by J. Thorn
“Maybe on purpose.”
Mack chuckled and lit a cigarette.
“So, what brings you up here so late?” Alex asked.
“Bored.” Mack exhaled. “I mean, it was either go to bed, listen to Rick gloat about how awesome he is at pool, watch Nicole exercise, or referee the nightly ‘There is no God’ argument between Del and the padre.”
“Is he in his right mind?”
“The padre?” Mack nodded. “He’s lucid tonight.”
Alex whistled. “Ought to be good.”
“I could go back down and do that … or I could shoot Dokes with you.”
“I always opt for Dokes,” Alex said.
“Me too.”
Dokes.
The name was born of an acronym created by Mack. Of course, Mack was an acronym kind, being in the service his entire adult life. He joked one evening, saying he was tired of calling them the ‘walking dead’ and never the ‘Z’ word. Alex hated the word ‘undead’, so Mack called them Dead Odious Killer Entities.
Dokes.
It stuck. It was easier to say.
“What started tonight’s God argument?” Alex asked. “Was he praying over the Spam?”
“Oh, yeah, but that didn’t start it. Del picked up a Newsweek.”
“Again? Why does he do that all the time? He says the same thing every time. He wants to see if there’s something he missed.”
“He’s just trying to understand.”
“Understand what? There’s nothing to understand.”
“You say that all the time.”
“I know. It’s just unnerving. We look for survivors; he looks for media. I lived it, Mack. I don’t want to read it.”
“It’s more than reading it. It’s trying to solve a mystery.”
“To him, but to me, I don’t feel it.”
Mack tilted his head and looked at her. “You don’t? Really? You don’t feel how much more weird it gets, each city we go into?”
“No, it’s cut and dry to me. The only mystery I want to solve is, when will we kill off all the Dokes.”
“Well …” Mack cleared his throat, nodded his head in a point outward. “If you keep missing them.”
As he lifted the rifle, Alex grabbed and raised the binoculars.
Barely taking time to aim, Mack fired.
“Man!” Alex lowered the binoculars. “How do you do that?”
Mack shrugged and smiled.
“Wait. There.” Alex pointed. “Another one. Small too. She’s real small.” Arrogant, she turned to him. “Impress me.”
With an ornery smile to match, Mack raised the rifle.
Dear Garret,
It was a good night of hunting. Hit most. Kept boredom to a minimum.
Miss you. Love you.
Dad
CHAPTER THREE
They had a two-vehicle convoy. Strange, for only the handful of them, but they were always hopeful of finding new people.
Survivors.
The Humvee was the lead vehicle, taking charge of the route ahead of the truck.
Mack drove, Alex navigated, and Nicole slept in the Humvee.
“Can we hit one more town before we have to stop for the night?” Mack asked.
Alex turned her wrist to peer at her watch, then looked down to the clipboard. “Actually, it’s early. We can hit two more towns and then settle in Cleveland.”
Mack chuckled. “Rick is gonna complain about Cleveland.”
“When doesn’t he complain about staying in a big city?”
“Cleveland was messed up before all this. Imagine it now.”
“Oh, that’s not right,” Alex scoffed. “My mom was from Cleveland.”
Mack grinned. “I know.”
Swinging out, Alex stopped when the radio hissed.
Del’s voice came through, “Padre says he sees green.”
Alex lifted the radio. “Did he say how much?”
“Nope. Just green.”
“Roger that, we’re stopping anyhow.” Alex hung up the microphone and turned to Mack. “We have green.”
“That’s a good sign.”
“A hopeful sign,” Alex said.
The exit was just ahead. From the driver’s position, Mack couldn’t see what Padre meant by green. Then again, the truck sat high and Fr. Owens, even higher than the truck. He had a good view. And in a dead world, green was easy to spot in the midst of big brown patches.
Since everything had happened, they didn’t see anything alive if the Dokes were there.
They pulled into the small town of Lodi, Ohio. A mile off the intersection, the secluded town was nestled deep. The residential area spread out like veins and the town was the heart, a square of shops that encircled a small community park.
Mack stopped the Humvee and got out.
In the back of the truck was a tall, homemade widow’s walk, and in the lookout post, secured with rope—was Fr. Owens.
“Ahoy!” Fr. Owens shouted. “We’ve struck dry land.”
Mack crinkled his brow as he approached Del, who exited from the driver’s seat. “Is he having an episode?”
“A day would be a better way to put it.” Del peered up to Fr. Owens. “He reported aliens a few times, but was right about the green.”
Mack looked at the park. Some of the grass was green and there were still leaves on half the trees. “We have life. Half trees are better than none. I’ll get a closer look.” He moved toward the Humvee where Nicole and Alex waited. “Anything?” Mack asked Nicole.
“Smells OK.”
Mack nodded, and swung his weapon, pointing at the park. “Let’s take a good look to see the progress.”
“If the Dokes were here,” Alex said, “they weren’t here long.”
Mack raised an eyebrow. “Unless they just got here.” He jaunted his way in a few good steps over to Del. “Hang back, we’re just going over to examine.”
“Got it.” Del gave a thumbs-up.
From the peak, Fr. Owens ordered, “Untie me, we’ve landed.”
“Nah,” Del said. “You’re good.”
Shaking his head with a chuckle, Mack led Nicole and Alex into the open-area park.
It didn’t take long for Mack to pick his target. First tree, a big one, just beside the town statue, Mack bent down to the lower bark.
A blackened spot was there. He rubbed it, then retracting his fingers, he rolled them against each other.
Nicole commented that there was a slight stench.
“Well?” Alex asked. “Anything?”
Mack stood up. “It’s fresh. Still warm. At least five, fed from this tree.” He dusted his hands. “They’re here.”
All three looked around at what seemed like an empty town.
Mack exhaled. “But where?”
++++
There were no scientists to examine the Dokes when they rose from the dead. No people to explain what they were. They could make that determination on their own and it was pretty cut and dry.
The Dokes fed off the land and not very much. Everything they ate died. Everything they touched … died.
The Dokes bit and gnawed.
If they had consumed only people for food, they would have died out. There were very few people.
But for some reason they kept going.
It was safer in the daylight. They tended to go somewhere, hide. They were never found resting, ever.
The later in the day, the more chance the group had of running into them.
That was why they sought them out. Catch them off guard. Be on the offensive, instead of defensive.
A large secluded building, a place of old-world familiarity to them—that’s where the Dokes hid.
When Mack spotted the Lodi Public Library, he had a sinking suspicion.
The library was a new, huge structure, set on top of a hill and the trees surrounding it were dead. He knew that was where they had to be holed up.
“It just seems so innocent here,” Alex said as she, Mack,
and Nicole approached the main double glass doors.
“They’re here,” Mack replied. “They have to be.”
Nicole nodded. “I can smell them.”
After checking the crease on the former automatic doors, Mack looked back to the trucks. “What is taking Rick so long?”
Del extended his hand to Rick. “Come on, let me have your CRK?”
“What happened to your spare?”
“I lost it in a Doke. You have a weapon. Come on.”
“Why do you need two?”
“I need two Close Range Kill Weapons, in case two are close range.”
“Oh, you just think you’re the Cool Doke Killer.”
“I am, and I’m taking your Doke duty.”
“True.” Rick reached behind him and handed Del the CRK.
“Thanks.” Del flashed a grin, turned and jotted to the library door. He knew they were in there. He could sense the Dokes, almost see them. There was something exciting about it.
Del supposed it was because he knew what to do. Killing them wasn’t a difficult task, unless they got ahead of you. A simple shot to the head and that was it.
It always made Del chuckle when he thought back to the old zombie films, and how in each and every film, no one had ever seen a zombie movie. They had no idea what walking dead were.
Del drew upon his love of horror from the get-go.
At the door, Mack flashed a curious smile. “What are you doing here? I thought you were babysitting.”
“Padre’s fine. Rick’s fine. I’d rather do it. I’m fast.”
“Radio.”
Del secured his radio.
Mack made each attack as if some sort of sneak, Special-Forces-operation mission.
“Radios on,” Mack ordered. “Let’s do this.”
Mack always went in first. Del gave him props for that. Taking the lead was probably the hardest because there was no way of knowing what would be inside.
Mack separated the glass doors, and ran in. Del watched as he took first position.
“Clear,” Mack called out over the mic. He waved out his arm; Alex ran in, passed Mack, and took position.
“Clear,” Alex called out.
Nicole raced in second. Del watched as she veered somewhat to the right, which means he had to as well.
“Clear,” Nicole reported.
Mack’s arm waved outward.
Del took a deep breath, looking at Mack as he passed. “Always the last guy.”
Mack chuckled.
The library was dark, very little light. Del ran by Mack, then Alex, turned the bend by Nicole, and went a few shelves farther.
That was the plan. When he yelled ‘clear’, the situation would repeat until the train of people made their way through the building.
But Del somehow knew that wasn’t happening.
Maybe that was why—when he turned the bend and saw the Doke—it didn’t scare him. Del raised his CRK, aimed, and fired.
The Doke dropped. Just as it did, another came around the bend. A pivot of his body, again, Del aimed and fired. The spear seared into a woman’s forehead.
“Del?” Mack called. “What’s up?”
“Not clear.”
His words were like a sounding bell. No sooner did he say that, he heard the groans and the bookcases dropped. A wall of Dokes raged his way.
Realizing there were too many for CRKs, Del swung forth his rifle.
“I need some help out here.”
He began to fire as they pursued.
It was a given that Mack would rush forward, he always did. Alex didn’t need to turn the bend to know that there were a lot of Dokes. Del firing a weapon, told her that. He rarely used a rifle if he didn’t need it. Something about the CRK kill that was so cool to him, he once told Alex.
She was the last to turn the bend into the main reading section of the library.
Was it the whole town?
She had both her rifle and CRK ready. Everyone was engrossed in their own battle against the hundreds of Dokes.
Librarian Doke went for Mack and died at the end of his CRK. Along with Old Lady Doke that flew his way. For some odd, strange reason, it made Alex silently laugh.
Maybe if she hadn’t found such amusement in the variety of Dokes, she would have seen it coming.
Firing at a Doke woman, two more Dokes came her way quickly, leaping forth.
Forced to drop her weapon, the two male Dokes created a sandwich with her. Swiftly, she swung out her CRK. She was smooth, but not as smooth as Del or Mack. Just as she nailed one, she was grabbed from behind. Blindly, she reached back with her CRK to get it. As she fired, consumed with that Doke, another became consumed with her arm. Lunging his teeth deep into her flesh.
She felt the burning pain that was somewhat eased by the flow of blood.
Down, she brought the CRK—firing into its head. He released her, and another jumped her way.
His mouth open, close, so close she could smell a stale-dead stench on his breath as his teeth were inches from her.
A split second brought her the fear that this was it. The closest she had been to death. It was gonna get her. Think. Think. Think.
Before she could react, the spear of a CRK ejected from behind the head of the Doke through the forehead. When it retracted, the Doke fell, exposing Mack.
Alex sighed out, “Thank you.”
“You all right?”
Alex nodded.
From his belt, he whipped off one of many cloths and tossed it to her. While she wrapped her arm, Mack quickly left—back in attack mode.
After securing the wound and stopping the bleed, Alex lifted her weapon from the floor and joined in the fight.
“Heavenly Father.” Fr. Owens held out his hands, palms up, tied to the widow’s walk in the back of the truck. For the padre’s sake during his dementia episodes, it was the only way to keep him safe and from wandering. “Guide us in your salvation, lift us to—”
“Dude,” Rick yelled. “You are, like, so not in the pulpit right now. Back to reality, guy.”
Realty check, but Fr. Owens waved him off.
“Rick. Rick,” Mack called out over the radio. “Come in.”
Rick lifted the radio. “Yeah, Sarge, what’s up?”
“You got them charges set?”
“Roger that, dude, all ready.”
“Counting down. We’re coming out.”
Rick set down the radio and from the bumper of the truck lifted what looked like a remote control. He leaned against the hood, facing the library. “Must be bad,” he spoke soft. “He sounded rushed.”
Focused on the double doors, Del ran out first.
“Three,” called Mack as Alex charged out.
“Two,” Mack counted with Nicole’s emergence, and then finally just as he hit the double doors, he sounded off with, “One!”
Rick could see the ensuing Dokes, and he pressed the button.
Mack was a mere few feet from the door—he leapt outward—just as four simultaneous explosions rang out and the library transformed into a fireball.
“Yes!” Rick grinned. “Oh, yeah.” He added a Whoo-hoo, clenching the remote as if it were a trophy.
He gave a visual check; everyone seemed OK, even though they were tumbled to the ground.
Mack stood, giving Rick a thumbs-up.
Rick returned it, spun, and peered up to Fr. Owens. “You see that, Padre?”
“Hallelujah.” Fr. Owens nodded.
“Hallelujah, dude.” Rick smiled, but lost it for a split second when, with a fiery thump, an arm landed on the hood of the truck. Lifting his rifle, he swiped it off, grinned once more, and watched the fire burn.
++++
The thin line of sutures cut through the flesh, and with each sequential tug, blood seeped out as if a last hurrah of the open gash.
A bright fluorescent lamp lit Alex’s arm as Mack repaired the wound. She’d wince; he’d tug, rinse off the wound, and continue.
“F
ew more,” he said.
“That’s what you said a few mores ago.”
Mack just smiled.
From her focus on the suturing, Alex glanced to the plate of food set down by her arm. She looked up to Nicole.
“Thank you.” Alex smiled.
“You’re welcome. Eat, before it gets cold,” Nicole instructed.
“I will.”
“How do you feel?”
Alex bobbed her head. “So-so, the alcohol helps.”
“Always does.” Nicole looked at Mack. “How much more?”
“Few.”
Nicole snickered. “The Mack stock line. A few more. Remember the bite in my leg.”
Alex whistled. “He was saying a few more on the first few stitches.”
Mack spoke as he worked, “It really was a few more. We knocked her out, remember.”
Both ladies nodded.
Nicole began to leave, instructing once more for Alex to eat. She stopped in her exit. “Before I forget,” Nicole said. “He is sleeping for the night. Today knocked him out. He hates the truck. Rick read out loud his ‘dude’ Bible rendition, and he was out like a light.”
Mack asked, “Fr. Owens didn’t comment on that?”
“Oh, plenty, but Rick kept going until he was out.”
“Some people shouldn’t read the Bible,” Mack said. “Rick is one of them.”
“Oh, he can read it, just not out loud.” Nicole peered close to the wound repairing. “Nice work.”
“Thanks.” Mack grinned, and after Nicole walked out, he looked at Alex. “A few more.”
“There you go again.”
“Have a shot.”
“I think I will.” Alex reached for the bottle with her free hand, poured some in a glass and downed it.
“Done.” Mack pulled and tied the sutures like an expert seamstress.
“Wow, it was a few more.”
“This time.”
Alex chuckled as she watched him finish up and clean her wound. “You know. It’s a good thing all those Zombie movies were wrong.”
“I hate that word.”
“Duh.”
“Did you just say duh to me?”
