Patrick had also hoped to avoid having to shoot the biter due to the noise the sound of his weapon would make, potentially drawing the other biters in the vicinity. But he had little choice. He quickly sent the biter packing, hitting it with a spray of hot lead across its upper torso and right shoulder and arm.
The thing screeched and lurched off down the street and away from the tower. But the biters in the pack approaching from Joliet Avenue, as well as some in the condo parking lot, kept coming.
“Josh, you think you can keep them at bay?” Michael asked, referring to the approaching pack.
“I think so. I’ll certainly do my damnedest,” he shouldered the .22 rifle, and took aim through its attached scope. Then he paused. “Should I kill them or just try to wound them?” he looked at Michael uncertainly.
Michael paused, considering the question, then he looked over at the Mendozas’ crumpled van nearby and the biters still clustered across the street, feeding on Victoria and her daughter.
“Kill them,” he turned away to assist with the supply effort.
CHAPTER 12
Charla, Chris, and Wendell (albeit somewhat begrudgingly) all showered and then took some time after to fill with water as many pots and empty containers as they could find. They also filled the bathtub. Chris said it would be a good idea to have it to use as a water reservoir for things like hand washing, flushing the toilet, and in a worst-case scenario, drinking should the city water service fail.
With their morning duties complete, the three now found themselves in a sort of uncomfortable interim without much to do. Therefore, Chris offered to cook some breakfast of eggs and toast since they could still use the stove.
Charla graciously accepted his offer. Wendell said he wasn’t hungry.
As Chris cooked, Charla assisted. “It’s so weird not knowing what’s going on out there,” she said. “I keep checking my phone, but without service, it’s worthless. With no cable, no phone, no internet, it’s like we’re flying blind here.”
“I know, it’s weird, isn’t it?” Chris agreed as he accepted several eggs that Charla handed him and cracked them into a pan on the stove.
“I’d say more scary than weird,” Charla offered.
“I guess I’d agree with that,” Chris nodded, stirring the eggs with a spatula.
“I wish we’d been more prepared for this type of thing.”
“Ha! You and me both!” Chris laughed. “I wasn’t planning for the zombie apocalypse to hit until the new year,” he joked.
“Wish I could find such humor in the situation,” Wendell muttered as he passed, heading for his office.
“Sorry,” Charla apologized to Chris for her husband once he’d moved on.
Chris dismissed her apology away with a smile, a wink, and wave of the spatula he still held in his hand. “He’s under a lot of stress,” he tried to sympathize.
“Huh!” Charla scoffed, shaking her head. “Aren’t we all?”
“Top off your coffee?” Chris turned from the stove, pot in hand?
“Why thank you, sir.”
“Careful, it’s hot,” Chris said as he moved the steaming pot up to her cup. The side of the pot hissed as Chris filled Charla’s cup.
“Hmm,” Charla smiled slightly as she watched. “You almost make the apocalypse enjoyable,” she looked at Chris as he finished filling her mug and put the pot back on the stove.
At the same moment, Wendell exited his office to hear Charla’s expression of gratitude. He passed with only a glare to let Charla know that he’d heard her complimentary comment of Chris and wasn’t having reciprocal sentiments toward their uninvited guest.
Chris finished his cooking, filled two plates with scrambled eggs and buttered toast, and brought them over to the dining room table. He left the stove’s burners on in a continued effort to add some heat to the condo’s chilly interior.
“Sure you don’t want some?” he called to Wendell who sat sulking on the sofa, flipping through one of his history books.
“Yes,” Wendell replied shortly.
“Well, there’s extra if you change your mind,” Chris set the plates down on the dining room table. “Won’t stay warm long, though.”
Suddenly there was the sound of gunfire from outside.
“Think they’re trying to clear the biters?” Charla asked hopefully.
Chris walked over to the sliding glass balcony door. Charla and Wendell followed.
The gunfire continued but the three were having trouble pinpointing its location.
“Sounds like it’s coming from around that tower across the parking lot,” Chris pointed toward Hofmann Tower.
“That place has been empty for years,” Wendell frowned.
“Maybe somebody decided to hole up inside it,” Chris said. “Looks like it’d make for a good spot. Good vantage points from those upper levels. No windows on the bottom floors. Yep,” he nodded. “That’d be the spot I’d choose if I was looking for a stronghold. I don’t see any army vehicles, though, so I’m guessing they’re civilians.”
“Maybe those people from last night,” Charla offered.
“It doesn’t sound like they have much firepower at their disposal,” Chris observed. “They might just be trying to clear out some of the biters.”
“Great,” Wendell frowned. “They’ll probably end up drawing even more to the area.”
“Maybe they’ll draw the ones from our building,” Chris added hopefully. He turned away from the balcony door, walked over, and sat back down at the dining room table. Charla followed, and eventually Wendell resettled himself with his book on the living room sofa.
The gunfire outside kept up for another minute and then stopped.
Charla and Chris ate in silence for a few minutes before Chris said, “I wonder if we should try clearing the hallway of biters?”
“You think we could?” Charla gave him a worried look.
“Yes! I think that’d be a great idea,” Wendell, having overheard, made his way from the sofa to sit down at the dining room table.
“Wow…that’s the first thing I’ve seen you excited about,” Chris looked at Wendell in amazement.
Charla knew exactly why Wendell was excited. Clearing the hallway could result in one of two things, maybe both if Wendell was lucky. If the corridor was cleared, Chris could return to his own condo. Or, maybe Chris would be bitten while trying to clear the corridor. But there was a third scenario, a best-case combination of the first two – Chris might be bitten (or worse) and get the corridor cleared.
“You think we can clear it safely?” Charla asked.
“I don’t think there’s any safe way of dealing with those things,” Chris nodded toward the front door and the biters lurking outside it. “But we might at least be able to take back our floor. It’d sure help if we knew whether any of our neighbors were still here to help us. But there’s no way to get in contact with them to find out without getting rid of the biters first.”
“Do we know how many are out there?” Wendell asked.
“I counted at least four different biters go by when I was watching through the peephole earlier this morning, at least I think. It’s hard to tell since with the power off, it’s pretty dark out there. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t more I haven’t seen. They could be in open units like the Richardson’s or down the hall and out of view of the peephole.”
“How did they get up here in the first place?” Charla asked. “I didn’t think biters knew how to work doors. And the stairwell doors are self closing and locking, right?”
“Bad timing,” Chris shook his head. “The building’s management company was going to have the hallway carpets cleaned over the next few days. The company doing the work had propped the stairwell doors open for when they were cleaning so they had easy access throughout the building. I’m assuming a couple biters got in, and they’ve been infecting residents ever since, thereby increasing the number of biters wandering the building.”
“Lu
cky us,” Wendell frowned sarcastically.
“But if we can get the biters off our hall and close the stairwell door, they won’t be able to get back in,” Chris said. “It will keep them from moving to our floor freely from other parts of the building. And while that might not solve the situation for the rest of the building, it will at least give us a little breathing room.”
“Yes…yes it will,” Wendell nodded thoughtfully, trying to hide his excitement at the thought of having Chris back in his own condo. Even if the condo was only 20 feet down the hall, Wendell was willing to give this attempt at biter clearing a shot – or at least let Chris try – in order to regain his privacy and his wife. “So what do you recommend?” Wendell asked, suddenly interested in Chris’ input on the situation.
“Well,” Chris considered, swallowing his mouthful of eggs. “I’d prefer to keep our distance from these things if at all possible. A single bite means you’re done for, and these things are pretty tenacious from what I’ve seen so far. If they get in close, it can be hard to fight them off with those teeth of theirs. They’re sharp as shit.”
“Mmm,” Wendell nodded, considering.
“So I don’t know exactly how to combat them since we don’t have firearms,” Chris went on. “We have our makeshift flamethrowers. They’re good for short bursts, but with multiple biters out there, if the aerosol runs out, you lose your grip on the spray nozzle, or you lose your flame for some other reason, you’re kind of up shit creek. It’s hand-to-hand combat at that point. And while we have the kitchen knives, using them means letting the biters get in close. And if there are several biters, you might be bit by one while you’re fighting off another. That hallway doesn’t leave a lot of room for maneuvering or dodging if things get tight.”
“I have an idea,” Charla offered.
“Sure,” Chris nodded, wide-eyed and open to hearing Charla’s input.
“Well, I had this idea when you were pouring my coffee,” Charla said, somewhat abashedly.
Chris nodded her on reassuringly.
“It might sound kind of stupid, but we still have water…and we still have gas.”
“I think I know where you’re headed with this,” Chris grinned suddenly.
“So if we boil the water…”
“…we can hit the biters with it,” Chris excitedly finished her sentence.
“Right,” Charla smiled, happy that Chris was supportive of her idea. She wasn’t typically used to such support from Wendell.
“I love it!” Chris slapped the dining room table with an open palm that brought a silent look of disdain from Wendell. “We can each have a pot,” Chris took it a step further. “We can line up in the hall. I’ll fire the first pot of scalding water at them, which will hopefully be enough to scare them. We’ll drive them back toward the stairwell. Wendell, you can have a pot, and if the biters slow in their retreat, you can douse them with that. Then we’ll have Charla as a backup, just in case the first two pots don’t work.”
“Sounds dangerous to me,” Wendell frowned. “And,” he moved his injured arm from last night, “I’m supposed to be able to hurl boiling hot water like this?”
“I mean, of course it’s going to be dangerous,” Chris conceded. “But you still have one good arm. And I think you can handle a smaller pot of hot water. I mean, anything we try is going to hold some element of danger, but…”
Chris stopped talking as the gunfire resumed outside. He and Charla got up and walked over to the balcony door again.
“I see people this time!” Charla pointed toward the tower where a group of people had gathered outside. “It looks like they’re unloading stuff from those vehicles they’ve backed up to the tower fencing,” she observed.
“Long term tenants, I guess,” Chris chuckled.
“Look,” Charla twisted her body slightly and pointed out the glass door over to their right. “Biters,” she breathed. “A group of them. Ooh! Looks like they shot one!” she said as one of the biters in the small herd dropped to the ground. “Maybe they’ll clear the area.”
“Good luck with that,” Wendell said, still sitting at the dining room table but swiveled in his seat to stare in the direction of the balcony door. “They’ll probably just end up drawing even more biters to the area,” he shook his head miserably.
“Jesus!” Charla couldn’t control her frustration and found herself emboldened by Chris’ presence. “What do you want, Wendell? First you complain because no one is helping us. Then you complain because they’re out there fighting the biters. At least they’re trying to do something!”
Wendell didn’t respond. He just slowly turned back around in his chair at the dining room table.
“Okay, so back to our plan,” Charla said as she and Chris came back to the table and sat down with Wendell. “When should we try this?”
“The sooner the better,” Wendell eyed her.
“Do we wait until they’re asleep or resting or whatever? Or do we try like…now?” Charla shook her head in bewilderment.
“I would think that now would be as good a time as any. I could hear those things roaming the halls last night, so I’m not sure how much they sleep or when.” He looked at Charla and Wendell. “So do we give this a shot or what?”
“I’m willing to try,” Charla nodded.
“How about you, Wendell?” Chris asked. “You up for this? It might be your best chance of getting rid of your freeloading tenet,” Chris said as good-naturedly as he could.
“I suppose,” Wendell agreed somewhat morosely, taking a deep breath and exhaling heavily.
“I’ll get the water started,” Charla stood. “We lose gas service and our plan is shot. She collected the empty breakfast plates on her way.
“Thank you,” Chris smiled at her, standing.
“Thank you for cooking. It was delicious,” Charla returned the compliment.
Twenty minutes later, they had three metal pots full of water boiling on the stove.
“Okay,” Chris said. “We’re going to have to make sure that all the biters are on the side of the hall heading toward the stairs. If they’re spread out on both sides of the condo door, our plan won’t work.”
“Here,” Charla handed out sets of gloves. “These will help protect us from the hot water if it splashes on us. They’ll also help protect us from bites…hopefully,” she added.
The three were already wearing heavy layers of winter garb, including their coats. This was done not only to help keep them warm but as additional protection against the jagged razors that were the biters’ teeth.
“Let’s get some of this stuff out of the way,” Chris nodded at the barricade they’d emplaced before the front door. “In these temperatures, our water is going to cool quick once we take it off the stove, so we have to move fast. And remember, it’s going to be dark out there in the hall with the electricity off. Charla, you got the flashlight?”
“Yep,” she nodded, clicking it on, then back off.
“Good,” Chris said as he slid a bookshelf aside from before the door and then cringed as the movement strained his back injury from the previous night. “I’ll duck out there, scan the hall, and then duck back inside and report where the biters are. If they’re where we need them to be, I’ll lead us out. As soon as we’re all out there, hit the flashlight. We’ll move down the hall and toward the stairs. Hopefully, our presence will draw all the biters out, and as soon as we have them in the hallway, I’ll hit them with my water. You guys follow up with your water as we push them back into the stairwell. As soon as we have them there, we close the stairwell door and we should be good to go. Here,” he handed a butcher knife to Charla, a cleaver to Wendell, and took another butcher knife for himself. “Hopefully we won’t need them, but just in case.”
With the front door accessible and secured only by its dead-bolt lock, the three stashed their weapons in easily reachable areas on their person. Then they retrieved their individual pots of water before forming up around the condo doo
r.
“You guys ready?” Chris asked.
“We have a choice?” Wendell grumbled.
“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Charla responded nervously from her position at the rear of the line of three.
“Hold on while I peek outside,” Chris set his water down. “Okay, on three,” Chris put his foot in front of the door to block it and then quietly slid the deadbolt back. “One, two, three,” he moved his foot aside, cracked open the door, took a quick look out, and then ducked his head back in.
During his rapid inspection in the hallway’s dim light, Chris noticed several things. First off, the condo door beside his own, the one that didn’t belong to the Richardsons, appeared to be open. Second, there were four visible biters at the far end of the hall nearest the stairwell. The shorter section of hallway leading in the other direction from Charla and Wendell’s condo looked devoid of biters.
“Looks good. I think they’re all congregated toward the stairwell side of the hall,” Chris reported to the others. “Let’s move.”
The three re-opened the door and silently slunk out into the hallway. Chris led the way, quickly closing the gap between him and the first biter. Wendell and Charla followed close behind. It was very dark in the windowless hallway. Only a skylight, positioned at each end of the hall, let any light inside. Charla, following Wendell and Chris, flipped the flashlight on to help guide them. This instantly alerted the biters, who turned and began to approach. With only about five feet between himself and the first biter, and right as the biter was preparing to attack, Chris thrust his still simmering pot of water toward the biter, splashing the scalding liquid across its upper body, its arms, and its face.
The ensuing screaming from the biter was almost deafening as it stumbled backward down the hall, running into the other three biters who were making their way toward Chris. It tripped over the remnants of Paul Richardson’s carcass, still lying in the hallway, and fell, continuing to writhe and screech in pain. The other three biters appeared swayed by the obvious agony of their companion. While they continued to move toward Chris, they were obviously wary, and it certainly seemed there was less urgency to their advance. Chris retreated to allow Wendell free reign to fire his pot of water.
The Last Bastion [Book 2] Page 12
