Smoke 'Em if You've Got 'Em

by David Rogers

  “Fuck that.”

  “And that’s why I’m going to bench you tonight.”

  “Man, you so wouldn’t.”

  “Dude, I so would.”

  Craig’s expression was starting to shade to stubborn annoyance. “You’ll blackball me out of the raid just because I’m complaining about noobs?”

  “No.”

  “Then you’ll talk to the officers about tossing some of the dead weight?”

  “No.”

  “Man, seriously?”

  Kyle stopped at the red light at Chamblee-Dunwoody Road. “I’ll bench you because you’re annoying the shit out of me over it.” he said, turning his head to look at Craig.

  “That’s totally unfair.” Neither of them seemed to notice the double handful of pedestrians that were milling about in the parking lot of the car wash on the left. Most of the pedestrians stopped milling and started walking towards the Saturn as it sat at the intersection.

  “No, it’s actually quite reasonable. A lot of dudes would just boot you out of the guild entirely.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Again, so would.”

  Craig was now pouting. “I could just password the media server you know.”

  “I can get movies and shows all kinds of places. You can’t get jack shit done in the game without help.” The light turned green, and Kyle accelerated. As they pulled away, the first of the car wash pedestrians was just reaching the edge of the lot. Hands and heads tracked with the car as it went north.

  “You know, I do know how to play.”

  “Right, except when it comes to finding groups, or figuring out how to pull, or keeping your craft materials stocked or assembling a raid.” Kyle said, holding up his right fist and flicking out fingers one at a time as he spoke like he was counting things off a list.

  “You’re being an asshole.”

  “I’m being an asshole?” Kyle turned into the Taco Bell parking lot. “I’m being an asshole? Dude, you are blowing my mind.”

  “All I’m saying is it’d be nice if the raids stopped being noobfests.” Craig said as Kyle parked. “That’s all. You know, like it used to be. I don’t see why you’re acting like this over a simple request.”

  Kyle shut the car off and opened his door. He waited until Craig had gotten out on the other side, then pointed at him across the top of the car. “It’s how often you’re asking.” he said, jabbing a finger at him before turning and starting for the building.

  “I’m just saying we should do something about it.”

  “Right, you’ve been just saying that for the last two weeks.” Kyle said as he stepped up on the little sidewalk that surrounded the Taco Bell, waving his hands around his head exasperatedly. “And you just asked about twice per pull last night. In the last twelve hours you’ve ‘just said’ it about twenty-seven hundred times.”

  “Man, are they open?” Craig said as he looked past Kyle at the fast food restaurant’s door.

  Kyle stopped a few feet short of the door and stared at it. The door’s glass was broken across the bottom. “What in the hell?”

  “Are they even open?”

  Kyle ducked under the waist high bar that divided the door into two halves and served to support the handle. Craig watched him for a few moments, then followed. “They can’t be open.”

  “The kitchen lights are still on.” Kyle said.

  “Yeah, but everything else is off. They’re closed.”

  “That’s crap, they can’t be closed. It’s not even seven yet.”

  “Then why is no one here?”

  “We’re here.”

  “Man, now who’s too stoned.”

  “Hello?” Kyle said loudly. “Customers here.”

  No response came. Craig shuffled his feet nervously, making the shards of glass crunch beneath his sandals. “Let’s go. There’s like four burger joints a little ways up the road.”

  “Dude, I’m in the mood for tacos.”

  “I don’t think you’re going to get them.”

  “The fuck I’m not.” Kyle said stubbornly. “Hello?” he shouted. “Earth to Taco Bell?”

  “Man, stop that.”

  “Dude, shut up.” Kyle walked up to the counter and leaned on it, peering at the back of the restaurant. “Look, there’s still food and stuff on the line.”

  “They’re closed man.”

  “No way, I used to work at one of these in high school. I know how to make tacos.”

  “That’s illegal isn’t it?”

  “It’s not illegal to work in a Taco Bell.” Kyle said as he pushed open the swinging half-door at the end of the counter and went through.

  “Not yet.” Craig smirked. “No, seriously, I mean . . . isn’t this like breaking and entering?”

  “We didn’t break nothing.” Kyle was now moving past the heat lamps and into the kitchen.

  “We entered.”

  “We’re customers.”

  “Not if you start cooking we’re not.”

  “So stay out there then. I know how to make tacos.”

  “Fuck that, I’m not hanging around out here alone. It’s kinda creepy.”

  “Dude.” Kyle said as he rummaged around in the food preparation area. “Seriously?”

  “Fuck you taco boy.”

  “Taco boy has the car keys you know.”

  “I’ll be sure to ask the cops to let me have them before they haul you off.”

  “They’ll take us both.” Kyle grinned as he lifted the lid on a pan of ground beef. It was cooked and seasoned, kept warm by the heating elements underneath its storage pan.

  “I’m not doing anything.”

  “Bet it doesn’t look that way on the camera.” Kyle grinned, pointing up at a security camera on the ceiling near the front. “Smile.”

  “Man . . .”

  “Relax, I’m paying for everything, including tax.”

  Craig glanced around, still nervous, as Kyle started laying out waxed paper wrappers on the stainless steel sliding grate and stacking empty taco shells on them. Slowly at first, but with rapidly gathering speed, he began assembling tacos. In less than three minutes he had twenty put together and wrapped up.

  “Wow.”

  Kyle smirked as he put all the tacos in the bin. “Told you I used to work at Taco Bell.”

  “No, I mean, you must really like tacos.”

  “I do.”

  “After working at Taco Bell, you’ll still eat here?”

  “Dude, fuck off.” Kyle said, walking around to the front of the line. He snapped a bag open with his wrist and began filling it with the food he’d prepared.

  “Let’s see, twenty tacos at seventy nine cents each . . .” Craig said as he came out of the kitchen.

  “I’m just leaving a twenty.” Kyle shrugged.

  “That’s too much.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” he stuffed the last few tacos into the bag and then put an enormous handful of hot sauce packets in before folding the top down twice.

  “I’m not paying ten bucks for Taco Bell tacos.”

  “Whatever.” Kyle set the bag on the counter next to one of the registers and took out his wallet. He plucked a bill out and held it up to the camera that covered the registers, then laid it across the keys. “There. Let’s go.”

  Kyle went through the swinging half-door again, followed by Craig. As they ducked out through the broken glass door, Craig grabbed at Kyle’s elbow. “Man, let’s hit up the gas station before we go back to the apartment.”

  “What for?” Kyle said, sounding unenthusiastic.

  “You want tacos, I want some Milky Way.”

  “Dude.”

  “Come on, I humored you about the tacos. Look, the store’s even open, so we won’t have to break in.” He pointed at the Shell Station that was next door. People were visible moving around under the gas island awning.

  “We didn’t break into Taco Bell.”

  “Whatever. Look, meet me over there, okay? I’ll just
walk while you bring the car around.”

  “Are you sure they’re open?” Kyle said, sounding dubious. “Why are their lights off?”

  “The store’s lights are on. Maybe they’re out of gas. But look, the store’s still stocked. I can see beers and sodas stacked up, so everything else is probably there too.”

  “Fine. Walk your happy ass over there and get your Milky Way.” Kyle said. “See you in a minute.”

  “Cool.”

  Craig trudged across the parking lot and landscaped grass separating the two establishments. As he stepped down onto the gas station’s pavement, he frowned a little. There were about ten people, and as he got closer, they were also walking toward him. “Hey dudes, they out of gas?” he asked, raising his voice.

  No response came from the figures shuffling toward him. Craig tried again. “What’s going on? Everything seems a little dead tonight.”

  Still nothing. Craig frowned harder, furrowing his brow. Why did everyone look drunk? All of them looked like they were having real trouble walking, and two were about to fall over on just about every step. And they were weaving and wobbling so much it was cutting into their forward progress. And why weren’t they talking?

  “Hey, help a bro out, huh?” Craig laughed nervously. “It’s Labor Day, not Halloween.”

  His lopsided smile started to fade as the crowd continued to close. They were now close enough that he could begin to make out proper details. Four of the ten had ripped clothing, and all but one had stains down their fronts. Red and brown stains. Craig stopped walking, somewhere between curious and stunned.

  That was blood. And most of them had it on their faces too; staining their lips and chins and cheeks. One, a girl wearing a Disturbed T-shirt, looked like she’d been in a fight. Her face was all scratched and scraped up, and one of her wrists seemed broken. The injuries didn’t seem to bother her; she just kept staggering toward him.

  “Uh, what the fuck is going on?” Craig said slowly. He was starting to really pay attention to details now, coming out of his pleasant drug induced fog. Eight of the ten people looked like students. He remembered there was a high school somewhere nearby. He glanced around, noticing for the first time how deserted the area seemed. Come to think of it, had they even passed any other cars since leaving the apartment?

  Chapter Three – Do you know what this means?

  Craig heard a car engine coming from the left, and he turned just as Kyle’s Saturn came roaring up. His roommate braked to a halt with screeching tires between Craig and the crowd of people. “Dude, get the fuck in the car.”

  “I–”

  “Seriously, get the fuck in here.” Kyle yelled.

  Craig stepped forward and opened the door just as the first of the crowd on the far side came within fifteen feet of the car. He paused, noting the kid in the lead had a blank expression except for his eyes. His eyes looked dead and hungry. They were fixed on Craig like he was a human happy meal.

  “Dude!”

  Craig dropped into the passenger seat. The instant his ass hit the fake leather, Kyle was accelerating. Yelping, Craig barely managed to snatch his legs in before the door pinched them painfully as it closed. “Man, what the fuck?”

  “Dude, do you know what’s going on?”

  “Yeah, you’re freaking out.”

  “No, I turned on the radio.” Kyle said as he swung around the backside of the convenience store Craig looked at the dash and saw the radio was on. “I don’t hear it.”

  “Hang on.” Kyle said, swerving left out of the gas station’s parking lot. He straightened out on the cross street, then hung a right down Peachtree Boulevard. Once he had the car settled in the inside lane, he reached for the radio and turned the volume knob. A man’s voice was speaking, his tone terse and with a lot of stress evident in his words.

  “–rnor is still in seclusion in his residence, but there are reports of Clay National Guard base in Marietta mobilizing a lot of personnel into convoys they are currently dispatching toward downtown. Of course, the downtown area has been overrun for most of the afternoon, so we’re assuming this is either an attempt to strengthen containment or perhaps try to rescue pockets of healthy people who are trapped amid the diseased victims who are roaming the streets.”

  “What the fuck?” Craig asked.

  “Shhhh, just listen.” Kyle hissed.

  “The worst of the problem in the metro area is downtown, but is by no means the only place the problems are happening. Druid Hills around Emory and Fernbank is reporting lots of victims, as are a number of areas in the metropolitan suburbs where there are a lot of schools concentrated together. Additionally, there are reports of at least three area hospitals not located in or near downtown that have been unable to control or contain the large numbers of sick they’ve found themselves dealing with.”

  “Sick?”

  “Shhhh.”

  “Man, just tell me.”

  Kyle lowered the volume on the radio a little, though not all the way down. “Dude, it’s zombies.”

  Craig blinked, then frowned. “What the fuck?”

  “Seriously, zombies dude.”

  “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  Kyle shrugged. “Look around. Where is everyone? Why are all the stores closed? Look, look there.” he pointed at a person walking – staggering, really – along the edge of the road. Kyle slowed some. “Look, see how he’s walking? Look at that dude.”

  Craig studied the figure. It was just like the ones back at the gas station. Barely able to stand, having trouble keeping to a straight line, hands outstretched, head tracking with the car as it rolled southwest down the road.

  “Dude, that’s a fucking zombie.” Kyle said. “It’s all over the radio. Zombies have risen up and are eating everyone.”

  Craig turned his head as they passed the figure, the zombie, and kept watching him. The zombie kept watching the car, even as it fell over when its body twisted around more than its balance could compensate for. As it tumbled to the pavement, it continued looking at the departing Saturn.

  “Dude, are you listening to me? Do you know what this means?”

  Craig faced forward, then looked at Kyle. His roommate was gripping the steering wheel tightly, but staring at Craig intently. Slowly, Craig reached into his pocket and pulled out a little wooden case. He flipped the brass latch back and split the case open in his hands to reveal a line of neatly wrapped joints. Selecting one, he put it between his lips and reached into his pocket for a lighter.

  “Yeah.” he said as he sparked flame. “It means I can smoke wherever the hell I want now.”

  Kyle rolled his eyes as Craig got the joint going. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

  “The fuck I’m not.” Craig said as he puffed several times, then drew deeply on the spliff.

  “Zombies are eating people.”

  “Right.” Craig said shortly.

  “And your response is to light up?”

  “Yeah.” Craig said, again barely parting his lips to let the words out. A couple curls of smoke were drifting out around him. Kyle gave him a long look, until he finally exhaled. “Oh yeah. Nice.” Craig said, admiring the huge cloud of smoke that was filling the interior of the car.

  “Dude.”

  “I fucking heard you.” Craig said. “Zombies. Right, I get it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.” Craig said. “We should head back to the apartment.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yeah.” Craig shrugged.

  “Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, do something?”

  “Like what?” Craig asked, hitting the joint again.

  Kyle slowed the car as he neared the Ashford-Dunwoody intersection. “Like gather supplies or something? Maybe weapons?”

  “What kind of zombies are we facing?”

  “What?”

  Craig frowned. “Turn here dude.”

  Kyle braked sharply, then slowly took the right at Ashford-Dunw
oody. “What do you mean, kind of zombies?”

  “You know, fast, slow, strong, magic, fire breathing, regenerating? What kind?”

  “Dude, you are way too stoned.”

  “Stop fucking saying that.” Craig answered. “I’m asking the most reasonable question. What kind of zombie we’re dealing with is the most relevant question. What’d the radio say?”

  “They weren’t giving statistics.”

  “Fucking assholes.” Craig muttered. “Okay, so the guys back at the gas station looked like they were slow, right? Probably slow zombies.”

  “Okay, so slow zombies.”

  “That’s good man.” Craig pointed out. “Slow ones aren’t nearly as deadly as fast ones.” He started to hit the joint again. Kyle reached over and grabbed it out of his hand before he could get a good puff going. “Hey man!”

  “You’ve had enough.”

  “No, you need to catch up.” Craig said. “You’re not thinking straight. You’re supposed to be the raid leader. So start looking at this tactically.” Kyle considered him for a long moment, then took a long hit off the joint. “Yeah, there ya go.”

  Kyle exhaled, then hit the joint again, then gave it back to Craig. The smoke in the car was getting thick. Kyle hit buttons and turned knobs on the dashboard to start the fans. Smoke began swishing away towards the back seat.

  “Okay, slow means they’re easier to avoid.”

  “Right.” Craig nodded. “And we have time to figure shit out.”

  “Yeah. And slow ones are usually clumsy and uncoordinated.”

  “We live on the second floor man.” Craig grinned.

  “So?”

  “So, we can block the stairs off, and they won’t even be able to get at our door, much less beat on it.”

  “Yeah, good idea.” Kyle nodded. “What about supplies?”

  “Time, remember. We’ve got time to figure shit out.”

  “That’s what I’m doing, thinking ahead.” Kyle said.

  “Man, there are two grocery stores within four blocks of our pad.” Craig shrugged. “And two more gas stations. We’re fine for a while.”

  “What about everyone else?”

  “Hmm, good point. We should talk to Melody, see if she wants to shack up with us. If she hasn’t turned yet, that is.”