by S A Ison
“Least it’s quiet. I was hopin’ no one would be here, save us some trouble,” Reggie said shutting off the engine.
“Yeaper, I think Zahara left a lasting impression. I’ll get a cart,” Ethan said and moved toward the door. He withdrew his Walther PPQ and carefully entered the store. It was quiet and he sniffed around. He detected old sweat and old farts and he rubbed his nose. He was still trying to get used to his heightened senses. His brain was processing all of it and his animal was as well. It was a weird feeling of duality. He moved toward the back of the store, checking out the items stacked on the shelves.
“Hey Reggie, come here.”
“What’s the matter,” Reggie came up with an armload of canning jar packages.
“Look, it’s a solar refrigerator. You said you worked for the power company, right?”
“Sure did. Shit fire and save matches, I see what you’re sayin’. Let’s go ahead and gather all the solar panels, converters and batteries we come across. I think there’s a Lowes or Home Depot over on Route 99. If we can get a solar freezer, we could freeze a lot of meat. Sorry, should have already thought of that. My head’s been so far up my ass for the last week,” Reggie said and shook his head, his face bright red with embarrassment.
“I think after what you’ve been through, you’re allowed. Let’s get this loaded and maybe look around for a trailer we can hitch to the back. It’ll make transporting this stuff easier,” Ethan said and smiled. He’d seen the man pull out his wallet from time to time to look at the family photograph within. Ethan had seen the sorrow stamped on the man’s face.
Two hours later they had the small solar refrigerator and other supplies strapped to the bed of the Jeep Gladiator. They had even found several more five-gallon fuel tanks and picked them up as well. They would add fuel stabilizer to the fuel for future use. The back seat was filled to capacity and they swung by the gas station to fill up the Jeep and tanks. There were zombies milling around and Ethan shot the closest ones, not bothering to waste ammunition on ones that posed no immediate threat. It wasn’t like the movies or at least part of it wasn’t. Unless one of the things snuck up on you or your friend turned into a zombie all of a sudden and bit the shit out of you, you could kill the things pretty easy.
Unless there were a shit ton of zombies coming at you and you trip and drop your fucking weapon, he thought darkly, remembering the other day. But now, he could turn into a killing machine. He didn’t discount the zombies that were very fast, there were a few of those and they had to watch out for them. He wondered what made some of the creatures faster and more agile? Were they that way in their normal life, before they were turned into zombies? Did being turned into a zombie activate different parts of the brain like the ability to trigger adrenal glands?
“I was thinking maybe I should get a truck as well. We can double up on our runs. The ambulance sucks way too much gas and I figure we could use that as a dry storage,” Ethan said.
“Good idea. Over on Shelby Street in the next town over is a dealership, we can swing by there and you can pick out a new pickup truck,” Reggie said and grinned. Ethan returned the grin.
“How did you know about the dealership and the next town?” Ethan asked.
“Looked it up before we lost internet. When we first got here, I knew I wanted to stay. I figured I’d best learn everything I could about where we live. Especially, what would be available store wise. What supplies we could scrounge and so on. I’d scrolled on my phone while the boys slept, didn’t want them to wake and not find me nearby.”
“Glad you did. I didn’t even think to do that. I just figured I’d drive around and find out. But thinking on that now, it would have been a waste of gas and time. Guess my mind was on other things,” Ethan said and shrugged. He looked out the window as Reggie got back onto the highway leading out of town. It would be nice to have a new vehicle after abandoning his car in Huntsville. It would also be nice not having a big payment every month. He watched as zombies milled about aimlessly. They shuffled and stumbled and he was tempted to shoot them but he had to remind himself of their finite resources. He was sure there were others who would eventually take them out. He needed to keep his mind on task.
Half an hour later, Reggie pulled down another street and the dealership came into view. A wide smiled spread across his face when he saw the assortment of trucks. He saw the Ford F-150 XL, a metallic black and he was in heaven.
“That one,” he said and pointed. Reggie nodded and grinned. Reggie pulled up beside the truck and other than a light layer of dust, the truck was pristine. Ethan got out and walked around the truck and tried to open the door, but it was locked. He kicked at the tires and nodded to himself.
“Let’s get you them keys,” Reggie laughed. There were a few zombies roaming around the cars, it was reminiscent of lost customers. Perhaps that was what they had been? Reggie pulled the Jeep around to the showroom and got out. He held his AR-15 at the ready, looking around. They walked to the doors and tried them. Unlocked. Going in, Ethan sniffed the air. It smelled of car deodorizers, old coffee and xerox toner and paper but no dead bodies.
“Where do you think they keep the keys?” he asked, looking around the large room. There were desks and cubicles where the wheeling and dealing took place. He’d never enjoyed buying cars. He always wanted to shoot the sales person.
“Don’t rightly know, but we can go from room to room and find ‘em,” Reggie said.
“Don’t you twitch a hair or my boys will blow your heads off,” a man said and Ethan froze, cursing softly.
“We just came by to get a truck. We didn’t know anyone was here,” Ethan said, keeping his tone neutral. He could feel the adrenaline starting to rise. Was it him or the wolf?
“Figured you’d come steal is what you thought, now, didn’t ya. Y’all two can turn around but don’t you move them hands, Danny here has a trigger finger,” the man said. Slowly, Ethan and Reggie turned around. A man with a large gut stood just inside the door to an office. There was a toothpick that twitched around in his mouth, his bright blue eyes narrowed. He held a .38 special and it was aimed at Ethan’s middle. There was a man with a deer rifle aimed at them standing in the next office. Another man stepped out from behind a crimson SUV parked in the showroom. He had a pink camouflaged AR-15. The weapon was shaking slightly. The man with the potbelly gut cocked the hammer back on his weapon. The toothpick twitched faster.
“We don’t have much, but we’ll be glad to trade with you,” Ethan said.
“You sound like you’s from the north. Are you boy? You from the north?” Potbelly asked with a wide grin and a gold molar winked at him as it clamped down on the toothpick.
Ethan wanted to groan and his eyes slid to Reggie, who shrugged slightly.
“Chicago,” Ethan said.
“Well, Mr. Chicago, you can just trade them guns you holdin’. Even that sissified one you got. Then we’ll see what you got in that Jeep,” Potbelly said, nodding to the large window.
“I’m sorry, we need our weapons, but you can have the contents of the Jeep,” Ethan said.
“Woof,” Reggie said softly.
“Boy, did you just bark at me?” Potbelly asked, taking a step toward Reggie and raising his weapon.
“No sir. I sure didn’t. I said ‘wolf’,” Reggie said and grinned.
“Wolf? What in the hell is that suppose ta mean?” Potbelly asked, confusion written on his florid face. It couldn’t have been better rehearsed. Reggie dropped to the ground and Ethan exploded into the werewolf. His Walther PPQ fell beside Reggie, who reached over and picked it up. Ethan grew to his full seven-foot werewolf frame and snarled, saliva flying. Potbelly’s eyes grew wide and his eyes nearly popped out of his head as a shrilled scream of terror ripped from his jiggling throat.
He stumbled back and raised his .38 to Ethan’s head but Ethan jumped forward and his jaws clamped down on the man’s arm and ripped it off. The gun fired as the nerves in the fingers contracted. P
otbelly’s scream reached a crescendo and he fell back onto the ground in a near faint. The man with the pink AR-15 turned, running blindly and ran through the large glass window, nearly severing the lower half of his leg. The AR-15 fell to the ground and Ethan turned to the man with the deer rifle, Danny, and walked over to him. Danny fell to his knees, urine spreading across his jeans, his arms up in defense.
Ethan stood over the man for a moment and let the saliva drip onto the man’s face and then he lunged and bit the man’s head off and slung it out the broken window and it bounced and rolled to the man outside. The moans from the man outside turned to screams and he tried to get up but he was crippled by the deep gash from the jagged glass. Ethan turned to Potbelly and the man’s face was ghastly as the blood was pumping out of the empty hole where his arm used to be. Then Ethan let his body begin to shrink and felt the bones and tendons pop, it was just as painful as when he turned. He seemed to go back to human more slowly than he could when he changed into the werewolf. He guessed that was just as well. When he needed to be the werewolf, it was better to turn as fast as he could. He was thankful that Wilder had taken the time to show him.
Potbelly’s face was a sick pasty white and sweat was now running down his face. He was panting heavily, his eyes glued to the now naked Ethan.
“Guess you won’t ever take advantage of a potential customer, now, will you?” Ethan asked. The man tried to speak but sputtered, his mouth opening and closing like a landed carp. Ethan turned when the man outside screamed even louder. Ethan watched as two zombies tore the man apart. Ethan turned and grinned down at the one-armed man.
“Tell me where the keys to that black F-150 is and I’ll kill you fast,” Ethan said. Potbelly’s eyes went to the now silent man outside, being ripped to pieces by the two zombies and then back at Ethan. He tried to speak but lifted his other arm and pointed into his office. Reggie came up behind him with a suit inside a dry-cleaning bag.
“Figured you’d not wanna go bare-butt in your new ride.”
“Thanks, yeah, don’t want to do that. He said the keys are in his office. Give me a minute,” Ethan said and took the clothes. He would have to start keeping an extra set of clothes on him. Maybe in the new truck. He snorted and put the shirt on but left the jacket. He found a cleaning shammy and figured he’d sit on that. The shirt was long enough it would keep him decent. They could swing by a store and he could pick something up before they headed back to the farm. He saw the board with numerous keys and tags and riffled through them until he thought he had the keys he wanted. He took a few extra, just in case he was wrong.
Walking back out he saw that his shoes were ruined and sighed. He’d have to be careful and not step in the glass. He nodded to Reggie and started for the doors. There was a squeal from behind and he turned to see Potbelly waving at him.
“You…you said,” Potbelly panted.
“Oh, I did, didn’t I,” Ethan said. He looked at Reggie and grinned.
“You shouldn’t trust him, he’s CIA,” Reggie said and walked to the shattered window and began jumping up and down, screaming. One of the zombies staggered toward him. Reggie backed up and the zombie came forward, ignoring the jagged glass shards. Potbelly began to scream when he realized Reggie was leading the zombie to him. The zombie lunged forward and Reggie jumped neatly out of the way and Potbelly screamed, waving his one good arm and kicking his legs. His scream filled the showroom as Ethan and Reggie walked away.
“You’re a big fat liar, Ethan,” Reggie said and he laughed. Ethan shrugged and grinned.
“I’d have almost sold my soul for that F-15.”
Ž
Zahara was tired, it was late afternoon and they’d made fairly good progress. They were at a rest stop off Highway 64, somewhere near Winchester, Tennessee. She and Xander were sitting at a picnic table looking at their new road atlas. Her head was throbbing from the stress and heat. The 57 Chevy had no air conditioning. That was one thing the big rigs had, AC. There would be no more of that, riding around like that. Somehow, it didn’t bother her. She’d only done it to hunt, but now, she felt content to just kill zombies, if and when the need arose, it had several times that day. She was proud of Shay, she seemed to be adjusting to her new life. She called Zahara, Zaza. Like mama but her own version. Zahara liked that.
They had made a few stops at gas stations, not letting the tank get below half. They had passed many farms and small towns. There had been zombies all around and some they could bypass easily while other had been more difficult. They were now looking for a place to stop for the night but there were slim pickings. She thought Winchester might have a place or two, it was bigger than Belvidere. If they were on the interstate, she was sure they could locate some place easily, but they were on rural roads. She was fairly sure they would be to the cabin by tomorrow. It was just time consuming to have to backtrack if roads were completely blocked and they’d come across those. With the GPS now gone, they had to stop and consult the road atlas. She didn’t drive, though she could, Xander had insisted she keep a watch out for trouble.
Earlier that day, when they’d come into edge of Belvidere, Tennessee, they were driving on one of the many back roads that were like spiderwebs. Most of the roads were rutted and in bad shape and the truck had rocked along and Zahara’s bones were tired of it. Once they got through Belvidere, they could pick up Route 16 which would mean better roads. They just had to get through Belvidere. It was like many of the small towns, with only a few homes, a few shops and a gas station or two. There were fields of corn and other green things that Zahara had no clue as to what was growing nor any interest. She saw zombies wandering in the fields and thankfully, the roads were clear.
When they got to Main Street they slowed down. Ahead was some kind of roadblock. She groaned internally and looked over at Xander.
“We aren’t going to go around, are we?” she asked.
“No, we’d be pushed back at least two hours, if not more. I want to get to Winchester and see about finding a place for the night. Once we get to Route 16 and then onto Highway 64 North. I don’t want to backtrack because of bureaucracy and fear. I’d hate to have to shoot someone who isn’t a zombie,” he said but she didn’t think he sounded sorry about shooting someone and she hid a grin. She pulled out her Sig Sauer and checked the magazine and looked down at Shay.
“Is it dangerous, Zaza?” Shay’s eyes were wide but Zahara didn’t see any fear. She leaned and kissed Shay’s forehead and shook her head.
“No, we just gotta talk our way through. It should be fine.”
Xander showed and rolled down his window. A man raised a shotgun, he was standing behind two trucks that were parked nose to nose.
“Stop right there, mister. This road is close. Y’all will have to turn and go someplace else,” the man shouted.
“You within range?” Xander asked softly.
“Sure am. I see a couple of goobers over to the left, behind the trees. Your ten o’clock.”
Xander set his Glock 19 in his lap, hand on it and ready. He could easily kill these people but he really didn’t want to. He just wanted to get through and find someplace to settle for the night.
“We just want to get through. We’re heading to Winchester and just want to pick up Route 16. We’re tired and just want to get our daughter to a safe place.”
“Sorry, we just don’t want no more infected comin’ through. We lost most of our people. It’s been somethin’ terrible.” The man with the shotgun shifted uneasy as he looked over to the men behind the trees.
“We’re not infected. If you want to escort us through, we’ll not get out of the truck and we’ll be gone as fast as we can get through your town,” Xander said. If they shot and killed these men, that may bring more people. They still had the task of moving the trucks out of the way.
“Mister, I’m sorry.”
Xander put his weapon down and opened the door. He held his hands up and the two men to his left raised their long guns up and st
epped out from the trees.
“Don’t come no closer, mister,” the man shouted, panic in his voice.
“I’m just coming forward to talk, don’t shoot. You’ll hit my kid,” Xander said, hoping that would stop them from firing. If he saw that they were going to truly pull the trigger, he’d change in an instant and tear them apart. He didn’t think they wanted to shoot. These weren’t stone cold killers; these were just regular men trying to protect their loved ones.
The man with the shotgun was just a few years older than himself. Xander kept his hands raised and walked slowly forward. He kept his eyes on the man’s eyes, knowing he’d see the decision to shoot before the man himself would know it. It was his job to know when death was coming his way.
“Listen, if we go another way, it’ll be dark before we can find a place to sleep. I really don’t want to be on the road at night with my family. Please. We’re not sick, we’re not infected and we’ve spent the day fighting our way through those things. We’ve killed our fair share of them. Please. Just let us go through. We’ll not bother you,” Xander said in a calm and reasonable voice.
“Mister, I’m sorry. I’m just tryin’ to look out for what family I’ve got left.” The man’s mouth was now a determined straight line.
“Did you know that there are worse things out there than those mindless zombies?” he asked in a conversational voice and looked over his shoulder at Zahara. She had rolled down her window and looked as though she were relaxing. He knew her weapon was ready.
“What? What else is out there?” The man looked around him nervously.
“The woman in that truck is a trained CIA operative, as am I. I’ll show you my credentials,” he said, holding his hands out and reaching slowly for his wallet. The man’s eyes grew large and he looked past Xander and then back at him. Xander opened his wallet and showed his government ID.