Zombie Apocalypse

by Cassiday, Bryan

  If it wasn’t for its klutzy walking, the ghoul actually seemed to be helping Parnell. Not only wasn’t the ghoul fighting him, it was leading him toward his desired destination. Its decrepit mouth drooling, the hungry creature seemed quite content to follow Reno.

  “He’s all yours,” said Reno with a chortle. “You wanted to examine a ghoul so you’re responsible for holding onto it.”

  “I’m not exactly a spring chicken, and this isn’t easy. In case you haven’t noticed, my hands are full.”

  “We can’t cross the street here,” said Halverson, one hand resting on his shopping cart’s red plastic grip.

  Parked cars were gridlocked on the street, leaving no path wide enough for the carts to pass through to get to the other side.

  Halverson scoped out the area farther down the road.

  “How about at that intersection?” suggested Reno.

  Halverson nodded. “It looks like there are gaps in the cars there.”

  The four of them struck out toward the intersection.

  A lifeless traffic light swung on wires in the breeze over the intersection. There were no signs of power anywhere, Halverson remarked without surprise. It was the same in LA and Santa Monica.

  As long as more zombies didn’t show up, he and the others should be able to reach the sporting goods store and stock up on ordnance—provided the store had ordnance.

  “Are you sure this sports store is gonna have guns?” asked Parnell as if reading Halverson’s mind.

  “They should have,” answered Reno before Halverson could respond. “Any self-respecting sporting goods store ought to carry rifles and shotguns. Or they ain’t worth their salt.”

  “If not, we should at least be able to glom onto some hunting knives,” said Halverson.

  Parnell’s arms were killing him. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up, manhandling the cart and the ghoul at the same time.

  “One of you younger guys ought to be walking this infected victim,” said Parnell.

  “You’re doing a great job,” said Reno over his shoulder, taking stock of Parnell, who was following him.

  “If we don’t get there pretty soon, this poor guy might break free.”

  Parnell grimaced at the pain in his wrist as the ghoul tried to angle away from Parnell’s cart. Parnell managed to jerk the creature back with the snake pole attached to its neck and keep it on course.

  Reno neared the store’s entrance.

  “Anyone see any creatures around?” asked Halverson.

  “So far, so good,” answered Victoria.

  “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

  The ghoul stepped a little too close to Reno, for his money. Reno saw it plodding toward him out of the corner of his eye and sidestepped the creature just in time.

  “Will you watch that thing!” he snapped at Parnell and backed away from the pursuing creature that was thrashing its arms in Reno’s direction.

  Parnell tugged on the snake pole, pulling a face, preventing the ghoul from walking any farther. “I told you before. You younger guys should be doing this. My arms are giving out on me.”

  “The sooner we get these weapons, the sooner we can get back to the boat,” said Victoria.

  Everyone agreed and steered their shopping carts into the unlit sporting goods store.

  “As soon as I get back to the boat, I’m gonna chow down on some of these goodies we gathered,” said Reno.

  He scouted the store, searching for its hunting department.

  “I’m gonna go to sleep,” said Parnell wearily.

  Before the last word was out of Parnell’s mouth, the ghoul wrenched away from him. The snake pole’s handle flipped out of Parnell’s grasp.

  The ghoul shambled after Reno, dragging the snake pole behind its neck.

  “Jesus Christ,” said Parnell, watching the ghoul go after Reno.

  Halverson picked up on the ghoul breaking free and sprang after it.

  “Reno, look out behind you!” he blurted.

  Halverson caught up to the ghoul, made a stab at the snake pole with his right hand, and snagged the pole. He reversed his direction, yanked on the pole, and wrested the ghoul away from Reno’s back.

  His eyes bright with adrenaline, Reno wheeled around at the sound of Halverson’s voice. He saw Halverson hauling the ghoul away from him.

  “What happened?” asked Reno.

  “The ghoul broke free,” answered Halverson.

  “You fucking old idiot!” Reno yelled at Parnell. “Why’d you let that thing loose?”

  “I told you my arm’s killing me,” said Parnell, wincing. “And my hand, too. I couldn’t hold on any longer.” He started massaging his right arm and hand with his other hand.

  “That thing almost bit me.”

  “Why didn’t you listen to me?”

  Reno closed in on Parnell and looked liked he was going to slug him.

  Chapter 14

  “No harm, no foul,” said Halverson and had the presence of mind to step between Reno and Parnell.

  “Let me at him,” blustered Reno.

  “I thought you were a nice guy,” said Victoria, annoyed at Reno’s brutish behavior.

  “Nice guy’s finish last.”

  “Didn’t Hitler say that?”

  “I thought it was some sports legend.”

  “It sure sounds like Hitler.”

  “I thought it was Leo somebody that said it.”

  “Why do you want to take out your frustration on the doc? He didn’t let the thing go on purpose.”

  “Let it slide,” Halverson told Reno. “We’ve got enough problems.”

  Reno glowered at Parnell for a moment then stalked off. “I’ll let it go this time. He does it again, it won’t be any zombie tearing him apart. It’ll be me.”

  “I’ll spell the doctor and let him rest his arm,” said Halverson, maintaining his grip on the pole.

  “Did you get all of that out of your system?” Victoria asked Reno. “Did we finally clear the air?”

  “How could he be so stupid as to let go of that snake pole?”

  “Let’s not talk about this anymore.”

  Reno stormed off with his cart. “Fine with me. I’m getting weapons. I don’t know what you guys are doing.”

  Halverson collected his cart as he held onto the snake pole with the ghoul at its end and headed after Reno.

  Victoria and Parnell brought up the rear.

  “Down here!” shouted Reno.

  Halverson followed Reno into the hunting department.

  “Now we’re talking,” said Halverson as he set eyes on shotguns standing in a rack.

  He couldn’t grab a weapon with his hands full, so he abandoned the cart and dragged the ghoul in tow to the shotguns.

  Almost simultaneously, Halverson and Reno snagged camouflage-painted pump-action 12-gauge Mossberg 500s.

  Reno swung his Mossberg’s barrel around and drew a bead on the ghoul’s head.

  “Don’t kill it,” said Halverson.

  “Why not? It’s just walking dead meat anyway.”

  “This one’s a specimen for the doc. Maybe he can find a cure.”

  “Without a lab? I’m sure.”

  “Maybe we can find a hospital somewhere.”

  “You’d need a team of virologists working on this thing day and night to have any hope of finding a cure. You heard Parnell. He’s just a GP.”

  “He knows more than the rest of us about diseases.”

  Reno pulled the shotgun’s hammer back until it snicked against the sear.

  “It’s the only chance we’ve got,” said Halverson.

  His Mossberg aimed at the ghoul’s head, Reno squeezed the trigger. The hammer struck the firing pin. Click.

  He sniggered. “I knew it wasn’t loaded. I guess the ghoul keeps its head for now.”

  Halverson didn’t appreciate Reno’s sense of humor.

  Reno retreated to the glass display case at the cashier’s desk, seeking
out ammunition.

  Shotgun in one hand, the snake pole in the other, Halverson made for the desk, too.

  Reno sidled around the desk to the shelves that were stocked with ammo. He snatched cardboard boxes of 12-gauge Remington Sluggers and deposited them on the display case.

  Halverson scooped up one of the boxes, opened it, and shook out green cartridges that rolled on the glass desktop. The ghoul thrashed away at him in futility at the business end of the snake pole.

  Reno spilled a box of the Remington Sluggers onto the desk and jammed the cartridges into the shotgun’s magazine as if he knew his way around guns.

  “I used to shoot skeet,” he explained.

  “Not the same as killing human beings,” said Halverson.

  “What would you, a reporter, know about that?”

  “I’ve written articles for military magazines,” ad-libbed Halverson. The truth was, as a black ops agent in the CIA, he killed people for a living.

  “Well, military writer, you need two hands to load that Mossberg,” said Reno, seeing Halverson’s predicament.

  Halverson couldn’t very well let go of the snake pole without subjecting himself to an attack by the ghoul.

  “I can do it,” he said, weighing a solution.

  “Kill the thing and be done with it,” said Reno. “That’s the way you do it.” He took a powder, loaded shotgun in hand.

  Halverson wedged the snake pole’s handle under his armpit. With his free hands, he plucked up cartridges off the glass desktop and jacked them into the Mossberg’s magazine. He stuffed spare cartridges into his jeans’ pockets and crammed the pockets so full it looked like they would burst any second.

  The ghoul lurched to the side and dislodged the snake pole handle from under Halverson’s armpit.

  Halverson dropped the shotgun, snatched the pole handle from the floor, and prevented the creature from breaking away.

  Halverson retrieved the shogun with his free hand, breaking into a sweat.

  Did he really believe Parnell had any chance at all of finding the cure for the plague by examining a single ghoul? If he didn’t, he ought to just whack this thing here and now.

  Tempted to blow away the creature, he had second thoughts. A cure was the only solution, he decided. Without a cure, the pestilence would wipe out the entire population.

  He shoved the herky-jerky zombie ahead of him in frustration, gripping the Mossberg in his other hand.

  Parnell walked up to him, his hand outstretched. “I’ll take that thing now.”

  “Are you sure you can handle it? I thought your arm was bothering you.”

  “I just needed to rest it.” Parnell opened and closed his hand, showing Halverson it was OK. “You have your hands full with that shotgun.”

  Warily, Halverson handed the snake pole to Parnell.

  “Where to now?” asked Parnell, accepting the pole.

  “I’ll grab a shotgun for you.”

  Halverson strode to the shotgun rack, appropriated another Mossberg, and returned to Parnell.

  “Where are the others?” asked Parnell.

  “Let’s find them.”

  They made the end of the aisle, turned the corner, and spotted Victoria and Reno.

  Victoria was handling a crossbow.

  Reno looked impressed.

  “She says she can shoot one of those,” Reno told Halverson.

  “I used to take target practice in the desert with a crossbow when I was younger,” said Victoria, inspecting the Barnett Quad 400 crossbow gripped in her hands.

  “You’d rather have that than a shotgun?” asked Reno.

  “Yep.”

  “Maybe we should all grab crossbows,” said Parnell. “They’re quieter than shotguns, and that could be an advantage if we don’t want to attract more of the infected.”

  “No thanks,” said Reno. “I’ll stick with the Mossberg. I can get off a lot more shots with this than with a crossbow.”

  Halverson nodded. “We’ve got more firepower with the shotguns, but the bow could come in handy.”

  Victoria found a quiver and a bundle of twenty-two-inch fletched bolts for her crossbow on a shelf to her left. She loaded the quiver with bolts.

  Halverson spotted a row of hunting knives on a nearby shelf. He grabbed a knife and tucked it into his waistband.

  The others followed suit.

  “Let’s get the carts and get out of here,” said Halverson.

  To Parnell’s dismay, the ghoul started acting up at the end of the snake pole. The creature was jerking more rapidly than before as if agitated by something.

  “What’s with that thing?” asked Reno.

  “It may mean trouble,” answered Halverson, casting around the store with concern. “Let’s beat it.”

  They sprang toward their shopping carts at the other end of the aisle.

  “Wait a second,” said Reno, as they reached the carts.

  He grasped his cart and trotted it toward the shotgun ammunition.

  “We don’t have all day,” said Halverson, waiting with Victoria and Parnell.

  Reno tossed all the boxes of Remington Sluggers he could find into his shopping cart then hustled his cart back to Halverson, Victoria, and Parnell.

  The four of them steered their carts toward the exit.

  Chapter 15

  “Slow down,” said Halverson at the front entrance.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Reno.

  “I just want to make sure there’s nothing out there waiting for us.”

  Halverson left his cart behind with the others and stole toward the parking lot, shotgun in hand. He scoped out the parking lot.

  He picked up on movement behind a parked silver Porsche 911. A thirtyish female was scrabbling behind the sports car.

  He felt something bump his elbow. His heart skipped a beat. He whirled around, shotgun at the ready.

  It was Reno.

  “Who’s that?” he asked, nodding at the female.

  Halverson heaved a sigh of relief. “I almost shot you.”

  “I thought you might need help. Who’s that girl?”

  The bottle blonde had a wizened face. She had broad features. She looked Hispanic. On closer inspection, as the female shuffled toward Halverson, he saw that half of her drawn face was alive with writhing maggots and what he had mistaken for blue eyes were actually white.

  “Another one of those things,” said Halverson. “That’s why our ghoul prisoner was getting worked up.”

  “Do you think they were signaling each other?”

  “I don’t know. I doubt they have the intelligence for that, but they must have some means of sensing each other’s presence.”

  Reno raised his shotgun to his shoulder and trained the muzzle on the creature as it approached.

  Halverson grabbed the barrel and pulled it down.

  “What are you doing?” said Reno. “What’d we get these guns for if we’re not gonna use them?”

  “The gunshot might attract more of those things if they’re around here.”

  Reno scanned the surrounding area. “I don’t see any others.”

  “There may be some on the next block, for all we know, and they could hear a shotgun blast from there.”

  Halverson turned around and beckoned to Victoria, who was standing at the front entrance.

  She acknowledged his gesture and approached. “What’s going on?”

  She didn’t have to wait for Halverson’s answer. She could see for herself the blonde creature trudging through the parking lot toward them, holding its head at a weird angle.

  “Can you take that thing out?” asked Halverson.

  Victoria shrugged off the crossbow slung over her shoulder. “My pleasure.”

  She stepped on the crossbow stirrup at its front end and drew back the bowstring. She raised the crossbow, withdrew a bolt from her quiver, loaded the bolt into place, and drew a bead on the staggering creature.

  She fired.

  The bolt slammed into
the creature’s chest and penetrated all the way through to the fletching. The impact of the bolt stopped the ghoul for a moment then the creature kept plodding forward.

  “You have to hit it in the head,” said Halverson.

  “I was shooting for upper body mass. It’s an easier target.”

  “But a headshot is the only thing that’ll kill it. Only the brain is reanimated.”

  “The blonde didn’t feel a thing,” said Reno in astonishment. “A damn arrow sticking out its chest and it’s like nothing.”

  Victoria reloaded the crossbow. She raised its stock to her shoulder. She trained the crossbow on the ghoul’s head.

  She fired again.

  The taut bowstring strummed as it discharged the bolt that whirred through the air and slammed through the creature’s left eye, driving its way through the brain, out the back of the skull, and lodging its fletching in the punctured eye socket. Shatters of skull flew out the back of the creature’s head.

  The creature’s knees buckled. It hit the asphalt in a heap. Its hands twitched a few times then became still.

  “Dead as a doornail,” said Reno, eyeballing the motionless creature.

  “Let’s get moving,” said Halverson.

  They hastened back to the entrance, retrieved their shopping carts, and set out for the sailboat.

  Parnell grimaced with effort as he struggled to steer both his shopping cart and the ghoul on the snake pole at the same time.

  Halverson took point.

  “I hope you know where you’re going,” said Victoria. “I can’t remember where we left the boat.”

  “I do,” said Halverson.

  It wasn’t long before Halverson reached the shore. He spotted the wharf. It looked deserted. His heart sank. It was the same feeling he experienced in an elevator that descended quickly.

  “Where’s the boat?” said Reno.

  “Did somebody jack it?” said Victoria, her brow furrowed.

  “I knew we should’ve left somebody to guard it,” said Halverson.

  “Now we’re really up the creek,” said Reno. “Those things come along now, we’re lunchmeat.”

  “What can we do?” said Victoria, slumping over her cart.

  “Say good-bye to the moolah.”

  “Is this the right wharf?” asked Parnell, all but falling over as he wrestled with his cart and the ghoul at the end of his snake pole. “It doesn’t look the same.”