by Ivan Turner
Suddenly, a face appeared at the door. He was maybe twelve years old, buzz cut across his head, wide eyes. When he saw the police uniforms, he reached through the crack and tried to wriggle out of the room.
“Get out of the way,” Culph yelled.
“Help us!” the boy cried back. “She's almost done with Jessica.”
Culph and Baches barely spared a glance for each other. Then they threw the sum total of their weight against the door and pushed, feet wedged up against the opposite wall. The door moved and moved again. There was a table between the boy and the door and he scrambled underneath it, getting through as soon as there was room. All at once there came a second child. And then a third. They scrambled out of the room one after the other, crying and screaming. Then they stopped coming and there was a flurry of sound and motion within.
“What the hell...” Culph began when a hand shot out and grabbed Baches by his leg. The skin on the hand was grey and stretched. It was an adult hand, probably a woman's. But it wasn't alive. Baches cursed and kicked at the wall until the thing let go.
Culph unslung his rifle but the hand disappeared back inside. Baches, visibly shaken, waited twenty seconds before going back to work, Rollins now helping. In the intervening moments between the time that Baches hit the door and Rollins hit the door, Culph stabbed the butt of his rifle inside to try and weaken the barrier. The screams of the children still in the room hit a crescendo and the men doubled their efforts.
Finally something gave and the door opened about eighteen inches. Shoving Baches aside, Culph threw everything he had against it, pushed it another three inches, and tumbled inside. He caught sight of the dead woman right away. She had long black hair which flew about her face wildly, hiding her eyes and damping her blood soaked cheeks and lips. Her right arm was torn to bits. It was so bad that Culph could see clear through to the bone. She'd been young, maybe twenty five, although it was hard to tell when they were dead. Her left hand was clamped around the leg of an eight year old boy. He scrabbled on the floor, trying to get away but it was already too late. She'd taken several bites out of him.
Culph didn't hesitate. As Baches and Rollins filed in behind him, pushing aside the last of the blockade, a series of child sized tables, chairs, and wooden cubbies filled with toys and books and puzzles, he took aim and fired. The first shot took her right arm, clean off. She tumbled backward, letting go of the boy, but her victim was in no state to gain any ground. He just lay on the floor writhing about, probably unaware that he wasn't running at full speed. Culph's second shot hit her in the midsection. At this range, it did an enormous amount of damage. The thing hissed as it flopped about on the floor. With its left arm, it tried to lever itself up, but Culph's third shot took out that arm, as well. Now the zombie woman was rolling about, no better off than her victim. Baches and Rollins stared in shock as Culph marched right up to her and kicked her once in the side and once in the head. Then, shifting the rifle to his left hand, he drew his knife with his right and began to stab relentlessly at the hapless creature. While he was doing this, a child darted out of the corner of the room. There were about six children in the room including the one the zombie woman had been eating, but not including the two that were already eaten. None of the three policemen had noticed anything out of the ordinary about this one, but they would later wonder how they had missed it. The child was dead, a zombie just like the woman. It was a little girl, maybe five years old by her height and weight. The bite marks were on her back and the backs of her legs. In the corner, from where she had come, there was a preschool mat and a blood soaked sheet and blanket. They had tried to make her comfortable while she’d died.
Culph noticed her at the very last moment, and raised the knife to shield himself against the attack. As the little girl launched herself at him, the knife scraped along her cheek. She took no notice. Dropping the rifle, Culph sparred with the thing momentarily, keeping its mouth away from his face and defending against the arms and the legs. In a moment, he had the upper hand. He flipped the little girl over onto her back and pinned her to the ground.
“Shoot it!” he cried to Baches and Rollins. Neither man made a move. “Shoot it!”
Both men had seen and fought zombies. In the previous weeks, there hadn't been a man on the team who'd been spared the experience. But still, they froze.
“I can't, man,” Baches said. “She's just a kid...”
Culph spit out a string of curses and lifted the girl off the ground. Using all of his adrenaline augmented strength, he tossed her away from himself. She flew three feet and tumbled against the body of the woman, still trying in vain to find her feet. This time, when Culph drew his pistol, he didn't fool around. He fired two shots, one for the head of the woman and the other for the head of the little girl. Then he turned, sparing not a glance for his companions, and took aim at the eight year old boy.
“He's still...” Rollins started but was drowned out by the gunshot. The boy's body jerked once and then his suffering was over.
***
It was much later when Shawn stood in the cold rubbing his hands together and puffing steam out of his mouth and nostrils. The day had come and gone, most of it spent wrestling with whether or not to give Heron a call. As of that morning, when he'd left Marcus, he hadn't committed to going on the hunt, but that had changed. Over the past several weeks, his growing fear of zombies had been disabling him more and more. He hadn't told Marcus and he hadn't told his parents. He was afraid of the subway and often took the bus instead. The idea of being trapped underground when it all went to hell terrified him. So when Lodi had pulled him aside on Thursday and told him about the hunt, he'd given it real thought. If he could face a zombie again, this time knowingly, and defeat it, he might be able to overcome his fear. So really, the question wasn't whether or not he was going to participate in the hunt. The question was whether or not he was going to turn all of his companions over to the cops.
So far he hadn't.
Lodi was a big kid, only sixteen but bigger and meaner than anyone Shawn had ever met. They had gone through middle school together. While Shawn had worked hard to stay out of trouble, Lodi had always found a way into trouble. He liked to tempt fate and butt heads with authority. He thought he knew it all when even Shawn understood that Lodi was one of the very dumbest people he would ever meet. And he was stubborn as a mule. Stubborn and stupid make a bad combination.
They were gathered outside the school. Well, they were a block away, standing in front of one of the popular convenience stores. The store was open but they didn't go in, choosing instead to stand out in the cold. There were seven of them. Lodi and Shawn and Brian and Tiffany, Brian's girlfriend. Shawn didn't know the other three and no introductions were made. They looked older and they looked mean. Lodi passed Brian a sour look. It was clear he didn't want to have a girl along but Brian didn't care. Tiffany had been practicing Karate or Judo or some kind of martial arts since she was in the womb. She could kick anyone's ass and had proven it a dozen times over.
“We found a spot where we saw a few zombies,” Lodi told them. “We think there are more, but we ain't sure. The guy's paying three hundred a head and he ain't put no limit so we want to bag as many as possible.”
Lodi had four duffle bags with him. Lord knows how he'd gotten them from his home to the convenience store. They looked full and they looked heavy. He unzippered the first one and started pulling out weapons. Weapons! There was a crobar, a wooden baseball bat with the fat end whittled to a point, two aluminum baseball bats, and a pitchfork. He began to hand them out. Tiffany didn't take one and Lodi didn't take one. Shawn wound up with the pointed wooden bat.
“That's a good weapon,” Lodi said. “You can beat 'em back with it or jab 'em if you need to.”
Shawn swallowed.
“Our guy wants these things alive; he don't pay for dead ones. We got to knock 'em down and tie 'em up. I got handcuffs, rope, and rubber balls to tie in their mouths. I done this twice before
and let me tell you it don't pay to try and tie one up yourself. If you spot one, get help. If you get bit, you're done. I'll turn you in to the guy and collect three hundred bucks for your sorry ass. Any questions?”
There were none.
Lodi folded up the empty duffle bag and stuffed into one of the others. Then he lifted that one onto his shoulder and motioned for Brian and Shawn to each take one. Loaded up, the seven people moved down the street.
It was nine blocks to their destination, a long haul with that heavy duffle bag. At least the exercise kept them warm. But Shawn was tired when they arrived and he didn't want to fight zombies tired. Lodi brought them to a halt in front of a tall fence with rusty barbed wire along the top. Shawn knew about this place but hadn't ever been there before. Beyond the fence was a giant yard with piles of salt and dirt and gravel. No one was really sure who owned the yard but you didn't see a lot of trucks going in and out. Way back past the material was a score of run-down buildings. They housed offices and storage rooms and a couple of vehicle garages. Shawn was pretty sure there was an auto shop in one of them.
Lodi crouched down next to the fence and waited for the others to form a circle around him. “I seen two guys walkin' around in there last week. They had that funny kind of walk that the zombies have, but sometimes you ain't sure. I seen addicts walkin' around the same way. So I waited and checked it out. Definitely zombies. You get close enough and you can smell 'em. I don't think they leave the yard at all, probably eat the rats. I don't know where they come from but I don't care. If we nail both of them, that's six hundred bucks and we ain't splittin' that even. There's probably a lot more. You get paid for what you catch. I get a cut of everything because I brought all the stuff. Anybody got a problem with that?”
No one did.
Lodi nodded his approval. “Shawn, you're with me. And since this is your first time, we'll take Everett.” He motioned to one of the three men that Shawn didn't know. Everett was tall and dark, thin with high cheekbones and a large flat nose. Underneath his coat, Shawn couldn't tell if he was toned or not but his hands had long fingers with visible veins. “Brian, you and your girlfriend can have your date. Luthor, you and Worm together. That okay with everyone?”
They all nodded.
Lodi unzipped the other duffles and pulled out backpacks with supplies in them. As promised, there was rope and there were cuffs and rubber balls. Everyone got a backpack. Everyone got a small and thin flashlight. “Don't use the light if you don't have to,” was Lodi's last piece of advice.
The fence had two access points. The first was a large gate that wheeled aside for vehicle access. It was around the corner. That one was locked up tight with two padlocks. A guardhouse stood just inside but there was no guard. Even still, Lodi led them in the other direction. A small gate, the size of a door, was attached to the fence around the other side, closer to the buildings. There was a padlock on the gate but Lodi had a key. Everyone wondered about the key but no one asked. Swinging the gate open, Lodi stepped through and off to the side. He waited while the others came through. Then he closed the gate and replaced the padlock.
“What's that all about?” Brian asked. “Don't lock it.”
“Hey! I been casing this place for over a week. Every once in a while, someone comes by to check the locks. If they ain't in place, we're screwed.”
“And if you get killed, we're trapped in here with the zombies.”
Lodi snorted. “You want out? I'll let you out right now.”
Brian didn't want out.
“Then shut up. Go your separate ways. Be careful. If you get into trouble, give a shout. Better to split the money than get bit.”
Shawn, Lodi, and Everett moved away from the others. Lodi grinned in the dark. He knew where to look for the first two zombies. After that the others would have just as much of a chance of finding game as they would. But they'd at least get a head start.
He led them away from the piles of material and toward the buildings. As they got closer, Shawn could see broken windows and rusted doors. Everything seemed to be locked up tight but he was sure that Lodi could gain them access to any one of those buildings. Shawn did not like the idea of wandering around inside a cold and dark building in the middle of the night.
The first building they passed was a tall grey structure. It looked like an office building, but most of the windows were broken. As they rounded the corner, they could see a door hanging open. Lodi gave it a wide berth, his eyes always on that opening. When they were past, he quickened his pace and headed for a small building, only two stories high, with large windows, most of which were intact. As they close in, Lodi slowed and reached into his waistband. From it his pulled a pistol.
“Where the hell'd you get that?” Everett asked.
Lodi smiled. “I inherited it on the last hunt.”
"You can't shoot that out here," Everett pressed. "It'll bring every zombie in the place down on us."
"At three hundred bucks a head, that sounds like a good idea. But I ain't gonna shoot it unless I got to."
With the gun in his right hand, he found a door that led into the building. The door was open as well, revealing a profound darkness within. Lodi shined his light on the opening, then quickly switched it off. The way ahead had looked clear, a small waiting room with some end tables and broken chairs. Everett took a step forward but Lodi put out his hand. They needed to wait and see if anyone or anything was attracted to the light.
All the while, Shawn was thinking about just how stupid he was. He did not want to go prowling around in dark buildings at night. Hell, he was scared enough of the rats. He didn't need to have zombies thrown in on top. At his first opportunity, he decided he was going to get the hell out of there.
Lodi took one step into the building, throwing his gun one way and then the other. Even Shawn, who had never even held a gun let alone fired one, knew that Lodi was too busy playing robbers and no cops. The way he was taking that doorway, leading with his gun and not his eyes, he was a sure target. Shawn clenched his teeth as Lodi disappeared into the darkness. A minute went by and then his voice drifted out, calling them and admonishing them at the same time.
Once inside, the light wasn't so bad. It was darker than outside, which made it seem pitch black when just looking through the door. But stray rays of moonlight and street light came in through the dusty windows. Along the left wall was a reception desk. It was a squat thing, nailed down to the floor but clearly not part of the original structure. There were some papers on it but nothing more. Lodi was standing by it, pointing his gun into the gloom. Behind the desk was a door that led deeper into the building. It was also open. Everett switched on his light.
"What the hell are you doing?" Lodi hissed.
"I can't see anything," said Everett. "I ain't staying if I can't see."
"Don't worry. You'll smell 'em long before you can see 'em. Now shut the light."
Everett complied, but not before throwing a nasty expression onto his face.
"I've seen 'em comin' in and outta this building," Lodi said. "I don't know whether they hole up here or the eatin's good. Either way, I bet we bag a couple."
Shawn shook his head. Lodi was way too excited about this. Either he had no sense of danger or he was just crazy. Shawn guessed it was a little bit of both. Lodi had never been at peace, not since he was small. At eight years old, he was fighting the thirteen year olds and sending them home bawling. By the time he'd hit puberty and developed muscles of his own, his body had numerous scars and he was already giving up on school. Wherever he went he found enemies and tested their limits. Lodi had been arrested four times, all for assault, but never convicted. Shaw was sure he'd killed someone (at least one) but he didn't have any proof of it. At this point, he didn't know why he still associated with Lodi. It was a relationship that was going to get him into trouble. Or killed.
Or eaten and converted into one of the undead.
"I gotta piss," Shawn said.
Lodi
looked at him. "Can't you hold it?"
"Sure. Right up until we meet our first zombie."
Everett rolled his eyes.