Deadlocked 3

by A. R. Wise

  DEADLOCKED 3

  By A. R. Wise

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2012 Aaron Wise

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  CHAPTER ONE - ICE CREAM SOCIAL

  Kim waved at me before she closed the door to the dock house and bolted it. I waited for a second and debated my decision to leave. Laura's injuries were severe, and the girls would be helpless without someone to protect them. I was leaving them behind to face off against whatever monster took interest.

  I slid my baseball bat between my back and backpack and then saddled the SSR Dirt Bike I'd taken from the salvage yard earlier. It belonged to the owner of the yard, Terrence, but we found his body hours before while searching through the junkyard.

  The bike's orange and red fender was dulled from use and the tires had lost the majority of their tread, but it still ran like new. Terrence wasn't great at keeping things lustrous, but he was a damn good mechanic. I started the bike and got ready to leave.

  The barbed wire I'd strung around the end of the bat scratched at my neck and I quickly pulled it back out. I'd washed it off after the last time I killed a zombie with it and I hadn't used it since strapping the wire on, but the thought of those barbs scratching into my neck and exposing me to bacteria was unnerving. I took a rag out of the backpack of supplies I'd brought and wrapped it over the end of the bat.

  I secured everything once again and made sure the bat was comfortable against my back. Then I looked one last time at the dock house. The guilt of leaving them resurfaced, but I assured myself they would be fine. It wouldn't take me long to get to my mom's apartment, and if she wasn't there I'd come right back. The girls wouldn't be alone long.

  They'd be fine.

  I took off and headed up Martin Luther King Boulevard to the city. It's a decision I've never forgiven myself for.

  The city was dead and sat silent on the landscape like a carcass left to rot away, alone and pitiful. The Baylor Projects were ominously empty. The wind was the only sound that escaped them as it whipped through the parking lot and thin alleys that separated the tall apartments. The doors were boarded up and large red 'X's had been painted over them. I stared at the odd symbols as I passed, curious of their meaning. The roar of my bike's engine lit up the vacant city with a breath of life it direly needed.

  Where was everyone? How did the city become so vacant so quickly? Nearly a million people lived here just two days ago, but the only sign left of them was the floating bags of fast food that rolled down the street like urban tumbleweeds.

  That's when the sound of the helicopter grew loud enough to hear over the engine beneath me. It hovered high above the buildings that flanked the uphill road and I heard the bass of a man's voice try to call to me. I stopped the bike and turned it off to hear what he was trying to say. I waved away a few flies that took interest in me as I paused and listened.

  "…violation of mandatory evacuation," he yelled from the megaphone as he leaned out of the helicopter. Even though he was high above, the circling blades stirred the air and sent a wave of foul scents my way. The smell was fetid but sweet.

  I put my hand over my eyes to shield the sun and squinted at the military copter. The government hadn't done a lot to earn my trust as of late and the threat of a mandatory evacuation was laughable. I flipped them the bird and started the bike again.

  The helicopter followed me as I drove up the boulevard and turned onto 23rd Avenue. It was there that I first saw the carnage that infested the city. A fence had been erected and concrete barriers supported it on either side. It stretched from one end of the avenue to the other and trapped a horde of zombies within. The sickly sweet stench I'd smelled a moment ago now hit me with a near physical force. It was the smell of death.

  The zombies that had washed up on the shore of my Dad's salvage yard didn't smell like this. Those waterlogged creatures stank of seaweed, but the salt water masked their odor. The ones trapped on 23rd Avenue had been rotting in the hot southern sun for too long. The smell was sickening.

  My bike skid to a stop beside the fence and I collided with one of the concrete blocks. The force hurt my right leg, but it was a minor inconvenience compared to what happened next.

  A gunshot boomed above and I felt the force of a bullet pass through me. The jolt hurt my shoulders and my bike bounced as the bullet passed through the seat.

  The zombies screamed and shook the fence in hungry desperation. A small, young girl reached her hand through the chain fence and grabbed onto the handle of the bike. She pulled Terence's prized SSR to the fence and I jumped off to avoid the prying hands of the creatures beside her.

  I thought I'd been shot, but I didn't feel any pain. I didn't have time to wonder. The fucker in the helicopter was trying to kill me and I had to find shelter. There was an ice cream shop on the corner that I'd been to with my mother in years past. It was one of our favorite stops during shopping trips in this part of town and now it was my only hope for survival. The entryway to the building was on my side of the fence and had a short series of steps that led up to the front door inside of a stone alcove. I dashed to hide there and another bullet exploded in the pavement where I'd been standing.

  "Mother fucker!" I shouted as I ran.

  I slammed into the door to the shop and pressed myself against it as tight as I could to avoid the eyesight of the man that was trying to kill me. I could still see a swathe of sky though, and it wouldn't take long for the helicopter to find a good vantage point.

  The shop's inner door was glass, but there was a second, accordion gate that was locked. A plywood sign was tied to the gate and had a white 'X' painted over a similar black marking. It was decorated with odd symbols scrawled at the corners that I didn't understand. I tugged at the gate with no luck and then looked at the window to my left that featured a display of an unusually articulate mannequin sitting in a lawn chair, eating a plush ice cream cone.

  I pulled out my bat. There was a gash on the head that had torn away some of the cloth and left a fresh wound in my pine weapon. The helicopter assassin's bullet had hit the bat and deflected into my backpack. I didn't have time to ponder my luck; I wasn't safe yet. I used the bat to break the window.

  Glass rained down in large chunks as the window continued to break apart for several seemingly endless seconds. The mannequin on the other side slouched as shards of glass bounced off him and down to the concrete steps below where they shattered further. It was a messy, dangerous entrance, but I could hear the helicopter moving into position above. The air in the intersection began to spin, pulling debris into a miniature tornado as the helicopter came closer.

  The zombies on the other side of the fence had become enraged. Terrence's bike still rumbled and the creatures were angered by the sound of its motor. They pulled it to the fence as if it were a living creature they wanted to consume. The fence rattled as the monsters pulled at the bike and their grasping hands occasionally revved the throttle. The wheel screamed against the fence as it spun and jolted the bike up until it lost traction and fell back down again. This happened several times and alerted more of the trapped zombies. They rushed the fence in droves and I could see the faces of trampled, gasping creatures pile up beneath the newcomers. A mound of flesh began to form against their side of the fence and every new wave of creatures came closer to the top.

&nb
sp; I broke off the remaining shards of glass that stuck out from the edge of the window to give myself a safe handhold. Then I threw the bat inside before I climbed in and pushed the mannequin out of the way. It was surprising heavy, as if made of wood, and the goofy smile painted on its face mocked me as I struggled to move it out of the way. It finally fell to the floor inside of the shop and I jumped in after.

  The store stank of rotten milk. I'm not sure why I didn't think it would. Part of me was expecting to jump in and find a banquet of delicious flavors waiting for me to plunder. Instead, I was met with a gut-turning stench and the sight of buckets of melted ice cream inside the row of glass counters. The smell was rotten but sweet, only a minor departure from the stench of rotted flesh that pervaded 23rd Avenue.

  The horde outside had reached the top of the fence and tumbled over like water sliding across the edge of a dam. More and more of them rode the wave and the street began to fill with shambling, starving corpses. A few of them struggled with the spinning dirt bike, but others turned their attention to me. They surged into the alcove outside the shop and started to crawl through the display window. The broken glass that had concerned me was no worry to them. They let it shred the flesh of their arms as they climbed through.

  I ran into the back section of the shop, past a swinging door, to where the freezer was located. It was a small area with a desk piled high with unopened mail, pictures of someone's family, and a computer. There was a door in the back that stood beside a larger aluminum sliding door that I presumed was a loading area. I figured it led to the alley, but I had no doubt the helicopter's sharp shooter anticipated my exit.

  I swiped the papers, pictures, and computer off the desk and then slid it across the tiles to press against the swinging door to the front of the shop. It was a heavy desk, but if I could move it alone I was sure it wouldn't hold the zombies back for long.

  Next, I went to the sliding loading door and unlatched the bottom. I stood to the side and carefully lifted it, making sure I was out of view of anyone trying to peer in. The noise and wind from the helicopter swept in through the opening and I knew my suspicion was correct. He was waiting there to take me out.

  The zombies banged against the swinging door to the back room and the desk skid across the floor in bursts. I ran and slid on the floor so that my shoulder slammed into my side of the desk. It caused the door to smash into whatever was on the other side and I heard a zombie hit the floor.

  My only chance for escape was the freezer.

  It wasn't locked, which was my first lucky break in a while. The inside was dark and reeked worse than the store. There was liquid on the floor, but I didn't see what I was stepping in before I closed the door and enveloped myself in darkness.

  I could hear the desk move outside and I grabbed onto the handle inside of the freezer to keep the door shut. I didn't think these creatures knew how to use handles, but I didn't want to take any chances. I anchored my left foot against the wall and pulled on the handle as hard as possible when the zombies broke through my meager desk barrier and stormed into the backroom of the ice cream shop.

  They never tried to open the freezer door. The noise of the helicopter drew their attention and they ran to the partially opened loading dock. Next came the sound of a gunshot from outside. I'd been right. The sharp shooter was waiting for me to come out the back and when the first zombie appeared he took his shot. This angered them more. I could hear the creatures thunder past my freezer and into the alley. There weren't any more gunshots though. My hunter must have assumed I'd been eaten.

  It took a while before I was convinced that the creatures were gone. I finally eased my grip on the handle and then banged against the door once to illicit a reaction on the other side. It was quiet, but I was still nervous to leave the freezer. I'd dropped my bat in the back office when I moved the desk and would be defenseless if a zombie was waiting on the other side of the door.

  I opened it as quiet and slow as I could and peered out. The room was empty from what I could see, but I heard the sound of glass being crunched beneath the feet of something shuffling around in the front of the store. I could see my bat, near the overturned desk, about five feet away from the freezer.

  The door's hinges grinded as I opened it and I had to move it faster to stop the sound. I didn't think the creature in the front of the store heard me and I crept out to pick up my bat.

  The backroom was empty and the noise from the helicopter had faded away. I'd managed to stay alive, but my escape was still in question. The front of the store wasn't an option since the zombies managed to create a corpse ramp to climb over the fence. The alley was my only way out, but the creatures that had gone out the loading door didn't just disappear.

  I could hear them growling outside as they walked around the alley in search of their lost meal. I'd have to deal with them and sneak through the city if I was going to reach Mom's apartment on 13th Avenue. It didn't seem far away, normally, but when you threw a few thousand zombies and roaming attack helicopters in the way it made for a shitty trip.

  "Not going to get there just standing around, Billy-boy," I said to myself and unwrapped the barbed end of my bat. "Batter up."

  CHAPTER TWO - THE BAD GUY

  There were a lot more zombies in the alley than I'd anticipated.

  The creatures had raised the loading door when they left the shop and it was a three-foot drop to the alley below. I could see at least ten wandering around out there. Some of them were headed down the street, toward the docks, but it was a long way to the girls and I didn't worry about them going that far. They probably wouldn't make it much farther than the pharmacy before giving up and aimlessly moping around. That meant I would have to deal with them later. I didn't look forward to that.

  I looked around for anything I could steal from the store that might be of use, but nothing caught my eye. My plan to run out of the shop and fight a horde of zombies got worse the longer I thought about it, but I couldn't just stay here and wait for them to go away. For all I knew, they would never leave.

  The drawer of the overturned desk had broken open and I carefully went to see what was inside. The desk, which had fallen on its back, was dangerously close to the swinging door that led to the front of the shop where I could still hear something moving. I had to be careful not to make any sound. The wooden panel on the front of the drawer had been knocked free when the creatures climbed over, but it was still attached on one side by a single nail. I had to pry it off and set the drawer's face down at my feet. I gritted my teeth and waited for any sign that the zombie in the next room had heard me before I looked in the drawer.

  Cigarettes, a lighter, Scotch tape, paper clips, and more pens than I knew what to do with were all I found. I couldn't imagine how a pen would be useful, but I took the lighter and the cigarettes. I hatched a plan.

  There was a fire alarm on the ceiling above me. I knew it would be battery operated and I could use it to distract the creatures. The only problem was figuring out how to get it down without making too much noise.

  I carefully climbed onto the desk and teetered on it as I dared to stand up. I could barely touch the white plastic detector and had to stand on the tips of my toes to get a good grip. The creature in the other room moved closer to the door and I could hear its footsteps approaching. Any second it would come through and I desperately tried to twist the detector off the ceiling before that happened.

  It popped free with a loud crack and I had to hurry to get down. There was a set of wires that connected it to what I assumed was a sprinkler system but the connector unlatched easily and I was able to get off the desk before the swinging door opened.

  I ducked to the side as the zombie came in. The swinging door smacked against the desk and I was able to lie down on the other side, between the top of the desk and the wall, when the creature shuffled in to see what had made the sound. I could hear it sniffing and growling only a few feet away. I was facing the floor, so if it found me I would’v
e been helpless, but it continued to walk through the backroom to the loading door. It jumped down to join the other zombies that wandered the alley.

  It was another close call and I started to wonder how many of those I would have before my luck ran out. I could only hope I still had some luck left because the escape plan I'd concocted would only work with a heaping helping of it.

  I started smoking when I was 14 as part of my rebellious youth. At the time, I lived in my mom's apartment and she was righteously indignant about how I was abusing my body. I gave up smoking as soon as I moved in with my dad, and honestly, the only reason I ever started was because it pissed her off so much. However, one thing that underage smoking taught me was which types of smoke detectors would be set off by cigarettes. There were the old-as-dirt variety that detected heat, others that looked for bright sources of light, and ones that detected smoke particles. My mom's apartment had been outfitted with the smoke detecting type, but I bought several of the photosensitive variety and replaced all of the ones in her apartment with them. Then, when she came home from work, I told her that the Super had stopped in and upgraded our apartment's detectors. This bit of deviousness had made it possible for me to smoke in my bedroom at night and then simply blame the lingering odors on our inconsiderate neighbor's open windows. It was a lesson in useless knowledge that suddenly became incredibly important as I fiddled with the smoke detector that I knew, from experience, could be set off by cigarette smoke.

  I got the tape out of the drawer and used it to stick several cigarettes to the face of the detector. I arranged them in a circle with the filters facing out. The tips of the cigarettes touched and formed a small circle around the vent in the center of the detector. I happily inspected my creation and tossed the tape back into the desk drawer.

  "Billy," I whispered to myself, "if this works, you're the smartest mother fucker on the planet. If it doesn't, well, you're a fucktard and I hate you."