by Derek Slaton
He wasn’t surprised to find Jerry had joined him, and the two brought up the rear of the guide group.
“We have a few empty apartments in here that had been bought but never moved in to, so we’ll get you one of those to stay in,” Brent was saying. “Eventually if we find enough survivors some of the singles will have to double up, which will mean you. All the one bedrooms are taken already by those that already lived alone and like it that way, so our few empty units are two bedrooms which will mean sharing space. There aren’t any three bedroom units here, so no worrying about too many people up in your face all the time.
“This is where we’re growing food for now,” he continued, motioning to one of the gardens. “We’re working on growing food inside for the colder months, with Calvin being an experienced plant cultivator.”
Jerry snorted.
“We’ve got round-the-clock perimeters set up, so no worrying about any zombies coming up here,” Brent said, ignoring his comrade. “What do you think?”
“S’nice,” Benny replied hoarsely.
The leader put a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder. “Do you want to talk about what’s happened to you?”
The military man shook his head, jerking back and forth violently, lips pressed in a thin line.
“Okay,” Brent relented with a sigh. “Come on, let’s find you an apartment. I’ll send somebody over with some food for you, too.”
Zion was glad that Brent didn’t do a full tour, as in he didn’t show him where the armory was. He didn’t trust this guy as far as he could throw him, and showing him the gun cache was a bad idea at this point.
They stopped at a second-floor apartment and Brent unlocked it, opening the door for their new charge. “I hang on to all the keys, just in case of an emergency,” he explained, pocketing the large keyring. “We all share everything anyway, so you don’t have to worry about people messing with your stuff while you’re out. Get some rest.” He smiled, and Benny nodded wearily, closing and locking the door behind him.
Brent turned to Jerry with a somber expression. “Stay here and keep an eye on this door,” he said quietly. “If you get tired, make sure that somebody switches off with you. I want twenty-four hour surveillance here.”
Zion’s shoulders relaxed. He was glad that the leader was at least being careful. “I’ll come check on you in a few hours, man,” he promised, and clapped his friend on the shoulder before heading back to his own apartment.
Monique looked like she’d just returned from somewhere as he entered, as she was just setting a pile of books on the kitchen table. She shrugged out of her coat with a smile.
“You’re back sooner than I thought,” she said.
Her brother nodded. “It was a bit of a bust, the stores were looted already. We didn’t get much food, but we got a ton of greenhouse supplies.”
“That’s something, at least,” she agreed, and then furrowed her brow. “What is it?”
“We picked up a straggler,” he admitted. “And there’s something… off about him.”
“Off, how?” she asked.
Zion shook his head. “We all had a bad feeling. He was cowering in the superstore in military fatigues, all sketched out. None of us wanted to bring him back, but Brent insisted. Now even he put a watch on the guy’s door because he’s being careful… and I just wonder why we even bothered bringing him back. Seems like too big a risk to me.”
“Z,” Monique said gently, offering a smile to her brother. “I know it’s hard to trust people nowadays. Hell, it was hard to trust people before all of this. But there ain’t that many people left in the world. When we find those in need, especially when they’re alone and vulnerable, isn’t it up to us to protect and help them? Otherwise what kind of world are we building here?”
One where we survive, Zion thought to himself, but didn’t voice this. He knew better than to argue with her. He simply nodded.
“I’m going to crash for a bit,” he said. “Wake me up before you head to bed, yeah? I’m going to go relieve Jerry for overnight.”
“I’ll leave dinner out for you,” she promised.
CHAPTER SIX
Zion’s eyes shot open at the crack of gunfire outside. Monique burst into his bedroom, stopping short when she saw him sitting up. He dove from the bed, hastily pulling on his jeans from the floor.
“How did zombies get all the way up here?” Monique worried. “They-”
Gunshots echoed in the hallways, and her brother’s gaze darkened. “That ain’t zombies,” he replied. This fight sounded two-sided, and unless the corpses had figured out how to use guns, then there was no way that this wasn’t some kind of attack. “Hide.”
“No, Z, you can’t-” she pleaded, but he grabbed his bat and brushed past her.
He cracked open their door and peeked out, screams bouncing around the corridor as he saw men in military fatigues dragging people out of their apartments at gunpoint. He shut the door.
“Motherfucker,” he muttered under his breath, and turned to his wide-eyed sister. “Hide. Now,” he demanded, and she nodded jerkily, this time complying with his wishes. She scurried back to the bedroom, and as Zion turned back to the door, it imploded.
A burly military man burst in, and Zion immediately lunged for him, bat flying. The guy caught it and wrenched it free of his attacker’s grip, going for the throat. Zion ducked, clocking him with an epic uppercut that snapped the meathead’s face back. He took the opportunity to dive on top of him, knocking them both to the floor, where he pummeled the holy hell out of the guy’s face.
There was a sharp pain in the back of his head, and then everything went black.
***
When Zion came to, he was very aware at the cool grass beneath his bare back. He groaned and his sister looked down at him, her expression relieved that he was conscious. He sat up slowly, taking in the clusters of apartment dwellers around him. There were moans and crying and whispered conversations, with more shots and yells from inside in the background.
“What’s going on?” he asked Monique quietly, barely audible, eyeing the soldiers standing guard over their group.
She took his hand in hers tightly. “Looks like the military has taken over,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t know what they want, yet.”
The gunshots subsided and a group of army guys poured out of the front doors, the last few stragglers in tow. They dumped the beaten and bloody victims with the rest of the group, and Zion looked around, mouth in a grim line. Nobody looked like they were in very good shape.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” one of the attackers stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his back. His uniform looked freshly pressed and he didn’t have a speck of blood on him. “I am Sergeant Holcomb, and I am in charge of this facility now.” He paused for effect, a smile on his face.
Zion couldn’t help but feel like this guy could give Brent a run for his money in the faux-diplomat department. Except this Sergeant had some insanity in his eyes that did not bode well for them.
“Please don’t kill us,” somebody begged tearfully.
Holcomb cocked his head in their direction. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill any more of you than I have to,” he said, sounding sincere and regretful. “I apologize for the theatrics, but I had to make sure that I had you all in one spot and that you understand your place.” He began to pace back and forth in front of the group, one hand still behind his back and the other raising to accentuate his speech. “You see, in times like this, the end times of the world, there is an opportunity. An opportunity for greatness to rise to the challenge. I am rising to that challenge. I am proving my greatness.
“And so, I am taking this facility. It is mine now. Those of you who are fortunate enough to still have your lives are welcome to stay here, but you must abide by my rules if you are to be my loyal subjects. Obey me, and you will be treated fairly.” He paused, clenching his hand into a fist. “Defy me or my men, and you will be punished
.” He snapped his fingers, and a group of his men marched into the crowd to drag certain community members to the sidelines.
A soldier with a very broken face jerked Zion up by the arm, shoving him towards the lineup and down onto his knees. Monique leapt to her feet and shoved the soldier, attempting to run to her brother, and he stopped her with a sneer, raising his gun to her chest.
Holcomb pushed down on the gun barrel, shaking his head and clucking his tongue. “Shooting dissidents is too easy,” he said calmly, and the soldier backed off. The Sergeant wound his fist into Monique’s hair, and licked his lips uncomfortably close to her ear. “You just earned yourself a spot with these insurgents.” He shoved her down onto her knees in front of Zion, and she scrambled to her brother, clutching his arm.
Holcomb walked to one end of the line, bending to stare with amusement into Brent’s seething face. “Violence against me or my men will not be tolerated,” he declared, and straightened up, pacing back in front of Jerry, then Cory, then Calvin. “A zero-tolerance policy, if you wish. There will be no warning. You stay in line, or you pay the price, no negotiations or hesitation.” He raised his hand and waved to his men. “This ragtag group of bandits is going to be made an example of. Take them to the center of the city and leave them there.”
“No, no please!” Tom begged, falling forward on his hands, tears pouring down his cheeks. “Please, I didn’t mean to take a swing, I was just trying to protect my wife, please!”
“What did I just say?” Holcomb clucked his tongue again. “Zero tolerance.” He stepped to the end of the line where Zion hadn’t moved a muscle, but simply stared daggers up at the Sergeant. “Maybe in your next life, you’ll learn to show your superiors some respect,” Holcomb declared.
Zion stayed still, eyes hard. “Not done with this life yet.”
The Sergeant’s eyes widened the slightest bit, and then he straightened, glaring down his nose at what he viewed as scum beneath his boots.
Holcomb waved his hand. “Exile them.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The group was somber save for Tom’s sniffling as the military transport began to head down the driveway of the apartment complex. They all sat across from each other, hands tied behind their backs securely.
“Fuckin’ idiots!” Benny cackled from the front seat, hanging into the back to taunt them. “You shoulda gone with your guts, huh? Now you ain’t gonna make it til tomorrow!”
The guy with the busted face that Zion had beaten up drove, and glanced over his shoulder to give a smirk that looked more like a grimace to the prisoner in question.
“You all better be sayin’ your goodbyes to each other,” Benny continued in a singsong voice, “because were we’re takin’ ya, you ain’t gonna last very long, fuckin’ morons!” His voice was a loud maniacal screech, like nails on a chalkboard.
Zion decided he liked him much better when he was playing subdued PTSD soldier. He looked down at his sister’s grim expression beside him. He wished better for her. But he couldn’t help but feel that she’d be safer with him than back at the complex. Had she been left there by herself, he wouldn’t have been there to run any interference, and who knew what these assholes were going to do to the women.
As the transport headed into the city, the noise of the engine attracted hordes of zombies.
“Whoo, look at that!” Benny exclaimed as they ran over corpses, leaving tons to stagger after them in their wake. “They gettin’ ready for their midnight snack! You pussies ready? Ready to be zombie chow?”
They managed to get ahead of the mob into a large parking deck. Up and up they drove, to the very top of the five story parkade. They cut the engine and the only sounds were the heavy breathing of the prisoners and the echoing groans of the dead as they made their way up to claim their meal.
“Come on, now!” Benny cried brightly as he opened the back of the transport, grinning ear to ear. “Everybody out!”
When nobody moved, the other guy reached in and grabbed Calvin’s shoulder, jerking him out and down to the asphalt.
“Ain’t it a nice night for a picnic?” Benny asked. “The stars are twinklin’ away, ah, so peaceful here!”
“You’re fucking crazy, man!” Cory spat as he jumped down from the transport, voice full of venom.
Benny laughed and smashed the butt of his gun into Cory’s face. “Come on now, chocolate!” he called to Zion, who was taking his sweet time not moving from his seat.
The guy with the mangled face ran his fingers through Monique’s hair, pressing the barrel of his handgun into her cheek so hard her skin puckered around it.
“Should I shoot her in the face?” he growled. “Or shoot out a kneecap so that she’s easy picking for the zombies?”
Zion clenched his jaw and got up, shuffling forward to the edge of the truck bed. Benny kicked out as he jumped, knocking his legs out so that he hit the asphalt hard on his side with a grunt.
“Ta ta, chumps!” Benny proclaimed, waving as he bounded back to the passenger’s seat. The mangled-faced soldier shoved Monique down roughly on top of her brother.
Zion glared up at him. “See you soon,” he promised.
The soldier sneered and jogged back to the driver’s seat, peeling out in a loud display of tire squealing.
“What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do?” Tom began to hyperventilate. “Ohfuckohfuckohfuck-”
“Hey,” Brent said firmly not not unkindly, “calm down. Deep breaths.”
“Turn around, man,” Cory said to Jerry, and the two shuffled back to back, trying to untie each other.
Tom began to rock back and forth. “We’re gonna die, we’re gonna die.”
“No we’re not, it’s okay,” Brent cooed. “How many times have I gotten you outta shit? I got you.”
Zion looked around, and wandered off towards a busted down car on the far side of the lot. Monique furrowed her brow, and then jumped at the feel of someone at her back, turning her head to see Calvin shimmying up behind her to do the same as Cory and Jerry.
Zion squatted down in front of the car, where the front tire was gone and the car rested on a rim, and used the jagged metal to cut through his ropes. He stood up and tried the driver’s side door, but it was locked. He thrust his elbow into the window, and it shattered upon impact. He reached in to unlock the door and searched the car, finding nothing useful. He popped the trunk and rummaged around, pulling out a tire iron and slamming it closed again.
At this point the group of untied prisoners approached him warily, Tom still blubbering as Brent dragged him along, regrouping next to the busted car. The zombie groans echoed even louder. They didn’t have much time.
“Jerry, head on down the driveway and see how many zombies they are and how close they are,” Zion instructed, and his friend nodded, running off. “Monique, Cory, Calvin, everyone take a side and look down at nearby buildings to see if there’s anywhere we can escape to from up here.” They too left, and he turned to Brent. “You keep babysitting Tom.”
“Hey, fuck you,” the leader of the complex let go of the moaning man, who fell hard on his ass but didn’t seem to notice. Brent crossed his arms. “I’m the one in charge. You listen to me. And don’t ever-”
Zion lashed out and gripped his collar, jerking his face inches from his own. His eyes were hard as steel, shocking Brent into stunned silence.
“Your stupidity fucked us,” he said, voice low and menacing. “You wanna be the boss at the complex, fine. But we ain’t at the complex no more. You in my territory now, bitch. So either do what I say, or get the fuck outta my way.”
Brent swallowed hard.
“Hey Z!” Monique called. “I found something!”
Zion let go of the ex-leader and ran to his sister, who was pointing below.
“There’s a building close enough to the second floor, we can jump to the roof,” she said.
“Thousand zombies!” Jerry yelled, huffing as he pumped his legs to crest back up to where they were. �
�One floor down! We gotta move!”
Zion pursed his lips as everyone made their way to his and Monique’s position, even Brent dragging Tom along. He looked over the edge, and took a deep breath.
“We’re gonna have to climb down,” he said.
Jerry snorted. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? That’s some parkour shit.”
“Come on, it’ll be just like climbing trees as a kid,” Calvin put in, clapping his comrade on the back. “Just with a bigger threat of death.”
“No, no, no,” Tom burst into a fresh set of panicked gasps. “I’m pushing two-fifty and get winded walking to my car… there’s no way I can do that!” He scrubbed his hands down his face.
Zion pointed to the driveway, the shuffling and groaning growing louder and louder. “That’s your other option,” he said firmly. “Choice is yours.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“So watch me,” Zion instructed, gripping the side of the cement wall and hopping over. He anchored his feet against the outside, hanging off of the top with firm hands. “I’m going to hang and drop, and bounce with my feet off of the next level. That’ll make me bounce back, and I’ll have to grab on and pull myself up with my hands. Once I’m down there I’ll be there to help catch you. Monique, you come after me.”
She nodded nervously, but there was trust in her gaze. She knew that her brother would never let her fall.
They all leaned over as he let go, bouncing gracefully for his size and then hopping down, just as he’d said, grasping on to the next level down with his strong hands and vaulting back over to the floor below. He immediately popped back out, anchoring his body so he could help catch Monique as she dropped down.
“Come on!” he called, and she climbed over the side, letting her legs dangle. She swung a little just like she’d seen him do, and then dropped, stumbling when her feet landed on the ledge, but her brother grabbed her waist and pulled her in next to him. Calvin, Jerry, and Cory nodded their understanding and went in succession, the latter two finding it fairly easy considering their upper body strength.
