Haven: A Novel of the Zombie Apocalypse

by Brian Switzer

  His hand froze, then returned to his knee.

  "Get up," Danny barked.

  He lifted his head and studied Danny with bleary eyes.

  "I said get up!" Danny advanced two more steps. "Get the fuck on your feet! Get your hands up."

  He pushed himself to his feet, leaned back against the building, and raised his hands to shoulder height. Danny kept the gun trained on his face and glowered at him.

  The stranger eyed Danny, his face impassive. He had a mousy appearance- his eyes were small and beady, his chin sported long stringy whiskers, and his front teeth protruded in an overbite that was simply unfair in its severity. He wore a dirty flannel shirt under his coveralls and his feet were clad in a pair of broken down work boots. His hair shot out in every direction from underneath a greasy stocking cap.

  "Get those hands higher, and keep them up," Danny told him. Without taking his eyes off of him, Danny spoke to his team. "Joe, Tara, check the guy for weapons."

  The pair moved in and frisked him. Tara pulled a handgun out of the pocket he had reached for when they first approached him. She handed it to Danny. "That's all he had," she told him.

  "Check his ankles," Danny ordered. She nodded and bent to check his left ankle, then his right. Searching him the way Danny taught her, she shook out his pants cuff and patting down his calf in a circle, left to right. She stiffened, looked up, and gave the man a cold stare.

  He ignored her and gazed off into the distance.

  She pulled up his pants leg, reached inside his sock, and brought out a large folding knife. Tara glared at him and passed the knife to Danny. Hectic pink dots bloomed on her cheekbone.

  Danny touched her shoulder. “Don’t be mad at yourself. Something that small is easy to miss.”

  She nodded.

  He motioned Tess and Justin over, then turned to Joe. “Get us inside. I want to get off the street.”

  Joe went to work with his satchel. He took longer this time and twice Danny heard him mumbling curses, but two minutes later the door swung open. “Sorry,” Joe said. “My hands are cold.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Good job of getting us in there.” He spoke to the stranger. “We’re all going inside. Don’t make a sound unless you’re asked a question. You savvy?”

  The man nodded his head, calm and unconcerned about his situation.

  “When we get in there, Tess and Joe guard this guy. If he moves or makes noise, blow him away. I’ll clear the left side, Tara the middle, Justin you take the right side.” He motioned toward the door with his gun. The stranger turned and Danny pushed him toward the entrance.

  Once inside, he showed Tess and Joe where he wanted them and then set off for the left end of Dollar Hut.

  While he cleared his aisles he thought about the man they’d found. There was something about the guy that jangled his internal alarm. They found him sitting on the ground in broad daylight. A creeper or three could have wandered up and eaten the guy’s liver in a matter of minutes. Sitting around outdoors wasn’t a pastime anymore. And when a group of strangers pointed their guns at the guy he was calm and uncaring. He didn’t seem concerned about the way his afternoon was unfolding.

  Looters and survivors had picked through the merchandise on the shelves, but the store was stocked better than the one in Jasper. After he cleared the third row, he trotted back to the register area. Tara and Justin had made it back before him, and they both gave him the all-clear sign.

  “Tara, you go see what you can find. Justin, let’s go talk to our new friend.”

  Some Success

  * * *

  Danny pointed at a seat near the checkout aisles. “Sit,” he instructed the stranger.

  The man complied.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Neuberg.”

  Danny raised his eyebrows. “New-Burg? Spell it.”

  “N-E-U-B-E-R-G. Neuberg.”

  “And your given name?”

  “Steven.”

  Danny nodded. “What’s the deal, Steven? Have you got a death wish?”

  “How so?”

  “Sitting out in the open, not paying attention to what’s going on around you? Seems like a good way to become supper to a couple of creepers.”

  “Creepers? Oh, you mean the zoms.”

  “Creepers, zoms, biters. Whatever the hell you want to call them.”

  “I’d have been fine had your little group had left me alone.”

  “How’s that?”

  Steven sighed. “The zoms have to recognize us as food before they can eat us, friend. They do that by seeing our shape, our face, or hearing the sounds we make. They don’t perceive someone bent over or curled up as a human shape.”

  Danny was taken aback. “That’s a new one for me.”

  Steven nodded. “So by sitting quietly with my head on my knees and my face hidden, I was in no danger.” There was an advertisement for produce taped to the cabinet he sat next to. He traced the outline of the fruit with his index finger. “I really don’t see how you can be alive after all this time and not be more aware of how they function.”

  Danny snorted and resisted the urge to bash Steven in the face with his pistol. “I guess I’ve been too busy putting them down to spend time documenting their behavior.”

  “I’ve killed zoms. Killed plenty of them. But if you want to dominate a species it helps to know what makes it tick.”

  Danny had a retort ready, but in a rare moment of self-clarity chose not to go down that particular rabbit hole and instead focus on the matter at hand.

  “So, why are you hanging out by yourself in front of the Purcell Dollar Hut on a cold February afternoon?”

  “My mates dropped me off in town this morning. Purcell was my assignment today.”

  That statement begged such a deluge of questions Danny wasn’t sure which to ask first. “Your mates?”

  “My teammates. We’re a team, we work together and watch out for one another.”

  “How many are on this team?”

  “Seven. Cully makes eight- he’s the owner, and there’s seven of us that are on his team.”

  Danny looked at him slack-jawed, and Tara broke in. “Danny, can I talk to you a second? In private?” She looked sideways at Steven, a move Danny interpreted as ‘where the weirdo can’t hear us’.

  He tasked Joe and Justin with watching Steven and walked outside with Tara. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder in Steven’s direction and chortled. “Can you believe this fucking guy? His story just keeps getting weirder.”

  Tara spoke in a low, gentle tone. “That’s true, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is the guy’s not a threat to us. There’s a shopping cart’s worth of stuff we need back here. Forget that guy. Let’s get this loot in the truck and get on to the next place.”

  Danny considered a moment, then nodded his head. “You’re right. Let’s load up.”

  Joe kept an eye on Steve while the others made short work of filling a shopping cart and unloading the contents into the truck. As they closed the liftgate Justin pointed to the road. “Ah, shit. We were almost out of here,” he said with a shake of his head.

  They had caught the attention of a trio of creepers; they shuffled across the parking lot, reaching in their direction and snarling.

  Danny grinned at Justin. “Why hell, boy, there’s only three of ‘em. I can put three down and not spill my beer.” He surveyed the area to make sure no others were around and looked over at Tara. “You take the little one on the right.”

  “You know I will,” she grinned.

  They moved into the middle of the parking lot. Tara dog-whistled to entice the dead in their direction and not toward Justin and Tess.

  The one on their right had been a full-grown adult, but it must have bordered on little-person status. Danny doubted it was much over four feet tall. Its long hair was matted and filthy, with chunks torn out at the scalp. The other two were garden-variety ghouls. Their eyes were milky-white and they shambled forw
ard in an awkward and uneven gait. They were gray and had open and running sores on their arms and faces. They were splattered with dried blood and each had jagged bite wounds suffered when they still lived. When Danny and Tara moved away from the truck the dead moaned eagerly and clambered toward them at a faster pace.

  Danny waited, his weight on the balls of his feet, knife at his side. When the lead creeper was close and reaching for him, he grabbed one of its arms in each hand. It was already leaning forward, so it was a simple matter to yank it toward him as hard as he could, step to the side, and fling it on past (taking care not to fling his knife along with it). It sailed over the pavement, landing in a heap ten feet away. He took two big steps toward the second one, bringing the blade up and around in an arc as he stepped. It reached for him. He finished the arc and brought the knife down hard on its skull. There was resistance but he pushed through it; he heard a wet squelch and the blade disappeared up to the hilt in its head. As he was turning back toward the first one he saw Tara put her’s down out of the corner of his eye.

  They’d learned early on that the dead didn’t possess the motor skills to get up off the ground with any ease. That’s why often times they threw the ghouls down or kicked their legs out from under them. The first creeper was trying to push its upper body up off the ground, a move made more difficult by the snapped left forearm it suffered when it landed on the hard pavement. He approached it from behind, reached down and placed his knife in its ear. It pulled away and tried to turn toward him, snapping its teeth and growling.

  “Oh no, fucker; you keep looking forward.” He placed his boot atop its head, driving it back to the pavement and holding it there before reinserting the blade. Holding it in its ear with one hand, he hit the hilt hard with his other, driving it deep into the creepers brain. He twisted his hand a half-circle in each direction, then pushed hard. A geyser of thick, black fluid shot out its other ear.

  “Oh, gross,” Tara cried, covering her mouth with her hand.

  Danny gave a hearty laugh. “Well, I ain’t seen that before.” He pulled his foot off the creeper’s head and wiped his knife blade clean on its tattered shirt. He stood up, sheathed his knife, and looked around; the area was clear, He caught Tara’s eye. “Tell them to fire up the truck, and you meet me inside the store.”

  Steven

  * * *

  Danny squared his shoulders and gave Steven a disparaging look. “Here’s the deal, New-Berg. I’d just as soon shoot you for being weird, but I’d have to listen to the girls complain all the way home, and I don’t have the stomach for that. So we’re going to let you live.” His eyes grew cold and his tone gruff. “Don’t make me change my mind. Once the sound of the truck fades count to five hundred. Until then, you stay right there in that seat. We’ll leave your knife and gun out on the far side of the parking lot. Go get them, and you can go back to sitting in front of the store and waiting for your coach or whatever.

  “This is the important part. If I see you again, I will assume you followed me. I’ll have to shoot you, and I won’t care what the girls say. So when it’s time for you to leave, you pick a different direction from ours and avoid any tragedy. Savvy?”

  Steven nodded his head to indicate that he was indeed savvy.

  Danny nodded to Tara and Tess. “You go get in the truck. I’ll be right behind you.”

  After they left, he addressed Steven one last time. “Okay partner, that’s my cue. I’m off like a cheerleader’s panties on prom night. You remember what I told you, now. Don’t do anything that’ll get you killed.”

  He turned to the door, hesitated, and turned back. “Hey. One more thing. Where are you and your team staying?”

  Steven gave him a sly expression. “That was a lot of soap and tampons you carted out of here. Where are you guys staying?”

  Danny nodded. “Uh-huh.” And turned and walked out the door.

  The Bar

  * * *

  At two in the afternoon, in the town of Carl Junction, they hit the mother lode.

  They drove past a motley collection of five or six creepers lolling around at the junction of highway 69 and the road that took them into town but seen none of the dead after that. The town’s Dollar Hut appeared to be in good shape from the parking lot. After gaining entry they put down two creepers at the front of the store, but when they cleared it they found no more.

  Tara squealed when she found the personal care section, bringing everyone running with their guns drawn. But squeal was a happy one- the shelves held enough items to last the group a long time. They took turns, with two people standing guard and the other three loading the truck, and they had the section cleaned out in little more than half an hour. Joe and Justin found a stack of pallets out back; they threw three on top to keep the loot from blowing out of the bed.

  Danny had just finished tying the last pallet in place Joe chuckled. He gave the genial farmer a quizzical look.

  Joe pointed at a building on the other side of the road. “That’s the place we need to be.”

  Danny peered at the brick building on the other side of the road; a sign painted on the glass door read LARRY’S TAVERN. It read liquor beer, wine in smaller letters below.

  Joe gave Tara a broad smile. "What you think, Tara? Did we earn a drink today?"

  Tara looked at Danny and shrugged her shoulders. "If it's okay with Danny, it's okay with me."

  Danny thought for a moment. He didn't see any problem with going across the street and having a drink or two. But if something happened, it would be his ass with Will back at the quarry.

  "Come on, Danny. Let’s get our booze on!" Tess said, and the next thing he knew all four of them are clamoring at him.

  "All right, all right. Get off me. Two drinks each. That's it. I'm not taking a truckload of drunks back home. And you guys have to clear the place, I'm not going to get involved.”

  "Yay! Tess cheered.

  "Justin, drive the truck over and park right in front of the bar. If there's a disaster in there I want us to be able to get away."

  "You got it, boss," Justin said, his tone happy. He jumped in the driver seat of the Ford and wheeled it across the street. The others trailed behind, watching for people and creepers.

  The tavern had no windows, just the door. There was no way to tell from the outside whether looters had hit it. Joe went into his satchel and pushed the door open a short time later. Danny stayed on the sidewalk and watch the street until he heard Tess call out from inside.

  "Clear," she yelled.

  He said a brief prayer and entered.

  Lavelle

  * * *

  The inside of the tavern was pretty much intact. Two barstools had fallen over, and cracks marred a long mirror on the wall behind the bar. A stench assaulted his nostrils as soon as he walked in; the harsh, wet smell of body odor mixed with rotten cabbage that can only be old beer. "God damn," Danny said, wrinkling his nose. "I've been in my share of bars— and his share, and his share, and his share— and they never smell good. But this place smells like the backside of a water buffalo’s ball sack.”

  "Yeah," Joe said. "A bunch of bottles exploded in back. They probably got too hot over the summer and the pressure inside caused them to

  burst. You're right though, that's quite a stink."

  "It's not like we’ll be in her all day, boys," Tess said in a playful voice. "Man up and deal with the odor long enough to slam a couple drinks.

  I'll be the bartender."

  Tara eyed her little sister with suspicion. "And just what do you know about mixing drinks at 18 years old, little girl?"

  Tess shot her sister a saucy grin. "You'd be surprised.”

  Danny sized Tess up, then scowled. "I'll pour the drinks.” He waved Tess out from behind the bar. “What's everybody having?"

  Ten minutes later everyone was well into their second drink. The door swung open, startling Danny. He touched his hand to his pistol and stared.

  A burly man with a ragged head
of red hair and matching goatee stepped into the doorway. He smiled, revealing a mouth full of brown and broken teeth. “Well lookee here. The party started without us. Mind if we join you?”

  Without waiting for an answer he walked in, followed by three more as rough and ragged-looking as he was. They each wore pistols and one had a long gun over his shoulder. “Hidy,” The burly leader said, “The name’s Lavelle, but my friends call me Lev.”

  Danny was alone behind the bar. The tavern’s entryway narrowed to an aisle that ran the length of the room. Joe and Justin sat on a pair of stools across from Danny. Behind them and across the aisle, Tara and Tess sat at a four-top table.

  He gave the stranger a nod. “Nice to meet you, Lavelle. My name’s Danny.”

  The stranger sat at the bar, next to Justin. One of the other men stood behind him- he wasn’t as beefy as the big redhead, but he was trying. Danny recognized the body type from his hard-partying days before the outbreak- guys who used to be in shape and then let themselves go. They were big but not flabby; their guts and the flesh hanging from their arms would be solid, and they would be strong. But not as strong as they thought.

  The other two men sat themselves down at a table next to the girls.

  Lavelle wore a greasy jean jacket over a flannel shirt. He pulled the jacket around his bulging gut. “Brrr! It’s colder than a witch’s tit in here, Danny. You should have started a fire in the fireplace yonder.” He pointed to the har side of the room where a filthy pit had been dug out of the tavern wall.

  “Not going to be here long enough for that. We just stopped for a couple of drinks, then we’re getting back on the road.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, watcha drinkin’?”

  Danny pointed at the bottle. “Whiskey for me.”

  Lavelle slapped the bar with a meaty palm. “Whiskey! Hells yeah. Pour me a double, and one for yaself.”

  Danny nodded. He poured two shots, then combined those in a cheap-looking whiskey tumbler and placed it in front of him. “There you are.”