Jerry joined Braeden’s state of shock. He’d honestly expected the zombies to go spastic when they caught fire, but being flame broiled as they trudged closer didn’t bother them.
Braeden acted first, grabbing one of the bottles like a club and letting the bus tub fall to the ground. He swung the bottle as if it were a baseball bat, putting his shoulder and hip behind the swing. The bottle caught the burning zombie in the face and sent him head under heels. Braeden’s eyes went wide as bottle shattered, showering ultra proof alcohol all over his right arm and shirt. The zombie burned a little brighter as he landed on his back. At the same time, Braeden’s right arm and shirt quickly caught fire. He dove for a patch of grass. Somehow he managed to remove his button-down shirt while rolling around to smother the flames.
Jerry snapped out of it long enough to finish off the zombies. Braeden stood up shirtless with a surprisingly minor burn to his arm and shoulder. More zombies staggered toward them from inside the tavern and around the front of the burning building. The pair took off on foot across fields and woods.
Chapter 6
Hard Bargain
Cadet McCoy left his lieutenant in charge while he met with Mike and Joseph. When he’d promoted himself to cadet lieutenant colonel, he hadn’t expected so many things would fall to him. He'd never imagined all the details that required addressing to move their home a mere one hundred miles; supply was only a very small part of what he suddenly had to worry about. In the last twenty hours, he’d begun to regret taking leadership simply because he was the oldest and had a plan. Strangely though, no one had protested when he took charge; every cadet simply accepted his orders as if he’d been appointed by the academy’s commandant.
“Gentlemen,” McCoy said as he entered the room. He wasn’t reporting to them, but they were adults, and some habits were hard to break after nearly four years.
When the senior cadet didn’t snap to attention and pop off a salute, Mike was nearly impressed. The cadet stood there as a businessman or busy officer might, attentive and ready, yet pressed for time and thinking of three other things.
“Joseph tells me you’ve been running raids into the surrounding neighborhoods,” Mike started.
“Yes. We’re trying to stock up enough to get us to Carlsbad Caverns. My dad is a park ranger out there. It’s isolated, but close enough for raids. It’s hard to get into on foot, and the ranger station and visitor center have a commanding of a view of the surrounding areas.”
Mike was impressed and let it show. “Sounds like a better position to be in.”
“It is. But you didn’t pull me aside for this. Please just tell me what’s on your minds; I have things to do.”
For a second, Mike wished half the officers he’d worked with had been like this kid. “Alright. Our truck is FUBAR. He found a potential replacement, but we'll need your help to get to it.”
Joseph laid out his plan to use the crippled blazer as a decoy to buy a three-man team time to get to the bus safely then use the bus to pick up the other crew if the blazer died before they all made it back.
McCoy hesitated. “That’s a huge risk for my guys.”
“What’s your time-table for this move?” Mike asked, changing topics.
“End of the week. That gives us four days to come up with vehicles and supplies. I want to help you guys, but I have a tight enough time table without an extra mission.”
“We’ll help you raid supplies, and I’ll help you make sure all your vehicles are running, but the caves are the wrong direction for us,” Joseph said. Mike grudgingly nodded.
“Mike, you were a Marine. It’d really help me out if you’d take today and train another couple groups to raid. I know it’s not much time for this kind of operation, but I need more raiders.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Mike said. “But we have to hit bigger target for supplies. More likely someone will get hurt.”
McCoy looked at Mike. “I don’t have a choice. The Box is our home, but it’s not gonna be safe for long. Sooner I can get us out of here, the better our chances of making the caverns in one piece.
“I’ll order my standby raiders to the courtyard for training. After dinner, let’s talk strategy and figure out some possible targets. We’ll start raiding in the morning?”
Joseph and Mike nodded.
McCoy straightened his uniform then calmly opened the door as if he were leaving for class, not preparing to give orders to an entire school on a plan that could kill some of them.
Joseph watched Mike shudder as soon as the door shut. “Someone walk over your grave?”
“Kid scares the hell out of me being that calm about this,” Mike faced Joseph. “You killed an acquaintance and panicked. I had to put my mom down and had a breakdown. These kids put their lives in his hands, and he's acting like he's running a training op.”
***
Chris didn’t mind that a storm knocked out power to the building somewhere in the small hours of the tenth day. When he woke up on the floor a few feet from the corpse of the zombie he’d killed days earlier, it was quiet, a first since the TV had been on constantly with the volume maxed since the day the dead started walking.
The lack of power did mean no more air conditioning. A few of the sinks still had manual faucets, so water wouldn’t be a problem, yet. The toilets on the other hand all used proximity triggers to flush. Chris decided he didn’t care if they used the elevator shaft or broke out a window for their new toilet. Breaking out a window and pissing on the world below struck him as particularly amusing.
Yesterday before the power went out, he’d finally listened to the voice and went through the big boss’s desk. Among the now useless corporate paperwork he found a seven-inch long letter opener. Chris kept it with him, usually up his sleeve when he was around the others. He didn’t trust them. Between the hushed whispers and sideways glances, he figured they didn't trust him either. If they tried to make a move, he wanted to have an edge.
Chris padded barefoot over to the elevators. He looked at the letter opener in his hand and realized it would never help him pry open the elevator doors. While the others still slept, he quietly worked his way to the stairwell he'd barred, vaguely remembering a fire ax stored near there. Being quiet wasn't so much because he wanted to be nice to the others. Honestly he hated being nice to his sheeple, but he liked their talking and incessant TV watching even less, so he would make sure he didn’t wake them up yet.
Letting his hand drag along the wall, he walked up and down the aisle near one of the stair wells. He never found the ax, but he did happen upon a large fire extinguisher. It's weight surprised him. Breaking even safety glass wouldn't be too much trouble with the two-foot long cylinder, but he couldn't constantly carry it as weapon.
The hole punch worked just fine on Gary; it'll work on anyone else.
As a matter of convenience and sanitation, Chris wandered to an empty office near the restrooms with floor to ceiling windows. It took several heavy slams with a fire extinguisher from the nearby hall to finally break the impact resistant glass. By the time the safety glass buckled, sweat poured from Chris's face and soaked his hundred dollar shirt. He panted for a moment and slammed the fire extinguisher into the window again. Chunks of glass tumbled toward the ground. Chris stood at the edge and peed out the window, laughing as he did.
He ran into Nicole on his way back to his hidey-hole. She dragged her fingers along the wall trying to find the door to the lady’s room.
“Power’s out. Toilets don’t work,” Chris said. Nicole looked up at the ceiling; clearly she still believed she’d woken up before the building turned on the lights for the day. “I broke a window out in the office right of the restrooms so we won’t have to smell it.”
She looked nervous but followed him around the corner to the office on the far side of the floor. Chris held the door for her, shutting it gently behind her.
He felt conflicted. Some distant, half-dead part of him repeated “No.” The Strong Voi
ce wasn’t speaking. On a primal level he wanted her. Societal conventions would have stopped him in a past life. The voice felt the urge, let it fill all of Chris before it gave the final nudge: “It doesn’t matter what she says.”
Chris opened the door as Nicole worked her skirt back into place. He closed and locked the door before the fear set in on Nicole. She screamed.
Chris smiled, baring his teeth like a wolf before the kill. He thumped the three-hole punch against his palm, enjoying the stinging thwack.
“No. No. Chris let me out of here and stay away! STAY AWAY!”
Chris stalked closer like a panther preparing to spring. Nicole couldn’t back up because of the long drop and her desire to stay alive. Chris used his free hand to grab her by the throat. He shoved her onto the large metal-and-glass desk. Nicole tried to struggle but days without food took a toll on her under-developed muscles.
He put the letter opener to her neck and left Nicole no doubt he would kill her if she tried to fight. It thrilled him as her eyes grew wide in absolute terror.
***
Mike trusted Joseph, but he preferred to double-check supplies and equipment, just part of being a Marine. He took inventory of the supplies in the blazer while The cadets McCoy tasked him to train ate dinner.
Mike looked over the supplies stacked around the back of the blazer. There were enough canned goods to feed him and Joseph all the way to the coast and probably half way back if they were taking a normal road trip, but add in Walter and Stacy and any potential heavy lifting and the food would be gone in ten days—maybe fourteen if they were strict on rationing, faster if they ate enough to maintain their energy.
Water was an all-together different story. In the grocery store raid, they’d grabbed enough water to last two people about a week. Sitting on the ground there was less than two day’s worth for the four of them. Like all Marines, Mike had hydration hammered into his head. Going anywhere without enough water was about like wandering into combat without a weapon.
And when it came to weapons, their ammo fell squarely in the “Red.” He had one full magazine of 44 magnum for the Desert Eagle and a half box of rounds for the Winchester. Joseph still had two spare magazines for his 9mm and most of the magazine in the pistol that never left his side. They also had just one box of shells for the two shotguns. And last but not least they had several Molotov’s.
“Damn. The kid was right,” Mike shook his head. He hadn’t counted on a prolonged trip from Wichita Falls to Hanse’s badlands resort, he hadn’t counted on getting caught in so many engagements that required spending invaluable ammo, and he hadn’t counted on not being able to keep accurate track of the supplies.
Mike took his time developing the shopping list, and it still only took him ten minutes. Much of the list was obvious: food, bottled water and first aid supplies. Once again weapons and ammo took the most thought.
The Winchester was a nice rifle, incredibly dependable for its age. He just didn't count on being able to find much 30-30 ammo in an area where many people owned hunting rifles. Mike knew he would need a new rifle, preferably something that fired a more common round. There were enough gun and pawn shops around that Mike was certain they should be able to find a replacement rifle or two and ammo for everything else.
A cadet brought Mike a tarp and helped him cover the supplies instead of loading them back into the blazer. only to have to unload them again later.
Mike looked at his list and added clothes for Walter and Stacy.
“Cadet, you seen Joseph?”
***
Joseph stared at the bus through Mike’s binoculars for what seemed like hours, trying to figure out what he needed and what he wanted if the opportunity presented itself.
He had a pretty good set of tools sitting in the blazer, so he wasn’t terribly concerned about that. The most obvious thing they needed was diesel, but that was laying around in pretty good supply in abandoned trucks and gas stations that weren’t dry. Diesel fuel was already on the piece of paper under his right knee, as was an oxyacetylene rig and a siphon kit.
Joseph still couldn’t shake the feeling he was forgetting something. Ideally he wanted sheet metal to over the windows and some kind of plow for the front, but those could wait. He let the binoculars drop to his side. Sloppily he scribbled “fuel drums?” on the sheet of paper. Still he felt like he was forgetting something obvious.
Mike clamped his right hand on Joseph’s shoulder. Joseph twisted and brought his right arm up to break the grip on his shoulder.
“Nice try. Next time try rolling instead of twisting,” Mike said, letting go. Joseph shrugged and returned to looking at the bus. “A Jedi you are not. So staring at it won’t let you pick it up and float it over here.”
“Hmmm? Oh.”
Joseph turned to face Mike who sat down next to him. “I’m missing something. Something obvious.”
Mike looked at the bus and back at Joseph. “So clearly you haven’t missed that it’s out there, and we have to be idiots for attempting this cracker-shit plan?”
“Nope,” Joseph grinned, “I’m all over that fact.”
“Well, if you have the hard part figured out, what’s left?”
Joseph handed Mike his four-item shopping list. Mike looked it over and added it to his. “All right, looks good so far,” Mike asked. “Maybe some sheet metal?”
“I figured you’d want to worry about that later,” Joseph said.
“We could, but we may as well grab it while we’re doing the rest of the shopping.” Mike looked at the bus. “What about some kind of tubing for an overhead rack?”
“We can. We’ll be shopping anyway.”
Mike got up and brushed pebbles from his pant legs, “I can’t think of anything else. C'mon, McCoy will be waiting for us.”
Chapter 7
Opening Moves
It rained early the next morning. Thunder exploded and rolled off every wall in the box, dragging Joseph from his dreamless sleep like current drags a swimmer from shore. His hand jumped to the butt of the pistol under his left arm before he opened his eyes. Faint rolls of thunder punctuated the steady drum of heavy rain.
“Ho-oly shit! Did you see that?” echoed down the hall.
Joseph pulled his boots on and headed into the hall to find out what he’d missed. He caught up with Mike and McCoy at the bottom of the stairs. They headed up a herd of curious cadets to the two-man observation post near the northeast corner of the box where the cry originated.
“That has to be the coolest thing I’ve seen,” the cadet with his back to the door said.
“I know. I totally didn’t expect that shi-” the other cadet stopped mid sentence and snapped to attention when he saw McCoy. The second cadet popped to as soon as he saw his buddy move.
“At ease, boys. We all just wanted to know what was so cool,” McCoy said, stepping in to the room. The cadets on watch relaxed slightly.
“Sorry, sir. We didn’t mean to yell so loudly,” the senior of the two watchmen said. “But Zeus must be on our side or somethin’, ‘cause a lightning bolt just fried one of the deads.
“Slammed the undead son-of-a-bitch into that car. And he was still smokin’ a second ago.”
The junior cadet, who’d had his back to the door, pointed to a zombie laying on a car hood. Mike looked where the cadet pointed and could just make out smoke struggling to rise off the body through the downpour.
“Well, with lightning so close we can’t risk moving around too much,” McCoy said to Mike. Then more to the group, “Maybe Zeus will take out a few more for us.” The cadets all laughed and started back to their rooms.
Joseph joined Mike by the window. Mike pointed out the zapped zombie.
“Damn. That would’ve made a hell of a youtube video,” Joseph said as he walked away.
***
Mike and McCoy decided, until the storm cleared it would be a good time for everyone to practice room clearing procedures.
Groups of four and t
en through practiced clearing every room from one end of the hall to the other under Mike's exacting tutelage. By noon when the storm finally rolled away, the thirty plus cadets and Joseph and Walter, had the basics down. Mike made a mental note to spend more time working with Joseph once they were back on the road. But, like the crash course he'd given Joseph on guns, something was better than nothing, and he picked stuff up on the fly.
When the duty desk sent word that the storm was clear, McCoy wasted no time.
"All raiders report to the armory. It's time for a little practical exercise. Mike, Joseph, I'd like you to go out with team two."
Mike nodded.
***
It stormed again after dark. Joseph spent the whole night bolting awake at every boom of thunder. His imagination stayed in overdrive. The constant rumbling sounded like undead hands pounding the all too fragile walls. When he drifted toward uneasy sleep, he found himself running from masses of zombies, or surrounded by them. And once he dreamed he was bitten.
Joseph wasn’t the only person who couldn’t sleep. Several cadets spent the night with their backs to a corner, wanting to sleep but unwilling to let themselves drift off. Finally, in the small hours of the morning, the storm blew over. Stars peeked out from stray clouds, and Joseph and the others slipped into a dreamless sleep.
Hall patrol knocked on Joseph’s door the next morning. He jumped at the sound and leveled his pistol on the door.
“Joseph, sir, you’re late for your meeting,” Cadet Everson yelled through the door.
Joseph let out an unsteady breath and absently put the pistol grip to his forehead. He took a deep breath before holstering his gun.
“Right. Thanks boys.”
He walked up to the meeting in the courtyard by the jury-rigged blazer still trying to shake the remnants of sleep from his head.
Dead Man's Party Page 6
