The Creeping Dead: Book 2

by Edward P. Cardillo

  As Becky’s brain processed the warning from the other side of the wall, she felt arms wrap around her body, squeezing her arms against her sides. She tried to struggle, but she was shorter and lighter than Sam.

  He lifted her off her feet, pulling her away from the wall, and whispered in her ear. His voice was breathy, his breath warm and moist. “He told you, didn’t he?”

  Becky stopped struggling and tried to remain calm. Maybe she could talk her way out of it. “He told me he was all right. That’s all.”

  “Liar.” Sam’s grip didn’t loosen any.

  “No, really. Why? What do you think he said?”

  “He told you about me. About what I did.”

  Becky relaxed her muscles, creating a small gap in his embrace. But, he was like a boa constrictor, tightening his embrace, squeezing the breath out of her.

  “Sam, I have no idea…” she gasped. She had no wind for speech. It was a matter of seconds before she was going to pass out.

  Remembering her training, she swung her head back, and the back of her skull smashed the bridge of his nose.

  He whimpered and loosened his grip, allowing her feet to touch the ground. She placed her right foot behind his and shoved backwards, kicking off the table with her left foot.

  Sam lost his balance, tripped over her foot, and instinctively let her go. He went crashing to the ground, clutching his nose.

  She whirled around. “That was a big mistake.”

  Sam’s eyes were watering. “You fucking cunt,” he spat into his cupped hands. “You broke my nose!”

  There was the pounding of dead fists on the door and window. They had heard the ruckus outside.

  She was alone in a room, unarmed, with an apparent rapist in the middle of the zombie apocalypse. She couldn’t allow him to get back up, and at the moment, she wasn’t worried about police brutality. She started kicking him in the head and in his ribs. He curled up, yelling and crying out with each blow.

  The pounding outside became louder and more forceful. The large window was rattling. It was going to break.

  Becky shoved the dresser away from the door and got behind it as the glass of the large window shattered. The dead pushed their way through the shards of broken glass and vertical blinds, descending on Sam.

  He disappeared under a heap of zombies, screaming in horror as they tore him apart. More of the dead came through the window, joining the feeding frenzy. The sounds Sam made were something Becky would never forget as long as she lived.

  She peeked through the peephole as two zombies inside the room reached out for her, stopped by the dresser. The coast outside the door looked clear, as the dead were all converging on the broken window.

  She unlocked the door and pulled it open, but the edge of the door caught the edge of the dresser. As hands swiped at her, she shoved the dresser with her hip, bumping it until the edge of the door cleared it. She flung the door open and dashed outside, stopping at the fence by the pool.

  A dead woman lunged at her, but she sidestepped and punched it in the head. She backed away as it tumbled to the ground.

  A hand clapped down on her shoulder. Becky turned and raised her fist to strike.

  It was the old man next door. Recoiling, he had his hands up, shielding his face. “Hey, hey, it’s okay!”

  She lowered her fist, and he lowered his hands.

  He was cringing. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Thank you for warning me about Sam.”

  “I have a car, but we have to get Erin.” He pointed to the room across the way.

  Becky nodded. “Let’s go.”

  They rounded the pool, and the old man jumped ahead, banging on the room door. “Erin! Erin, it’s Larry! Open up!”

  They waited, but there was no response.

  “Back up,” said Becky.

  Larry did as he was told.

  Becky took a couple of steps back and kicked the door. On the third kick, it swung inward, pulling off part of the door frame.

  Larry slipped by Becky as she kept a lookout. He re-emerged from the room. “She’s unconscious.”

  “Great,” said Becky. Just what she needed. They needed to make a quick getaway, and they had to deal with an overdose.

  She entered the room and saw Erin unconscious on her bed in her clothes. She was pallid and drenched in sweat. The room was a total pig sty. She walked over and checked her pulse. “She’s in bad shape.”

  “I’m not leaving without her,” insisted Larry.

  “Grab her feet.”

  Larry ran over and grabbed Erin’s feet. Becky grabbed Erin under her arms. They lifted her off the bed. She was light, thankfully.

  Becky led the way to the door. Fortunately, the dead were still preoccupied with eating Sam.

  “Where’s your car?”

  “Right here, in the lot. The old Dodge.”

  They lugged her out the front gate, which was unlatched. Becky pushed it open with her hip.

  “Over here.” Larry led them over to a large, rusted, old car. He lowered her feet and fished his keys out of his pocket. His hands were trembling. He opened the front door and unlocked the back. He opened it, and Becky dragged Erin’s limp body over to the back seat. Together, they shoved her inside lying on her back, her knees bent and lying sideways to make room.

  Becky closed the back door and held her hand out. “Keys.”

  “Well, I-I thought I’d drive.”

  “Keys.”

  Larry begrudgingly handed her the keys.

  “Thank you.” Becky rounded the car and slid into the driver’s seat. She reached across and unlocked the passenger door. No power locks. It was an older model.

  Larry let himself into the passenger seat. “Don’t smack her up. She’s all I got.”

  Becky arched an eyebrow. “Larry, anything I’d do to this car would be an improvement.” She turned the ignition, the engine reluctantly turned over, and she pulled the shifter into reverse.

  They backed out of the parking lot, knocking over two dead—a woman and a boy. She felt their bodies crunch under the wheels. She put the car in drive and turned left to head down the street.

  Larry turned around to give Erin a look. She was still unconscious. “Where are we going?”

  “The police station.”

  “What the hell are we gonna do there?”

  “There’s police there. Weapons. Radios.”

  “How many cops do you think are left after the first wave?”

  It was a legitimate question, and something Becky hadn’t wanted to ponder. “I don’t know, but at least we’ll have supplies and communication.”

  “I don’t want to die in no police station. I would’ve rather died back in the room.”

  “We’re not going to die, Larry. Not if I can help it.”

  “Well, that’s reassuring.”

  “Sarcasm isn’t going to help us, Larry.”

  “It’s about all I got left.”

  “That’s not true.” She turned to look him in the eye. “You were in the military.”

  “Army. I was in Vietnam, right in the shit.”

  “You have training. You know how to fire a gun.”

  “I was hit, right in the leg.” He pointed down at his knee. “I was running through that God-forsaken jungle when I felt my leg get taken out from under me. It was like I was hit by a lead pipe. I received an honorable discharge. Still get nightmares.”

  Becky smiled. “Well, there’s one good thing about this situation.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You won’t get shot.”

  “No, just eaten alive. If I’m lucky.”

  Becky punched him in the arm. “See, Larry. That’s the spirit!”

  “Yeah.”

  * * *

  Lena pulled into the CVS parking lot. She crept into a handicapped parking space, right in front, and put the cruiser in park. She left the engine running.

  There were zombies wandering up and down the street in
front of CVS, but none seemed interested in them at the moment. Lena eyed the front entrance to the store. The lights were on, but she didn’t see anyone inside. However, her angle didn’t afford her a complete view of the store.

  “I’m g-g-going with you,” offered Lenny.

  Lena looked at Mrs. Holly, and then at Lenny. She smiled. “I appreciate your offer, Lenny, but I need you to stay here and watch Robbie and Tyrell.”

  Lenny was going to insist, but he looked at the two boys in the back seat with him. They looked scared. He appeared to change his mind.

  “I’ll come with you,” said Mrs. Holly.

  Lena shook her head. “No, I need someone who can drive this car…in case I don’t come out.”

  Robbie’s eyes were watering. “Mommy…”

  “It’ll be okay, honey,” said Lena. “It’s just in case.”

  “I don’t want you going in there.”

  “I have to, Robbie. For Tyrell’s mom. She needs my help.”

  “You don’t have to go in,” said Tyrell, resigned. “She’s probably dead anyway.” He choked on those words as if they were poison in his mouth.

  Lena’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you say that. You’re mom’s tough. She’s a real warrior. When I got out of town the last time the dead attacked, she was here fighting. She fought for your life, and now we’re going to fight for hers.”

  Tyrell looked down for a moment, ashamed. “Thanks, Mrs. Holbrook.”

  “Don’t thank me now.” Lena checked her phone. She got Jim’s text. It was a short list: advanced blood stop hemostatic gauze (as much as possible), sterile gloves, alcohol (as much as possible), tweezers. “Thank me when Dr. Potts saves your mom.”

  Lena looked around. The parking lot was clear. “Okay, Mrs. Holly. Let’s switch places.”

  They both got out. Mrs. Holly came around the front of the police cruiser and slid into the driver’s seat.

  “Keep the engine running,” said Lena.

  Mrs. Holly nodded and closed the door.

  This was it. Do or die. Lena was going to get the supplies and get out. She was doing it for Tara Bigelow. That woman saved lives during the last attack. She helped counsel survivors afterwards as the town rebuilt itself. It was time someone did something for her.

  Lena texted her husband. ‘At CVS. Coast clear. Going in.’

  Chapter 12

  Unarmed and terrified, Lena Holbrook stepped up to the electric doors. They opened. Air conditioning and light music wafted out to greet her, an odd juxtaposition to the chaos happening outside.

  Lena took a deep breath, cell phone in hand, and stepped inside.

  The store was surprisingly tranquil. And empty.

  There were no cashiers up front. There were no customers visible. Other than the soft music piping over the speakers, the place was silent.

  Lena passed the cash registers, looking up at the aisle labels, but careful to check down the aisles as she passed. It looked as if the place had been abandoned. Maybe, in all of the tumult, everyone had fled.

  But, that meant they knew about the dead, which meant the dead had to have been inside the store. Which meant that maybe they still were.

  She grabbed a small basket off the top of a stack and passed the greeting cards and the toy aisle. She passed the magazine rack on her left and the display of printer cartridges on her right.

  There was an aisle for soaps and shampoos. Then she saw it in the back. ‘First Aid, Bandages.’ She turned left, passing the soaps, creams, and shampoos, her ears pricked for any sounds.

  She reached the first aid aisle. She found bottles of rubbing alcohol. She grabbed several and threw them into her basket. She found regular gauze and bandages. They weren’t hemostatic, but she grabbed a few boxes anyway. She threw in two packs of sterile gloves.

  She searched the shelves, but she didn’t find any hemostatic gauze. She checked one more time, and then she figured she had to check the pharmacy. It was a specialty item and was therefore probably kept back there.

  She strode to the end of the aisle, turned right at the antacids display, and headed for the pharmacy. She passed cereals and pretzels on her right and stopped in front of the small pharmacy counter. She looked left and then right. There continued to be no one inside the store.

  She stepped up to the counter and took a gander at the back. There didn’t appear to be any pharmacists on duty. The pharmacy looked abandoned, like the rest of the store.

  “Hello?’ she called out, just to be sure.

  She waited, muscles tensed, listening and looking.

  When there was no answer, she placed her basket on the counter. She hoisted herself up, sat on the counter, and swung her legs around to the other side. She slid off the counter and into the pharmacy.

  There were rows and rows of shelves holding medication. She scanned them, shelf by shelf, looking for the hemostatic gauze. She passed over antibiotics, hypertension pills, and finally saw the gauze.

  She held out her shirt, placing as many boxes as she could into it. Then, she waddled over to the basket and began to unload her cargo when something collided into her back.

  The basket toppled over, spilling its contents onto the floor on the store side. Hands reached for her neck, and she heard grunting and growling in her ear.

  Lena pushed off the counter with both hands, shoving the zombie backwards as it grasped her around the neck. She heard teeth snap shut, but its grip on her neck appeared to be blocking its own bites.

  She wriggled around, trying to shake loose. It shrieked into her left ear, causing it to ring. She placed a foot up on the counter and shoved herself backwards. This time, the zombie lost its footing and tumbled backwards, taking Lena with it, into a shelf of medications.

  She got her footing and lunged forward, gradually pulling loose from the zombie as she slipped out of its grip. Once she was back at the counter, she turned to look at it. It was likely a man, but in a severe state of decay, missing its arms from the elbow joints.

  Lena still felt its grip on her neck. She reached up and grabbed the slippery hands. The flesh was soft and rotten under her fingers. She peeled them off and threw them down. They hit the white tile floor with a wet splat.

  “Yuck!” Lena grimaced and hopped the counter as the slimy dead man kicked backwards, trying to stand up by leaning on the shelves. Its stubbed arms waved around in futility. He looked like a zombie T-rex.

  Once over, Lena scrambled to put everything back into the basket. Just as she put in the last container of gauze, she heard two loud honks outside. Then she heard the front doors open.

  The horn honks were Mrs. Holly warning her.

  She walked along the back of the store by the antacids, watching the angled mirror above the display. She looked up in time to see a shape enter the store and vanish behind the greeting cards. Shit.

  The zombie in the pharmacy let out a shriek, and it was immediately answered by another shriek from somewhere inside the store.

  Lena clutched the basket close to her. She needed to get back to the police cruiser. Her eyes swept her surroundings, searching for a weapon. She saw canes hanging down the aisle next to the cereal and chips.

  She crept over to the aisle, quietly slipped one of the canes off its hook, and hefted it in her right hand. Her left hand held the basket of supplies. The cane was long, but it was too light to do any damage as a bludgeoning weapon. At best, she could use it to keep the other zombie at a distance.

  She tiptoed up the aisle towards the front. She figured that if it was heading down the greeting card aisle towards the back, she could circumvent it by going up front.

  The pharmacy zombie shrieked again, followed by some strange guttural sounds. Once again, it was answered by a similar shriek, but different guttural sounds. Holy shit. These bastards are talking to each other.

  She didn’t remember Jim ever talking about these things communicating. She was suddenly reminded of that scene in that dinosaur movie with the two velociraptors talking t
o each other as they stalked two children.

  She made it to the front, away from the calls of the second zombie. She peeked around a display of hanging ballpoint pens. The path to the front door was clear.

  Lena took a deep breath, steeled herself, and darted across the front towards the exit. She passed the candy aisle, the magazines, and the printer cartridges.

  She passed the registers on her left and was passing the greeting cards on her right when something heavy tackled her, sending her flying in front of the aisle with the beach toys, which was the last aisle before the door.

  The thing wheezed as it writhed on top of her, leaking all kinds of bodily fluids. On her stomach, Lena winced and squirmed under it, moaning in disgust and horror. The basket full of supplies lay five feet to her right. It had landed on its side, and all of its contents had spilled out across the floor.

  Lena rolled over, pressing her cane sideways against the zombie, shoving it off of her. It squealed as it was rolled. She got a good look at its face, or what was left of it. It was bloated, sagging skin clinging to its skull, but its face was almost entirely shapeless. Its eyes were nearly swollen shut, but it watched her through narrow slits.

  She hit it in its face with the cane, but the cane was too light. It only served to enrage it further.

  Lena scrambled away from it, giving it a parting kick in its jaw, dislocating it. She crawled over to the basket, turned it right side up, and began to pick up all of her spilled items.

  The zombie now lunged forward at her on its hands and knees, reaching out for her. She swiped at it with her cane, but the zombie caught it and ripped it out of her hands. It threw the cane off to the side and scurried towards her, snarling.

  Lena looked up to her right and found a children’s red plastic shovel. She snatched it off its hook and swung it at the monster, hitting its face. But, as it was only plastic, it didn’t have much stopping power, and the creature scampered towards her again.

  She threw the shovel at it, snatched a can of aerosol suntan lotion, and sprayed the zombie right in its eyes. It screeched and recoiled.

  “Yes!” shouted Lena. “Take that, fucker!”

  As if in answer, it projectile vomited blood at her, covering the front of her blouse and pants.