I load a duffel bag with two more AR-15s, dehydrated rations, ramen, apples, ammo, spray paint, aspirin, hydrocodone, water, antibiotics and flu medicine. I take two coils of rope, as well as some flares, and a small tool kit, then strap a knife to my right leg and holster my pistol at my hip. As an afterthought, I grab two extra pairs of shoe laces, because if there’s one thing that will fuck your shit up in a world full of zombies, it’s a loose shoe. Okay, there’s a ton of other things that will fuck you up, but that’s a big one.
The fact that our truck hadn’t moved or been raided seems to indicate that Mavmart had been undisturbed since it burned. Marsha and I need to bring the car and get as much of this stuff as we can carry, but for now, I am Legion.
As I’m about to hop out of the trailer, I notice something spray-painted on the ground facing up toward me. It says ‘Stn nd Sm th mvgng lvs. Fllwng thm st n gns strt. Dyl’.
To anyone else, this would look like gibberish. But Doyle had created a remedial code to communicate with us in secret if we ever needed, and that code just leaves the vowels out, like some sixth grader inventing secret code.
Stan and Sam the Mavgang lives. Following them east in guns start. Doyle.
What about ‘guns start’ did he mean?
Just knowing Doyle survived is enough. And Stan must’ve gotten away, too, if he’s included in the message. He wants us to go east, but the guns thing sounds like a warning that I can’t figure out.
Inspiration hits like lightning and I jump to the ground, run to the cab of the truck, then climb in the still-opened doors. There, as I’d hoped, is a walkie-talkie left by one of the guys.
“Doyle, this is Sam, do you read me?”
Silence. The dull hiss of an empty channel.
I repeat my message.
Then a familiar voice cuts the air: “Sam you motherfucker, I never thought I’d be so happy to hear your voice!”
“Doyle! What the fuck happened? Did you burn down Mavmart?”
“Fuck yeah I did! Those bastards took off down Genesee Street, tails between their legs, and I followed ‘em.” Ahh, I realize. ‘fllwng thm st n gns strt’ means ‘following them east on Genesee Street’!
“Who are you with?”
“Just me, man. They got Brock and Dave and Gary with ‘em, or they’re dead maybe. I saw Stan get away in the fight, but then I lost him. How’d you get clear?”
That crazy fuckin’ Doyle!
I tell him, “They never thought to check on top of the cab.”
Doyle laughs. “Oh man, those fuckin yuppie idiots.” His laughter continues until he releases the talk button.
“Is Charisse alive?” I hope beyond hope.
“Who?”
“Charisse--the girl with the dark hair who took me to the bathroom while y’all were eating.”
Laughter. “Oh man, you still got the hots for her? Yeah she’s with them. All the girls were in a bus, and goddamn would I like to be on it with them!”
Relief floods me. She’s alive! Even though it isn’t real love, since I don’t know her, it’s the closest I’m going to get. I feel more purpose now than I’ve ever felt.
“What about that sonofabitch Mav-- did you kill that fucker?”
“Naw, that greasy dicklicker got out. Most of them got away. I killed maybe five or six of them, and then they high-tailed it outta there. I got me a motorcycle and followed.”
“Hope it’s not some loud ass Harley,” I say.
Doyle laughs. “Nah, it’s a Japanese riceburner. Honda Goldwing. Thing’s fuckin’ fuel injected and it kicks! Anyway, they already got where they’re going. Can you guess?”
East down Genesee, back toward the city. “I dunno, the SWAT armory?”
“Infinity Mall, man.”
“It’s overrun. Some people I met told me it was one of the first places that got hit.”
“They’re doin’ it. I’ve been scopin’ them for days, and they’re clearin’ it out faster than Chinese eat rice. Saw another group head into the mall, too. Not sure if they’re fighting in there or just keepin’ to themselves.”
“Okay, we need to meet up,” I say.
“They might have a scanner listening to us now,” Doyle cautions. “Hey Mav, if you’re listening, I’m going to break your goddamn neck!”
“Listen--meet me at our old base and we’ll go from there.” I mean the fire station, and only Doyle would know that. Unless Mav tortures the Team Doyle guys and they spill the beans…
“Good idea. Over and out!”
This is a pure dopamine rush. I can practically taste Charisse’s lips! Her eyes dance in my head, calling me into her world. I have no idea how I’ll get her out of there. But I’m not worried, because that mall is the third biggest mall in the United States, and there’s no way forty men could really cover it. Plus, I have Doyle!
I head down Kasson Road with my supplies, excited to tell Marsha the good news. When I’m still uphill from Mavmart, some peripheral movement snags my attention. I freeze and watch, and there it is--a shape creeping along the edge of the parking lot. He’s against the treeline behind the building, on the far side of Mavmart, coming from the neighboring Lowe’s. There’s enough haze that I can’t make out the figure, but it has to be Stan, which means half our team is still free!
I cut through the trees and across the stone lot, stepping as quietly as I can, passing the remnants of shipping bays and crumbled wall along the back of Mavmart. At the far end, where I last saw the guy, I stop and wait.
After no sign of movement, I creep along the shade against the building. The back wall stands almost in its entirety, since it’s heavy brick. Inside the former auto center, blasted shards of wall separate this from the rest of the store. I still see nothing, so I creep forward, my feet moving like ninjas across the soft ash.
I reach a gap in the wall leading to the main store, and after waiting and listening and seeing no movement for a long time, I step into the empty warehouse space.
Something presses against my head--a cold, round barrel. The cold click echoes through my head as someone pulls the hammer back on their revolver, and I freeze.
Chapter 39: Then
Something had gone horribly wrong.
First, Hasbro and I heard screams, and then gun shots, and then more screams. “Don’t shoot!” somebody screamed. “I’m bleeding.” “She’s bit!” “You shot me!”
Pandemonium ensued as the old folks and children surged away from the center out into the streets.
“No!” Hasbro shouted, wading into the oncoming crowd. “Everybody stop freakin’ out! Hold it down, people!”
Nobody listened. The situation went from bad to worse as unarmed people crossed our perimeters and fled into streets full of infected. More screams rose up on all sides--screams in hi-fi surround sound. The majority fled toward the church, which was two blocks away, loaded with shadows and walking dead. A few surged past us and their panic lead them into the waiting arms of hungry zombies. Screams came from the dark and I couldn’t figure out who was human and who wasn’t.
“Oh my fucking God, help them,” Seena screamed to me, Ornell, Johnny, the others on my team. We looked around impotently at each other. Behind us there were screams and everything had gone to shit, and ahead of us the night crawled with zombies and unarmed people. Muzzle flashes strobed the darkness, and I felt panic rising in me. Order had been lost, and there was no getting it back.
“Follow me,” I said to everyone in earshot. Without waiting to see who listened, I headed into the night to try to save some of the panicked folk.
The street was piled with bodies here, some of them moving. I stepped gingerly, putting them to rest with well-aimed shots. Screams all around made the scene hell. Adrenaline, the sound of my own heart, and the ear-shredding shriek of gunfire all melted into me. Blam. A zombie dropped. I looked back, relieved my group had stayed with me. Seena and Ma’Sheea moved in the center, clutching each other, whimpering, no longer the laughing, fearless fem
ales I’d met.
Blam Blam. Another figure dropped. I saw someone who was alive…a dark shadow. “It’s okay, come toward me,” I said. “I’ll protect you.” The shape tottered unsteadily in my direction and I almost shot him, but thankfully something stayed my hand. It was a man, an elderly man.
“Please help me!” he said.
“I got you,” I said. “Stay with us. We need to stop the panic and regroup.”
I saw a small shape under a street light ahead. A little girl it looked like, following an adult who’d just gotten dragged down by two zombies. She was frozen nearby, and others were moving toward her. I took off running and yelled to her, “Look out behind you!”
She screamed helplessly as the undead lurched for her. I took aim and fired, but missed. I fired again and missed again, then the little girl disappeared into the darkness of an empty lot.
“No, come back!” I shouted, planting my feet, aiming carefully, picking off the three closest zombies. Then I took out the two who were eating the adult.
“Little girl!” I called into the night. “Come to me, I’ll keep you safe.”
I looked back and my people were too far away. Johnny was moving to cover my six, but I knew I couldn’t follow that child into the darkness. I had to watch out for my people, first and foremost.
The only thing that gets you killed by stupid, slow-moving zombies is carelessness. As long as you pay attention, you’ll stay alive.
I peered into the shadows where the kid had run, but I couldn’t see her. I moved to the edge of the streetlight, but even without the glare I was night blind. “Can you hear me, little girl?” I shouted. There were shapes moving out there, but none of them were small. Shit. I turned back toward my people in failure. We were too far from the main group now; we had to get back. There were still screams and mayhem happening as our crossroads was invaded.
I started to think I was wrong to try to save the panicked people. Maybe I should’ve gone back to the group and helped sort out the chaos there. I’d only saved one person who ran away, and now the main group seemed to be decimated.
“Thanks for having my back, Johnny,” I told him as I got closer.
“You got it,” he said. “We gotta cover each other.”
Then a girl screamed. Back the way we’d come. At first, I didn’t know what was happening, I saw a girl falling to her knees, with the comical image of the distant Arby’s cowboy hat rising from the background directly behind her.
Realization stabbed like a cold metal spike into my heart--it was Ma’Sheea, barely visible on the edge of a streetlight, both her hands pawing frantically at a body lying on the ground beside her.
I screamed in rage and denial, and all of us ran to save her. The creature’s head came down on her leg too quickly before anyone could stop it. She must’ve stepped near some almost-dead zombie that I’d somehow missed. Her scream turned from fear to agony as Ma’Sheea fell backward and the zombie’s teeth chewed into her flesh.
Chapter 40: Now
I raise my hands carefully and tell my captor, “I mean you no harm.”
“Good, friend. Then real carefully ease your weapon to the ground, and your duffle bag as well,” the unfamiliar voice instructs. It isn’t Stan, that’s for sure.
I do as I’m told. The gun retreats from my skull and I hear the man shuffle backwards.
“Turn around slowly,” he says.
Turning around, I see a guy who’s clearly part of Mav’s Khaki Krew. He’s got a lot of dried blood on his left pant leg, so I know he must’ve been shot or bitten. I can’t see the wound under his jacket. He’s older than me, with frightened eyes that immediately narrow as he recognizes me.
“You sonofabitch!” he snarls. “You ruined it for us all.” He aims right at my heart. I don’t recognize the man, but I hadn’t really interacted with Mav’s goons much. And they all looked more alike to me than Hasbro’s black guys!
I tell him I had nothing to do with what happened, but he cuts me off.
“Shut up, Team Doyle,” he snorts. “You’re the shithead they all picked on. I almost felt bad for you.”
I look in his eyes. Who was he to call me a shithead? “You’re a gang of pathetic rapists,” I say. “Charisse told me. How do you live with yourselves?” And then I laugh. “And you called yourselves ‘Christians’! What a joke.”
The man tries to speak but coughs and clutches his abdomen.
“You’re hurt,” I observe.
He nods. “One of you fuckers shot me.”
“It wasn’t me. I took off as soon as you guys caught my friends.”
This doesn’t seem to register with him. “The women took care of us, and we took care of them. Just like in the Bible.” He coughs. “Mankind needs to reproduce. We aren’t rapists.”
Because my body’s angled slightly away from him, I know he hasn’t seen the knife strapped to my leg. I keep talking, pattering about my escape and coming back to see the fire damage, while my hand slides down to grab the hilt. He’s close enough and weakened enough that I can stab him if I’m fast. I can scarcely believe my thoughts--but this is kill or be killed. I remembered Doyle’s hand to hand combat instruction, and his motto: never hesitate.
My hand closes on the knife. I slide it an inch out of the sheath. His eyes catch the movement, flick down. He side-steps to see what I’m doing, then before I can say a word, he shakes his head sadly and says, “I was gonna let you live, Dundee.”
He pulls the trigger, shooting me point-blank in the chest.
Chapter 41: Then
I sprinted across the distance toward Ma’Sheea. I couldn’t shoot the zombie without risking her, so I ran up to it, grabbed it by the hair and wrenched its mouth off her leg. It snarled at me in the half-light and I jammed my nine in its mouth and blew its brains all over the pavement.
Seena sputtered next to her saying, “No no no. I’m so sorry,” over and over.
I knelt beside Ma’Sheea and put my arm around her and pulled her into my chest. “Oh Shea,” I said. “Oh girl. It’s my fault.”
“No, Sam. You stupid,” she said. “It not your fault. I wasn’t lookin’ at the ground, even though you tole us to. I walked right into him.”
I looked at the wound and saw it was just a surface bite on the ankle. It wasn’t like the movies where zombies always hit the artery and blood is squirting everywhere. I tried tearing a piece of my shirt off, but it wouldn’t tear. So finally, I took the whole shirt off and tied it around her leg as a tourniquet.
“We gotta take your leg, baby,” I said, feeling suddenly parental and trying to reassure her. “I think we can save you, before the infection spreads.”
“Oh God,” Seena squealed.
“I need a saw, or a machete, and something to cauterize the wound and stop the bleeding. Did you guys have any medical supplies?” Zombie 101 here--because it had to work, right? Cut off the limb that got bit and cauterize it. This shit happened in every single zombie movie ever made!
“You gotta ax Hasbro--he know what to do,” Ornell said. “He got supplies for it. Oh shit!” He began firing in the dark behind me, and I was muzzle flash blind and gunpowder deaf. I yelled out and squinted into the dark while my eyes tried to get rid of the strobe lights behind them, and finally saw the corpse lying about five feet behind me.
“Holy shit, thanks Ornell!” That was too damn close! I stood up, and sure enough none of us had noticed the zombies creeping in behind us. I shot four more in a rapid bloodbath. “Cover the road, guys; they’re getting up on us! Protect Ma’Sheea and I’ll find Hasbro.”
As I headed back toward the intersection, more zombies came at me from what used to be our group. In fact, there was no more group! The intersection and the gas stations were a mess of abandoned cars with undead wandering around between them. At least twenty or thirty zombies.
“Hasbro!” I shouted into the night, stupidly ensuring all of the undead would turn towards me.
This is when I checked my clip a
nd discovered it needed reloading. I had a pocketful of bullets, but this was all I had, and once those were out, I was fucked. I loaded my clip, backing away from the tides of undead.
Distant gunfire spattered from the north, and I realized the main group must’ve either headed back to the church or just panicked and scattered.
Back where my guys protected Ma’Sheea, they seemed to be handling the infected around them well. But I could never forgive myself if I headed to the church and came back to find my people dead. And the dead were overrunning this area rapidly.
I ran back to the group. “We need to move her to that Hess station, and fast. The others fled to the church.”
“I can’t walk; just leave me here,” Ma’Sheea said.
“Get up, Ma’Sheea,” I pulled her to her feet and put my arm around her for support. “Everybody reload, one at a time--we’re heading into a rough spot. You first, Ornell.”
We covered the distance to the Hess station without incident, taking out about twenty undead. Inside felt a lot safer, and like the first time I’d been able to breathe easy since this whole clusterfuck started.
“They just keep coming,” Seena said. “Where the fuck do they keep coming from?”
“Seena, you got to remember, there’s six hundred thousand people livin’ in the ‘Cuse,” Johnny said softly. “We’ve killed maybe three or four hundred so far, if that puts it in perspective.”
Max barricaded the doors by parking an Escalade outside right in front of them, then he climbed over the top and slithered through the “in” door.
“Get some food if you’re hungry, or drinks. I need to get to the church and find Hasbro, or someone who’s a nurse or a doctor or something,” I said. “I’m going out the emergency exit in back, and I need someone to stay there so you can let me in when I come back and knock.”
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