Deadlocked 3

by A. R. Wise

  I stood up and casually walked in. The bells hanging above the door jingled as I entered. I kept the pistol tucked in the back of my pants, my right hand on the hilt. The man that killed my mother was less than ten yards away.

  "Billy," said Levon. He smiled at me and I pretended to be happy to see him too.

  "Hey man, did you find the stuff?" I asked and looked away from the officer. If he saw the hate in my eyes it would give away my intent.

  "No man, it's all gone. We found the spot where it's supposed to be, but it's empty," said Mark. His chair was in the aisle ahead of me, sitting between my mother's killer and my line of sight. Levon's shotgun rested on a shelf between him and the officer. I saw the murderer look at it.

  The twins had collected an impressive amount of food to take with us, but they'd let their guard down to do it. Levon carried an armful of Cheezits down the aisle toward me, leaving his shotgun behind.

  "This dude's been helping us out. He broke his foot, but I figured I could carry him," said Levon. "You won't believe this shit, bro. He's headed down to the same docks we are!"

  Levon moved in front of his brother, blocking my line of sight. All I could see behind him was the cop's hands reaching for the shotgun.

  "Get down!" I screamed.

  "Freeze," said the cop at the same time.

  Levon ducked to the side and dropped his load of crackers. The cop had the shotgun pointed at the back of Mark's head. He used his left hand to move the chair to provide better cover and Mark was left to face us head on with the cop ducking down behind him.

  "I'll kill him."

  "What the fuck, Chuck?" said Levon as he scrambled to stand back up. "What the hell you doing?"

  "I'm making the best of a bad situation." The thin, muscular cop crouched behind Mark's chair.

  "Mother fucker," said Mark. "We were trying to help you."

  "Sorry, buddy," said the cop. "For once in my life, it ain't the niggers I was worried about. It's your friend there."

  "Who? Billy?" asked Levon.

  "Yep. He's already killed a couple of us."

  "Williams and Thomas?" I asked.

  "No. You know who I'm talking about. My guys." He pointed at his officer's cap. "The other cops. Dave and Ron. Down at the docks."

  "How many people you kill today, man?" asked Levon under his breath.

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Bullshit. You killed them, but we're the ones that'll get the last laugh. We're going to kill everyone you love. We're going to kill them one by one. We'll make them beg for their lives."

  "You're doing a hell of a job convincing me to kill you," I said.

  "Don't fuck with me or else. I've got the upper hand here," said the cop. His hazel eyes peered at me over the back of Mark's chair. "We know you’ve been tracking us."

  I took a step forward. "I don't know what you're talking about, asshole."

  "Stay back. Stay the fuck back." He tried to move the wheelchair backward but Mark had flipped the brake levers and it sat still. "I know they sent you. I know they sent you to kill us. You're some kind of fucking assassin. Well, you're not getting me."

  Mark looked to his right and made a stern face at his brother. They were communicating about something while I was focusing on the cop.

  "I'm no killer."

  "Yeah right. I heard about what you did to Dave and Ron. I heard all about it." He tapped his right ear and I saw that he was wearing an earpiece similar to the one Captain Reagan had. His was a different color, but they were the same model. "I figured you out. These dumb niggers gave away your plan."

  "You should stop using that word," said Mark. "We don't like it when crackers say it."

  Levon moved to the left.

  "Shut up," said the cop. "I know you've been chasing me. Well, here I am. You found me. Too bad you sent the niggers in first. They fucked it all up for you."

  "That's it," said Mark. He jerked his head to the left and reached up with his right hand to grab the barrel of the shotgun. He pulled it forward and pointed it between Levon and me.

  Levon dove to the left as the shotgun blasted. I heard him yell in pain as he fell and pellets from the shot broke the window behind me. I rushed forward and watched as Mark and the cop struggled for the shotgun. Then Mark lost his grip.

  The cop fell backward with the double barrel pointed directly at my chest as I moved around Mark's chair. Chuck started to laugh and used his one good leg to push himself back.

  "I win, you piece of shit," he said and took careful aim as I calmly walked toward him. "Put your gun down. I win, dumbass. I win. I'll shoot you."

  He pulled the trigger on his empty gun.

  "You wasted the last shell, buddy," I said and grinned down at him. "Now it's my turn."

  The desperate man threw the gun at me and I batted it away. He struggled to stand up but slipped again and again in his fumbling escape. I walked behind him, the gun pointed at his head.

  "Who are you?" he asked with a whimper.

  "I'm not who you think I am. I'm not an assassin; I'm just someone's kid."

  He backed into a counter where I cornered him. "Please don't kill me." He said those words again and again as he closed his eyes and held his hands over his face.

  I debated where to shoot him. A shot to the gut would leave him in pain, like my mother. It seemed the right thing to do and I lowered my aim to take my revenge.

  He whimpered and cowered. My finger caressed the trigger. I was about to avenge my mother. I would make him pay for what he did to her. It was in my power to kill him, and I had every right.

  His sobs were pathetic as he trembled in the face of death.

  "You killed my mother."

  "What?" he asked behind his arms.

  "You shot her in the stomach. Earlier today. She came in here and you shot her."

  "I don't know what you're talking about. I never shot anyone here."

  "Don't fucking lie to me."

  He lowered his arms and looked at me. His pitiful eyes made me hate him even more. "The one with the long, dark hair?"

  I nodded.

  "Fine," he said with newfound bravery. "Do it then. Shoot me. Get it over with. Just fucking shoot me. If I were in your shoes, that's what I'd do. So get it over with. Just kill me."

  I wanted to.

  "No." It wasn't restraint that kept me from pulling the trigger, and it wasn't a noble act. I wanted nothing more than to see him suffer for what he'd done. He deserved to bleed out on the floor for hours. He deserved to get his knees broken, his teeth ripped from his skull, his eyes gouged out. I wanted to give him what he deserved.

  "What the fuck, Billy?" asked Levon from behind me. "Shoot his ass."

  "No." I put the gun down and took a step back.

  "Why the hell not?" asked Mark.

  I pointed up. "Because my folks are up there looking down on me, and I want to make them proud." I turned to Levon and said, "Find some rope. We're going to tie this piece of shit up and let Reagan know he's here. They've been looking for these guys."

  "Here," said Mark. He tossed a roll of duct tape to his brother. "I grabbed this earlier. You can use it to tie him to something."

  "Get your dumb ass up." Levon grabbed the cop's arm and pulled him up. "You're one lucky mother fucker. If it were me, I'd shoot your dick off. Not my boy here though, he's a good guy. He's the real deal, man. Fucking boy scout and shit."

  Levon held the cop's hands behind his back and started to tape them. I looked into Chuck's eyes and felt more hatred for him than anyone else I'd ever met.

  "You got a good grip on him?" I asked.

  "Yeah, why?" asked Levon.

  I cracked Chuck against the side of the head with the butt of my pistol. His brow burst into a mess of blood that rolled down the side of his face as he gasped in pain.

  I looked up and said, "Sorry. Hope you're still proud."

  Levon laughed as he searched the cop for any other weapons. It was a lesson Reag
an had taught us well. He found a bag of powder and a vial of liquid that he showed to me with a massive smile on his face. "Look at this, Bro. It's that antibiotic shit you wanted us to get. He had it all the time. Little fuckwad." He reached into a second pocket and pulled his hand back in sudden aggravation. "What the hell is that?"

  Chuck laughed and said, "Gotcha."

  "What is it?" I asked.

  Levon showed me a drop of blood on the tip of his finger. "Something in his pocket stuck me." He pulled the pocket's opening wider and carefully dug out the offending item. It was a ring with a tack taped to one side. "What the shit is this thing for?"

  "You'll find out soon enough," said Chuck.

  "Yeah? So will you, piggy." Levon put the ring on his pinkie finger, which was the only one small enough to fit it on. Then he punched Chuck in the side a few times to dig the needle in.

  "What's it for?" asked Levon. "Or should I keep hitting you?"

  Chuck gasped and coughed as he tried to explain. "It's just a ring. I just taped a needle to it for fighting with. I didn't have anything else."

  "Man, that's fucking weak." Levon took the simple ring off and flicked it through the air. It disappeared behind a set of shelves nearby.

  He pulled the cop up against a pillar support in the center of the store and walked in circles around the pole to tape him up. "There you go, Chuck. Nice and snug."

  "You're just going to leave me here?" asked Chuck.

  "Yeah, you tried to shoot me." Levon put a finger through a hole in the sleeve of his shirt. There was a small blot of blood from a scrape that the shotgun blast had managed to cause on his right shoulder. "You can hang here and rot for all I care."

  I took the earpiece off of Chuck and inspected it. Captain Reagan's had been a sleeker model, but they seemed to function the same.

  "Explain this to me," I said. "Why do you have this?"

  "You can't leave me just hanging here."

  "Oh yes we can," said Mark as he tore open a box of crackers and started to munch on them as if settling in to watch a movie.

  "Answer my question," I said. "Why do you have this?"

  "Because we were on the team, dumbass."

  "What team?"

  He looked surprised by my ignorance. "You really don't know?"

  I shook my head and he started to laugh.

  "You'd better start talking or I'm going to bash in the other side of your face." I threatened him with the butt of my pistol.

  "You don't know what this is all about?"

  "No, for fuck's sake," I said. "Tell me."

  "So your wife, she doesn't know either?"

  "What wife?" I asked. "What are you talking about?"

  "The bitch at the docks. The one with your kids."

  I felt a surge of panic. "What do you know about them?"

  "Billy," said Levon. "We've got company."

  He tapped my shoulder and pointed to the front of the store. There was a zombie crossing the street, headed our way.

  "The gunshot must have attracted it," I said. "Get that sword ready. We need to take it out without making any more noise."

  "Cut me down," said Chuck as he writhed beneath the tape.

  "Shut up," I said, but he didn't listen.

  "You can't leave me here. They'll fucking eat me alive. You might as well shoot me. If I die you'll never know what happened to your wife and kids."

  The zombie made it to the entrance and started to reach through the glass that had been shattered by the shotgun blast. His tall, thin frame pushed through the hole, cutting his rotted flesh and tattered clothes as he forced his way in.

  "God damn it," I muttered. "He's right. Cut him down."

  "Fine," said Levon. He quickly slid the sword between the tape and the pillar and sliced the cop free. Chuck wormed his way out of the tape and limped behind us. Levon stepped forward with the katana held out before him in preparation. I aimed the pistol at the creature, just in case Levon wasn't able to get the job done.

  The dead thing slowly moved our way. Its muscles seemed to fight against it, as if the decay affected the zombie's movement. Every step was a labored motion as it walked, arms outstretched, and moaned in hunger.

  Levon got ready to attack, and then Mark's voice broke through our tension. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

  Bells chimed as the side entrance of the building opened. I glanced over my right shoulder and saw Chuck escaping the store.

  Levon didn't have a chance to look and stayed focused on the fight before him. He sliced at the creature and caught it on the side of the head. The blade cut into the zombie's cheek and split its face, but it kept walking. The katana was stuck halfway through the side of the monster's head and Levon struggled to pull it free.

  "Get back here," I yelled after Chuck.

  The officer turned to me and smiled. His hands were tied behind his back, but that didn't stop him from limping out of the door. He backed out and then turned to flee. That's when he saw the zombie that was creeping along the side of the store. He was defenseless against it and his shriek of terror as the monster's teeth sunk into him lasted a very, very long time. I'm a little ashamed to admit how much I enjoyed it.

  "Die already," said Levon as he tried to push the blade through the nearly decapitated creature.

  "Pull it," said Mark. He made a motion as if he were the one holding the sword. "You've got to slice it. Stop pushing it. What are you doing?"

  "I don't know, man. I'm not a fucking samurai or some shit." He kicked the zombie and it finally pulled free from the sword with a sickening suction noise.

  "Come on, we've got to get out of here," I said. "There're more of them out there." I pointed to where Chuck was being eaten.

  "Go through the back," said Mark. "There's got to be a rear entrance."

  Levon turned Mark around and pushed him through the store, toward the meat counter. There was an entrance to the back room from there and we scurried to get away.

  I stopped and looked back at Chuck as he wailed in agony. His hands were bound behind his back and he was helpless against the horde that massed around him. Shooting him, to end his misery, would have been the right thing to do, but it would have alerted the creatures to us. That's how I reasoned my decision to let him be eaten alive, but it wasn't the truth.

  I hope he suffered.

  "Shit," said Mark from the back of the store. The twins had moved through the deli area and into the back room. There was a loading dock, but the door was chained shut. "It's padlocked."

  Levon was about to swing the sword at the lock, much to his brother's disapproval, when I got to them. "Stop," I said. "You're not going to be able to chop it off."

  "You got a better plan?"

  I held up the pistol and shrugged. "It works in the movies."

  "You shoot that thing and those bitches out there will come running, man," said Levon. "Don't fucking miss."

  "How many bullets do you have left?" asked Mark.

  I released the clip and found it empty. Then I checked the chamber.

  "Well?" asked Mark as he waited for my answer.

  "One."

  Levon was exasperated. "One? Oh fuck man, we're going to die here. In a God damn grocery store."

  We heard a gurgle come from the deli area and turned to see the half-decapitated monstrosity that Levon had left behind coming through the plastic flaps that separated the two rooms. It had followed us.

  "Round two," said Levon.

  "Give me the sword." Mark reached out to take the weapon from his twin.

  "No man, back off."

  "You already proved you can't use it worth a fuck. Give it to me, it's my turn." He grabbed his brother's arm and pulled until Levon gave in and handed the sword over. It reminded me of watching two brothers fighting over a video game controller.

  The zombie's tongue lashed out of the gash in the side of its face as the creature hungrily moved forward. Chunks of blood and flesh dribbled down its chin as the top half of
its head bobbed with each step. Mark's chair sat between the creature and us as he prepared to finish the job his brother mangled.

  Mark held the sword vertical in front of him and I could hear him take a long, deep, calm breath. Then, in a flash of movement, the blade slashed through the air. The zombie's severed head bounced off the floor and its body slumped backward.

  "That's how you use a sword," said Mark with a gleeful smirk.

  "Congratulations," said Levon. "Your Fruit Ninja skills finally paid off."

  "Are we doing this?" I asked in reference to shooting the lock.

  "Hold up," said Levon. "Let me look for a weapon. If you shoot that lock out, those bitches out there are going to come running. Ghost Dog here might be good with that sword, but I'm not putting all my faith in his crippled ass."

  "Don't get all pissy because I showed you up," said Mark.

  Levon and I started to search the room for anything he could use to fight with. We found a few boards, a pipe, and I offered the hammer that we'd stowed under Mark's chair, but he wasn't happy with any of it. He went to check in an office that was nearby and we heard him make a joyful sound.

  "What did you find?" I asked.

  He appeared from the office carrying a long glass display case. It had a mahogany base with a bronze nameplate in the center. Inside, propped up on a wooden stand, was a blonde baseball bat in pristine condition.

  "Look at this shit."

  "What is it?" asked Mark.

  "Signed bat. Some dude named Eddie Mathews."

  "Let me see that," I said and walked over to inspect the legendary player's signature. Near the head of the bat, beneath the Louisville Slugger logo, was Eddie's name. "Holy shit."

  "You know who that is?" asked Levon.

  "Yes," I said. "He was on the Braves. Hit a homerun that won a game in the World Series back in the 50's."

  "All right, cool, I guess," said Levon as he set the display down on a counter. "I'm stealing his bat." He pulled off the glass case and took the bat off its perch.

  I cringed. "Can't you find something else? That bat's probably worth a lot of money."

  Levon guffawed at my concern. "Ain't too many people on eBay these days, bro."

  "Still though, it just feels wrong to use that bat for killing zombies. That’s a piece of history."