Apex Predator

by Glyn Gardner

  Jen wasn’t able to reach anyone in her family. She did contact the hospital. Her charge nurse was not happy about her missing work. The day, she told Jen, was turning out to be a real bitch. It seems that the flu was starting to hit, and it was a doozy. She told Jen to be safe, and come in as soon as things got better in her neighborhood.

  They continued to watch the zombies. They watched as more zombies appeared from where, they didn’t exactly know. They saw a man run down the street carrying a baseball bat, followed by two zombies. His path was blocked by another pair of the walking dead. Without breaking stride he hit one in the head, knocking it to the ground. He swung at the second, but landed a shot to the shoulder. The ghoul was knocked back but not put down. The man continued on, outpacing his pursuers. They never knew where he was going, or if he made it there.

  About 7:00 pm, the phone rang. It was Little Dave, Dave Wilson’s 16 year old son.

  “Miss Jen, its Dave Wilson. You saw what happened to my Ma and Pa this morning.”

  “No, Davy, but Mike did. I’m so sorry honey.”

  “Thank you Ma’am. But now something’s wrong with Pa. He’s sweating, and shaking. He says everything hurts. I don’t know what to do. I called 911 like they taught us in school. But they said they can’t come get him. They can’t just refuse to come, can they?”

  “I know Davy. I called about the cops, and they told me no also. I’m so sorry Davy. I don’t think I can get over there either. Have you given him anything like Tylenol or Advil or anything?”

  “Yes ma’am I gave him both, and a bunch of Orange Juice. Nothing seems to help.”

  “Dave, can your dad walk at all?”

  “Some.”

  “Fill up the bathtub with room temperature water. Get your dad in there. It should help. Just don’t let him shiver once he’s in there. That’ll lower his temp some.”

  “Ok, thank you ma’am. Bye Miss Jen.”

  “Take care of yourself Dave. Call back if you need anything else.” She hung up.

  And again, she began to sob. Mike held her close. They didn’t talk. They just found comfort in each other’s embrace.

  “…has closed its doors for the first time in its history.” A well dressed woman was standing at a podium. “The violence that has gripped our city has found its way into our great institution of healing. Our police and our security personnel are…”

  “Oh God, what is happening? These things are in the hospital? Oh Jesus, I could be there right now,” Jen exclaimed.

  “…Several people have been injured, and two were shot by police. We are currently evacuating several floors…” There were screams. The cameraman panned to the rear of the room. Two ghouls dressed only in hospital gowns had entered the briefing room. One of them grabbed a nurse standing near the door before she could react. He bit her neck as she struggled to escape. Her screams were drowned out by the others in the room. She succumbed to the attack quickly.

  “No! That’s Stacy. She’s my house supervisor. Oh God,” she turned from the TV. The screams emanating from the box continued for several seconds before someone at the station finally cut to an unscheduled commercial.

  Day 3

  Oak Hills Drive, Bossier City LA.

  Neither one of them slept well that night; a cat nap here, a bit of dozing off where they sat. Both were awake with every noise from the outside.

  They ate in silence, neither one having much of an appetite. Out the window, the crowd has grown. Mike was sure there must be about 30 dead people milling around Oak Hills Dr. Their collective moan the only sound they could hear.

  Suddenly the phone rang. Both Mike and Jen almost jumped out of their skins. It was Little Dave

  “Mr. Mike.”

  “Hello Dave. How are you holdin’ up?”

  “Not too good sir. Pa died a while ago,” he choked back his tears

  “I’m so sorry Dave. You and your sister both ok?”

  “Yes sir. Theresa hasn’t done much for the last day but cry. She saw what happened to Ma.”

  “Dave, you guys gonna stay over there? You want to try to make it over to our place?”

  “I don’t know Mr. Mike. I... I…I’m not sure what to do. Theresa’s a wreck…”

  “Dave you really looked at those things out there? You know who most of ’um are right?”

  “Yes sir. Ma’s tried to come in several times. I thought Theresa was actually going to open the door once.”

  “You know your Pa might come back too.”

  “I know.” There was a long pause. Mike almost hung up.

  “Mr. Mike.”

  “Yeah Dave.”

  “You think we can make it to your place? I mean those things are everywhere.”

  “Tell you what Dave. You and your sister pack a couple of backpacks. Make sure and bring your dad’s guns and ammo, some clothes, any batteries you can find, and anything else you might need. Call me when you’re packed.”

  “Yes sir.” And he hung up.

  How can we do this? How can we get those two kids across a street full of zombies? He mulled it over for a few minutes. He looked at the shotgun. Then he thought about Brian and Cheryl. No, that won’t work.

  He thought about the cars. Maybe he could get the car out of the garage and over to Dave’s garage. No, Dave’s car is in the driveway. Maybe he could pull up to the porch. There are only a couple of zombies there.

  “Jen, where’s the car keys?”

  “You’re not going out there, are you? You can’t.”

  “Baby I have too. Those two kids are in the house with a soon-to-be zombie. Could you live with yourself if they got killed by him? I couldn’t.”

  “No. No I couldn’t… I guess I can drive and you can ride shotgun.”

  “Alright, as soon as they call, we go.”

  The phone rang. “Davy. You ready?”

  “Yes sir. How are we doing this?” He sounded confident, the despair from the last conversation gone.

  “Ok, we’re just gonna drive over there and get you. Be at the front door and ready.”

  “Ok Mike…” BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! The sound of a car alarm going off outside interrupted him. Mike ran to the window, peeking through the shades.

  “Hang on Dave.” The crowd of zombies was moving down the street toward the beeping car.

  “Dave, forget all that. Those zombies are onto something that ain’t you. As soon as they’re past your door, book it over here.”

  “I got it Mike. We’re on the way. Oh, and I got a surprise for you.” He hung up.

  Mike and Jen watched intently for the pack to move. There! No, they’re not all passed. Shit! The two teens bolted from their own porch, each with a backpack on their back. Dave had a baseball bat in his hands and Theresa was carrying a folding spade. Run! Run kids!

  Three of the zombies saw the kids. Dave made a bee-line for the zombie that was closest to them. In a tomahawk-chop-like swing he crushed the ghoul’s skull. It crumpled to the ground. The other two were too far away to pose a threat.

  The two kids mounted the porch, just as the door opened. They both charged through the door without slowing. Shut. Click, click. Jen and Mike embraced the two teens.

  Then they heard the moans. Looking through the peephole, Mike saw two ghouls on the porch. One was walking around rather aimlessly. The other was scratching at the door. Others were no longer paying attention to the car alarm, but the moaning zombies on the porch.

  “Why did you guys bolt so fast? All you had to do was wait another minute.” Mike was pissed. Now he had two zombies on his front porch, and more coming. Shit!

  “Sorry Mr. Mike.” Davy was crying. “Pa woke up. He was coming down the stairs. It was either shoot him or run. I couldn’t shoot him. I’m so sorry Mike. I just couldn’t.”

  Mike was taken aback. Jen let Theresa go and moved to embrace Dave. “It’s ok Davy. You did the right thing.” She stroked his shaggy hair

  “Thanks Miss Jen. I’m so sorry Mike. But, I did bring
a few things.” Dave’s mood brightened. He threw off his backpack. Underneath, close to his back he had a compound bow and several arrows hidden.

  “Here: Batteries, candles, lighters, got daddy’s .357 and some rounds. Grabbed some food too, though not enough, I’m sure. Theresa, show them what you got.”

  She opened her pack, a Ruger Mini-14 strapped to it. There was clothes, some more canned food, a big hunting knife, a black semi-automatic pistol, 8 boxes of bullets of various calibers, and a black cylinder of some kind.

  “What is this?” Mike asked picking up the cylindrical object.

  “That would be my daddy’s suppressor for the USP. Don’t tell Uncle Sam about it ok,” he said with a wink. More scratching at the door

  Mike peeked out again. Shit, three monsters on the porch now. “We gotta secure this place better. Sooner or later one of those things is gonna figure out that glass is breakable.” But how he thought? How do we secure this place?

  “We need to board this window, and it won’t hurt to get some boards across this door either.”

  “You got any wood in the garage Mike?” Dave asked.

  “Nope, we got tools and nails, but no wood.”

  “The stairs!” the younger man exclaimed. “They’re made of wood. We pull up some of them and we can board up this window.”

  “Good thinking Davy. Jen run into the garage and get the claw hammer and some nails. Theresa, go with Jen and get my ladder. Theresa!”

  “Huh?”

  “Time to get back in the game now, sweetheart. I need you to go with Jen and bring back my ladder. Can you do that for us?”

  “Yes Mr. Mike.”

  The girls went into the garage to get the tools. Mike picked up the USP.

  “Give me that suppressor.” Dave handed it to him. He screwed it into the barrel, and chambered a round.

  “Ok Dave, open the door for me. Take care of anything that comes past me.”

  They moved to the door. Dave opened it and backed up. Mike took aim at the zombie in his doorway, and fired. Phhhttt. Its head snapped back as it crumpled to the ground. He shifted his aim to the next one. Phhhttt. Another zombie fell to the porch. The third zombie was maybe four paces away. It turned at the sound of its pack-mates falling.

  Mike took aim. Oh shit. It was Big Dave. Fuck! I can’t shoot him in front of his kid. The Dave-zombie took another step closer. Mike took a deep breath, and reset his aim point. His hand was shaking.

  From behind him Dave came over the top with his bat. Splat! Big Dave’s head caved in and he crumpled to the ground. Little Dave hit him again, and again, and again. Mike stopped him before the fifth blow.

  “We gotta get inside now,” he whispered. They relocked the door. Little Dave broke down in tears.

  “I couldn’t let him walk around out there. I couldn’t let her see him like that. Oh fuck Mike, I just bashed my dad’s head in. I just killed him with his own softball bat.” Davy sat down on the floor, back against the door, crying. Mike left him alone.

  The girls returned. “Where do you want the ladder Mr. Mike?” She sounded a little better. Mike wondered what Jen had said to the girl.

  “Put it by the stairs for now. Jen give me that claw hammer.” She did.

  He went to the stairs, climbed up about six. He knelt down and started prying the seventh step up. Damn that was loud. “Keep an eye outside. Let me know if we’re getting too much attention.” Jen moved to the window. A few had turned their heads but nothing yet.

  “We’re ok for now.” She watched for a few more minutes as Mike continued to pull up the stairs. None of the dead seemed to notice the noise. The car alarm down the street continued to attract most of their attentions.

  Mike and Dave moved the wood to the window. Now for the real loud part Mike thought. BAM! BAM! BAM! Every hammer blow louder than the last. By the time he was finished with the window the walkers were beginning to congregate around the house. Jen relayed this to Mike.

  “Alright, a board or two on the door, then we should be ok. We gotta hurry though.”

  Three minutes later, the door was as secure as they could make it.

  Ok, now what? Need to take stock of our supplies. Need to eat. Mike hadn’t realized how hungry he was. “Hey Jen, you and Theresa want to get some lunch going? Get a quick inventory of the food while you’re at it if you don’t mind. Dave, you keep watch. I’m gonna see what we have in the garage that we can use.”

  Rope, good. Extension cord, maybe. Hand axe, good. Leatherman, good. Nails, good. Chainsaw, not so good. He continued his inventory. Ruling out those things he deemed too loud, heavy, or unnecessary.

  “Mike,” Jen whispered. “Let’s eat.” He walked into the kitchen, hands full of things Mike thought they would need.

  “Ok kids, here’s what I have: two screwdrivers, another hammer, a hand axe, about 50 feet of rope, two rolls of duct tape, a Leatherman, a shovel, and a case of dehydrated meals. I also got a couple of coolers out there. This thing gets too bad and clean water might get to be an issue.”

  Jen slid a plate with a pair of sandwiches and some pickle spears in front of him. “Well, we have some lunch meat and burger in the fridge, a few more perishables: milk, cheese, leftovers and stuff, some frozen meals and frozen chicken. We have a couple of cases of canned veggies, 10 cans of fruits, 6 cans of tuna, 2 loaves of bread, some pasta and rice, a couple of jars of peanut butter, a box of Graham crackers, a box of butter crackers, 16 granola bars, and 2 boxes of cereal.”

  “Sounds like we have enough food to last us, what, maybe a week?” asked Davy from the living room.

  “Sounds about right,” Mike said as he finished his first sandwich. After he finished his lunch, he relieved Davy in the living room. Davy sat down at the table.

  “How you holding up sis?” She looked tired.”I’m ok, just tired of all this. Do you think Daddy is one of them now?” She tried to choke back the tears.

  “I don’t think so. I think he’s gone and that’s it.”

  “What about Mom? I know she’s out there somewhere. How horrible. Oh God!” She couldn’t control it. She cried again. Davy ate his lunch in silence. Jen cleaned up the dishes.

  Davy finished his lunch and relived Mike on watch. Mike began moving supplies up the ladder.

  “What are you doing Mr. Mike?” asked Theresa.

  “Moving everything we need upstairs. Those things could eventually get in here. We’ll leave some of the food down here, but those missing stairs make for a good obstacle. So far I haven’t seen these things climb anything but a porch. So, anything we don’t need to keep down here I’m moving.”

  While Mike was upstairs, he snuck a peek out the window. The street was still full of zombies. They just shambled around. None of them are looking up. He could sit in this window all day and not a single one of those things would even know he was here.

  He watched them for about 15 minutes. He saw Sharon Wilson. He saw Mrs. Drawbond shambling around, her entrails dangling to the ground. Mike watched, enthralled, as she stepped on her own guts, pulling them out just a little more; another step, another inch or two of guts dragging around. Mike shuddered.

  He turned around and went into the spare bedroom. He made up the spare bed for Theresa, and laid out a sleeping bag on the floor for Davy. He split the rest of the hand tools between two backpacks he made up for himself and Jen. He threw some clothes in each, as well as, socks, underwear, and a sweatshirt for each of them.

  Mike went down stairs and relieved Davy on watch. Nothing much changed for the next few hours. Zombies go left. Zombies go right. Zombies go all-around, and they did just about nothing. The other three curled up on couches and chairs. Jen turned on the TV.

  “…This is the Emergency Broadcast System. You are urged to remain in your home until further notice. I repeat. Remain in your homes. The Governor has declared a State of Martial Law… This is the Emergency Broadcast System. You are urged…”

  “Can we put on a movie or something?” ask
ed Theresa.

  Day 0

  I-20 East of Dallas

  Manuel didn’t like this. Not one bit. This last bunch has been a pain in his ass since they picked them up in San Antonio. He and Jésus had twenty illegal aliens in the back of an 18 wheeler. They were moving this bunch to Shreveport. There were other shipments going to Dallas, Houston, Oklahoma City and Texarkana.

  Most were just like the hundreds he had brought into the U.S. before. Then there were the sick ones. Three Guatemalans in his group were sick. The one woman kept babbling something about ambulante. Crazy old woman. Just because her son was sick, doesn’t mean he’s a damned monster of some kind.

  “…Violence continues in Northern Mexico. Federal authorities report they found 17 headless bodies…” the announcer on the radio said.

  Well, they wouldn’t be his problem for long. They Louisiana boarder was only an hour away. Soon they would drop this group for their next stop.

  “…Seventeen bodies. Officials reported that the bodies appear to have been eaten by animals. Several large dogs were found in a kennel near-by…”

  “Slow down,” he told Jésus. “You know the Policia love this road.” Jésus slowed to 60 mph. He had driven this road about a hundred times. He was the key to this leg of the operation, thought Manuel. Jésus was born in America. He had a commercial driver’s license. Hell, he even sounded like one of those South Texas gringos.

  The CB radio squawked. “To all you sinners out there: The road to heaven lies ahead. All you have to do is take it upon yourself to walk along The Lord’s path. Look ye upon the sun in the east as it rises, and see God’s love manifest itself upon the Earth.”

  That was it. The weigh station on the Louisiana boarder was not opened according to their spotter. The spotter would drive the same stretch of road for the next hour. He would send a different sermon if the State Troopers opened the weigh station before they arrive.

  Manuel rolled down his window. He lit his last cigarette and let it hang out the window Ah the cool wind felt good. It was late fall, and the leaves were changing.