Dead Man's Party

by Nathan Robert Brown

  “I think they’re getting ready to bail," Joseph said. "I vaguely remember McCoy saying something about Carlsbad. If we agree to help them prepare, they might help us get set up to head for Hanse’s.”

  Mike nodded slowly. “Fuck. I really wanted to avoid something like this.”

  “Well, we can hole up here and hope for rescue.”

  “Joe,” Mike chuckled, “I’m starting to like you, man. But if you call me retarded again I am gonna kick you in the junk.” He chuckled again at his joke.

  “I didn’t call you—“ Joseph began, then realized that his leg was being pulled. “So I’m going to assume we’re gonna try for the bus?”

  Mike sighed. “Yeah. And we’ll help raid, but we’re gone in three days.”

  They looked at the bus again.

  “I guess we better talk to McCoy and get started then,” Joseph said, getting up.

  Chapter 3

  Thorn’s Reclaimers

  Gunny Thorn ordered the mortar crews to expend everything they had on the far side of the broken bridge. His men happily pumped a couple dozen 60mm mortars into the horde, destroying hundreds of zombies. Maybe even a thousand. When the smoke settled, more shuffled at the edge of the cliff, trampling their crippled brethren.

  PVT Erik Jamison had heard that one woman nearly jumped off the bridge after two hours of listening to the horde's never-ending moans. The Marines and National Guardsmen had plenty of practice tuning out the endless drone of speeches, but the moaning pushed their limits. For the first time in his life, Jamison appreciated the steady diesel rumble of the five-ton LMTVs as the Marines organized the supplies they had on hand for their move down the 905 toward Key Largo.

  By late afternoon, the Marines, a platoon of National Guard’s men, and the dozens of civilians now under their protection moved along the largely empty bridge, away from the moaning horde. As soon as the sound faded, the convoy made camp.

  Gunny Thorn easily convinced the company commander (not that he needed convincing) that rolling into Key Largo with daylight running out would be about equal to putting a gun to their collective heads and pulling the trigger. Neither of them were thrilled with the road through Key Largo, but they really didn’t have anywhere else to go. No soldier likes the idea of hanging out in the enemy's back yard with no intel.

  The majority of the Marines and National Guardsmen knelt, facing Gunny Thorn and the two company commanders.

  “I’m not going to blow smoke up your asses,” Gunny Thorn said levelly. Thorn glanced down to get the sun out of his eyes. He took a deep breath to cover a shiver running down his spine.

  “We’ve had no radio contact with—well anyone for over twelve hours now. There’s us and the handful of civilians in those trucks strong enough to hold a weapon. We don’t know that anyone else is left,” Gunny Thorn looked back the way they had come. Wisps of smoke floated lazily on the horizon.

  He looked down the bridge toward Key Largo and shook his head.

  “You’ve seen what we’re up against. You know how to kill them. Now, we have a choice to make. Route 1 will take us all the way to Key West and a naval air station. To get there, we'll have to cross a lot of open territory, and it’s a good bet, it’ll be crawling with those things.”

  “Fuck that shit,” one of the Guardsmen said louder than he intended.

  Gunny Thorn ignored the outburst. “Or, we take a foothold in Key Largo. We clear each block house by house. Once we make a FOB—”

  “We already fought this kind of fight,” a sergeant off to Jamison's right stood up. “Unless you have a fuckload more ammo, we'll be clearing the whole damn island hand-to-hand. And once they start coming, they don't stop. Look what happened with the mortars.”

  “You're right,” Thorn growled facing the sergeant. “A. We do have plenty of ammo. B. We get trapped on this bridge and we got no room to maneuver. C. We can't go back the way we came. So unless you have a better plan, why don't we start with establishing a clean zone?”

  The sergeant stared Gunny Thorn in the eye for a moment. “Fine. But it's going to get ugly. Just sayin'.”

  “Boys and Girls, I've made a career of looking out for grunts, and no offense to the captains here, keeping officer's stupidity in check,” Thorn's eyes blazed for a second. He took a breath. “Now, I may not have the best plan, but this is the best one I came up with. Anyone have something better? Seriously, I'd love to hear it.”

  Jamison thought for a moment and couldn't come up with anything. Looking around, it seemed no one else came up with anything either.

  “If at any point, one of you comes up with an idea, we,” Gunny Thorn waved at himself and the captains, “we want to hear it. Alright. Tomorrow morning, we make for the neighborhoods southeast of us. First platoon stays with the convoy and the civilians. We secure the furthest houses then make a clean zone. If it comes at you. If it’s missing body parts. If it doesn’t verbally respond. If it has so much as a fucking hickey. You will kill it, without hesitation and without question. Is that clear?”

  The group sounded off. “Yes, Gunny!”

  “Non-infected civilians are to be escorted back to the clean-zone by a two-man team. Only one two-man team is to be out of a squad at any time. No exceptions.”

  When Gunny Thorn stopped talking for a minute, the Marines stood, more from habit than necessity.

  “Anything Captain Shea, sir?” The Marine company commander shook his head. “You, Sir?”

  Captain Cal Daniels, the National Guard company commander, shook his head. “No, Gunny. We’re good.”

  “Alright, Marines, get your men un-fucked. Twenty-five, seventy-five watch rotation. Three hour watches. Guardsmen, you're on rest tonight. Roll out at oh-seven. Butt packs and fight kit only. Stow the rucks. Go.”

  After his Marines turned to sort out the watch, Gunny Thorn let out a tired sigh.

  ***

  The Marines of second platoon, who were first up for sleep and therefore not on the perimeter, herded exhausted and terrified civilians into a semi-circle around the officers for their briefing. Erik felt bad for the people. They'd lost loved ones, given up their homes, become refugees in their own country, and had no earthly idea what was happening to the world around them. The Marines didn’t know much more than anyone else, but at least they had a succinct way to deal with the problem.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Gunny Thorn spoke in quietly authoritative tones. “Let me be blunt, we know you're scared — and you should be. Most of you have seen what is going on out there. We're going to do what we can to keep you alive, but you’re all going to have to help us do that.”

  Low murmurs rippled through the crowd.

  “You will have to work to help us keep you safe. This may be cooking, cleaning, carrying ammunition, or any other number of tasks that will have to be done in short order.”

  “What if we don't want to?” demanded a young man near the front.

  Corporal McMurphey, Jamison's squad leader, leaned in close to the young man. “What if we leave your bitch ass on this bridge?”

  Gunny Thorn clasped his hands behind his back and scanned the crowd. “The chain of command is as follows, the officers with rank on their collar, the NCO’s with the stripes on their chests, and the Marines with the rifles standing behind you. If a Marine tells you to do something, do it. Don’t ask questions, don’t hesitate and don’t argue—“

  “Who the fuck do you think you are!” a woman yelled.

  “We aren't in your army!” another person yelled. Several more yelled in agreement.

  “OI! Any of you are free to leave if you don't like my terms. I don't practice democracy; I protect it. And I'm offering you protection. If you want to leave, you can take your things, and there's the way out.” Gunny Thorn pointed South toward Key Largo. “But you better decide real quick, because my men and I aren't going to defend you if you aren't willing to work. We also won't be giving you any extra food, water or weapons.”

  Several people st
opped at that. “You can't abandon us. Our taxes pay—“

  “What pay you soft bodied ass?” Gunny Thorn's temper slipped. “Let me put this in small words. There is no government. There are no cops. No fire fighters. No grocery stores. No goddamned Starbucks.

  “What there is, is an unending horde of shambling things that want to eat you, and other survivors who will kill you for a bottle of water. It. Is. Darwin's. World. The National Guard and us already saved you from being eaten once. You want to fly solo? Be my guest. That will make my job that much easier. Following orders still sound too despotic?”

  Most of the crowd cast worried glances side to side or looked at the ground. A few still showed they wanted out.

  “You fuckers already shot a bunch of us!”

  “Here's some free chicken for you, once someone's bitten, they're going to turn into one of those things and eat you. You rather I had waited until they started munching on your liver? You willing to look someone else in the eye and tell them their loved one is dead because you were a coward? I saved you having to 'kill' your friends and family.”

  The man spat at Gunny Thorn's feet.

  “Third squad, give them their belongings, nothing else, then escort them out of our perimeter.”

  “What? You won't even let us stay until dawn?” one of the men said, his voice breaking.

  “No. I told you. If you wanted to leave, my men and I would not continue to protect you.”

  He glared at Thorn before flipping him the bird and grabbing his travel bag from the waiting Marine. “Fuck you douchebros.”

  “Remember, we volunteered to protect you; you volunteered to leave,” one of the Marines said.

  Gunny Thorn looked at the remaining crowd. “I am not setting up myself as a king. I have two people who outrank me. I need you to do what I ask so I can keep all my men in the fight and not doing chores that you can do. With that unpleasantness out of the way, do any of you know how to use a firearm?”

  ***

  The Marines who weren’t on watch slept upright in the back of the five-tons, gripping their weapons for dear life. The remnants of the National Guard unit tried to sleep in the trucks at the rear of the convoy. Terrified civilians huddled in the trucks in the middle. Most of them were so wired on adrenaline they could have broken bones and not realized it.

  After his three hour watch, Erik considered himself lucky to be among those dreamlessly sleeping, held upright by the man on each side of him. The sudden rumble of the five-tons starting woke everyone in the convoy.

  The Marines piled out of the trucks and relieved themselves along the side of the bridge.

  Off to the south, an endless bridge stretched over the ocean. Erik knew that really the bridge to Key Largo was in the neighborhood of a few miles, and they had already covered part of that. Gunny Thorn and the officers wanted off the bridge as quickly as possible, so no one would walk if avoidable.

  It didn’t last long enough. Abandoned vehicles littered and choked the road. The first few vehicles were far enough apart that the convoy simply snaked past them. Less than a quarter mile later, the abandoned vehicles were too close together and at odd angles on the road. The convoy slowed to halt.

  Gunny Thorn stepped out of his humvee at the front of the convoy. He walked back toward the line of trucks strung out behind it.

  “Second platoon, out front. Clear these vehicles.”

  Half an hour and a couple dozen cars later, the convoy cleared the choke point. Erik, Bookie, and the rest of second platoon allowed the convoy to drive past them. As first LMTV slowed to stop, the Marines started swinging themselves into the bed.

  The convoy cruised south along the 905A until they reached the junction with the 905. Gunny Thorn ordered the convoy to turn left, towards the eastern end of the island, away from the city center.

  Chapter 4

  Plan B

  Lily sat in her truck in the middle of the street, staring out her window. Smashed and blood-smeared windows along the length of the Safeway storefront gave the impression of a smile with recently knocked out teeth. Black scorch marks punctuated the pavement. She easily thought of a dozen reasons to not go in the store. And two really good reasons to do it anyway: antibiotics and emergency contraceptives.

  She'd fled Elgin without a plan beyond getting back on the road. By luck, she found her way to Highway 82. A couple hours behind the wheel gave her nerves time to calm down.

  If she was going to go in there, she wanted a semblance of a plan first. She flicked on her blinker and flipped a “U.” As she cruised around the building, she noted that the loading docks sat on the far side of the store from the pharmacy, and there were no convenient side entrances. That left going in and out through the front with the quickness.

  As she pulled up along the front of the store, Lily spotted large soda cans with black tails on the ground behind them. That stopped her. Two small businesses across the street had burned nearly to their foundations. Only remnants of their signs still stood. She remembered the fire engine blocking most of the street as she pulled into town. In the parking lot, especially closer to the street, several cars lay on their sides. A charred hulk of a police cruiser missing both passenger-side doors sat in the yard of a nearby house.

  Lily turned off her truck and cracked her window, expecting to hear the moans of the dead. It was quiet.

  She dumped the notebooks out of her backpack and grabbed her flashlight.

  Glass crunched underfoot as she stepped through the shattered window and into the Safeway. Just enough light filtered through the destroyed windows to show hastily-emptied shelves and damaged checkout counters. Stray shopping carts loitered in the front aisle.

  A bright yellow-bellied bird swooped at her head. It landed on a nearby cart and whistled at her. Lily closed her eyes, pressed her forehead against the slide of her pistol and took two deep breaths.

  Keep it together, girl. Antibiotics, birth control, and first aid while we're at it.

  The bird continued to whistle and cheep at her as she turned toward the pharmacy.

  Lily turned on her flashlight and crept through the spilled aisles of health and beauty aids. She played the light along the shelves and the scattered goods strewn across the floor. From the state of things, people had hit the store pretty hard, taking all of the common 'survival' stuff. She doubted any water, canned goods, beer or toilet paper remained. But she held out a small hope for the pharmacy.

  That spark faltered when she saw the ravaged remains of the first aid aisle. Whoever picked the place clean of water and toilet paper had snapped up every pre-built first aid kit and box of band-aids. Lily desperately scoured the shelves for anything the 'shoppers' might have missed.

  She smiled. It wasn't much, but she found a couple of ace wraps, and three small bottles of naproxen.

  Better than nothing. My luck's not all bad.

  At the end of the aisle, the pharmacy windows occupied almost ten feet of the wall. The glass pane closest to the employee door folded inward enough to crawl over; clearly someone had wanted in pretty badly. A body draped through one of the large window frames, half-wrapped in discolored, spider-webbed safety glass.

  “That's kinda impressive,” she muttered, glad she'd missed that particular demonstration of strength.

  Maybe I'm lucky enough they at least left birth control behind.

  She took her time approaching the pharmacy window. The burrito-ed body seemed pretty thoroughly dead. She doubted one of the not-so-dead would have continued lying there with a potential meal close by.

  A hand latched on to her ankle and pulled as she crossed to the windows. She landed hard. Her flashlight bounced once and spun on the tile. The zombie moaned as it grabbed at her. Lily scrambled to grab her flashlight so she could see to shoot. She spun on her butt ready to fire. An entire shelf lay across the zombie's back and legs. It strained to reach her.

  Lily giggled as she stuffed a mop bucket from a nearby pile of forgotten goods over the zombi
e's head. She drummed on the top of the bucket. It flailed at her hands. Lily drummed some more. “In a gadda da vida, baby,” she sang and giggled.

  A moment later she crawled over the folded safety glass. Inside the pharmacy cage, her quiet steps ground spilled pills into powder and sent empty bottles skittering hollowly. Someone had knocked this place over in a hurry.

  Antibiotics, hormones, and antidepressants sat neatly labeled and largely untouched. Every heavy-duty pain killer, narcotic, and anything containing pseudoephedrine was gone.

  “Typical druggie idiots,” she said, shaking her head.

  Finally she found what she was looking for. She shoved handfuls of Plan B and birth control pill packs into her backpack.

  Might as well refill my prescription while I'm at it.

  Then she grabbed several large bottles of antibiotics.

  She saw the SWAT armor out of the corner of her eye a split second before the zombie charged her. It slammed her back into the wall. Even through the backpack strap that saved her, Lily felt the pressure of the zombie's teeth grinding against her collar bone.

  Not good! Not good! Shit!

  No matter how hard she pushed, it pulled closer like an anaconda strangling its prey. Her pack straps bought her a scant few inches of space at chest level. She grabbed for the soldier's standard-issue rifle, but it had slid partially under his arm.

  Lily grabbed the butt of the rifle and yanked the whole thing back to the man's front. She frantically pushed the zombie back, while trying to flip the muzzle under his chin. Her attacker jerked its head away, dragging the backpack from Lily's shoulder. She dropped her arm out of the strap, letting the zombie stagger back with the pack in its teeth. The sudden shift gave her enough room to finish rotating the rifle. In a single motion, she flipped the safety and squeezed off a round.