Once we’d moved our conversation into the main building (away from the aroused zombies), it didn’t surprise me to learn the three of them had been volunteering their time for a pet adoption event in the nearby Pet Mart when the proverbial shit had hit the fan.
“We were helping the local chapter of the Humane Society,” Jenny explained. “To find forever homes for a bunch of rescued cats and dogs.”
Not a bad way to spend Halloween. Certainly more charitable than pursuing the holiday’s typical debaucherous activities. I almost said as much, but didn’t want to interrupt Jenny’s tale.
Apparently, while on an afternoon break, she and her grandmother had followed Alvin to Home Depot, where he needed to pick up a few gardening tools. Soon afterward, a mangled adolescent had wandered into the store, torn a chunk of flesh from an employee’s wrist, and jump-started total chaos. Once the employee had died, inexplicably returned as a zombie, and bit a concerned manager, the rest of the staff had decided not to take any chances.
Fortunately, Home Depot had had plenty of staff members and potential weapons, so with the Summers family and a few other customers lending a hand, they’d donned some waterproof rain ponchos and handily exterminated any zombies wandering through the automatic doors. As Jenny recounted the early hours of the zombie apocalypse, I silently applauded her and her cohorts’ resourcefulness: If I had thought to wear a poncho, I could’ve spared at least two sets of clothes.
As expected, some of the customers and staff members had disliked the idea of murdering infected humans. Hard as zombies were to fathom, though, seeing had definitely led to believing – at least for most of those present.
Once the waves of undead had subsided enough to secure all the exits, the survivors had tried to ignore the sounds of terror in the parking lot and the surrounding buildings and waited for help to arrive. When that didn’t seem likely, the remaining customers and employees had made a run for their cars, determined to check on their homes and loved ones. Some had reached their vehicles, some hadn’t, but eventually, only the Summers family remained.
“We’ve been trapped here ever since,” Ellen lamented.
“Yeah,” Jenny confirmed. “Plus, once our phones died, and the local stations stopped coming through on the TV and radio in the break room, we weren’t sure what was happening in the rest of the city.”
“But we figured it wasn’t good,” Ellen added.
“So, we’ve done our best to make this place home,” Alvin said. “Moved those unfortunate souls to the back, by the loading dock. Took advantage of the food in the break room. The couches, too.”
“And when the looters started coming,” Jenny added, “we just hid and watched and waited for them to leave. Knowing they’d break the glass to get inside, we kept the doors unlocked. So, until the power went out, they just opened and closed automatically. And luckily, everyone who came here seemed more interested in stealing supplies than destroying the joint.”
I nodded. “Home Depot’s not a bad place to hunker down for a while. I was thinking the same thing when you tried to hit me with a sledgehammer.” I glanced at Alvin, who shrugged sheepishly. “But why didn’t you all make a run for it, too? I mean, you can’t stay here forever.”
“Maybe not,” Jenny conceded. “But we can’t leave the animals behind either.”
As it turned out, the three of them desperately wanted to rescue the remaining animals from Pet Mart. Sadly, they realized all those who had already been adopted during the Humane Society event were probably dead, but they hoped to save the rest if possible.
“If this really is the end of the world,” Ellen said, “then the least we can do is make sure the animals are safe. Even if it’s just for a little while.”
“That’s why we were trying to lift the extension ladder,” Alvin explained. “To bridge the gap between stores.”
“Only trouble is… I’m scared of heights,” Jenny confessed. “And Pawpaw, strong as he is, can’t do it alone.”
Son of a bitch.
The big-hearted Summers trio certainly understood which buttons of mine to push. I might’ve created a blog to help a few people deal with the imminent zombie apocalypse – and to atone for a lifetime of selfishness – but in reality, I didn’t mind being selfish. I loved my wife, my kitty, my brothers, and my parents. As for the rest of humanity… meh. True, I had a few friends I genuinely cared about, but in general, I’d always despised most people.
Other animals, as I’ve said, were an entirely different story. Don’t get me wrong: I could never go vegan. Figured eating chicken, pork, beef, and seafood was all part of nature’s circle of life. Hakuna matata-type shit. OK, I might’ve mixed up my Lion King references – I was always a bigger fan of Kimba the White Lion anyway – but my point was still accurate. Despite being an omnivore, I had always loved non-human animals.
During college, I’d spent one summer as a nighttime security guard for a small zoo near the Michigan State campus, and every night, I would hang out with the animals. Well, that might’ve been a stretch. I didn’t enter any of the enclosures – I wasn’t totally insane – but I definitely interacted with them. I’d race alongside the wolf and lion exhibits, urging the mighty beasts to chase me back and forth. They never snarled or growled at me. Perhaps one or two of them had longed to eat me, but I’d like to believe they knew I was their friend.
Of course, my pride and joy was Sharie, an African elephant who’d previously been in the circus. After being rescued and brought to the zoo, she’d never gotten along with the other elephants. I’d told her they were just jealous because she could dance – which she really could – and no matter what, she would always be my girl.
Every night I was on duty, I’d punch my timecard and start patrolling, and every night, Sharie would be waiting for me. Once she’d performed her dance, we’d play toss with an empty, two-liter Diet Coke bottle – sometimes for what seemed like hours. Although I’d visited with all the animals at least once each night, I’d mostly hung out with Sharie.
So, it had understandably saddened me when the staff abruptly transferred her to a zoo in Kentucky, where she would live among other circus-trained elephants with whom she might be more comfortable. I’d wanted her to be happy, but still, I missed her, and it hurt that I hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye.
Since then, I’d been the daddy of two rescue kitties (the first of whom had died a couple years before we adopted Azazel). If I could’ve afforded it – or my current cat had allowed it – I would’ve cared for a lot more than that. Consequently, Jenny didn’t need to ask me twice to help her and her grandparents rescue the animals from Pet Mart. Still, we needed to accomplish the mission quickly. I wanted to be back on my way to Clare as soon as possible.
Once the zombies had ambled away from the fence surrounding the garden center, I’d merely needed to stand outside and listen to the mournful meows and barks underscoring the moans and groans of the undead that surrounded the pet store – and I was a goner. A dog howled, and I sighed. Jenny and her grandparents probably knew an easy mark when they saw one.
After checking on my vehicle – to ensure no zombies had breached it and gone for Azazel – I helped the Summers family gather some clamps, bungee cords, and sheets of plywood. Then, Alvin and I climbed up the fifteen-foot fence, carefully straddled the top bar, and laboriously extended the fiberglass ladder to the rooftop across the access road. It was so heavy and awkward we almost dropped it a few times, but eventually we were able to clamp the ladder to the metal roof of Home Depot.
Via a set of stairs in the rear storage area – which, sadly, looters had also picked clean – we accessed the roof and cautiously secured the ladder to the other rooftop. Not an easy task, especially given the curious zombies below, but with patience and by taking turns (for weight considerations), we were able to stabilize the ladder on both ends and tie down the pieces of plywood to it as well. In the end, we’d created a relatively sturdy bridge that would allow us to
move safely between buildings.
“OK,” I said, once the four of us had congregated in the break room for some much-needed water and snacks, “the first thing we need to do is get into Pet Mart and get rid of any zombies that might be inside.”
When I’d initially driven into the parking lot and surveyed the scene, I’d assumed the front doors of Pet Mart were closed, but that didn’t guarantee the store was devoid of the undead. Luckily, the cats and dogs up for adoption had been resting in locked crates, so even if zombies had invaded the store, the animals were likely safe. I’d yet to see a zombie turn a doorknob, let alone undo a latch and open a cage. Then again, hunger and determination could be huge motivating factors, especially for the undead.
“Once we secure the store and rescue the animals,” I continued, “I can take you all somewhere safe.”
Shaking his head slowly, Alvin grasped his wife and granddaughter’s hands atop the table in the break room. “We’ve talked it over, and we’ve decided to stay. Now that you’ve helped us with the bridge, we can make this home for a while.”
“No doubt you’ll find enough food, water, and other supplies to keep you going, but still… You sure?”
Ellen’s face lit up with a warm smile. “We’re sure. But thanks for the offer.”
“What about you?” Jenny asked, her smile as friendly as her grandmother’s. “You’re welcome to stay with us.”
“I appreciate the invitation, but after we take care of the animals, I need to push on. Can’t keep my wife waiting much longer.”
For just an instant, I saw Ellen and Jenny exchange a furtive glance, perhaps implying what they really thought of my plan – and the slim possibility I’d ever find Clare alive. But I couldn’t afford to think that way, especially since I had to keep my head straight for what I needed to do at the pet store.
While I’d only known the Summers clan a short time, I hated the idea of leaving the three of them behind. To be honest, though, they’d opted for the same plan I’d considered: to secure the buildings in the shopping complex, rely on the supplies in the varied stores and restaurants, and stay at Home Depot as long as they safely could. If my wife hadn’t left the city – and I didn’t firmly believe I’d see her again – I might’ve stayed, too.
Chapter
26
“I think the dead should shut up, unless there’s something to say.” – Patient X, The Exorcist III (1990)
Though willing to assist the Summers family with such a noble (if insane) task, I didn’t really fancy venturing into the Pet Mart by myself. I had no idea how many zombies were inside, and given how dark the store likely was, I could easily imagine my solitary rescue mission heading south rapidly. But who should I wrangle into coming with me? How fleet-footed and gun-savvy could Alvin and Ellen possibly be? And as for their granddaughter…
“So, Joe, what’s the plan?” Jenny asked, interrupting my train of thought.
“I’m still working on it, but I think it’ll involve entering the store through the roof… and trying not to get myself killed.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll have your back.”
“What?”
She grinned. “I’m going with you.”
While part of me breathed a sigh of relief, the rest of me faced a whole new set of concerns. “I appreciate the help, Jenny, but, uh… how should I put this? Aren’t you afraid of heights?”
“Well, ‘afraid’ might be overstating it. I just get nervous, that’s all.”
“You do realize we have to cross a narrow plank bridge nearly twenty feet above the ground, with a bunch of brain-eating zombies down below, hoping we’ll fall?”
She swallowed involuntarily, but before she could respond, her grandfather expressed his own displeasure.
“You’re not going anywhere, young lady. I’ll help Joe with the animals.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “You need to stay behind and protect Mawmaw. Besides, I’m much faster than you.”
“I agree with Al,” Ellen interjected. “Let the men handle this one.”
“Darn it, Mawmaw. This isn’t 1950. I am perfectly capable of doing anything a man can do.”
Well, not everything.
Of course, I didn’t plan on jumping into their family discussion. Just stayed out of it and waited for the three of them to reach a decision.
The volley of points and counterpoints continued for a minute or so, until Alvin and Ellen finally agreed to let their granddaughter – admittedly, a mature woman of thirty – accompany me to the pet store.
Thus far, the Summers clan had survived without guns, but it felt wrong to leave the old couple unarmed – and I definitely couldn’t let Jenny enter a potential den of zombies without a decent weapon. So, I returned to the contractor entrance, cautiously pried open the glass doors, and surveyed the area beneath the awning. Thanks to my earlier outburst in the garden center and the noisy task of building the bridge, all but a couple zombies had migrated to the access road between buildings.
Slowly, I unlocked and slid open the passenger-side door, climbed into the van, and crept toward my arsenal. For Jenny, I chose a fairly light 9mm Beretta with a twelve-round ammo clip, hopefully more than sufficient for our ill-advised venture. For Alvin, I grabbed another shotgun and a handful of shells.
On my way toward the open door, I heard a mournful meow. Gazing downward, I noticed Azazel staring at me through the slits of her carrier. My poor cat had been cooped up all day. She would surely need to hit the litter box and get some grub once we got back on the road.
After glancing through the windshield and the rear windows, I realized the closest zombies had yet to notice me moving through the van. So, I took a break to stroke Azazel’s furry head, toss a handful of kitty treats into her carrier, and pour a little water into the small trough attached to the gate.
While she likely wouldn’t have minded a chance to stretch her limbs, I didn’t have time to oversee her explorations, and there was no way I’d let her roam around the van on her own. Knowing her, I figured she’d end up lying on the dashboard, grooming her fur, and attracting every zombie in the parking lot.
“I realize this stop is taking a little longer than planned,” I whispered to her, “but I promise we’ll hit the road soon.”
Quietly, I shut and locked the van door, sealed the store entrance, and returned to the Summers clan, who waited for me at the bottom of the roof access stairs.
“Sorry to make you all wait. I had to take care of my cat.”
Obviously, the animal-loving family understood.
After handing Alvin the extra shotgun, the derringer, and some ammo, I led him and the two ladies to the roof of Home Depot. There, Ellen squeezed Jenny so tightly that even I started worrying we wouldn’t return from our trip to the pet store.
Alvin, meanwhile, shook my hand. “Good luck, Joe. Take care of our girl, OK?”
“Will do.”
The initial hurdle, of course, was crossing the plank bridge. The fiberglass ladder we’d used as the base could extend to twenty-four feet and hold up to three hundred pounds – not enough for both of us to traverse safely – so I volunteered to go first.
While I’d always been more afraid of water – specifically, drowning – than heights, I didn’t trust our building skills or my natural balance enough to walk across the bridge. Instead, I opted for the less manly approach of crawling over the plywood.
With the .38 secured in my hip holster, the crowbar awkwardly tucked inside my jeans, the shotgun gripped in my right hand, and a plastic bag containing the flashlight dangling from my left wrist, I ventured across the fifteen-foot gap between buildings. Every creak or shift of the bridge caused me to hold my breath, especially since thirty or more zombies waited hungrily below, moaning loudly and monitoring my slow progress like scavenging vultures circling their dying prey.
Not dead yet, fellas.
I wanted to yell at them. But I kept my mouth shut, convinced one arrogant move woul
d cause me to slip and prove them right.
When I reached the roof of the Pet Mart, I scrambled to my feet and turned to cheer on Jenny. She was already kneeling on the far end of the bridge, a machete gripped in one hand and the 9mm clutched in the other, but based on her wide eyes, ashen face, and trembling pout, I knew she was terrified – and undoubtedly questioning her promise to go with me. True, the gap between buildings was only about fifteen feet wide, but the twenty-foot drop into a pit of zombies would give anyone pause, particularly someone who was afraid of heights.
“It’s OK, Jenny,” I said. “I can handle it on my own.” Not that I wanted to. Even Clare, who also loved animals and understood my ongoing desire to save as many as possible, would’ve balked at the crazy-ass stunt.
“No, no,” she said, her voice wavering. “I can do this.”
“Just take your time. There’s no rush.”
Although I’d hoped to reach Baton Rouge before nightfall, I knew what I wanted didn’t matter. I only had a few hours of daylight left – and given my radiator dilemma and the obstacles I was likely to encounter, it would surely take me longer to get there anyway.
“And keep your eyes on me,” I advised. “No need to look down.”
With a fortifying breath, Jenny started her journey across the makeshift bridge. While she crawled at a sloth’s pace, she managed to ignore the groaning zombies huddled below (and stretching their arms toward her) until the halfway mark. That was when she inadvertently looked downward, noting the ravenous creatures, and her progress came to a screeching halt.
Even with me, Alvin, and Ellen offering supportive words, we couldn’t break through her sudden catatonia. Frozen in place, on her hands and knees, she simply stared at the zombies and started to hyperventilate.
Zombie Chaos (Book 1): Escape from the Big Easy Page 14