He headed out of the small office, into the vast, open warehouse.
With the power out and no lights working in the warehouse, he crept carefully, only able to see a couple of feet in front of his face. The warehouse was eerie, quiet, and still. Will had ignored going out there for the most part, leaving it as a graveyard of sorts; a resting place for the suddenly departed.
If Will was leaving, it wasn’t going to be in his late-nineties model Honda Civic. Instead, he remembered that his boss, Andrew, owned a large, dual-cab pick-up. Andrew always carried his keys on him, the dangling always sounding through the warehouse when he walked through to check on the employees, so Will knew they would be on his corpse.
Halfway to the corner, he could smell it. The rot. The decay. It was awful.
He pulled his shirt up over his nose, trying to block out as much of the smell as he could and holding back the sandwich he had eaten before bed the night before.
When he reached the stack of bodies, he saw Andrew’s leg exposed, but not his waist where the keys would be. Dean’s body lay on top of it.
Will reached out and began to roll Dean’s body off of the pile. As he did, his shirt fell off of his nose and he instantly threw up all over the ground next to him. After that, he did all he could to get the keys as fast as possible.
And, just as he’d suspected, they were there, clipped onto Andrew’s belt loop with a blue carabiner.
He unclipped the keys, gripping them in his palm like they were a talisman, and jogged to the front of the warehouse.
Jordan still lay in the same place he’d left him, with the same blanket covering his body. Will took the duffle bag off of his shoulder, set it down on the cold concrete, and knelt down beside his friend. He used his forearm to wipe the tears from his face, his sniffles slightly echoing in the large warehouse.
“I’m so sorry that this happened to you. I’ll wonder every day how and why I survived. Was it just ‘cause I decided to go on my break at a different time than you so that I could take a nap? A fucking nap saved me?”
For a few moments, Will remained there, knelt down next to his friend, allowing his tears to fall on his body. He rested his hand over Jordan’s, which Will had placed over his stomach before covering him with the blanket.
“Goodbye, brother,” Will said, taking his time to stand up.
Will stood at the peep hole he’d drilled into the large, aluminum bay door, looking out at the small group in the parking lot. From his vantage point, he could count eight Empties.
He double-checked his bag to make sure that he had everything he needed: food, water, a first-aid kit from the lunchroom pantry, and extra ammunition he found in Andrew’s office. The gun was stuffed in the back of his pants, loaded and ready to fire.
Another explosion rang through the sky.
He looked out the hole and saw the group heading left toward the dead end of the industrial park. Will looked to the right where he could see another horde coming from down the street, where the exit to the park was. It didn’t appear to be as many as he had seen on the roof. He assumed that the first explosion he’d heard had attracted most of that group.
With the power out, Will had no choice but to continue with his plan to exit. If he stayed, he would either freeze with no heat as the season continued its transition into winter, or he would starve when the food spoiled. He had to leave and try his luck elsewhere. He went to the shipping table and grabbed the small key that opened the locks to the bay doors off its hook.
Will made sure he had Andrew’s keys in his hand, took a deep breath, and unlocked the small lock on the bay door, sliding it up and exposing the inside of the warehouse to the open air outside.
The small group that had been hanging around the outside of the building was about thirty yards away now, and the ones coming from the other end of the road were only about twenty yards away, leaving Will a clear gap to sprint to the truck straight ahead. The ones to his left were no concern, but the group coming toward the explosion had already seen him and started to snarl. He took a quick look up to his left and noticed the smoke coming from the tree line. He didn’t know what it was and didn’t really care. He only knew that he had to get to that truck. Fast.
Will took another deep breath and jumped off the loading dock. He ran toward the silver truck, hitting the unlock button on the keyless-entry. Nothing happened. He went to pull the handle and the door remained locked.
“Shit, shit, shit,” he said, hitting the button over and over, trying to open the door.
A couple of them were moving closer to him.
He began to fumble the keys, trying to grasp the large black one, but his hands were shaking too much.
They were getting closer.
Will dropped the keys on the ground.
“Fuck.”
He kneeled down to pick up the keys and heard the snarl behind him. He rolled on the ground, while the Empty fell down, arms outstretched, over the keys.
Will pulled out the gun and shot, taking off the top of its skull.
The shot gathered the attention of the group to his left, and they turned around and headed back toward him while the other group growled, growing ever closer to where he stood.
Will knelt down, closed his eyes, and rolled the decrepit body over to unveil the keys underneath. The skin was cold and gray and it felt like he was touching a corpse that had been buried for a thousand years.
Two Empties were just yards away from him now, and he turned and shot. It took four bullets, but he was able to put them down.
Putting away the thought of trying the keyless-entry again, he put the key into the small keyhole on the door and it finally opened. Will climbed into the truck just as twelve approached it.
He sat in the passenger seat and caught his breath. The banging began on the hood and sides of the truck then and Will knew his break was over.
He climbed over the center console and settled into the driver’s seat. Still shaking, he managed to get the key into the ignition.
A crash came from his right as one of the Empties broke through the passenger side window.
Will cranked the truck and threw it in reverse. He heard a crash and then a pair of thuds, as he rocked from side to side, the back of the truck lifting slightly off the ground as it ran over a beast.
The growing horde walked in front of him, coming at the truck. He threw the column shifter into Drive, and punched the gas.
Two of them flipped over the hood on impact, putting a web-shaped crack in the windshield. With the passenger side window out, Will could hear the growls as he passed by the groups of them.
He zigged and zagged through the crowds, ignoring the herd as best he could, not wanting to do anymore damage to the truck. It was a heavy-duty extended cab and could take a decent beating, but he didn’t want to add too much damage before he even made it out of the industrial park.
As he got to the end of the row of buildings and was about to turn the corner to head down the long stretch that led to the main road, something caught his attention out of the corner of his left eye. He looked over and his mouth spread open.
A young woman, around his age from what he could gather from the glance, was waving at him from the end of a loading dock. It was the first live face he had seen in days, and it was a pretty face; that much was easy to tell from where he sat.
He kept his eyes on her before he heard the cluster of snarls, and turned back to the road to see he was about to collide with a group of about ten. Will swerved; the corner of the truck caught one of them, and he heard the loud bang. The front left of the truck made a funny noise and the steering weakened.
Will had a flat tire.
The truck was slowing. He looked over his shoulder and saw the girl waving for him to come to her.
He turned the wheel all the way to the left and headed toward the building.
Will pulled up to the dock and the truck was quickly surrounded. A group of Empties had been loitering in front of t
he building when he pulled up, and they began to shake the truck back and forth, trying to get inside and rip him apart.
He looked up and saw the girl light an object in her hand and then throw it to a large, open spot in the parking lot.
The flare hit the ground and hissed, orange light shooting into the sky.
The group around the truck began to thin, and the driver’s side door of the truck became escapable as they moved toward the flare.
At the loading dock, the girl widened her eyes and waved him to her more furiously, urging him to hurry up.
Will shook off his nerves, grabbed his bag, and opened the door.
He threw the bag into the building and put his hands up on the dock as she offered her hand to help him up.
Will took the petite hand and stood face to face with her.
She had brown hair with long, blonde streaks. Her blue eyes went right through him and reminded him of how thirsty he was from their ocean tint.
Still holding onto his hand, she shook it.
“I’m Holly,” she said, smiling at him. “Holly McNeil.”
Will smiled back, wondering if he was dreaming or actually standing in front of a real person.
“Good to meet you, Holly. I’m Will Kes…”
Will was out cold before he even hit the ground.
Chapter 11
Gabriel
Dead bodies lay sprawled across the lot, emitting a stench into the air that was almost unbearable. Their blood was most visible over the painted yellow lines that designated parking spots at the shopping center. Unfazed by the decay, the undead lurked among them, splashing blood off of the concrete as they limped.
Two different times, Gabriel nearly slipped on something. He wasn’t sure if it was blood or another substance from the human body, but somehow he kept his focus on the sporting goods store and on maneuvering a path around the loitering creatures.
The calculation he’d made near the trees of just how many of them were in the parking area was incorrect. He had estimated that there were twenty, but it was likely double that number. But he kept his focus, knowing that he needed to get to the sporting goods store. That he had to if he wanted to have any chance of seeing his family again and getting the boy, Dylan, back to his.
Gabriel should have been more focused on the ground in front of him. When he looked back to see how far he had run, he kicked the ribcage of a torn body sprawled across the ground in front of him, and stumbled to the concrete. He caught himself with his wrists and felt the pain shoot up his forearm as he landed, falling onto his elbow, both his knees, and rolling over. For a moment, he lay there on the ground, grimacing and rolling around.
Behind him, he heard the howls of the beasts.
He made it to his feet just as one reached for him, grabbed his shoulders and lunged its decrepit teeth at him.
They both tumbled to the ground, sending more burn into Gabriel’s wounds as the side of his left knee hit the ground and he slammed his elbow again. He extended his arms, trying to push the thing away from him. He looked into its bloodshot, lifeless eyes as its mouth opened and it drooled down onto his face. Gabriel turned his head and could see more coming. With adrenaline running through him, he forced the creature—in its previous life, a man of around thirty years old from what Gabriel could tell—over onto its back and punched its face, which didn’t faze it.
In a rage, he grabbed it by its hair and began slamming the skull into the concrete. It sprawled its arms through the air, trying to grab Gabriel—to stop him—but couldn’t. Gabriel slammed the head until the skull cracked, and the thing stopped moving. He tried to catch his breath, but there was no time. More were coming at him.
Gabriel got to his feet and hissed as he felt the burn in his knee. He looked down and saw that his pants were torn at the knee, which was covered in blood. Nothing was broken or torn; it was just a superficial wound, but it stung. He re-focused his eyes on his destination and began to run again, doing his best to put the burn in his knee out of his mind.
As he arrived at the sporting goods store, Gabriel turned around and saw that he had put a safe distance between himself and the undead. He reached for the door handle, taking a deep breath in hopes that it would open.
The door began to pull back, and Gabriel let out a sigh of relief.
Once inside, Gabriel turned and locked the door, leaning his back against the glass, and found himself sucking the dank air into his lungs. He looked to his right and saw a clearance rack knocked over, clothes and sports equipment sprawled on the floor. He noticed an aluminum baseball bat and kneeled over to grab it, taking the bat and pushing it through the two door handles at his back to give the door an additional barrier.
He turned and scanned the store for the first time. It looked liked a cold front had met a breath of warm air, creating a funnel in the middle of the store and tossing the product everywhere. Gabriel stood silent for a moment, listening for the hiss of any of the sick inside or, if there were any left, survivors.
Gabriel stood still until the bang on the glass behind him made him jump. He looked back and saw a group start to gather at the front door, groaning to get inside and tear him apart. The door was moving, but the baseball bat seemed to be doing its part in keeping Gabriel safe. He turned again and began to walk down the middle aisle of the store, sidestepping fallen goods as he moved.
The front part of the store was filled with clothes. He looked down at his and smiled, thinking that an athletic look might have to be the trend for him in the new world. Gabriel flipped through a still standing rack of t-shirts and grabbed one that had “LIVE TO PLAY” screened across the chest. He removed his tattered dress shirt, tossed it to the ground, and pulled the large cotton tee over his head.
A rack nearby displayed various styles of athletic pants. He found his size and swapped his torn slacks out for a pair of them. He started to put his shoes back on until he looked to the back of the store, seeing the entire back wall lined with tennis shoes. He smiled and threw his dress shoes down.
After trying on a few styles, he picked the most comfortable pair. He would have taken two or three pairs of the ones he liked, but he didn’t see the point in carrying around a bunch of extra stuff. However, he did find it important to find a pair for the boy, as well as some extra clothes for each of them.
Nearby, a display stood against a wall holding an array of duffle bags and backpacks. Gabriel grabbed one of each, strapping the pack to his back and throwing the strap of the duffle bag over his shoulder.
He went back to the shoes and found a pair for Dylan that looked comfortable, and grabbed a couple of pairs in different sizes since he didn’t know the boy’s.
Then, Gabriel jogged back to the clothing section—the new shoes on his feet made running a breeze—and stuffed the backpack with an extra shirt and pants for himself, as well as some underwear and socks. He looked to his left and saw a collection of ski jackets on the ground. With the cold weather nearing, he needed one. He found his size, put on the coat, and zipped it up.
Gabriel hustled to the boys’ section and found similar clothes for Dylan, including a warm jacket, and stuffed them into the duffle bag.
The banging on the front door grew louder as the crowd widened. Gabriel thought of Dylan, hoping that the boy was still in the same spot, awaiting his return. He looked through the window and saw that the darkness almost engulfed the light, and knew he was running out of time.
Jumping over more fallen product, Gabriel ran for the hunting section of the store.
The banging at the door continued to resonate and the sun continued its quick decline.
Dylan sat where Gabriel had left him on a patch of dirt, leaning up against a tree. He shuffled through his bag and grabbed a pack of the peanuts he had found on the plane, and split open the package so that he could eat them. The salt hit his tongue, bringing on thirst, but they hadn’t found any water in the wreckage.
Bored, he pulled out his handheld video game, whic
h somehow had survived the crash tucked deep into his bag. He powered it on, the small speakers sounding a jingle, and loaded his previous game.
As he sat there playing the game, engulfed in a make-believe war on a tiny screen, Dylan began to think of his parents. With no way to contact him, they had to be missing him. But what if they weren’t? What if they were glad he was gone? His parents fought a lot, and like so many children caught in the middle of domestic disputes, Dylan often blamed himself. He wondered if, with him gone now, the burden of his parents had vanished. Either way, he missed them dearly.
He reached into his bag again and pulled out a photograph. It stayed with him all the time.
It had been taken during a family vacation in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. They visited there often, as Dylan’s mother was originally from there. They’d go there every couple of years and rent a large beach house, staying for the week with his aunts, uncles, and cousins. This particular photograph featured Dylan, both of his parents, and his older sister, Olivia. They stood at the end of a long pier, which stretched out over the ocean. This pier was one of their favorite places to go when in Myrtle Beach, housing an arcade for Dylan to play video games while the rest of his family would drink and listen to live music at the bar at the end of the pier. His favorite thing about the photo? They were happy. Both his parents were smiling, happy to be with their children, the exact way Dylan wanted to remember his mom and dad if he never saw them again.
A gust of wind blew by, and the picture sailed into the air, out of Dylan’s hand.
His mouth opened as wide as his eyes, and he quickly dropped his game and ran after the photo, just as another breeze passed through and sent the photograph even further.
Empty Bodies Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 8
