by James Barton
The weight of canned goods, rice, and other survival foods added up very quickly. My back was aching and I couldn’t think of a plan, so we just kept walking.
We passed a motel complex with a sheet thrown over the black fence “Thieves will be shot.” Harvey looked at me clearly exhausted, “What do we do?”
I didn’t know, I couldn’t think of anything. It couldn’t end this way, left to die by dozens of people, all because that old car broke down. “We keep going, we will find a place. I think there is a water tower up ahead, we can climb up it and stay safe,” I said.
There actually was a water tower, but I couldn’t even see it from where we stood. Plus, I think those are normally fenced in or the ladder doesn’t reach far enough for random people to climb it. I just said it to keep him going. We had faced a couple zombies along the way and each one was scary as hell. They never moved the same; some came at us flailing, while others dove at us mouth first. One scratch and you were done for; at least that’s what I kept thinking. I didn’t plan to test it out.
We pushed through our exhaustion, feeling the dead closing in with every step. If they got close enough they would frenzy and there was no way we could defend against so many. Fifteen car lengths behind us was the mob.
Then standing alone in the middle of the road was a silhouette that made me immediately stop in my tracks. As it turned around, Harvey too came to a complete halt. The man that turned around had been at least 350lbs in life. His brown oily hair sparkled in the sunlight and his torn wife-beater shirt left one of his large man breasts exposed. His skin was bloated and stretched. His neck was massive and looked like an inflated trash bag. Even his face was swollen and behind the gobs of stretched skin were small beady eyes that trained themselves on us. It looked right at us and I swear it cracked a smile. The corners of its mouth bent upward as a dribble of red stringy liquid ran down its mouth.
It lumbered one difficult step forward; it sent a rippling shockwave through the rolls of fat. With the impact of each step it sent small splashes or red goo sputtering out of its mouth. It dragged itself towards us with that one man-tit swaying back and forth like a pendulum. We were trapped between a restaurant that had already fired a warning shot, the king of all spreaders, and a horde of undead. The motel was the only place that hadn’t shot at us, but we had already passed the entrance and it was now almost surrounded by the dead.
“Motel,” I said and started walking towards the front entrance to the motel, which again was already surrounded by the undead mob. Harvey looked back and forth in both directions and then went with me.
“I have two shells left,” he said as the oncoming horde drew closer. “Y’know, for us.”
“Screw that, use mine to kill a zombie.” It sounded heroic in my head, but it felt stupid. I didn’t want to get ripped apart and eaten alive, but I just couldn’t give up. If there was even a chance of survival we had to push through it. We were surrounded, only about eight car lengths on each side and closing.
Suddenly, multiple car alarms starting going off behind the horde. There had to be at least four alarms going off right next to each other. Their lights were flashing on and off while blaring horns and other sound effects screamed into the daylight. The entire horde paused for a moment and like magic, some began to break away to investigate the sounds. Nearly half of them went the other way to slap and paw at the cars. Some seemed to know better and continued to stagger towards us.
They drew closer. Harvey fired a shot, decimating the closest one’s whole upper body. He held the last shell in his hand and loaded it the shotgun. “Shoot,” I yelled as they got even closer.
“I can’t yet, this last one is just birdshot,” he replied.
“What does that mean? Will it still work?”
“It might, if I’m close enough.”
We walked slowly towards the group realizing there were far too many still.
“Stay there!” a feminine voice shouted from within the motel fence. I looked over to see a pale-skinned woman about my age in an oversized biker jacket and jeans. She was short and had long black hair. She held a homemade spear and came running over to the fence. With her, was a man who looked like a professional body builder. He was hugely muscular and wore similar leather attire, but with the addition of a motorcycle helmet. He had a sledgehammer and moved swiftly to the gate. My imagination flashed an image of a man in shining armor; these people might just be our heroes today.
Despite their sudden arrival, a multitude of zombies continued to close in. As we huddled close to the fence the woman slid her spear easily through the lateral bars and downed a few of our would-be attackers. She made it look easy.
The man messed with the lock and stepped outside onto the street. I could barely see past the four zombies that were nearly on top of us, but that man was causing utter destruction to those monsters within his reach. The sledgehammer crashed into them with such force, that some of them nearly exploded on contact. Even the hits that missed the head forced them to the ground in a broken heap. The woman continued to spear the undead or pin them and take a quick jab at them with a screwdriver.
I couldn’t believe people were actually trying to help. Our final rite of passage stood before us. Four zombies were completely ignoring the people behind them and closed in on us. The low gurgling from the giant spreader was slowly creeping up behind us. I couldn’t underestimate his range; I feared his size might give him incredible reach. So I pressed forward, clenching the machete and trying to think of my next move.
The next few seconds were a blur as we fought our way through these four undead. First there was the blast of birdshot that didn’t quite do the damage of the previous shells but was enough to drop one. The next thing I knew, we were dodging six arms and swinging our weapons madly. I sidestepped one and slammed its face into the cast iron fencing only to have it immediately pierced by a screwdriver from the girl on the other side. I looked up to see her grinning evilly at me. She was beautiful, but I didn’t have time to gawk. I started to thank her, but she shouted for me to duck and I did so without hesitation. I ducked under the grasping arms of a second zombie. It latched onto my duffel bag and started to bite at the green canvas. Harvey swooped in, taking advantage of the moment and sent his blade nearly through its neck. He had already downed his attacker. We looked at each other with the look that said, “We just might live through this.”
“C’mon get inside!” the girl waved us in.
We didn’t hesitate and started to trot over to the gate. Before we could get far the zombie filled with birdshot, reached up from the pavement. It latched onto Harvey’s leg and bit down. He yelped, more out of being startled than pain. I reflexively swung my machete. The blade sliced the top portion of its soft skull, exposing dull red brain matter. It went limp and Harvey shook it off. The king-sized spreader was closing in and we didn’t have time to waste. I pushed Harvey towards the gate and he limped one step and then pushed through his pain. I could hear a gurgling and splashing sound as a torrent of red liquid crashed three feet behind us. There was a moan from the spreader that sounded far too human; it sounded like disappointment.
Both the man and woman ushered us past the open gate. We made it in and they slammed the bars, quickly locking it behind us. There was a short jog through the outdoor pool area until we reached the front door. There was a long pause and everyone looked at Harvey in unison, who was bent over panting. As we stood there, the undead reached through the fence, moaning sadly. A great pillar of flesh stood unmoving, pressed up against the cold metal, staring at us with that haunting smile.
Harvey slowed his panting and looked up at everyone.
“What?” he said and then paused. He looked at his leg and then back at everyone, “It’s not what you think.”
Chapter 6: The Budget Inn
“See, I’m fine,” Harvey said while pointing at his jeans. They were indeed intact and untorn. He pulled up his pants leg and revealed a slight bruise, but it didn’t
look like anything had broken the skin. He nodded to everyone, trying to convince them of his good health.
“It looks fine to me, but we’ll have Todd look at you. He’s a doctor,” the girl said.
“Sheet, he’s a veterinarian, so if you got fleas he can fix you up,” the muscular man said after pulling off the motorcycle helmet. It revealed a middle-aged black man with a puff of unkempt hair. His face was marked with strong lines, earned from age and hard work.
“I wanted to thank you for saving us, everyone else sorta shot at us,” I said.
“Things have gotten really bad and right now, friends might be our most valuable resource,” she said.
“And food. Food is pretty valuable to me. Speaking of food…” the man said pointing at the duffel bag.
“We aren’t completely saints in all this. We noticed the big rucksacks you guys were carrying. The group inside made a vote and I think those packs may have helped sway the jury. We aren’t out of food and I’m not asking for you to give it all to us, but it you felt inclined to reward us for saving you,” she began with some hesitation.
“Yeah, like I smashed 14 zeds to save yo ass, give me something good,” he said, while rubbing his hands together.
“More like six, maybe,” she retorted.
“More like 200. Dude I’m just hungry for something that isn’t chips or crackers.”
For some reason, I liked these two already. The idea of sharing the food, well, at this moment I was just glad to be alive. As much as we had fought it, we needed a group. I dug through the pack, trying to find something Hercules would want.
“Potted meat?” I asked.
“Too salty,” he replied.
“Peanuts?”
“Allergic.”
“Oatmeal?”
“Nah, gives me the shits,” he said with a straight face. The girl jabbed him with her elbow. “Well it does. Ever fought off thirty zeds with diarrhea?”
“No, but neither have you,” she replied.
“Yeah I know, that’s cause I don’t eat oatmeal.”
I laughed and rooted through the pack some more. Harvey was standing there dazed and silent. I reached into the bottom of the bag and felt it. I cracked a smile as I started to pull it out.
“What is it? Is it a steak?” the man asked excitedly.
I lifted out a tub of chocolate protein powder and the man’s eyes lit up like Christmas morning. He held out his hands and wiggled his fingers, beckoning me to hand it to him. I put the tub in his hands and he spun the lid and peered inside. He took an exaggerated whiff and smiled at the girl.
“They brought ammo for my guns!” he said while flexing his muscles and making cartoonish gunshot sounds. He dashed inside, totally consumed by the idea of a new food. Normally I would find this as odd, but as Americans, everything we wanted was an arm’s reach away. If you couldn’t afford it there were credit cards and bank loans. Now something as simple as fulfilling a craving could be an impossible goal.
He popped his head back outside and said, “Oh yeah, you can stay here, like forever.”
The girl rolled her eyes and looked back at the two of us. “That’s Desmond; he worked at the high school as a weight lifting coach. He’s a bit of a goof. I found him two blocks down the road, completely surrounded. I saved him, just don’t let him know I told you,” she said and winked at me.
“How long have you been at this motel?” I asked.
“Pretty much since day one. Oh and I’m Shay,” she said while extending her hand to me.
I shook her hand; it sent an electric charge through my body. Don’t judge me; it has been weeks since I even saw a young female, minus the one that got eaten in our front lawn.
“I’m Jim and this is Harvey. We were roommates and best friends when this all started. We got attacked by some raiders and they seem to have taken over our house, so we were looking for someplace to bunker down for a while.”
“Well, this place is getting low on food, but since it’s a motel, raiders haven’t come around looking for supplies. We have made a few defensive upgrades, too. We take shifts and use any spear-like weapon to kill the undead through the fence slats. Eventually they’ll run out of monsters to send our way, right?”
“Yeah, I mean there is only what, 7 billion people in the world,” I said with a smirk.
“Well, even more of a reason for me to get started.”
Shay had suggested we give everyone some food as our introduction, which seemed reasonable enough. Most of the food here was shared, but it would help first impressions. We had enough for now and I just kept thinking that with a capable crew we could actually go scavenging. No stealing, but there are probably hundreds of homes that are abandoned with cupboards full of stuff.
I tried not to stare, but Shay really was beautiful. I wondered if she was a mix of white and Asian, but I couldn’t just ask. Her leather jacket was stained with chunks of dried guts and a few gobs or zombie clung to her straight black hair. Her hair was an endlessly flowing river that stopped at her belt. As she stepped inside, she removed her jacket and revealed a white, blood smeared undershirt.
“This is Todd, our doctor,” She said while introducing a lanky ghost of a man.
“He’s a vet!” shouted Desmond from inside an adjacent room.
Todd laughed and shook my hand. He had a bird’s nest of dirty blonde hair and wore black rimmed glasses. He was clean shaven and had a kind face.
“He’s right though, I used to work on dogs and cats. So don’t get banged up too bad, I don’t want to have to put you down,” he said with a smile. He looked over at Harvey’s leg. “Is he the one that got bit?”
“I didn’t get bit, I’m fine,” Harvey retorted.
“Well, if a zombie put its mouth on your leg and bit down, I’d like to take a look,” Todd said while leading Harvey into the manager’s office behind the front desk.
I called out to him, “Wait! I wanted to give you something for letting us stay here.”
He looked back, “I’m fine, but my kids would love something new,” he replied.
From one of the rooms I could hear what sounded like wood sanding. “Is there someone else working in there?”
“Three more people for you to meet. That’s Pablo; he is always working on something. He’s the one who came up with the spear idea,” Shay said.
We walked into a small maintenance room and there was a shorter Mexican man with combed back hair, sitting on the floor sharpening a table leg. His stripped button up shirt was stained with grease and what looked like sawdust. Beside him were three fully sharpened table legs. Next to that was the table itself, which had been flipped over and a few straps and a handle were installed into it. Did he just make a shield and spear out of a coffee table?
“Hey Pablo, we have a new guest,” Shay introduced.
The man stood up and shook my hand with a firm grip and said, “Hola.”
“Oh yeah, he doesn’t speak a lick of English.”
“Uh, may yamo Jim.”
His face brightened slightly and responded in Spanish.
“Oh, no sorry. That was all the Spanish I know. I brought you some food,” I said while making a terrible sign for eating. I dug into my bag and fished out a can of refried beans. “Here,” I said while extending the can.
Shay grimaced and then raised her eyebrow at me trying not to laugh. Pablo responded and furrowed his brow. I couldn’t understand the words, but I understood the tone. He was offended.
“Oh crap, I didn’t mean any offense, I’m sorry,” I said while I started to put the can back into the bag.
Even through my racist offering, Pablo continued to smile. He laughed and shook his head before grabbing the can out of my hand and nodding his thanks.
“Gracias.”
“You’re welcome.”
Pablo went back to his work and looked up at me, swatting me away like a buzzing fly.
“He gets into his work,” Shay said as she lightly pulled at my arm.<
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She kept her hands on my arming, pulling me down the hallway. Her touch felt good, it was comforting. At the end of the hallway was a small room, 113. Shay knocked on the door. There was a lot of commotion coming from inside. After waiting a moment the door open and a young girl in her early teens stood there in jeans and a red T-shirt that read “Punk.” One look at her and I felt I knew her type. Her uninterested stance hinted that she might be the girl that was too good for just about everything around her.
“Stop jumping on the bed, Peter! Hi Shay,” the girl said. She folded her arms and looked at me with distrust. Her black ponytail rested over her shoulder and she began picking at it defensively.
“Jim, this is Nikki and the little one bouncing off the walls is Peter. Nikki, this is one of the guys we saved a few minutes ago,” Shay said.
“Hey, thanks for letting me stay here. I have something for you,” I said to Nikki. She still looked unimpressed.
“I voted to leave you outside,” she said coldly.
“Wow,” was all I could say. I tried to be the better person and continued to fish through the bag to find something for her.
“Well, I’m glad you got outvoted then. Here, you pick one thing you want out of the bag.”
She squatted down and rooted through the bag for a moment and looked up at me. “Why don’t you have anything good?”
“I ate all the good stuff, just so you couldn’t have any.”
She rolled her eyes at my comment and pulled out three granola bars and flashed them at me, “Thanks, I guess.”
