Elixr Plague (Episode 6): Refugees

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Elixr Plague (Episode 6): Refugees Page 6

by Richardson, Marcus

"No—we need to find him. But we only have a few hours left of daylight and we gotta survive the night first. Let's get the civvies inside and button up this place up for the night. We can figure out what to do next when we don't have zekes breathing down our necks, hooah?”

  “Hooah,” Ward muttered, slapping the wide panel garage door opener. The little electric motor whined, and the dented, bloodied aluminum garage door clanked open at the end of the empty bay. Seneca rushed forward and ducked under the still-opening door, taking a knee and covering the driveway to the right. Ward rushed past him, veered left, and went straight to the ambulance, ripping open the driver’s door.

  The coast was clear toward the backyard, so Seneca shifted to face the driveway and fired off the first shot. The closest zombie fell and Ward yelled for the others to get out.

  "Forget the supplies! We can get them later—get your asses out here and run for the garage!”

  Kendra was the first one out. She took a look at the three zekes up the driveway, then turned and ran for the garage. Somewhere behind Seneca, before reached the house, she screamed. Seneca tore his eyes away from the zekes staggering toward them and looked over his shoulder.

  “Incoming! Check your six!" he yelled.

  "Fuckin’ move!" Ward yelled, shoving Jo and Sam forward. Once they were clear of his line of fire, he took up position next to the ambulance and aimed his rifle toward the backyard. "I got four more coming in from the cornfields!"

  Seneca fired another shot over Ward’s shoulder and dropped a second zeke in a spray of black blood. The body hit the pavement with a wet splat and he shifted to the next target. "Two left out front. Go, go, go! Leapfrog it!"

  Ward abandoned his post at the ambulance and jogged past Seneca into the garage. "Go!" Ward yelled, his voice echoing inside the cavernous garage. Seneca didn't bother to look. He turned and sprinted back to the garage, running past Ward up to the door that led inside the house. He hit the garage door opener, then stepped inside the house ignoring the scared looks on the civilian faces and the questions flying from all three of them. "Go!" he yelled.

  Ward stepped back into the garage bay and backpedaled, keeping his rifle up and watching for zekes until he too reached the inner door. One of the ghouls outside dropped to its knees in an attempt to get under the door and earned a round to the face from Ward for the effort. As the garage door closed, and Kendra and Jo stopped screaming, Seneca watched the spreading pool of black blood leak under the garage door.

  Something banged into the other side, making the entire thing shutter. Another hit the smaller garage door. Seneca's rifle swung to cover that one. With every impact, the thin aluminum doors rattled in their sockets.

  "Damn, these guys got religion," Ward muttered.

  "Guys…some more those things are comin’ toward the back door," Sam warned, his voice rising with fear.

  "Shit, shit, shit!" Ward said, shoving past the open-mouthed civilians. He stormed to the broken patio door that led from the kitchen to the back deck.

  Seneca slammed the interior garage door and set the deadbolt. He pointed toward the front door. "Sam, go to the front room—keep an eye out and let us know what's going on in the street. Stay hidden.”

  “You got it,” Sam said, then rushed down the hallway.

  Seneca turned to the two women. "You two, head down to the basement,” he said, pointing with his free hand at the basement door. “There's a safe room down there—it's got computers and monitors and there's all kinds of food. Get down there and we’ll all be down in a second."

  “We can help,” Kendra started.

  “Screw that! Come on,” Jo argued, pulling Kendra toward the stairs. “Let the professionals do their job.”

  “Sam’s not a professional,” Kendra countered as they disappeared down the steps.

  Seneca shook his head and rushed to Ward’s side. “Civvies are squared away.”

  Ward grunted. He jerked his chin toward the busted patio door. “I don't think there's much left of this neighborhood, judging by the number of zekes out there…"

  The first one struggled to climb the short steps up from the yard to the deck, growing more and more frustrated with his inability to navigate simple obstacles. Three more had stacked up behind it, all clawing, pushing, and shoving like argumentative drunks.

  Seneca looked around the kitchen. "All right, let's barricade this door." They let their rifles hang from chest slings and flipped the solid kitchen table on its side, shoving the wooden slab up against the broken patio doors. Next, they piled up the six stout chairs and raced into the dining room, dragging the heavier table across the floor and adding it to the pile.

  They stepped back as the first zeke managed to make it to the patio door, gnashing its teeth in impotent fury as it clawed at the broken glass and wooden barrier. The others were right behind it, bumping and shoving to get at the opening.

  Ward pulled his rifle to his shoulder and put the barrel just inches from the zeke’s head.

  "Hold up," Seneca said. "We already made enough noise. Maybe if things settle down, the stupid bastards’ll move on."

  Ward grunted, lowered his rifle, and drew his knife. In one quick motion, he whipped it forward and stabbed straight into the left eye socket of the zeke that was first in line. He yanked it out with a squelch of black blood and a ruined, diseased eye. The zombie dropped out of sight.

  “Gross,” Ward said, examining the gore on his knife.

  Before the body hitting the wooden deck had registered on their ears, two more zekes took its place, scrabbling and throwing their bodies against the barricade. The heavy assemblage of tables, wooden tables and chairs didn't so much as budge under the onslaught.

  "Looks like we bought ourselves some time." Seneca turned to the front of the house. "Sam? We okay out there?" he called.

  “There's at least half a dozen in the front yard now, they keep coming across the street from up the hill."

  "I'll take overwatch," Ward said, heading to the main stairwell. “With all the windows up there in the master bedroom, I can cover three quarters of the house."

  “Make sure you put some emphasis on the watch part of overwatch," Seneca admonished. "As long as we’re secure, I say we hunker down for the night, and hope these things move on."

  "And if they don't?" Ward asked, halfway up the stairs and leaning over the railing.

  "Then tomorrow morning, will bust out of here guns blazing and try to find Plum."

  Ward slapped the railing. "Now you're talking!" His boots thundered up the stairs as he went up to find his sniper perch.

  Seneca moved into the front room and stood next to Sam by the large windows. It was difficult, but he tried to ignore the ruckus in the kitchen. “Hey, let's close the blinds and step back out of sight, please," he whispered.

  Sam looked down, then started. “Didn't think they could see me…sorry.”

  "No worries. Here, you take that side and walk slowly to me—no sudden movements. If we’re lucky, they won't notice that the curtains are closed now.”

  “Yeah, they don't seem to care about breaking windows and kicking down doors, do they?"

  Seneca nodded. ”Not unless they know something good to eat is on the other side…so let's make sure they never find out."

  With the curtain closed and the lights out, the room took on a cave-like feel. Seneca turned to investigate the front door on the other side of Sam. "Holy shit," he muttered as he threw the deadbolt and locked the door. "That damn thing has been unlocked the entire time we've been here?" He shook his head. "None of this makes any sense. No way Plum would leave the fucking front door unlocked.“

  "Where's your buddy?" Sam asked, peering through a crack in the curtains.

  "He's not here, that's for damn sure," Seneca replied with a frown. "And judging by the supplies we found in the basement, he left in a hurry. It doesn't make any sense. There's enough food and water down there to last us a month. Easy.”

  Sam's head snapped around, his e
yes open wide. "You serious?"

  Seneca nodded. "Absolutely. Little over a week ago, when all this first started, my employer suggested that me and my team individually stock up for the duration. So, we did—but me and Ward have mostly had to abandon our stockpile. Looks like Plum did the same thing.” Seneca scratched at the stubble on his cheek. "But at least we had the good sense to take our weapons and vehicles." He glanced at the front door again. "It's almost like Plum just walked out the front door and left."

  Sam stepped away from the curtain. "You don't think…I mean," he said, running a hand over his scalp. "I hate to suggest it…but you don't think your buddy might be…one of them, do you?"

  Seneca sighed, resting his hands on top of his rifle as it hung from his chest. "I don't know, man, I just don't know. I’d like to think not—Plum was as good as any of us. If one of them got to him, there should be bodies stacked up like cordwood around here, you know?” He shook his head. "Then again, maybe Plum got bit…I have no fuckin’ idea. I was never able to contact him when it all hit the fan.“

  "So what do we do now?” asked Sam as his stomach gurgled. “Gettin’ close to suppertime…”

  Seneca peered out the slender glass windows framing the front door. "Yep, light’s falling,” he muttered. “Be dark soon. I'm glad we got here we did. Certainly don't want to be runnin’ around out there at night again…not with this many zekes walking around." He turned back to Sam. "With Ward upstairs on overwatch, nobody’s gonna sneak up on us. ’Specially not with those cameras we got down in the safe room. Why don’t you head down and check on the ladies…you guys find something to eat if you want. Me and Ward will be down in a couple minutes, after we lock up."

  "Ain’t gotta tell me twice," Sam said, white teeth flashing in a big grin. He tucked his pistol into his waistband but Seneca grabbed his arm before he walked off.

  "Hey there Hoss, make sure you put that pistol on safe before you stick it in your pants." He glanced down at Sam's waist. "I promise you, you don't want to be the guy that shoots his balls off in the zombie apocalypse."

  Sam snorted, but pulled the pistol out, nonetheless. He clicked the little safety. "Done and done. Thanks."

  Seneca clapped him on the back. "We’re all in this together, man. One team.”

  "You inducting us into the army or something?" Sam asked with an eyebrow arched.

  "Nope," Seneca said, turning to look out the window as a shadow crossed the front door. The zeke on the other side groaned, then stumbled through the bushes, continuing on its random path through the front yard. "I'm talking about us—our team. The living versus the dead. That's all it matters anymore."

  “Ain’t wrong about that," Sam muttered as he left the room and headed to the basement.

  Seneca, assured that the front of the house was secure, went upstairs to join Ward in the master bedroom. His lieutenant sat in the bay window seat on the south side of the master suite, peering out the open windows. His rifle leaning against one knee, barrel up. As Seneca entered the room, he turned and nodded. "What the hell we just get ourselves into, boss?"

  Seneca moved next to him and disentangled himself from his rifle sling, resting the weapon against the wall. He stretched, relishing the release of weight from his shoulders, and put his hands on his hips to survey the front yard and street beyond. More than a dozen zekes milled about aimlessly. Without the noise of the ambulance, or gunshots, the ones left out on the road now found nothing to hold their interest. Several stood in the middle the road in that weird swaying, trancelike state, while others milled about, scratching at trees and investigating a mailbox. Two wondered toward Plum’s house. The others wondered randomly toward the other houses or down the road.

  Seneca grunted. “Nothing we can’t handle in that ambulance—or that souped up van Plum’s got in the garage. But I'm not comfortable leaving without looking for him. You?"

  Ward shook his head. "With these things out there? Not a chance in hell. No, Plum’s around here somewhere. I just don't know why he’d leave his house."

  Seneca snorted. "Bet it had something to do with a woman."

  "Oh, I guarantee you it had something to do with a woman." Ward leaned close to the window and peered up and down the street. "There's lights on in some of these houses. See that? Somebody's home. Another one just turned on.“

  Seneca crossed his arms. "They’re not doing themselves any favors having the lights on. Damn zekes’ll be crawling all over them when it gets darker.”

  Ward shook his head. "I don't know, all the lights seem to be in second floors. These people might've wised up and barricaded the bottom floors. But how long can they hold out? Not like anybody's gonna be able to run to the supermarket, you know?"

  Seneca stepped away from the window and sat on Plum’s bed, sighing in relief. "Hadn't thought about that. It's gonna get downright medieval when people start running out of food and these things are still wandering around outside."

  Ward looked thoughtful for a moment, then turned and grinned at Seneca. "I guess it's a good thing we have a medieval scholar with us then, huh?”

  Seneca sighed. "You're probably not too far wrong. Go on, doesn't look like there's anything exciting going on out there. Sam and the others should have chow ready any minute." Seneca got up and reclaimed his rifle before carrying it to the door.

  "I'll be right there. I'm gonna keep watch just a few more minutes. Something ain't sitting right with me."

  Seneca stopped in the doorway and looked back at Ward. "You talking about something you've seen, or gut reaction?"

  Ward shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know. It just ain’t right, you know? All these deserted towns we drove through? Now we get to this one, and all the sudden there’s zekes wandering around, and a few people holed up in houses. Why didn't we see any zekes in town? How come they’re in this neighborhood?"

  Seneca thought back to the roadblock he'd spotted as they drove past the high school. "And what the hell are the locals doing building roadblocks?"

  "You saw that too?" Ward asked.

  Seneca nodded. “Nothing we can do about it now. We'll get some hot chow, figure things out, and see what it looks like in the morning."

  He left Ward in the master bedroom and tromped back down the stairs to the main level. The front door and windows still looked secure, and most of the zombies in the front yard had slowly moved off to the far corners of the property. Several had wandered around the house and clustered on the back porch, bumping into each other in a slow-motion mosh pit.

  Seneca shook his head as they growled and snapped at him through the sliver of open patio door visible above their table palisade. "Yeah fuck you, too," he muttered on his way to the basement door.

  Down in the not so gloomy basement—the ceiling lights lit up the space like high noon—he found Sam, Jo, and Kendra sitting around a dusty card table eating steaming MRE packets. Hungry as he was, even the nauseating thought of eating army surplus combat rations didn't turn him away.

  "What we got?" he asked, leaning his rifle against the cinderblock foundation and taking a folding chair offered by Sam.

  “Man, this stuff’s not bad—ani’t great, but not bad," Sam said around a mouthful of chili.

  "Mac & cheese is pretty good, too,” Kendra said, forcing a smile as she picked at her food pouch.

  “You gotta mix that together," Seneca said, doing exactly as he suggested. "Chili Mac, pretty damn good actually."

  Ward joined them a few minutes later, resting his rifle next to Seneca’s on the wall, both within arms reach. The five survivors sat around the card table eating in silence, the only sound in the room that of their plastic spoons scraping against their foil lined MRE pouches. Sam passed out lukewarm bottles of water, and Seneca drained half of his in one gulp.

  Feeling satiated for the first time in what felt like days, Seneca picked at his teeth a few moments later with his spoon and sat back in his chair, resting the water bottle on his thigh. "Well guys, we need to have us
a powwow."

  Kendra used a napkin to dab at her mouth before she sat back. "What's going on? I mean, besides the end of the world…"

  Seneca leaned forward and dropped his spoon into his empty MRE pouch, the familiar hollow rattle dredging up memories from campaigns years ago on the other side of the world. He decided ruefully that he'd relive anyone of the shadiest moments he'd ever survived in the army if it meant he could get away from what shambled around outside as the sun set on the second day of the apocalypse. "Things are only going to get worse out there," he muttered.

  "All the more reason we need to keep moving, right?” Sam asked.

  "Where exactly—" Jo burped unexpectedly, her face darkening as she covered her mouth with the back of her hand. "Sorry…"

  Ward scoffed, waving his spork as he peered inside his MRE pouch. "Don't worry about it—this shit does funny things to your guts the first time. Sometimes the first twenty times you eat it…”

  "I just meant, I don't think any of us," Jo said, gesturing at the other civilians, "have any idea where to go, or what to do right now. You two seem to have your mission, but what about us?"

  Seneca sighed and interlaced his fingers behind his head, stretching his back. "Well, that's what we need to decide. Me and Ward gotta find our partner, Plum. This is his house, these are his supplies we’re eating. Something happened, we don't know what. He could be in one of the houses in this neighborhood, injured or…"

  Silence hung over the group until Ward cleared his throat. "He could be one of those things out there, too."

  "We'll deal with that if it when we have to. For now, I'm going under the assumption that he had to evacuate this house for a very good reason, and just hasn't made it back yet."

  "If his van’s still here, does that mean he has another vehicle?" asked Kendra.

  Ward shrugged. “No idea.”

  Seneca shook his head. "He knows how to ride a motorcycle, so I guess he could've had one of those, but I just don't know. So here's my idea," he said, leaning forward and placing his hands on the table. He looked each one of the survivors in the eye. “We hole up here tonight—I don't know about you, but I'm not thrilled with walking around out there after the sun goes down. In the morning, if the coast looks clear, Ward and I will take a look around the neighborhood and see what we can find. Maybe make contact with somebody in one of these houses—"

 

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