Mike leaned against the counter, eating chili straight from the can with a spoon he had taken from one of the kitchen drawers.
“There’s more in the pantry there guys,” he said, waving his spoon in the direction of the open pantry door.
“Mike, that’s your second can of that shit. One more and we can just march you right up to these assholes and have you gas ‘em.”
“That’s not a bad idea, Jimbo! End this without a shot,” Mike fired back with a grin.
Alex looked up from the table, where he was opening a stale package of crackers. “I don’t see how you can eat that stuff.”
“What do you mean? Nothing wrong with this,” Mike said around a mouthful of food.
“I mean without these,” Alex grinned, pointing at the crumbling white squares. “Gotta have crackers with chili.” Getting up from the table, he stepped into the pantry, grabbing a can for himself.
“This place is damn close to the armory,” Dean said, looking through the window over the kitchen sink, seeing only trees and the topmost portion of the armory roof in the distance.
“Yes it is, what’s your point, Deany Meany?”
Dean turned, scowling at Jimmy before realizing that was exactly what he wanted, to jab at him. “Why hasn’t this place been cleared out? That’s what I mean. There’s a bunch of food and bottled water, medicines in the bathroom, even a .22 rifle and that old shotgun in the closet. This place is a mini treasure trove. Why haven’t those guys cleaned any of this out?”
Calvin leaned back in the kitchen chair, balancing on the rear legs. “Lazy, maybe? Or they have enough stuff that they don’t need to scavenge for food anymore.”
“I doubt these people are lazy. You don’t survive this long by being lazy,” Dean told his brother.
“I really have no idea, Dean. This stuff is here, and I have no problem using it.” Calvin came down slowly in the chair, to avoid slamming the front legs, though the wood creaked loudly as he did so.
“Don’t think about it so much, man. You over-analyze this shit, it’ll just make your brain hurt.”
“I know, Mike, just being aware is all.”
“You aware what time it is, Dean?” Jimmy asked.
“Just after two,” he said, glancing at his watch, giving Jimmy a puzzled look.
“We have a long time until dusk. Wouldn’t hurt if we got some sleep, it could be a long night.”
Setting down a now empty can, the spoon clattering loudly inside the tin, Mike said, “Hell yes, I could use a nap after that.”
“Seem like you guys are being pretty fucking blasé about all this.”
Every man in the kitchen jumped at Rick’s voice, turning to see him standing in the doorway.
“What the hell, Rick! You about scared us half to death, man! We didn’t even hear you coming down the stairs.”
“No shit, Mike? You couldn’t hear me over the rattling can, and the idle chit-chat? You couldn’t hear me over creaky chairs, and noisy cracker wrappers?”
The other men stared at Rick for a moment before casting their eyes to the floor like scolded children. All except for Jimmy.
“Got it Cap’n. Shut the fuck up and pay attention.” Jimmy spoke without hostility, matter-of-factly putting into words what Rick was trying to tell the group.
Standing in the doorway, Rick looked closely at the men with him for this mission. Other than Alex he had known them for many years, had no problem trusting his life or those he cared about to these men. He also understood that every one of them was terrified at this moment.
Sitting and waiting was the hardest part for anyone heading into combat. The mind spent far too much time thinking about possible outcomes, ways the fight could go wrong or get someone killed. These thoughts played with people’s minds, often causing them to act in ways they knew to be contrary to what they should be doing, like chatting it up loudly, and rattling empty cans.
He forgave them this. They weren’t trained soldiers and few had extensive experience fighting armed men. Coming up against zombies was one thing. The mindless shambling undead did not use logic and reason, they never thought in terms of tactical advantage. Zombies were head on, which made them easier to fight, in smaller numbers.
Human beings were another matter entirely.
“I think people getting a little shut-eye is a good idea. I’ll continue watching from the upstairs window for a while. I can wake someone to take over for me in a few hours.”
Five men spread out through the house, one man taking a bed in both of the upstairs bedrooms, one on the couch, and another in a musty smelling recliner in the living room.
Jimmy wandered through the house for several minutes, unable to decide where he wanted to stretch out. After several minutes he took an old hand-made afghan from the back of the couch Calvin was laying on. Alex watched from the recliner as Jimmy took the blanket and tossed it on the floor in front of the front door.
“What’re you doing?” Alex asked, watching Jimmy situate the many-colored blanket with the toe of his boot. “You make me think of my dog Rush, when he would nest in this rotten-ass old blanket my mom tossed on the porch for him.”
Jimmy gave Alex a half-hearted smile and lay down on the stretched out afghan. He tossed and turned for several minutes, trying to find the most comfortable position. After several more turns he finally lay on his side with his back pressed up against the door. He knew no one could even try to come in the door without waking him.
****
Jimmy woke to faint vibrations on his back, and for a moment thought that Tam had turned his vibrating recliner on. He began to reach out for the off button when his mind snapped fully awake, realizing where he was.
Craning his neck backward he watched the doorknob twist several times, tapping against the locking mechanism before stopping. Then he heard a faint scraping noise, and it dawned on him that someone was trying to pick the lock.
He glanced up to see Alex sleeping in the recliner. Rick was on the couch, apparently having woken Calvin to take his place at the upstairs window.
Slowly, while sliding his foot up to press against the door, he pushed out, reaching for Rick’s booted foot on the couch, a couple feet away. Reaching it, he shook Rick’s boot several times, gently, hoping to rouse him without any noise.
He wiggled Rick’s foot twice more before Rick stirred, opening one eye to look at Jimmy stretched across the floor. Rick’s other eye snapped open when he saw that Jimmy had one finger in front of his lips.
When it was obvious that he had Rick’s attention he pointed that same finger at the front door of the house. He clenched his hand in the air, as if grabbing something and rocked it back and forth, his signal to Rick that someone had tried the door.
Rick nodded at Jimmy as he slowly began to slide off the couch, reaching for the .45 he carried in a drop-leg holster on his right side. Zombies did not try to open doors.
Mouthing the words “Stay there,” Rick moved toward the door on his knees. Once there he rested his shoulder against it and waved a hand at Jimmy, as if to tell him to get up and get ready.
Jimmy began to move to wake Alex when he heard a tiny clack in the door lock. He looked back at Rick and the door just as the door was kicked open hard from the outside, shoving Rick over.
Two gut-suckers came bursting through the door, one right after the other. Rick was moving, but could not get out of the way fast enough. The first zombie tripped over Rick, catapulting directly into Alex who had just started awake at the sound of the door being violently thrown open. Alex’s eyes went wide when he saw a face nearly stripped of skin coming directly at him. He threw his hands up, catching the biting thing on the shoulders and shoving backwards with all of his terrified strength.
The second zombie also tripped over Rick, its face slamming into the lower back of the first just as Alex was shoving it backward. The first creature somersaulted backward over the second, while inertia caused the second to slam head on into the raised footr
est of the reclining chair.
Alex was moving as the zombie hit the footrest, but became overbalanced when the chair leaped up, shoving him forward. He came down hard on top of the second undead creature.
Rick caught the flash of a hand reaching in and grabbing the doorknob, yanking the door closed. This was an attack.
Jimmy had fallen backward and almost laughed aloud at the charade before him now. It would have made the Keystone Kops proud and been just as hilarious as those old silent films if two of the creatures tangled on the floor were not trying to eat the others.
People came bounding down the stairs, no one even attempting quiet. Bleary eyed from sleep Dean, Mike and Calvin stood there with weapons raised, unsure of what to do with the tangle of living and dead they found in the family room.
Alex, still on top of the second zombie pushed backward with his foot, shoving the creature's head into the gap between the chair and the lifted footrest. He kept pushing, forcing the creature's head further into the gap.
Mike saw the position Alex had put the zombie in and decided to take advantage of it. Stepping forward he braced himself on the headrest of the thickly padded chair and jumped, landing both feet on the corner of the footrest.
Cloth and wood and steel crushed the neck of the dead thing, rewarding Mike with a satisfying crack though he was not sure if it was wood or bone. He jumped once more, putting all of his considerable size into forcing the gore splattered footrest all the way down. This time, the noise was definitely bone, as the head separated from the neck, and was forced up underneath the chair.
Dean had come around the chair, moving straight to Rick who was still on the floor with the first zombie. Jimmy jumped up and went to the door, pistol in hand, leaning his back against it.
Rick’s hands were around the other creature’s throat, just trying to keep the snapping teeth as far from his face as possible.
As Dean was leaning down to put a knife into the gut-sucker’s skull they all heard a loud crash from the side of the house.
“Someone just broke in the back door,” Calvin said, his voice tight with fear. He swung his M4 around, waiting for who- or whatever may have come through the door.
Chapter 11
Rick pushed while Dean quickly shoved a blade through the top of the zombie’s head. Both men jerked away, turning their faces from the splatter of infected blood.
Rick began to push himself out from under the body when someone spoke from another room.
“You fuckers put your weapons down and maybe some of you will get out of here with your shit still alive!”
Rick looked up and around to see everyone had turned away from him toward the sound of the voice. Everyone except for Jimmy that is, who was slipping out through the front door even as he watched.
“Piss off, asshat! Only thing we’re putting down is you sick pricks!” Questioning eyes turned to Mike, as if to ask, “What the hell, man?” Mike caught Calvin’s look out of the corner of his eye and shrugged. “Had to say something,” he whispered.
Three men stepped into the hallway, weapons up and pointing at Mike and Calvin, the only two they could see from their angle. “Back the fuck up, now, or we’ll kill every last one of you.”
Mike’s eyes grew large, focusing on the short, slightly balding man leading the little party. “Renny? Renny Marsh, what the hell, man?”
Recognition dawned in the face of the one Mike had called “Renny.” “Well if it isn’t Mike-Fucking-Phillips. Not surprised you survived this shit.” Renny’s face turned dark. “You won’t for much longer if you don’t put down your damn guns, Mike.”
Mike and Calvin had slowly backed away, leading the other men down the hall, toward the living area where Rick, Alex and Dean were waiting. No one other than Rick realized that Jimmy had slipped out the door.
Renny and the two goons behind him were only mildly surprised to find three men in the living area. They were more surprised to find that the two zombies they had shoved through the door were dead, and no one was bitten.
“Seems we have some bad intel. We were told there were only four of you guys, not five.”
Mike and Calvin both looked at Renny quizzically before daring a glance into the room. To their credit neither man gave away that one of theirs was missing, and they actually had six people.
“Well, you should probably go talk to your watchman then. Don’t worry, Renny, we’ll wait right here for you.”
“Mike, don’t fuck around here. Greer wants one or two of you to talk to. The rest, well, they don’t matter so much.” Renny did not have to say they would kill everyone else. His tone was more than sufficient to make that clear.
“Who is Greer, and if he just wanted to talk, why not come himself?” Dean asked.
The goon standing behind and to Renny’s left, only inches taller than him, with thick, greasy dark brown hair said, “Damn, you are one ugly fucker aren’t you? How about you shut the hell up.” He punctuated his statement with the barrel of his shotgun, pointing it directly at Dean’s face.
“Renny, you might want to back your boy down before things get nasty in here.”
“Mike, things are already nasty, we have you boxed in here, and there are two more men outside. Between that scattergun and the rifle there,” Renny jerked a thumb at the respective weapons his companions were carrying, “you guys really don’t have much of a choice. I’ve got my little pea-shooter here too; you get the first one between the eyes.” Renny pointed his heavy revolver directly Mike.
The men from camp Oko Tipi tensed, ready to scatter and return fire. They were shocked when Mike told Renny, “You still pissed because I fired your lazy ass? Renny, you always were fucking useless. Just as useless four years ago as you are today.”
Renny’s eyes flared wide. “You god-damn f-fuckin’…” He stuttered his words, rage getting the better of him.
“Drop ‘em, now.” The words, spoken almost conversationally, came from directly behind Renny. As he was turning to see who spoke, his companion’s guns clattered to the floor.
He turned to face a man wearing a mask of bright arterial blood. His grin showed white teeth contrasting starkly with the red, a rictus of horror that caused Renny’s bladder to loosen, a squeal of fear escaping past his lips. His eyes locked onto the blood running in fat droplets from the tip of the soaked beard. It was the last thing he saw before his eyes rolled up into his head and he passed out, crumpling to the floor.
Jimmy stood with an arm around both of Renny’s goons, pistol to the temple of the man on his right, large knife blade already causing a faint line of red along the neck of the man on his left. One of the men flicked his eyes to the back of the house.
Voice still low, quiet, Jimmy said, “No, they’re gone. Both of them. Where do you think this blood came from?”
One of the men began to sag, knees weakening. Jimmy pressed the blade firmly into his neck, the sharp singe of pain forcing him to stand upright. “I had to take your buddies out, no other choice, but you guys, well, my friends here might have something to say if I just murdered you both. On your knees, slowly.”
“Jimmy, you ok brother?”
“Just fine, Mike,” Jimmy said, walking into the kitchen and taking a musty smelling hand towel from a rack in front of the sink. “Took the first guy down easy. I guess the second guy heard something, or sensed that I was there, started to draw down on me.” Jimmy looked directly into his closest friend’s eyes, almost daring him to challenge what he had done. “Got it right in the face when I opened his throat.”
Mike stared at his friend for a moment, then gave him a short nod of his head and turned back to the two kneeling men.
The one that had been holding the rifle trembled on the floor, his knees almost rattling on the hardwood. The other man glanced at Jimmy and told him, “Greer’s gonna kill you for that man. Kill every one of you!”
Jimmy threw the bloody towel he used to clean his face with on the floor in front of the man that spoke. �
��Piss on you and this “Greer.” You bastards hit a kid this morning; he’s probably dead as we speak. I don’t really give a fuck,” he said, stepping up to the kneeling man, “what you shits think.” Jimmy’s fist snapped out, hitting the man square on the jaw. Cracking bone could be heard when the fist made contact, before the now-sobbing man fell sideways to the floor.
To a man, every one of Jimmy’s friends was glad he did it. It was the same thing they all wanted to do, if not worse.
Alex, who was now standing near one of the large front windows, spoke up. “They obviously know we’re here, so what do we do? Do we tie them up and leave them here, or take them with us?”
“Our plan to move on the armory at dusk is kind of shot to hell,” Rick said. He glanced at his watch, then out a window, “Which will be in less than an hour anyway.”
“Use these guys in some sort of trade?”
The other man still kneeling on the floor mumbled something unintelligible.
“Repeat that,” Rick told him.
“Greer would just as soon shoot us for getting caught as he would trade us for a single damn bullet.” He never once lifted his face, as if he were talking to the floor and not a group of armed and pissed off men.
“What kind of fighting force do you have over there?” Rick asked
“Huh?”
“He asked how many men you guys have, dumbass,” Jimmy said.
“Uh, seventeen people, uh, men, including us, so…”
“Eleven left over there to fight.”
Dean looked around the room at his friends before asking, “How the hell are the six of us going to fight eleven men with automatic weapons?”
“Hey, guys,” Alex said, looking out the window. He had to say it twice more before those talking over him responded. “We may have a bigger problem than the jackasses at the armory.”
“What are you talking about, Alex?” Rick asked stepping up to the window Alex was staring out of. Alex sidled back and just pointed.
American Revenant (Book 3): The Monster In Man Page 5