by Mike Staton
Percival dropped his flashlight into a pocket and wrapped his hand around the doorknob. He held his pistol up and yanked the door open, ready to squeeze the trigger. A pair of hallways was all that greeted him. He motioned the others through and closed the door behind him. It wouldn’t stop the stalkers entirely, but it would slow them down slightly.
Percival moved to take point, taking the right-hand hallway instead of walking straight. The concrete walls were blank and gray and the temperature seemed to drop the further he went. Winter was coming and this building retained the night’s cold rather efficiently.
Percival moved forward and froze as the hallway ended in a room. A pair of desks was set facing each other in the middle with filing cabinets lining both walls and gray metal shelves holding more boxes beyond the desk. A single stalker perched atop the desks.
It studied him for half a moment before letting out a bloodcurdling screech and sprang from the desks at him. Percival let out a shout and thrust up his leg in a kick that caught the stalker square in the chest as it flew at him.
He drove the kick forward, and the stalker back with it. It lashed once, ripping his jeans in the process, before he’d thrust it out of range. An earth shattering boom erupted from his right as the stalker skidded backward.
The shirt that the stalker had been wearing blossomed with red and fell away from Sarah’s shotgun blast. The stalker staggered for a moment, blood splattering the ground as it regained its balance.
Percival didn’t give it time enough to make a second attack, or to dart off into the darkness once more. He lifted his pistol and fired three shots. New plumes of blood erupted from the beast’s chest from his first two shots while his third put her down for good. Brain matter and blood painted boxes of files.
Percival glanced down at his leg.
“Fuck.” His jeans had nice little rips in them. He didn’t feel any pain, but all it would take is a scratch from one of those claws. He dropped to his knee and put his flashlight and gun down. “Light!”
“Why? Did it…” Sarah trailed off as she panned her light to Percival’s shredded jeans.
Percival hurriedly yanked his jeans up to the knee, well past where the rips were. He turned and twisted his leg. He didn’t see any sort of wound or blood or angry, red, scratch marks. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding as he shoved his jeans back down and picked up his gear.
“I’m fine, no scratches.”
“Don’t worry me like that!” Sarah looked near the brink of collapse.
“I don’t intend to do so again,” Percival said.
“We’ve got trouble,” Evan shouted from down the hall. He and Karl had apparently retreated as Percival checked his leg.
Percival nodded to Sarah and took off at a jog.
“What’s wrong?” Percival asked. He could guess, however, since Karl had his hand wrapped around the doorknob and shoulder pressed against the door, holding it shut.
“Fuckers know how to open doors. Are you?” Karl muttered, bracing the door as a stalker bashed into it.
“I’m fine, no injury.” Percival looked around. “Find a chair or something to brace the door with.”
“That won’t keep them from knocking this door in,” Karl said. A bang followed his words as a stalker rammed the door again. “They’re strong too.”
“Do it,” Percival ordered.
Evan and Sarah immediately broke from what seemed to be a trance and ran into the next room. Percival jogged back down the hallway and began searching the file room. He shook his head, and frowned. Three rolling chairs and no boxes that seemed heavy enough to brace the door later, he ran back to the door Karl was still bracing.
Evan brought a spindly, wooden chair.
Sarah came back with a key. “This came from the office of somebody with the title of ‘Head Accountant.’ Does that door have a lock?”
“Doubt it’ll hold for terribly long.” Karl shifted so they could see the doorknob. It had a keyhole in the middle of it. “What’re you waiting for?”
Sarah stepped in and slotted the key into the door. She twisted it and Karl let go of the knob, but kept his shoulder braced against the door.
“Evan, shove that up under the knob and tell me you two have good news.” Percival pointed at the chair, then at the door.
“Like what?” Sarah asked.
Evan shoved the chair’s back under the doorknob and braced it as good as he could.
“A second exit would be nice to hear about, for starters.” Percival led the way away from the door. The next room was a simple mail room, complete with desk radio and meter machine.
“There’s two.” Evan pushed past Percival to lead the way.
Percival didn’t stop him. He followed the youth past cubicles and a couple doors. Everything was nondescript in the twilight created by their swinging flashlights. Tiny offices with computers and sometimes files scattered around them drifted past as Percival moved after Evan at a half run.
“This is one. It leads back to the front. The other is over there.” Evan pointed down a makeshift hallway created by cubicles and the wall of the building. “That one leads down a back stair. Not entirely sure where it lets out.”
A crash marked the entrance of the stalkers to the office space. Screeches and growls punched through the air. The carpeted floor of the office would keep bony fingers from making noise as the stalkers approached. The noise of their arrival dropped off sharply.
“Back stair. At least that way we can funnel them some. I assume it’s closed off, right?” Percival was already leading the way to the other door.
“The first part is.” Evan pushed past Percival. He toppled sideways with a scream that was difficult to differentiate from the screech of the stalker as it leapt from the shadows and pounced onto him. “Get it off! Get it off!”
A cacophony of gunfire erupted from Percival, Karl, and Sarah. The stalker gurgled, stopped flailing, and lurched to the side. It fell off of Evan.
Evan whimpered and didn’t get up. His entire front was splattered with red.
Percival stepped over him and roughly pulled him up. It was too hard to tell where the stalker’s blood ended and Evan’s began, if any of it was Evan’s to begin with. Percival pulled Evan’s arm across his shoulders and helped him remain standing. The boy was dead weighting even if he was unharmed.
“Karl, get the rifle and his bag. We’re not leaving him behind. Sarah, door.” Percival’s words were short and terse, fired out in a tone that left no room for imagining them to be anything other than the orders that they were.
Sarah opened the door and leveled her shotgun at empty space. She then cleared the small room and started down the stairs.
Percival moved after her, half carrying Evan. He carefully started down the stairs with the kid. Percival concentrated on making it down the stairs, not even bothering to turn around at the sharp sound of the rifle firing behind him. Karl was a competent marksman and Percival trusted him not to do something stupid.
Percival rounded the landing and started down the second set of stairs. He frowned. Sarah had stopped in front of him. He pushed Evan to the wall and let him gently slide down before moving around Sarah.
“Oh, great. Barricade,” Percival groaned. Desks and chairs had been stacked at the base of the stairs blocking off the stairwell to the casual walker. “Of course there’s sign of resistance here, in our way.”
Percival looked down at Evan. He shook his head.
“Unless he snaps out of it…” Percival trailed off. He looked to Sarah. “Sling your shotgun, grab his legs. We’re not leaving him.”
“He could be—“
I don’t give a rat’s ass about ‘could be.’ We’re not leaving him.” Percival turned to face the top of the stairs. “Karl, we need cover.”
“Comin’,” Karl shouted. His shout was followed by a couple sharp cracks from the hunting rifle. He slammed the door behind him and came trotting down the stairs. “Wounded t
hree, killed at least another one.”
Percival crouched down and slid his arms underneath Evan’s and lifted. The boy didn’t resist him at all. Sarah bent and picked up Evan’s legs. Together they carried him down the second flight of stairs and to the barricade.
“Lousy place for a blockade,” Karl muttered. He kept his rifle trained upward, waiting for the stalkers to follow.
“You’re telling me.” Percival lifted Evan and laid him on the first of several desks. He climbed up and bent to lift Evan again, only to drop him and draw his pistol as another stalker skidded around the landing.
Karl fired first. The bullet shattered through the stalker’s shoulder, and it spun away, thumping into the wall. Percival squeezed the trigger and put lead down range. Bullets pounded into the stalker, the last splattering brain matter onto the wall.
Percival released the slide back and holstered his pistol without reloading it. He picked Evan up and stood. “Come on Sarah.”
Sarah climbed up onto the desk and lifted Evan’s legs again. They slowly began navigating over the barricade.
Percival listened to the growls echo down the stairwell as he climbed down on the other side of the barricade. Sarah followed suite slowly.
“Come on, Karl,” Percival shouted.
Karl came crawling over the barricade. He turned at the peak and fired a shot from the rifle before jumping down. He slung the rifle and held Evan’s bag out to Percival.
“I’ll carry him. No questions, I’ve done it before.” Karl bent and picked Evan up. Percival took Evan’s bag as Karl adjusted the youth across his shoulders. “Reload your pistol, Percival.”
Percival silently did as he was told, ejecting the spent magazine and dropping it into his pocket before slapping in a fresh one. He racked the slide and led the way out of the building. He moved along a concrete wall, clicking his flashlight off as it wasn’t needed in the sunlight.
*
It didn’t take long to make their way back to the car. Evan was still unresponsive, and the stalkers seemed to have given up their pursuit.
Percival and Sarah stood watch as Karl tried keys. The eerie silence and the feeling of being watched crept up over Percival. He was certain that the stalkers were just laying in wait for them to go somewhere dangerous where they’d have the advantage of confined space.
“We’re in luck,” Karl said over his shoulder. He opened the car door and slid into the driver’s seat.
“First time today.” Percival cast a dismal glance down at Evan. They were putting off checking him for wounds until after they got back to the safe-house.
“The lack of zombies was lucky,” Sarah said.
“I think the stalkers killed ‘em all.” Percival broke his gaze from Evan and resumed watching for stalkers to appear.
“You don’t know that.”
“Stop bickering, children. I have more good news.” Karl turned the key and the car started. “We have three-fourths of a tank a working engine, and four tires that aren’t flat.”
“Does the radio work?” Sarah asked. Her tone was sarcastic as she opened one of the backdoors and helped Percival move Evan onto the backseat.
“Let’s find out.” Karl reached out and twisted a knob on the console. A click marked the radio turning on, and after a moment of static, a voice piped out through the speakers.
“’Ear this, there are other survivors. We’ve got guns and provisions and can protect you. Come find us at the military depot south of Hankersville, Tennessee. Take the third exit off of I-24. We’re the only building with power. If you get to Nashville, stay out of the city and turn back. Only the dead walk there.” There was a five second delay before the man’s voice began again. “If anyone is out there and can hear this…”
Percival stared at the radio. “There’s more people alive out there.”
Chapter 5
Percival rode in the passenger seat while Karl drove. Sarah cradled Evan’s head in the backseat.
“That could be a very old message from the start of the outbreak.” Karl pulled into the parking lot of the gun shop. The front windows were boarded up and the security gate was drawn in front of the smashed glass front doors. “Looks like someone might be home.”
“They have power still. Otherwise the message wouldn’t still be going out.” Percival climbed out of the car. “Sarah, stay here and watch over Evan, please.”
She nodded and just smoothed some of the boy’s hair.
“If they had the generator hooked up to just the radio—“ Karl was cut off by Percival.
“Part of my job on campus was to listen to the techheads blather. Hell, I had them help me justify raids on the local gas pumps initially and to convince the council to let me take a group further out.” Percival checked the ammunition in his pistol. It was a full ten round magazine. “Unless they have a miracle generator, someone’s been feedin’ it fuel at least up ‘til a week ago. It’s just simple logistics, Karl.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to go running to these guys,” Karl said. “Humans are sometimes worse than the zombies.”
“Like the kid in the backseat? He was good, and we didn’t know him until we found him out here. Or Roy Joy? He’s a little off his rocker, but a good guy.”
“We’re not discussing this right now.” Karl walked to the front of the gun store. He reached through the shattered glass and tugged the protective gate one way, then the other.
To Percival’s surprise, it opened.
“Owner, or whoever was holed up here, probably thought that people wouldn’t look too closely and that the zombies wouldn’t bash to the side.” Karl worked the gate open slowly, then stepped through.
Percival clicked his flashlight on and followed Karl into the building. He panned his flashlight around in the opposite direction Karl was sweeping his light.
The room was partially looted. Most of the long arms were gone, and both of the display cases were smashed open. There was a good amount of debris scattered across the floor, ranging from the shattered glass of the displays to paper and discarded ammunition boxes.
“It would seem someone else beat us here.” Percival slowly walked further into the shop. He panned his light back and forth as he moved.
“Probably, but I doubt they took everything. If they had, why bother working to close the gate from outside?” Karl walked in the opposite direction of Percival.
“Here’s hoping they didn’t take everything of value.” Percival moved around a large rotating display. “We’ve got a backroom here.”
“Have a look. There’s a lot of debris behind the counter, I’m going to do some sifting. Scream if you need me.”
Percival let out a sigh and moved around another smashed display case that served as a counter. He walked to the door and raised his pistol and flashlight. He took a step forward and kicked the door, hard, right next to the doorknob. The door popped easily open, slamming into the wall as Percival swept his flashlight’s beam around the room.
It was clearly an office for the manager of the shop, and it looked as though the looting had stopped in the main room. A desk bisected the room, with a chair positioned behind it and a computer on the corner. A handful of paperwork was still scattered across the top as though business had just frozen in place. A second door was directly across from the one Percival had kicked in.
“Office,” Percival shouted. He moved around to the backside of the desk and began to rifle through the drawers. He came across a key ring full of keys. He shrugged, stuffed the keys into his pocket, and left the desk behind. He walked up to the second door and aimed his flashlight.
He kicked the door, and his foot thudded solidly against the metal. He’d left a footprint of grime, but done nothing to the door. With a grunt, Percival kicked the door a second time. His second effort had the same result as the first, and left his foot a little sore. He let out a frustrated yell that brought Karl running to the office door.
“Everything okay?”
&n
bsp; “Yeah, just fine. This door is simply not opening,” Percival said. “Find anything?”
Karl was silent for a moment.
Percival felt as though the older man were drilling holes into his back just by staring so hard.
“You’re not okay.”
“No, I’m not. Did you find anything?” Percival tucked his flashlight away into his pocket, fingers brushing past keys. Those would likely help get the damned door open.
“A box of 9mm.” Karl pointed his flashlight at the other door. “We should talk again.”
“No, we shouldn’t. Evan’s probably going to die.”
“Yeah, he probably will. But you don’t even know if he’s injured yet. We’ve not taken the time to check him out. Stop dwelling on it, his injury isn’t even remotely your fault.” Karl moved so he could cover Percival.
“It’s my job to get people home safe.” Percival went through the keys, trying each of the larger keys that looked like they would fit the door.
“Shit happens, Percival. Your job is to lead us to acquiring stuff to make sure the guys at home don’t starve or worse.” Karl sounded angry. “Worry about the dead after the living.”
“Right. Whatever.” Percival wasn’t feeling better after this little motivational talk with Karl. He knew that the man’s heart was in the right place, but didn’t feel much companionship in the way he opted to express himself.
A key fit and twisted in the lock. Percival felt the bolt slide back and was thankful for the reprieve. “New topic. Locked door, likely untouched by other looters. What do you think’s behind it?”
“Just get your damned light out again.”
Percival rolled his eyes and withdrew the keys. He stuffed them back into his pocket and took his flashlight out. He held his gun out and twisted the doorknob with his flashlight hand. He pushed the door open and brought his flashlight up.
It was more than they could hope for. The room was caked in a layer of dust, with gun lockers arranged around the room. Most of them held only ammunition, and some seemed to have been left open since the building was abandoned by the owner. The owner had been kind enough to leave a single locker stocked and locked with weaponry.
