by Shane Woods
“If it fits, it ships,” I commented, and we shared a laugh.
Dave brought out a cigarette pack and a lighter. When he opened the pack, what was inside was most definitely not a Newport. He held the near perfectly rolled twist of plant and paper up to the sun, then turned to Tony and I and grinned.
“This guy,” I lamented. “Even in the end of days,” and I shook my head.
I began to take in our true surroundings. I could see the house where my family and neighbor, as well as Rich’s wife, had taken up temporary residence. In the distance, as well as a few spots throughout the neighborhood, black plumes of smoke rose up like some form of disgusting trees. The highway stretched on its own longitude, packed to the brim with cars. A few figures could be seen walking among the wreckage, too upright and too nonchalant to be regular people. Beneath that, the Cuyahoga River flowed lazily, not giving the slightest hint of a care that most of the people dumping garbage and pollutants into it were no more. It had its own business to attend to.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Tony coughing and holding his hand out to me.
“Nah,” I said, “I’m good man. Wanna keep clear still, I’ve got to get my family in here by nightfall.”
“Fair enough,” Tony said, and began a coughing fit, exhaling puffs of the acrid smoke with each bark.
“Dave?” I asked. “Give me a smoke. A cigarette.”
Dave fished the pack out of his pocket, opened it, and handed me a smoke.
NINE
After finishing our respective smoke sessions, we vacated the roof top. Moving back down, flight after flight, until we reached the floor that Shannon and company had held up on.
The scene was much more relaxed as we reached the apartment. The others had returned from their trek to the third floor. The blinds had been opened to reveal the apartment, much cleaner than I’d expected it to be, all things considered. It was a typical two-bedroom affair. Both bedrooms with a nearby bathroom in a hallway, a living area, and a small kitchen.
“Any guns?” Tony asked.
“Two. Nothing special, though,” Rich replied.
“I was sure he’d have more,” Shannon commented. “His truck was covered in stickers, he wore camo all the time, I’d have thought he would have a lot of guns in there.”
“He probably did on the internet,” Dave added, laughing.
What was found was a basic Taurus 9mm, and a .30-06 hunting rifle. Still better than nothing. It effectively tripled the number of guns they already had to defend themselves with. Now three of the seven residing in that apartment were armed.
“The rest of the building is cleared,” I stated. “All the way to the roof.”
“Well, what now?” Shannon asked.
“Now,” I began, “we bring my family in. Wife and two little girls. I’ll leave some of us here to help keep this place secure, then we’ll block the first floor off from the second, catch some rest, and start planning.”
“So, you guys are going to be here for a while?” Shannon queried.
“Yeah,” I answered, “Yeah, we will be. We have a plan for this place dating back from before things even went bad. Back when beer was still cold.”
“Don’t worry,” Tony added, “It’ll be a good place to hold up when we’re done.”
“Great,” Parker’s whiny voice challenged. “You guys really think you can just come in and take over? What if we don’t want you to? We were doing just fine!”
“Shut the fuck up, Parker,” James and the blonde said almost in unison.
“Yeah, seriously,” Shannon added, offering us a smile. “We were pretty much trapped on this floor. This place is already doing better with them here.”
“Any other agreements or objections?” I asked the group.
I was met with nods from the other handful of survivors, all of whom had remained pretty much silent through everything.
“I think we are all in agreement here,” said a heavy-set middle-aged man with dark hair and eyes. “I’m Rob. I was just a computer tech before, but I’ll be glad to help where I can.”
“Glad to have you, Rob,” I said, shaking his hand, then, “Once we get situated, we will definitely have a spot for everyone to pitch in.”
Parker harrumphed.
“Let’s go get your family, man,” Tony pitched in.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Dave, Chris, Willy, stay here with these people. Rich and Tony, with me. We’ll try to be back by nightfall. I’ll have my truck, Henry will have his Caddy. Everybody with a gun follow us down to the first floor and guard the entrances.”
This was met with agreements, and those with guns grabbed them, and we made our way back down the hallway and to the stairwell to head back down to Floor One. Once at the front doors, we wished everyone the best and promised a speedy return.
Tony, Rich and I climbed over Tony’s disabled Honda, glass and empty brass crunching underfoot, and moved to where the exterior door had been.
Moving low, fast, and spread about arm’s length apart, we moved across the blacktop and back across the street.
We took the same route to get back to the house as I had come early in the morning with Rich and Chris. This time, however, we all went through the gate, Rich and I sharing a look and small chuckle at the morning’s shenanigans.
We rounded the corner of the final house on our approach, the late afternoon sun lowering itself into early evening. Nothing looked out of place, but I still wanted to be damned cautious. I had no idea if all remained well, and no idea how jumpy my wife and Henry would be. Both were typically fairly level-headed, but I can only assume being left on your own in a strange place while fast, intelligent cannibals roamed the streets would put just about anybody on edge.
I motioned for Tony and Rich to stack up to one side of the sliding glass door, watching as they carefully stayed to the near side to prevent being seen. I then moved behind them, then slowly up next to Tony, touching each of their outer shoulders to let them know I was moving by. I bolted to the other side of the door, my back pressed firmly against the siding of the house, crouched, and shotgun held low over my knee.
I reached just to the edge of the door, gave three knocks, then three more. We really should have thought of a signal to make this easier. I guess we will keep that in mind for future reference, too late to make one now.
Within moments, I heard a very familiar deep bellowing voice from within the structure.
“Who’s out there?” Henry shouted through the closed door.
Not wanting to yell back and make our presence known to anyone, or anything outside, I placed my shotgun in clear view on the patio in front of the door, rolled up my left sleeve to show my tattoos, and waved my arm in front of the glass.
“That you, Scott?” Henry challenged.
Giving a thumbs up, then retracting my hand and retrieving my shotgun, I tried sliding the door open. Nothing. Locked.
“Hold on a minute, brother Scott,” Henry instructed, and soon I heard the click of the lock opening.
I remained out of view but slid the door back by about a foot.
“It’s me, Henry, I have Rich and Tony with me. Everything good?” I asked.
“Tony?” he replied, slightly shocked and confused. “Where’s the big guy?”
“Safe, back at the apartments waiting with others,” I answered, then moved into view, Henry and I lowering our weapons at the sight of each other.
I pushed the door the rest of the way open, scanned the inside of the house, and motioned for the other two to follow me in.
Once inside, and the door shut behind us, Tony grinned ear to ear at the sight of Henry and they embraced in a quick man-hug and exchanged pleasantries.
“You said you found others?” Henry asked.
“Yeah,” I offered. “Tony, our friend Dave, some bitchy dude they found, and about seven others that made the sixth floor their sorta-home. How’s Jennifer and the girls? Carolyn?”
“Oh, they doing
just fine,” Henry said with a smile. “Melissa and Gwen are napping, I think Jennifer laid down with them. Carolyn was in the garage, too, but I don’t think she can sleep, girl’s a wreck.”
“Good, cool. And Rich is here now,” I said, then Rich and I moved to the garage to get them woken up and start getting ready to move. Conversation between the two guys followed me down the hallway, into the kitchen, and into the garage. Tony and Henry had shared many drinks with me, one a good friend, and the other a friend and neighbor, and they had some catching up to do.
Rich went straight to the corner where Carolyn sat and began comforting her. She spoke in half French, half English, and frantically, but it seemed as though just seeing him okay and alive had begun having a calming effect. I left them to their business and continued.
I made my way past the vehicles and saw nobody. Looking around I discovered all three of my ladies had made themselves a comfy spot under my massive pickup. Probably felt safer under there, and likely, it was. I woke the three of them softly and was met with a neck-crushing hug from Jennifer when she slid from under the truck.
Gwen awoke, made her way out, and toddled right into my arms, laughing the whole way.
Melissa was last out, and she gave me a hug, then immediately inquired if she could get something to eat. I retrieved a pack of crackers for her and then began laying out a plan with Jennifer.
“Tony’s here?” she asked, still sleepy sounding.
“Hey guys!” I called in, and soon all three appeared, Tony wrapping each of my family in a hug. Gwen was a bit reluctant, at the tail end of her shy stage, so I instructed, “You get your tiny butt over there, that’s your Uncle Tony!”
She slowly complied, and he swept her up in a big soft hug. She smiled, and he returned a “Hi sweetness” and gave her another squeeze before placing her back on the garage floor.
“You been okay? Been behaving?” he asked Melissa.
She replied with her usual quietness, “Yeah. I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Me too,” he said, returning a second hug from her, and we started going over the plan again.
“There’s more people in the apartments. We met Tony and Dave there- ”
“Dave, too?” Jennifer interrupted excitedly, and absolutely beamed at the unlikely luck that we had friends now.
“Dave too,” I smiled, “there’s also seven other survivors present, and some guy Dave and Tony met along their way. north building is secure, so, once we get the vehicles packed up, we will leave. Tony is, uh, kind of blocking the entrance with his car.”
“It fuckin’ worked though!” Tony exclaimed with a wicked grin.
“Yeah well since you did it,” I explained, “you help clean it up, dude. I’ll nose up to the entrance, we’ll have my tow-rope attached to the front of my truck already, so just grab it and find somewhere solid to loop it onto your car. I’ll yank it out of there, and we can move in supplies and people. Henry’s SUV sits lower, so once it’s open and we have everyone and everything inside, we’ll park it there for now to close up the entrance.”
Everyone agreed to the plan, and we began putting away all of our things at once.
“What about all their things?” Henry asked.
“Whose things?” I asked back.
“This house,” he replied, motioning, “I know they didn’t take everything, I’ve been snooping.”
“Yup, let’s each pick a room, search it, clear it, and bring it all back to your ride. My bed’s full on the truck.”
TEN
Within an hour, the house had been emptied of anything useful from basement to attic, and all its remaining contents was packed into both vehicles, strapped to tailgates, and shoved wherever it would fit. We concluded that we were ready to head out and loaded into both vehicles. Then, I got back out, and opened the garage door. Okay, maybe we’re all a bit out of it, it’s been a long day.
Backing cautiously out of the garage, my rig first, then Henry’s, we moved into the driveway. I got out, instructing them all to watch our surroundings. I grabbed an armload of cans of spray paint from the garage, tossed all but one into my truck, and returned to shut the door. Once the white door of the two-car garage was closed, I moved to the front door of the house and set quickly to work.
I sprayed a big orange ‘X’. Known as the FEMA X, or Katrina X, due to its widespread use in the aftermath of the hurricane. I then marked the upper quadrant with a ‘5-18’, denoting the date it was searched and cleared. The right quadrant received a ‘0’, denoting no dangers or supplies were present. The lower quadrant of the X got another ‘0’, meaning nobody dead was left inside, and finally, I marked the left quadrant with an ‘S.P.’, the initials of the last person to search it. I moved back to the large garage door and sprayed a large ‘CLEAN’ across it before getting back into my vehicle. I explained the markings to my wife, who was eyeing me very curiously as I closed the door.
I stopped momentarily to chuckle as I heard Tony’s hushed voice from somewhere behind me.
“Hey, Scott!” he called, “Draw a penis!”
Taking another beat to recover from my chuckling, I departed the scene.
Motioning to Henry, we departed for the apartment complex, and hopefully onto better sustainability and survivability than the cramped, hot attic of my own home.
We approached the north building and proceeded exactly as planned. Henry waited back a bit, Tony jumped out of the SUV and quickly attached the tow rope to, of all places, the bumper. Okay, yeah, the guy is great with guns, great with surviving and tactics, but toss him a Chilton’s mechanics manual and watch his eyes go blank. I went along with it, put the truck in reverse, and promptly ripped the plastic rear bumper off of the smaller vehicle. He stared at me, bewildered. I just motioned to the car, and this time, he hooked it to the steel bumper support instead.
I put my truck in reverse, it grunted, the turbo letting out its long low whistle, and the car began to pull free with a cacophony of screeching metal and rubber, taking bits of the wall away with it, and dragging a large section of door frame with it. In short order, the Honda was wrenched free, and I dragged it far enough away to allow us plenty of clearance and room for Henry’s Escalade when we were done. I detached the tow rope as the others began moving supplies to more people waiting inside to carry them up into the complex.
All told, it took a small number of trips to get everything moved inside, and I directed everyone to move the things up to the ninth floor. I wanted a high vantage, and as much building as possible between my family and anything that would make it into the ground floor. Most complained quietly at the prospect of climbing nine floors of stairs loaded with supplies, but acquiesced when I gave my reasoning, and the assurance that I’d be suffering along with them. The only one to seek relief was Carolyn, whom was left behind upstairs to care for Gwen as we worked.
We made one final trip to the truck, four of us loading our arms with supplies. Seeing that this was the final trip, Rich and Tony departed their guard and began loading up with bags and packs to take upstairs.
Henry carried his load in, and just as he cleared the threshold, an ear-splitting shriek filled the evening. It was met quickly by three more, and then another, and shortly after, a loud coughing rasp. Shit they were close. We froze stupidly, not one of us more than ten yards from the door, save for me, having just left the truck to lock it up and heft a case of canned goods and a backpack full of ammunition.
“Gotta move!” I ordered, and just then, six running freaks came seemingly out of nowhere. They ran with the speed of Olympic sprinters, trailing the side of the building, one running its cracked and bloody fingers down the side of the building.
“FUCK!!!” I shouted, nearly a scream, then, “RUN! FUCKING RUN!!! FUCK!”
Jennifer moved first. Almost as if made from stone, she took one step, then another, moving as fast as she could with an armload of survival goodies.
Melissa froze.
Goddammit the kid froze
.
Of all her years of doing her best not to listen to us, this was not the time for an encore. The infected zeroed in almost instinctually on this hesitation. They shrieked again, they let out those disgusting phlegmy barks again, and eyes full of burst blood vessels narrowed and marked Melissa, who still stood there in terror.
My entire world seized up, then began moving again in agonizing slow motion. I could hear myself shouting. I could feel my throat burn from the force of the yell. It didn’t even feel like I was there.
“MELISSA!!!” I could hear myself screaming, “RUN DAMN YOU, RUN!!!”
Finally, as if someone slapped her, she listened. She dropped her load of supplies and ran. Left. The fucking kid ran left, the door to relative safely was forward, not left!
Shouting my new favorite expletive of the day, I bellowed, “FUCK!” one last time.
My world still moving at a crawl, the nasty freaks now just a few yards from the girl, my girl. She moved as fast as I’d ever seen her move, and they closed. I dropped my own supplies with a crash and withdrew my 9mm.
Losing all the discipline I’d thought I had learned at the range, I fired before even bringing the gun all the way on target. The first shot missing by a country mile, hitting the pavement and ricocheting into the building. Bringing my second hand onto the weapon, I squeezed the trigger again. Fuck they were fast. The next three shots did nothing but send chips of the brick walls flying. A fourth and fifth striking the lead creature in the shoulder and back, then finally one caught its head. It tumbled, tripping up the next two in line, and Tony’s .308 began to erupt like Mt. Krakatoa, sending the skull and brains of another into orbit in a hull red and white spray.
Two down, four left. I felt like I actually had time to formulate this thought at the rate everything still moved.
I could see Jennifer being held back from running out the front of the building. Her fighting and jerking, pulling against his arms, a silent scream flying up her throat and dying on her lips. I could see Henry shouting, veins popping out under his dark skin as he fought to keep my wife from running straight into danger.