by Davis, James
"It's quiet here. I'll pump, you see if they got anything good to eat inside. I could go for a big bag of Doritos. I'm starving!" Roosevelt said, rubbing his right hand around his stomach.
"Yea, that went well for Tyler, I remember. Better stick together." Johnny replied.
"Okay," Roosevelt nodded.
"Inside first." He said, holding his stomach and pretending to double over from his exaggerated hunger.
Johnny rolled his eyes, motioning for Roosevelt to follow, drawing his revolver as he walked toward the door. A strong winter wind blew hard across the parking lot, sending a shiver up through both men's bodies. A single glass door stood in the middle of the small building. A small sticker with the word pull rested just above the metal handle. Johnny grabbed it and pulled it open stepping back. A loud bell rang throughout the store triggered by the door opening as Roosevelt stepped inside, pointing his pistol side to side. Johnny followed him in, pistol raised and ready.
"Looks clear." Johnny whispered.
"Not many places to hide." Roosevelt replied.
"Hold on," Johnny said, stretching his arm out in front of his friend as a low growl caught his attention.
Roosevelt nodded, pointing his finger toward a small wooden counter. An old looking cash register sat open on one side. A rack full of rolls of scratch off tickets sat on the other. They watched as a thin hand appeared from behind the counter, grasping at one of the many shelves packed full of cigarettes that lined the wall. The rack fell, an avalanche of cigarette packs spilling out. Another hand appeared, this time grasping at the counter itself. The growling grew louder the corpse of an old man slowly pulled himself up with the counter.
The man stood up right, his white eyes penetrated the two men. Long thin strands of hair lay plastered to a bald spot atop his head with dried blood. He wore a dark blue button up shirt, the word Oscar emblazoned above its left pocket. He paused, motionless staring down the two intruders. His mouth curled, revealing only a handful of yellow, jagged teeth as he let out a deep guttural growl.
"Damn they got Oscar too?" Roosevelt exclaimed.
All at once, Oscar took off, racing around the counter and across the room toward Roosevelt. Johnny lifted his pistol and squeezed the trigger. The bullet slammed into the side of Oscar's head as he lunged at Roosevelt. A puff of smoke rose from the gun barrel and blood sprayed as the gunshot echoed throughout the building. Oscar's corpse retained some momentum, slamming into Roosevelt's chest, sending him stumbling backwards. His back slammed into a tall cooler full of soda as Oscar bounced off his body and fell to the ground in a heap.
"Figure out how to start the pump. I'm getting snacks." Roosevelt said, nonchalantly stepping over Oscar's body.
Roosevelt combed the small store for supplies. Most of the shelves appeared empty. Small bags of chips and candy bars littered the floor. In the far back corner, a small wooden counter sat, a Pepsi soda fountain perched on top with an Out of Order sign taped to the front. Beside the fountain a large black oval crock pot sat plugged into the wall. Roosevelt lifted the lid and picked up the ladle by the handle that protruded. He lifted the ladle high and tipped it over. The thick brown sludge poured back into the pot splashing the dark liquid out onto the counter.
"Hot food indeed." Roosevelt chuckled to no one but himself. Shattering glass sounded from the front of the store. Roosevelt spun around, shotgun raised and ready for a fight. Johnny stood up from behind the counter and waived him over.
“You need to warn me before you start breaking shit.” Roosevelt said.
Johnny shrugged and said, “found some decent looking knives. They aren’t anything like the KA-BAR’s we lost but they’re better than nothing.”
Roosevelt knelt and browsed through the selection of knives and Zippos. He spotted a wicked looking black folding knife with a spiderweb pattern printed onto it. He pulled the blade out and ran his thumb along the blade to test the sharpness of the steel. Shaking his head, he looked up to Johnny.
“These damn things are worthless. I bet this piece of crap wouldn’t cut through hot butter.” Johnny chuckled and took the blade from him.
“Like I said, not the KA-BAR’s but better than nothing.
“Not really.” Roosevelt said under his breath as he got to his feet and headed back to the snacks.
"Found a transfer switch back here!" Johnny yelled a little too loudly from behind the counter. A soft click followed, and the hum of a generator filled the room. A small light on the outside of the store came on, followed by a light atop the gas pump.
"Alright!" Roosevelt cheered, as he approached the counter, his arms stuffed with snacks. He released his arms and let the stuff fall to the counter.
"That's it?" Johnny scoffed.
"Slim pickings." Roosevelt shrugged, ripping open a Slim Jim.
"Let me get one of those!" Johnny said.
"Last one." Roosevelt replied, taking a big bite, "We got regular Fritos and Classic Lays. A loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter because I'm tired of tuna."
"No jelly?" Johnny asked.
Roosevelt slowly shook his head.
"I don't wanna talk about that. Let's just gas up and get going." He replied. The two stuffed all their food into bags and started for the door. Johnny stopped and turned back to the bare shelves.
“Hold this.” Johnny said, handing his bag to Roosevelt. He headed back into the store and knelt in front of a set of shelves. When he stood back up, he had several five-gallon gas cans under his arms and in his hands. Roosevelt eyed him with a confused look on his face.
“Small tank. We’ll be stopping every few hours if we don't take extra with us.” Johnny said, answering the question that had never been asked. He walked past Roosevelt and back out to the UTV, setting the cans down in a row next to the pumps. He pulled the handle free of the pump, pressed the button for premium fuel and stuck the nozzle into the UTV’s gas tank.
“Getting that good gas huh?” Roosevelt chuckled.
“Might as well seeing as it's free.” Johnny replied. Ten minutes later he was topping off the last can and securing it in the back of the side by side. He wiped his hands on the baggy denim overalls and climbed back into the vehicle.
“We have got to find some new clothes somewhere.” Johnny said as he got situated to drive.
“Yeah man I am with you there!” Roosevelt agreed. Johnny started the UTV and pulled up to the edge of the road. He looked left, seeing open road and then right.
“Shit! Time to haul ass!” He said as he punched down on the throttle. A crowd of zeds sprinted down the road, their snarling faces and milky white eyes giving both men an uneasy feeling. The crowd was a mix of young and old, fat, and skinny and of all colors. Some were fresh, only a few bite marks on their faces or arms while others were torn to shreds, parts of their faces missing completely and a few with missing limbs.
“Can’t this piece of crap go any faster?” Roosevelt asked, his voice growing with panic as they sped down the street.
“I have it to the floor already. All the weight is slowing us down.” Johnny replied as the UTV slowly got up to speed.
Chapter Thirteen
2:03 p.m. January 3, 2049
Southeast Tennessee
“Looks like we got company again.” Roosevelt said as Johnny pulled to the edge of the road. A crowd of zeds headed toward them, moving like a pack of starving wolves.
“Damn things are relentless. I’d sure like to know how this happened or find out who let it happen.” Johnny said, looking at the disgusting faces moving towards them.
“Jesus! Look at those things! How in the hell are they still moving?” Roosevelt asked. The crowd of infected were in rough shape. Some had missing limbs while others had loose, torn, flesh hanging from their faces and torsos. They sat and watched the things move closer and noticed one zed in particular at the front of the crowd. Its stomach was torn away leaving long bloody intestines dragging behind it. The on
es behind it steadily stepped on the mushy looking entrails as they continued forward.
“Come on man get us out of here before I vomit!” Roosevelt said after seeing the long ropy entrails. Johnny chuckled.
“We should see about finding some bratwursts later.” He said, glancing over at his friend. Roosevelt started to heave at the thought.
“Oh, you’re an asshole for that!” He said, trying not to throw up. Johnny laughed louder this time before pulling out onto the road and driving away from the disgusting creatures. An hour later they passed under a bridge, stopping on the far side. They both climbed out of the side by side and stretched as they peered at the small town ahead of them.
“Think they have a gun store? We need to try and upgrade to something better then these old west guns.” Roosevelt said, holding up his shotgun.
“I seriously doubt it. Looks like very few people lived here.” Johnny replied pointing his chin at a sign that read Sweetwater Population 342.
“That’s it? 342 people? I bet the damn Mayor is also the Sheriff in this shit hole.” Roosevelt said, shaking his head. The sound of a distant growl getting closer extremely fast caught their attention and they spun around to see a zed falling headfirst from the bridge. The things forehead impacted with the pavement sending its brains exploding in every direction. Three more followed seconds later and the two men had to take a few steps back to avoid getting splashed with the disgusting slop that was once a human brain.
More coming over the edge!” Johnny said, cringing at the horrific sight. An entire group of the infected fell to the ground below leaving brains and blood smeared all over the road. The few that tried to get up again couldn't move as their broken legs, shattered hips and crushed spines wouldn’t allow for it.
“Should we take out the rest of them?” Johnny asked. Roosevelt shook his head emphatically.
“Hell no! I’m not going near that disgusting pile of slop.” He said moving back to the UTV. Johnny shrugged and climbed in. He turned the engine over and put it in gear before pressing on the throttle. The UTV rolled forward, the engine groaning under all the weight as Johnny guided the machine into the small town. The place looked untouched by the sudden zombie outbreak as they cruised down the main drag through the town. Store fronts quickly turned to home fronts as they continued down the road stopping only when they ran into a police barricade in the middle of the street. Several different weapons lay in the middle of the street with spent brass and shotgun shells scattered in between each. Johnny and Roosevelt climbed out of the UTV and walked over to the discarded weapons. Three AR-15’s, a pistol and four twelve-gauge pump action shotguns lay on the ground in the piles of brass. Two of the rifle barrels were warped and all but one of the shotguns had massive splits in the barrels. The pistol, an M9 Beretta lay there, slide locked back, and the mag hanging halfway out and bent at a sharp angle. The sound of brass skittering across the pavement filled the air as the two men shuffled over to the weapons that lay on the ground. Johnny grabbed the Beretta first and then turned to grab the rifle, but Roosevelt already had it in his hands inspecting it.
“Whoever was here got every single one of these guns too hot to the point of failure almost. This rifle seems to be okay, but I don’t see a mag anywhere that isn't busted.” Roosevelt said, kicking spent brass and chunks of plastic from the mags out of his way.
“This pistol mag is screwed too.” Johnny replied.
“What about that shottys behind you? It looks alright?” Roosevelt asked, pointing at it. Johnny turned around and grabbed it. He looked it over and then handed it to Roosevelt. The big man checked it out and nodded.
“Looks ok. This will be a massive upgrade from that double barrel.” He said as he started shoving shells into the tube. He racked a round into the chamber and then stuck one more inside the tube before looking up with a smile.
“Here ya’ go.” He said, handing Johnny the double barrel. Johnny took the gun, none too happy that the other rifles were not usable.
“I don’t see any blood on the ground anywhere. Do you?” Roosevelt asked. Johnny scanned the black surface and then shook his head.
“Nope. They must have taken out a ton of zeds and then hauled off the corpses.” Johnny replied.
“Then where the hell are the townspeople?” Roosevelt asked, his tone confused and on edge.
“How the hell should I know?” Johnny asked.
“Let’s get out of here. I have a bad feeling about this place now.” Roosevelt said, holding his right hand on his stomach as he scanned the street and then the windows of each house. Johnny jerked the bent mag out of the Beretta and tossed it to the ground before stuffing the pistol in the waistband of his pants.
“Might find a decent mag for this down the road. Let’s go.” He said as he headed back toward the UTV.
“Wait a minute did you see that?” Roosevelt said over his shoulder. Johnny turned back to his friend.
“See what?” He said moving back to stand next to Roosevelt.
The blinds in that window just moved right when I looked up at it.” Roosevelt said.
“You done lost your damn mind. Those damn blinds did not move. You crazy as hell.” Johnny said with a chuckle.
“I’m dead serious John.” Roosevelt replied.
“It was probably just the wind.” Johnny said, pointing at the swaying tree tops.
“Johnny look at that damn window. Does it look opened to you?”
“No but that doesn’t mean a window on the back side of the house isn’t open. This isn’t a damn ghost town big guy.”
“We need to go check it out.” Roosevelt said.
“Man, don’t you know that's exactly how all the black guys die in the movies?” Johnny chuckled again.
“Look even if it did move it could be a number of different things. Hell, it’s probably a damn zed in there moving around.” Johnny added. Roosevelt seemed to consider this.
“Yeah you’re right. I didn’t even think about that. It’s just strange that there aren’t any bodies laying out here with all this brass and there’s no sign of blood anywhere on the ground.” Roosevelt said, pointing around to the ground.
“Man, it could have rained and washed all the blood away by now. This scene doesn’t exactly look like it just happened. Now come man. Stop freaking out and let’s get out of here before a bunch of zeds do show up.” Johnny replied. Roosevelt nodded and turned to follow Johnny as he stared down at the ground, the brass gleaming in the sunlight. When he glanced up, he spotted Johnny staring at a man with a white cowboy hat and aviator sunglasses sitting in the passenger’s seat of the UTV.
“Can I help you boys?”
Chapter Fourteen
5:07 p.m. January 3, 2049
Sweetwater, Tennessee
Johnny’s hand shot down to the revolver in his waistband, but the cowboy was fast. The man had drawn his own revolver and fired two shots into the pavement directly at Johnny’s feet before Johnny’s hand ever got close to his own gun.
“You boys just lay them guns down nice and slow like. Nod once if you understand.” The cowboy said, still aiming his revolver at Johnny's gut. They both gave a single nod and slowly set their weapons down in front of them.
“Now get those hands up and take five steps back.” The cowboy added. Johnny and Roosevelt did as they were told, stopping exactly five steps back. When they stopped the cowboy let out an ear-piercing whistle and then smiled at them. Seconds later a group of men came out of nowhere and twisted their arms behind their backs. Cuffs were snapped on and pockets were checked before the cowboy stepped forward and started talking again.
"Where you fellas headin’?" He asked.
"We're just passing through. We don't want no problems." Roosevelt replied.
The man looked both men up and down, sizing them up. After a moment he looked up to meet Roosevelt’s gaze and grinned.
"Good, you won't find any here," he said.
; "Well great, uncuff us and we'll be on our way." Johnny requested.
"Not just yet I promise you no harm'll come to ya’, but we gotta’ make sure you don't mean us no harm either."
"What the heck is going on here?" Roosevelt spat, growing impatient at the cuffs cutting into his wrists.
"Here in Sweetwater you won't find trouble, coz ain't none here. You won't find no dead either. We make sure of that. Our community is small, and we don't allow outsiders in, no exceptions.
"Like I said, we'll be on our way…" Johnny began.
"I know you will, we just like to get to know our company before they take off." The man replied, looking at both men over his sunglasses.
"Let's start with an introduction. I'm Bud." He said, looking toward Johnny.
"I'm Johnny."
"Good. And..." Bud continued, his gaze moving to meet Roosevelt's.
"I'm Roosevelt."
"Alright Johnny and Roosevelt. It's sure a pleasure to meet you both." Bud said
"Likewise," Johnny replied.
"Is it really though?" Roosevelt scoffed.
Johnny's eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed as his gaze shot daggers toward Roosevelt.
"What? I mean we're out in the freezin’ cold, hungry, and handcuffed. I'm sorry, Bud, if I'm not as pleased as my friend." Roosevelt growled.
"Sorry about the cuffs, can't be too safe. Under normal circumstances we're a lot more hospitable here in Sweetwater." Bud said.
"Herd!" A loud voice shouted from behind them. Johnny and Roosevelt spun around, scanning for the new voice. A second later Johnny spotted a previously unseen man, perched on the nearest rooftop, a pair of binoculars pressed against his face.
Bud paused, removed his shades with one hand and held the other above his brow, scanning the horizon.