little success. Where are you guys?

  ‘Oi, Lincoln you idiot! What are you doing?’ Doug screams, amplifying his voice using a large red cone from behind the counter.

  I do a full 360-degree spin of the area. ‘They couldn’t have gone far.’ I spin again. I’m about halfway through when something in the corner of my eye causes me to stop. A leather glove is wedged in the bottom of a door: a door we haven’t checked.

  Doug walks over to me, dragging the cone so that it squeaks on the concrete surface. ‘What did you find?’

  I indicate the door. ‘Another room.’

  Doug raises his eyebrows. ‘Well, well. Let’s go check it out then.’

  We approach the door with caution, drawing our makeshift weapons and our guns.

  ‘Look.’ Doug points to the ground.

  Just inside of the door is a pool of blood and another dead body. I can’t tell if it’s a man or woman. Their face is mutilated and an arm and leg are missing, which I spot a few metres further up the corridor. Behind the body is a streak of blood that runs across the floor and into another room off to the side.

  I follow the blood trail. ‘Let’s check this then go upstairs.’

  Doug pushes me out of the way, taking the lead with his makeshift spear. It’s crafted out of a broom handle with a chisel taped to one end. He holds it outstretched as far as he can and approaches the door. When he reaches the entrance, he glances around the corner, inspecting the inside quickly, then lowers his weapon and turns back towards me. ‘It’s empty.’ He straightens up and I can see the tension in his face disappear. ‘Looks like it’s the break room. Nothing but lounges and a small food station.’

  I unsling my heavy rifle, place it on the ground and wipe my forehead. Gritting my teeth in annoyance, I walk to the room with my crowbar in my hand. ‘They have to be upstairs,’ I say. ‘Unless they left the warehouse.’

  Doug wipes the sole of his shoe along the carpet, leaving a red and brown stain in its place. ‘Guess we’ll soon find out.’ He inspects his shoe, grunts and wipes it again.

  ‘Let’s move.’ I leave the room and head for the stairs.

  Fifteen timber stairs later we arrive at the top, huddled on the landing with a door on either side of us. The one to the right has a silver plaque with the word Manager, and the one on the left a dull, discoloured sign saying Toilets. I think for a moment, then raise my hand and indicate the manager’s door. ‘Let’s check the office first,’ I whisper, and clasp the silver handle.

  As I open the door, I can hear muffled chewing noises. It’s starting to sound all too familiar. I push the door open all the way. The hinges squeal like a train braking at a station. Right away I see two Infected bent over the manager’s desk that is situated to the back of the room. They are ripping and tearing into a pile of human remains sprawled across the floor.

  Doug raises his spear in anticipation, tucking himself behind me. ‘Looks like we found the manager.’

  I go to raise my rifle and realise I’ve left it downstairs. ‘Shit. My gun is downstairs.’ I raise my crowbar instead.

  The Infected jerk up, lumpy pieces of flesh falling from their mouths and splashing on the carpet like wet rags. I feel my muscles tense, bracing for another attack.

  ‘I hope that’s not who I think it is behind the desk.’ Doug murmurs.

  I have a feeling he’s right. I can see two bodies, most likely our missing friends.

  Chapter 15

  VICTORIA

  Victoria stirs, rolls on her side and checks the time, keeping the doona cocooned around her. It’s just past eight. It feels like it’s been days since she said goodbye to Jackson, but it’s been just a few hours. She’s missing him deeply already. She sighs, expelling air between lips, asking herself, yet again, why he had to go. But she knows the answer: for their survival. She lies there, quietly, hugging herself for comfort.

  Eventually she sits up, slipping back the doona. The chill air touches her exposed skin. She shivers and quickly puts on a pair of tracksuit pants and a long sleeve shirt before walking to the mirror.

  There are dark rings under her tired eyes and her hair is a mess. Victoria grimaces at her appearance, running a hand through her hair in attempt to comb out the knots before tying it back with a band. ‘I better see if the others are up.’ She takes one last glance at herself and heads to the door.

  A rush of warm air gushes past as she enters the room, making her skin prickle with delight. A fire is glowing in the background making a faint crackle. She smiles, welcoming the heat. Amy is lying on the couch with a magazine, quilt wrapped around her legs. She peers up at Victoria as she walks past.

  ‘Good morning.’ Amy says, with an artificial cheeriness.

  ‘Hey Amy. How’d you sleep?’

  Amy places a magazine to one side and sits up. ‘Not too bad. Boys’ alarm woke me though. Any word?’

  Victoria shakes her head. ‘Nothing. Phone lines must still be down.’

  ‘Let me know if you hear something.’ Amy says, before returning to her reading.

  Piper is in the kitchen, mixing something in a bowl. She has an apron wrapped around her waist, and her hair is pulled back in a ponytail. A tea towel is resting on one shoulder.

  ‘Morning, Piper.’ The smell of baking tickles Victoria’s nose. ‘Something smells nice.’ Intrigued, she inspects the oven. ‘What are you making?’

  Piper rubs her chin with the back of her hand, leaving a small, floury smudge. ‘Nothing much, just baking some rolled oat muffins. I found some leftover ingredients in the cupboard. I hope you don’t mind?’

  ‘Mind? Not at all.’ Victoria’s stomach is already rumbling and her mouth is watering. ‘Can I have a taste when you’re done?’

  Piper grins at Victoria’s hungry eyes. ‘For sure. Should be ready in about ten to fifteen. We can have them for breakfast.’

  ‘Great. I might go take a shower then.’ Victoria opens the fridge and removes a small bottle of water before retreating to the bedroom for her towel.

  After a quick shower and some fresh clothes, Victoria is ready to fight another day. The dark rings around her eyes have subsided and her hair feels less of a mess. ‘That’s better,’ she says, and turns from the mirror and walks to the kitchen.

  Joseph, Piper and Amy are all sitting around the table and cutting into what looks to be their first muffin. Butter, jam and some other spreads line the table, along with a plate of muffins. Victoria takes a seat before grabbing an empty glass and pouring in some apple juice. ‘Morning, Joseph,’ she says, reaching over to grab a muffin. It is still warm, and steams when she breaks it apart.

  Joseph glances up, mouth full of food. ‘Morning. How did you sleep?’

  ‘Not too bad. Did you see the boys leave?’ Victoria digs her knife into the butter getting a decent lump which quickly melts when she spreads it on the muffin.

  ‘I was out for a walk. I saw them go, but I was too far away to say goodbye.’

  ‘Any Infected?’ Piper asks, a hint of anxiety in her voice.

  ‘Not that I could see. I didn’t go too far though, just a hundred or so metres from the house. Those Infected scare the hell out of me.�
� He takes another bite.

  Piper shudders. ‘Infected, or whatever we’re calling them, it sends shivers down my spine just mentioning the word.’ She turns to Victoria and gives her an appreciative smile. ‘Thanks again for having us.’

  Victoria returns the smile. ‘Everyone’s welcome. If we all work together, we’ll hopefully be fine.’ Victoria examines her muffin. ‘By the way …’ She takes a bite, savours the taste and swallows before speaking again. ‘Amazing, Piper.’

  ‘Thanks, Victoria.’ Piper smiles.

  ‘So, on other news,’ Amy interrupts, ‘What’s everyone’s plans today?’

  Joseph brushes a hand across his lips, removing the remaining crumbs. ‘I’ll be wiring up the generator to the mains to create a single source, so we can—’

  ‘Okay.’ Amy raises her hand and cuts him off. ‘A quick summary’s fine, Joseph.’ Her eyes roll in amusement.

  ‘Oh.’ He lowers his head, turning a shade of red. ‘Well, I’ll make the generator run the internal power when the mains cuts out. It’s a big unit. We should be able to run the essentials.’

  Piper nods. ‘Impressive!’

  ‘Well, at least until the solar panels arrive.’ The smile returns to Joseph’s face, and he resumes eating.

  Piper adjusts herself in her seat. ‘If it’s okay with everyone, I might start to organise an area where could grow something if the boys come back with seeds.’

  ‘Sounds perfect,’ Amy answers. ‘It would be great to have some fresh vegies. I know Doug is keen to make his famous stir fry.’

  Piper and Joseph laugh. Victoria sighs at the thought they may be stuck out here longer than anticipated. No use worrying about things you can’t control, though. She forces an awkward smile. ‘I’ll help Amy organise some of the food rations for the week. Then we can head outside and mark the fence. Jackson asked if we could get the area marked out for when they get back.’

  Victoria pulls a sheet of paper from her pocket. ‘He wrote down the dimensions and sketched the approximate area he wants the fence to surround. It looks like it’s going to be decent. I just hope they come back safely.’