Fayte giggled as she too ate her granola bar, wishing for the days when she no longer had to live off of Ramen Noodles and stale pop tarts. Right now she was content to just sit here with Byron and watch the sun rise up from its slumber. Blanketing the concrete graveyard that separated them from their enemy with bright light. The sky was almost too clear for this time of year. It was June now, and June not only brought the heat, it brought the wind and the rain with it. Those two were always riding shotgun to some hellacious weather. The clear blue skies above them were signaling the calm before the storm. And a mighty storm at that she thought.
The plan was simple. One of the map books Rhyce had found at one of the registers, listed all the stores, just like this one plus the warehouses right along with them. All the group had to do now was clear a path to the next one. Taking as much supplies as the boys’ truck and Lady could hold.
“I think Charlie was a little relieved to be able to keep Lady for one last ride,” stated Byron. Fayte nodded her head, making her signature pigtails bounce once more.
A humming sound ruined the silence, its pitch growing in volume then deepening to growl. It revved and extended its growl as someone added more fuel to its fire. It was an engine, and a certain one at that. Fayte knew that sound by heart. She waited for the shift in gears, and waiting patiently as the growl descended into a throaty purr. A purr that was identical to the motorcycle her father had. Whoever was coming, was doing so on the back on a soft-tail Harley.
The motorcycle cruised right along the yellow lines dotting the highway. Its rider cloaked in a leather jacket carrying the blazing emblem of the machine roaring beneath its wearer. The sun was high enough in the sky to tinge his skin with enough pink to wash out the pasty flesh on his face and neck. The ride made him feel normal again, almost human. But he could feel himself fading. His cognitive processes were misfiring in his brain at the same time his stomach released a growl in defiance of being ignored. It was way past his lunch time.
That Nascar driver was definitely a treat. The disease had not fully taken over his body, leaving some neurons still firing inside its tasty brain. And it was tasty. The memory of the warm meal triggered another growl to reverberate through his body. He hadn’t seen another zombie for miles. It was like someone had killed his brethren all off. Leaving him with an empty kingdom. If only he could find some fresh meat, then he could see just how long he would be able to keep the cravings at bay. Another thought had excited him even more. What if he could train another? Make them like himself. His number two if you must. He had already donned the outfit, now he must assume the outlaw image he had chosen for a little while longer. Until he was able to gather his followers. Now all he had to find was his sergeant in arms and the store right off the interstate looked like a fabulous place to start.
The exit was clear of cars. Each one was pushed to the shoulder, creating small barricades along the way. For anyone traveling on foot, it offered protection from what could jump out of the tree-line at them, catching them off guard. But for now, it gave him a clear line of site right into the Wal-Mart parking lot. Where three vehicles were suspiciously parked in front of the main doors. Shopping carts were corralled and locked together by their kiddie seat-belts in a half circle around the cars. Another barricade to keep others like him out.
Ha! Not for long, the rider thought.
***
The humming was growing louder and louder with each passing second. The rider of that soft tail Harley had finally made it to them. Byron had already alerted everyone else that they’d be having company soon. So here there they stood, waiting for the mystery man on the motorcycle to climb over the carts and make his way to the doors where Charlie stood, shotgun raised, cocked and loaded. Fayte watched as the man raised his hands in a mock surrender, “I’m just passing through. Don’t want any trouble, lady.” Growled there mystery biker.
“What do you want?” Charlie asked. Her hand steady on the trigger. She wasn’t giving him an inch.
“Food. Water. A place to rest for an hour or so. Promise I won’t stay long. Then I’ll leave ya be.”
Charlie was hesitant to let another male in. There was already too much testosterone floating around the store as it was.
“You packing anything old man?” She nodded to his attire. Signaling him to open his jacket and show her.
“Nah, nothing but skin and bones Kid.”
Jace walked up behind Charlie and whispered something in her ear. He was too far away for the little girl to read his lips. Whatever he said made her lower her weapon and grant him passage.
Jace waved him to follow, Charlie was a little more hesitant. Her shotgun was lowered but her trigger finger was at the ready. Just in case.
Fayte could smell him as soon as we walked through the two stacks of pallets. He for sure hadn’t had a shower in a few months even though no signs of dirt were visible. His five o’clock shadow was gray and dusted his jaw with a little bit of stubble. His clothes were new. And most likely the only thing ‘fresh’ about him. He smelled like an expired open can of spam that someone had left on the counter. Its congealed and gooey jelly substance that for no matter how smart she was could not figure out what it was made of, would be growing a new kind of penicillin. That’s what he smelled like. He smelt like mold. His stench made her nose burn and twitch. She had to rub her tiny hand across it to dispose of the feeling.
“We’re setting up lunch now. You’re more than welcome to join us.” Jace said to the man at his back. Jace nodded to his sister to start the food. The quicker they got him fed, the faster they could get him out of here. And away from the girls.
Byron grabbed his charge and walked her to the card table where her chess board was set up. She had asked him earlier to play another game but he declined, not wanting to lose again to the seven year old. She wondered if spam man would take a gander at it.
“What’s your name?” Fayte asked, forcing her voice to be even more childish.
The Harley man looked confused for a second the promptly answered “Friends called me Zeke. What’s yours kid?”
“Fayte.” She said. Her smile was hesitant and forced. Something flashed behind ‘Zeke’s’ eyes as she told him her name. Recognition maybe. Whatever it was, she did not like it.
“Well…Zeke,” Fayte stood with her signature stance, head cocked to the side, and a smile playing on her lips. “Do you play chess?”
‘Zeke’ pondered it for a second and the zombie king thought why not. “Sure little girl.”
Fayte hopped onto the cooler she was using for chair and gestured to the other side where a camping stool awaited her newest opponent. Strategy was her secret weapon, and just by looking at him and the way he carried himself, she had already beaten him five times in her head.
She had purposely claimed the black pieces as her own, given him the first move. Pawn after pawn, she took his pieces and gingerly placed them to the side of the board. Both rooks and knights were haphazardly placed away from his king. Leaving his queen open for the taking. She had caged him in with only a bishop and her queen. “Checkmate.” It had only taken Fayte eleven minutes and twenty six seconds to kick his ass. He clearly wasn’t that smart. He had given that much and more away with each move he made across the board.
Not once did she notice the strained muscle jump in his cheek. He was getting pissed off. He had been tricked by this little girl. This very, very smart little girl. Now she would be a tasty treat. But she was too small for the soldier he needed.
Before she could set the board up for another game, Ellie had call out that it was time to eat.
***
Something was off about this guy ‘Zeke’. All throughout his meal, she could hear his stomach protesting the food it was given. It clearly did not like being fed Luke-warm franks and beans. His face contorted with each choked bite. The water he washed it all down with hissed in his throat, like steam.
He hadn’t spoken much during the meal. If she was honest
with herself he looked downright uncomfortable around a bunch a kids. Since technically he was the only ‘adult’ that was still living they had come across. For all they knew all the grown-ups were dead…or undead.
He wiped the juice from his chin and stood abruptly. “I appreciate the hospitality, but I got to be heading out. It’s not wise to stay in one place for too long.” He nodded at Charlie, Jace and Bryon. He ignored Ellie and strained his eyes on the little girl who had made a fool out of him. “Until next time little girl.”
‘Zeke’ reached the doors but stopped at sunglasses rack that was almost empty. A simple black framed pair of sunglasses were calling out to him. His hand shot out and took the glasses, placing them over his eyes. He turned back to the group, flicked two fingers in the air, the turned back around and exited the building.
Fayte watched him leap over the carts and right onto his bike. The purr of the engine resonated into the building as he drove out of sight. The engines’ sound wasn’t getting smaller as it grew further away. It sounded like he was circling the building. The bike cut off around the back where Charlie declared the shooting range would be. No one was paying attention to his departure and no one was hovering over her for once. That was her queue. She ran into her tent and changed out of her sneakers and back into her moccasins. She needed to be as quiet as possible, and her squeaky shoes weren’t cutting it.
She slipped out of the tent undetected, and made her way to the receiving area in the back of the building.
The site she encountered was more than what she was prepared for.
‘Zeke’ wasn’t digging around in their garbage. No, he was ripping a zombies fingers off its hands. He deposited them in his pockets and moved on to the zombies head.
Fayte watched in disgust as ‘Zeke’ leaned over the zombie Charlie and Jace had used for target practice and scooped out its brains with his bare hands. He then shoved his full hands into his open mouth and closed his eyes. A satisfied moan escaped his mouth as he chewed more and more of the gray matter. Ewww. I guess he’s saving the fingers for snack. Fayte thought while fighting the urge to vomit.
“Jesus,” Rhyce whispered. Scaring the shit out of Fayte and startling ‘Zeke’ out of his trance. How the brute followed her without her knowing was beyond her. But she was glad he did. At least now she didn’t have to explain this to the others by herself.
‘Zeke’ jumped to his feet and roared at them for disturbing his meal. A meal he had waited all day for. A meal that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy. They watched dumbfounded as he tore off in the direction of his bike and pealed out of the back lot. Finally the sound of his bike grew fainter in the distance.
“So, we are all agreed then. We stay one last night.”
They all nodded, all eight of them now. They were fast becoming quite the posse. They began dividing the chore work amiably enough. Little fuss as they did their best to light up the darkest areas of the store with spotlights they found. Tren managed finagling power from some car batteries that were still left on the automotive side’s shelves. Needless to say there was quite a bit of duct tape and rubber bands that were used in making that happen.
Rhyce and Callen had been volunteers in trying to find a suitable vehicle to load up all the extra food, munitions and equipment that they thought they might need. Byron and Jace helped move the blockade out of the way and released them for their search before closing the store back up. Strangler walkers had been seen outside through the windows. After the two members of the Junction City boys dispatched them with no problem, Byron was assigned to guard duty at the front doors as a look out. He would yell for the others if the walkers began herding outside again.
The store was thankfully still stocked with boxes to carry their equipment in. Most of the equipment was still in their original packaging. It was Fayte who had volunteered to open and remove all the excess trash that made up the packaging. Soon they had a nice cache of machete’s, various cutting blades, tools and even more rolls of duct tape.
The duct tape had given Cross an idea. As the smallest member of the group, Fayte would be an easy target and a weak meal for the undead that might attack. He went to the children’s section and found a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, and began work on his next masterpiece. He could not wait to see the look on Callen’s face. This was sure to make for an interesting chapter in the survival guide he was writing. It would take some time, so he opted to work on it in between tasks. Besides, he wanted to surprise the little girl.
“Break time!” Charlie called everyone over and started divvying out rations. She had managed to bring some water to boil in a large pot and had made an enormous meal of chicken flavored ramen. Stale cracker packs were passed around as the dipping bread of choice. Rhyce tried to act the tough guy and decided he wanted to eat his ramen crunchy style. He unwrapped a package and unsheathed it like he was undressing a candy bar, eating it raw.
He fought against the stares. “What? It’s good this way!” He went back to sprinkling his ramen brick with the seasoning packet and took a bite.
Fayte nodded. “Preach it boy. I survived on Ramen and Pop Tarts.”
“Eat your soup little girl.”
“Yes mom,” she said only half sarcastically.
Charlie took a bowl up to Byron, who was still keeping his watchful eye across the parking lot. She proffered him a bowl and spoon, which he took thankfully.
“Sometimes I forget that I even get hungry,” he said.
Charlie nodded. “Happens to the best of us.”
He slurped some soup. “I’ll be glad when we can have our own place to hold up in. I keep wanting to go down the aisle and organize the shelves.”
She laughed. “Yeah, I forget how OCD you are.”
“Happens to the best of us,” he replied.
“Hey don’t be so solemn. We got some good people here. And you are a big part of that. I don’t honestly think I would have made it much longer if I hadn’t find you. You’ve been a real good friend, Byron.”
“Thanks Charlie.” He set himself back to his soup, still keeping a watchful eye on the lot through the windows.
“I hope those boys come back soon. They don’t need to be out there all out on their lonesome like that,” he finished.
Charlie agreed, but she knew that they could take care of themselves. With the exception of the horde of birds that had attacked her, she had not seen more than ten or so walkers in one place. Those two could easier take out twice that. They even had the experience with fighting them in close quarter combat, which she was sure made for some interesting run-ins.
She was barely half-way back to the ramen circle when she heard Byron shouting.
“Charlie! Jace! Boys! Come here quick! Help me get these doors open!”
Everybody jumped, Jace nearly toppling over his bowl. They ran upon Bryon’s post. It was a scene from a war movie. Someone was hauling at a full click, cradling someone smaller in his arms. Another was limping behind him a girl with her arm over his shoulder.
Behind them was a horde. That horde was running.
Beyond all odds, a group of forty or so, all runners, had assembled together and were giving this foursome the chase of their lives. Jace was the first to make them out.
“It’s the boys, and they are bringing company with them!” He started tearing away at the carts.
“And then some,” stated Tren. His eyes were locked on the runners, when he suddenly remembered his weapon. He pulled it out and jumped through the opening Jace had made. He started firing at the sprinting undead at the head of the pack that had almost caught up the boys. It was like an entire group of marathon racers had all been struck by the virus simultaneously. They all looked hungry. Each bullet hit was precise, effectively blowing out the back of their heads. Their bodies dropped and the runners behind them were quick to trip over them and tumble into writhing undead pile.
The shots had done their work. Callen slipped through the barricade, and fell down in a spin the f
loor huffing to catch his breath. The girl that was leaning on him collapsed with him, crying out in anguish with the pain in her ankle. Rhyce followed in shortly behind, a girl with her arm slung over his shoulder. He gently laid his rescue down. She made it quite clear she was conscious, by kicking Rhyce right in the shin.
“I told you I didn’t need carrying!” she screamed.
Rhyce shrugged off all the stares of attention he instantly received. “What? She was slow,” he retorted.
Byron and the other boys that were still upright on their feet made short work of reinstating the barricade. Charlie realized this was just in time, as she saw another group round the corner and were hot-footing it toward the entrance.
“Out of line of sight guys. Now,” she whispered. “No sounds.”
Rhyce looked down the girl he had rescued. He had barely even broke a sweat, let alone lost his breath. However the girl was still staving off a panic attack, her chest heaving hard against the inside of her shirt.
She read his mind. “Don’t you even dare pick me up again,” she said through braced teeth.
Rhyce smiled. “Have it your way. He reached down before she could snatch her hands away and grabbed them up. He slid her backwards, dragging her like a bobsled along the tiled floor, running backwards down the aisle following the others. She did not even have a chance to scream her side of the argument out. She managed a quick yelp, but nothing more. She knew there was something about this oaf that she did not like. Above all else, this guy crossed the line. She hated to be manhandled in any way. He released her as soon as they were out of sight of the windows. Her head bounced once off the tile.
“Owwee,” she groaned.
“Sorry Parker.” This guy only had one way with women. Caveman style. He was definitely the Neanderthal of the group.
Charlie spun around just as the new arrival started picking herself back up to her haunches.
Zombies Don't Ride Motorcycles Page 25