Angela chambered a round into one of the AK-47s. “Last I saw, there were quite a bit of them dead things showing up in the streets. We best get outta here before too many show up.”
Cole and Jeff made for the door through which Matt had originally entered. Random gunshots sounded from their pistols. Matt followed Angela into the lobby and had to fight back the tears of joy.
Somehow, in some way, this gang had accrued enough weaponry to outfit a small army. There were stacks of ammunition everywhere.
Maybe they were the one’s who’d looted the gun store, Matt thought as rubbed his hands across a row of varied assault rifles.
“We’re gonna need another vehicle,” he said to Angela.
She looked outside and turned back smiling. “Don’t think that’ll be too much of a problem.”
Matt thought it was strange. Angela was nothing to him two hours ago. Now, it was like they’d been through a lifetime together. They had spilled blood together—blood of men who were sick and sadistic enough to do what they had with the crucifix. There was no uncomfortable silence between them as they watched the dump truck cross the highway and start down the dirt path.
In every direction, whether the survivors could see it or not, a mass of chaos and rot were descending upon the area from where all the damned noise had come.
***
“Let’s get a move on, Kristin,” Mary yelled as she shut the back door to replenish her shotgun.
In Mary’s eyes, that woman had been nothing but shakes and shivers since she came down. Creepers were at the front, and had been there for a few minutes. The door and windows would hold; Kristin had just finished nailing a few spare pieces of wood over the gaps between the door and its frame.
“I’m doing the best I can,” she screamed as her eyes darted around the room. “Now will you shut the fuck up and let me think?” Kristin ran for the couch, pushed it against the door, and darted to the kitchen. Tears welled, and her face took the form of a scowl.
Mary hadn’t the slightest clue where Anna was or what she was doing.
“You two better hurry up,” she said under her breath, thinking of Cole and Matt. She loaded the fifth round, chambered it, and filled the newly opened slot with another round of game shot. Looking back to Kristin, Mary yelled, “Grab one of those revolvers and a box of rounds. That’ll be the easiest and quickest to use and reload.”
“This one?” The damned thing shook in her hands as if it were having a seizure.
“Yeah.” Mary pointed to a box of Federal ammunition. “And that box.”
The back door suddenly became an instrument of madness, the beat of the undead playing its song loud and fast.
“Shit.” Mary showed Kristin how to work the cylinder for reloading and readied the shotgun. “Wait ‘til I have to reload then give me cover fire.” She moved to one of the windows and peered through a gap in the wooden barrier. At least seven creepers were working their way out of the pit.
“How many are out there?” Kristin asked from behind.
Mary turned and saw the woman rubbing her wrist, the other unsteadily gripping the revolver. “Quite a few.” She opened the door and discharged three shots, taking out four in the immediate vicinity. Their bodies flew backward and sprawled in a bloody heap. She swung left. Nothing. Ahead several creepers exited the woods, but with the way they moved they’d be stuck in the pit with their more unlucky brethren for quite some time. Five more ambled around the corner to her right, the choke point where the van was supposed to be parked serving as their entry. She emptied the shotgun and ran back inside.
Kristin stepped out, hesitated, and began firing.
Mary repeated the process of reloading and was out the door in half a minute.
***
“Where’s Jeff?” Angela said.
“He’ll be here in a minute,” Cole answered. He nodded toward the dump truck. “Tim says he’s fine where he’s at. That guy’s something else, you know.”
“You got that right.”
A few shots erupted from the highway.
“What’s he doing out there?” Matt said, catching sight of several creepers approaching from the graveyard.
Cole followed his eyes and said, “There were a few out there.” He turned to the stockpile of ammunition. “We’re gonna need to get this shit ready as quick as possible, though. We’ve got creeps coming from almost every direction.”
“There are some guns upstairs too,” Matt said.
“I’m on it.” Angela left in a hurry.
As Matt glanced toward the highway, he saw the front grille of a Ford F-150, with Jeff behind the wheel. “Where in the hell did he get that?”
“It was on the highway,” Cole said, returning his focus to the approaching horde. “The keys were in the ignition and it even has a full gas container in the bed. Probably belonged to Persius and his friends.” Looking around, he wondered aloud, “Shit, which one was Persius, anyway?”
“The dead one,” Matt said, not giving it a second thought.
Jeff backed the truck up to the lobby doors, and at the same time Angela came back with an armful of assault rifles and magazines. She ran to the truck and Cole helped her load them into the vehicle.
“Could use a little help with all the mags and ammo up there,” she said.
“I’ll help,” Cole offered.
The two were gone in an instant, headed upstairs for the rest of the booty.
Matt loaded up assault rifle after assault rifle and even a few pistols, being as careful with the jewels as he could. He hacked out a wad of phlegm; the reek of decay was growing stronger by the minute.
“They’re here, Ryland!”
Matt looked up to see Jeff reaching for an assault rifle and grabbed one for himself. Creepers were coming from everywhere, slowly, and most from the highway and Denbigh Boulevard. There were a few stragglers coming from here and there, but Matt sighted the ones between the bank and gas station first and fired. The others soon fell in line and took aim.
***
Ten minutes later, the bed of the Ford was loaded with firearms and ammunition and the dirt path littered with unmoving corpses. A few still approached, but thankfully there were no runners or screamers.
“I’ll take the dump truck,” Cole said, fishing out the keys.
“We’ll ride in the Ford.” Matt pointed to himself, Jeff, and Angela. “When we get to where the road’s blocked by all those cars…”
“You just leave that to me, okay?” Cole smiled, pounded on the hood of the Ford, and made the “let’s go” gesture with his left arm.
***
“Hold on, Doc,” Cole said as he threw the transmission in gear. The truck took off with a slight jerk.
“Have you ever driven one of these before?” Tim said, looking to him and then to the road.
Shifting gears, Cole shook his head. “There’s a first time for everything.” He gave the man a smile that made Doc Grant shift in his seat and tighten his seatbelt.
“If you keep accelerating,” Tim said, “you’re going to cause a collision.”
Cole looked over, grinding gears as he shifted. “Kinda the point, man.”
“Watch the—”
The truck jumped slightly to the left as it ran over an overweight creeper.
“Holy shit,” Matt’s voice hissed from the radio beside him. “You should have seen that one, Cole. The damn thing exploded when you ran it over.”
Glancing to the side mirror, he saw the truck swerve away from the corpse. The snow all around it was awash in blood. A few more creepers shambled into the road, and they were met with the same fate.
“Are you trying to get us killed?” Tim said, bracing his hands against the dash.
“No,” Cole answered shortly. The auto graveyard came into sight. He shifted gears and goosed the accelerator.
“Wait,” Tim begged. “No. What in God’s name are you doing? Slow down.”
“Can’t, Doc.” Cole positioned the ve
hicle in the center of the road. “Our van’s on the other side of this mess, and there’s only one way through.”
“You’re mad!”
“Would you rather take your chances outside?”
“Surely it would—”
“Hold on.” Cole shifted once more, clipping a creeper and sending it flying into an SUV.
Two smaller cars blocking the road were pushed violently to the side, the screeching of metal on metal raising gooseflesh on Cole’s arms. Tapping the brakes, he veered slightly to the right and clipped a Jeep, freeing more room for the truck to follow. An upturned police cruiser was smashed to the side just as the sight of an older van came into view.
“Shit,” Cole said beneath Tim’s screams.
Accelerating, he noticed a zombie in the passenger seat. It turned to him and placed its hand against the glass as the dump truck hit the vehicle’s side and pushed it forward.
“I think that’s it.” Applying the brakes, Cole yanked left, then right, and watched as the van slid away. A glance in the rearview showed the truck was right behind him.
Cole picked up his radio and, with Tim calming down, he could hear a knock in the engine and noticed the truck pulled to the left.
“That should make travel a little easier from now on,” he said.
CHAPTER 17
Randy Clyde, son of Persius Clyde, stood before the corpse of his father.
Persius looked pathetic; eyes open in shock and brains trailing down the porch, body in a twisted sprawl. The hole in the back of his head, where more matter was exuding, it just seemed so unreal.
“What the hell happened to you, old man?” he said with a sigh.
Andre lay lifeless on the porch, Jimmy beside him, and Back Door Joe was face down on the ground under one of the attic windows. Randy didn’t need to check inside to know that everyone was dead and all their weapons had been stolen; he’d watched those people drive off with them after killing all the deaders.
He noticed the tracks on the dirt path.
Where the hell did they come from? He looked to the highway.
One minute everything was kosher, and then it all spiraled into chaos with the first shot. Remembering the blast of gore exploding out of his dad’s head, his body falling over the railing, made Randy shudder.
Kneeling, he closed his father’s eyes and started searching his pockets.
He knew it wouldn’t be long before more deaders arrived. In less than an hour, that group had completely ruined a week’s worth of recruiting and scavenging. His father’s kingdom was no more. Randy would have to start anew.
“Better you than me, Pops,” he muttered while still rummaging. “Ah, here we are.” The cold steel of Persius’s pistol brought a smile to Randy’s face. He pulled it out and placed it at the small of his back. None of his pockets held his two spare mags. “Better than nothin’.”
Standing, he scanned the area and then looked down to his father. He knew this was the time to make peace with the old bastard, but he couldn’t find the words. What he did find was a brewing determination to seek and kill the band of marauders that did this. And if they worked for that roach, G, they would get it worse than that whore on the cross.
He followed the tire tracks to the highway. A smile crossed his face, seeing that they would eventually lead him to those killers. Randy couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a moving vehicle—other than their raiding truck, which had been stolen as well. Hopefully they didn’t live too far away.
Making his way back to the rear building, Randy knew the odds would be against him. Surely fate wouldn’t make his trek easy. But Randy had a few cards up his sleeve.
He ascended the back porch and opened the door.
The girls inside shrieked, but thankfully their mouths were bound. He eyed each of them. Even malnourished and surely dying, their naked forms captivated him.
“All right, you dirty whores. We’re going on a road trip. But first…” Randy let the metal door slam shut with a cruel laugh.
Each one cried, trying to free themselves from their binding.
“Ah-ah,” he said as he pulled the pistol out. “We don’t want to make things harder, now do we?”
The blond one shook her head as he stepped toward her.
“You.” He pointed. “You’re next.”
She lowered her head and started sobbing.
Randy began untying her; the five next to her stared at the ground.
CHAPTER 18
In total, thirty-six zombies had congregated to the house searching for a living snack. Mary kicked the last one, an old woman missing both her arms, into the pit and brought over one of the gas cans Alex had left by the back door. She dumped at least half the container on the pile of corpses. Alex and Kristin came up beside her as she lit a match. There was a loud, hot swoosh as the flames shot up.
“They’re back,” Alex said suddenly and excitedly. “They’re back!”
Mary turned to watch the van enter the driveway. “It’s about—” A red truck, a Ford, if she wasn’t mistaken, came in right behind the van. “What’s this?”
“Who’s that next to Cole?” Kristin asked.
“Looks like they found some more survivors,” Mary answered, eyeing the truck. Specifically the two new passengers on either side of Matt. She turned her attention to Anna’s window and noticed the woman standing there like a ghost. Something was wrong with her. It was obvious and hidden at the same time. Mary would investigate, but not now.
Now was time to meet the newcomers.
***
Brief introductions were made. Alex and Kristin showed Angela, Jeff, and Tim around the house while Matt, Cole, and Mary were left with the task of unloading supplies.
“Holy shit,” Mary said as she discovered what was in the bed of the Ford. “Where the hell did you guys get all these weapons?”
“You wouldn’t believe me you if I told you,” Cole said, wrapping his arm around her.
“Try me.” Mary lit a joint.
By the time the joint was a roach, Matt and Cole had finished their story.
“And that’s how we got all these.” Matt reached in, moving the assault rifles to the side until he found what he was looking for: the Sig Sauer 556. “Ah, beautiful.” He held it at the ready, a little lightheaded, and peered through the scope. Headshots would be a breeze now.
“This one is mine.” He inspected it and found a scar on its stock.
“I remember you showing us that on the Internet,” Mary said.
Matt handed it to her. “Always wanted one.”
“So why don’t you tell us what happened here?” Cole said, pointing to the pit.
***
Anna brought a huge pot full of mashed potatoes to the foldout table with the biggest smile Matt had ever seen her wear, and she wore it well. The poor woman didn’t need to be upset all the time, didn’t deserve it. Barry’s death wouldn’t cease to trouble her for a long time, but that didn’t mean she had to suffer all by herself.
“Those potatoes smell good, Mrs. Hamley,” Alex said from beside Matt.
Mary set down a smaller pot of butter noodles. Matt could feel his stomach twinge with hunger, the weed taking its full effect. Kristin brought a tray of hamburgers and hotdogs cooked on the George Foreman grill, and Cole followed behind with what condiments they had left. Anna came back with two trays of cinnamon rolls and another of chocolate chip cookies. How they had managed to do so much in this little kitchen was beyond Matt. Tonight they would dine like kings and queens, telling tales of survival and hopefully shedding a little light as to why this scientist was so fucking important.
CHAPTER 19
With dinner almost done, most plates empty or close to it, Matt decided to cut the chitchat. He wanted to hear the story of Dr. Timothy Grant, who had said almost nothing during the entire meal. He’d kept to himself while Jeff and Angela shared their stories with the other survivors.
“What about you, Dr. Grant?” Matt inquired. �
��What’s your story? Soldier boy over here’s been acting like you’re Top Chef. Why is that?”
The others in the kitchen stopped their small talk, turning their attention to Dr. Grant and Matt.
“Me?” Tim cleared his throat and looked to Jeff then Matt. “Well, young man, I’m a man of some importance, you might say.” He took a sip of some ice water, delaying the palaver a moment.
Matt crossed his fingers. “And why is that, Doc?”
“First,” Tim said, looking to everyone. “Let me start off by saying that I had nothing to do with the state of this country, or the world, for that matter.”
The room fell silent. Matt was in the middle of drinking his water, and he almost choked on the cool liquid as it washed down his dry throat.
“I worked with researchers,” Tim continued, “and other scientists to study…” He looked to the ceiling and let out a sigh.
“It’s all right, Tim,” Jeff said, patting the man on the back. “I don’t think ‘Top Secret’ means much these days.”
“I suppose you’re right, Mr. Sullivan.” He looked to the soldier and then back to the others. “Back in New Mexico, where this all originally started, I was working for the Army. We studied and experimented with all forms of pathogens, from the black plague to malaria, typhus, AIDS, and even the most recent H1N1 strand. There are many more, however. Most of which I doubt you’ve even heard of.”
“Try us,” Matt challenged, leaning in.
“That, my dear boy, would only be backtracking. What’s important is this: Throughout my years in New Mexico, we’d designed some of the most lethal agents known to man.” He broke a cookie in two and ate the smaller piece. “All for the purpose of creating a ‘safer world.’”
“You mentioned ‘experimented,’” Mary said, furrowing her brow. “What do you mean?”
Tim finished the cookie. “Well, to test the effects of a weapon, you must have something on which to test it.”
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