His Name Was Zach

by Peter Martuneac

  “Wait here,” said Zach as he entered through the broken front door, rifle at the ready and the safety disengaged. He glided over to the checkout counter and checked behind it. Nothing. He moved to a door marked ‘Employees only’ and pushed it open. Nothing. He checked the bathroom next. Nothing. Finally, he moved to the last door, but this ended up being a back door out of the mini-mart. He waved Abby inside.

  “Looks like there’s a fair amount of stuff in here,” Zach said quietly, daring to speak a little louder now. “Let’s just grab the essentials, and then we can leave.” They split up as Zach carefully lifted up one of the fallen shelves. He managed to find three cans of Bush’s Baked Beans underneath it. He set his ruck down and stuffed these into it. Abby had wandered into the ‘Employees only’ area, looking for anything useful in there.

  Zach went into the next aisle over, the last one before the wall of refrigerators, and found himself looking at the magazine section of the store. The shelves had the usual assortment of periodicals: news, sports, gossip, health, cars. Zach picked up an old Sports Illustrated and thumbed through it. He felt a wave of nostalgia, looking at those pictures: a running back cradling the ball in one hand while stiff-arming a defender with the other, a golfer dramatically pumping his fist after sinking a difficult chip shot for an eagle, and a basketball player contorting his body in mid-air to avoid the defenders as he tries to make a lay-up.

  He slid this magazine back where it belonged, but his eyes caught a familiar, tantalizing title: Playboy. He glanced over his shoulders to make sure Abby wasn’t near him and then grabbed the magazine. The cover featured a gorgeous red-headed woman wearing a pair of skimpy black panties. She was holding her bra teasingly in one hand while covering her breasts with her other. He opened the magazine to the first page and found the gorgeous red-head was now taking no such modest precautions regarding her breasts. As he flipped through page after page of erotic pictures, he had a rather morbid thought. “I wonder if any of these girls ended up as zombies,” he asked himself.

  “Just the essentials, huh?” Abby asked with an accusatory tone of voice. Zach looked up suddenly to see her standing next to him, arms folded across her chest.

  “Oh, uh, I was just, uh-” he stammered. Abby just looked at him with one eyebrow raised, not saying anything. Zach finally shrugged his shoulders in defeat and said, “Come on. I’m just a guy.”

  Abby smirked and shook her head. “I know. I’m just teasing. I don’t care if that’s really what you want to bring,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “No, I was just looking at it,” Zach replied.

  “Mhmm,” Abby said. She bent down to peruse the other magazines as Zach surreptitiously slid the Playboy into his ruck. She selected a tattoo magazine and pulled it out to look at it. The cover featured two men standing back to back and they were being hailed as the ‘best tattoo artists in America’.

  “So when things are normal again, do you think I could get a tattoo?” Abby asked.

  “Absolutely, if you’re old enough,” Zach replied. He liked it when Abby spoke so confidently of things going back to normal, as if it was just a matter of time. That girl was just a bottomless well of hope. “What do you want to get? Any ideas?”

  “Not really, I just know that I want to be inked like you,” Abby replied, flipping through the magazine. “Oh, that’s cool,” she muttered, looking at a dragon tattooed on a woman’s arm.

  “That actually sounds like a good idea,” Zach said. “I’ll tell you what. When you turn eighteen, I’ll personally take you to get a tattoo for your birthday.”

  “Really?” Abby asked excitedly. “Awesome! Yeah, that sounds good!”

  “Alright then, it’s a date. Now, let’s-” Zach started to say, but he was cut off by a low, rumbling noise that slowly got louder.

  “A car?” Abby whispered.

  “Sounds like more than one,” Zach said, concealing his nervousness. Was it a gang of marauders? It was getting closer, and it sounded like three or four vehicles were headed their way.

  “Get down!” Zach hissed as they ducked behind the shelves, crouching next to each other. The vehicles were very close now, and Zach peeked over the top of the shelf and through the front windows. A few seconds later, three vehicles came into view: a red Ram truck, a black Hummer, and a blue Jeep.

  The vehicles stopped next to the gas pumps outside, and one by one the occupants of the vehicles stepped outside, giving Zach a clear look at the strangers. From the red truck came a tall black man and a caramel-skinned woman that Zach assumed was the man’s wife. The man looked to be at least six and half feet tall and was heavily muscled. He was bald and wore black jeans, boots, and a pink t-shirt that read ‘Laugh at my shirt. I dare you’. In his hands, he clutched an M1A style, matte-black rifle with a large scope. His wife was tall for a woman, maybe an inch taller than Zach. She had long, thick hair done in dreadlocks and wore a tie-dye shirt and a pair of white cargo shorts. Unlike the tall man next to her, she was not armed.

  Three doors of the Hummer opened up, and out stepped three young adults: two guys and one girl. The two young men were obviously twins, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and both of them wore red shirts that said ‘University of Wisconsin’. The girl was short and thin, almost gaunt, and had pale skin. She had short, raven black hair, which was barely a shade darker than her large, round eyes. She wore skinny jeans, which were black like her hair, and a plain white shirt. She had a tactical shotgun slung over her back, while the twins each had pistols.

  Only two people came out of the Jeep: an old white guy and a young woman, probably his daughter or niece. The old guy looked like a stereotypical Florida retiree, judging by the way he was dressed. He wore old tennis shoes with calf-high white socks, tan khaki shorts with a black belt, a grey Bass Pro Shop t-shirt tucked into his shorts, aviator sunglasses, and a Vietnam Vet hat. He had white hair, a matching goatee, and a slight paunch. His weapon looked every bit as old as its owner, and Zach was pretty sure it was an old Springfield bolt-action rifle. “Gotta love the classics,” Zach thought to himself.

  The young woman that was with him was a beauty that caused Zach to catch his breath. She had auburn hair that reached just past her shoulders and her eyes were dark, like Zach’s. She had a small, skinny nose on her thin but full face. She was short, no more than an inch taller than Abby, and looked fit. She wore a plain blue-grey t-shirt with short sleeves and loose, tan cargo pants. She turned around and Zach saw the pistol that was on her hip on her left side.

  These seven people now stood outside of their vehicles and were having a quiet discussion that Zach could barely hear. Abby looked them over too, and she was about to suggest to Zach that they seemed harmless, but then she remembered what had happened the last time she had said that. She cupped her hand around Zach’s ear and said, in a voice scarcely louder than her own thoughts, “What do we do?”

  Zach turned his head and whispered into Abby’s ear, “Stay low. If things go sideways, you run.”

  “What about you?” Abby asked, but Zach said nothing and went back to watching the strangers. They were trying the gas pumps, apparently hoping to refuel their vehicles, but none of the hoses were yielding the desired result. “See, Al? Told you,” said the tall black man to the old guy, as he returned the dusty nozzle to its port, blatantly perturbed.

  “Ross, calm down, honey,” said the caramel-skinned woman next to him. So the big guy’s name was Ross, and Mr. Bass Pro Shop Man was Al.

  “Well it didn’t hurt to try!” said Al with clear irritation in his voice.

  “Besides, we can at least check the mini-mart for supplies,” the auburn haired woman said as she took a step towards Zach and Abby.

  “Not you, honey. The twins can do that,” Al replied.

  “Dad, I can handle it! I’m not a kid!” said the woman who was apparently Al’s daughter, but he ignored her.

  “Patrick, Matthew, you two check inside,” Al said. His daughter shook her head, clearly frus
trated, but did not protest further. The twins, who apparently were named Patrick and Matthew, grunted in response. Nobody seemed to be in a good mood. The twins slowly advanced towards the front door of the mini-mart, pistols in hand and walking side by side. Abby heard Zach take a deep breath, and then he suddenly popped up with his rifle in his shoulder, aimed at the two young men.

  “Hold it!” he called in a loud, commanding voice. Matthew and Patrick froze in place as the others turned suddenly. “No one move! Keep those guns down!” Zach said, his tone suggesting a man who was used to giving orders that were not to be questioned. Everyone looked uncertainly at each other as Zach kept his gun up and ready to fire while staying behind cover.

  “We don’t want any trouble, mister,” said Al, who Zach assumed was the group’s leader since he had spoken first. His rifle was half-way up and he had stepped in front of the auburn-haired woman, shielding her from Zach. “We’re just trying to get some supplies, and then we’ll be on our way.”

  “If you don’t want trouble, then put your guns on the ground,” Zach said.

  “Hell no!” said Ross.

  “Please, sir. We really don’t mean any harm,” the auburn-haired woman said as she stepped out into the open. “My name is Amber, and-”

  “I don’t give a shit. Drop your guns,” Zach repeated.

  “Bad word,” Abby whispered.

  “Not now, Bug,” Zach whispered without looking away. He called out to the strangers again, “The last people I met said they didn’t want trouble either, and things didn’t go so well. So I apologize if I can’t trust you. Now put the guns on the deck.”

  “And how are we supposed to trust you when you’re pointing a gun at us?” Al said loudly.

  “Zach, maybe these people-” Abby started to say.

  “Not now, Bug,” Zach said again, flicking his eyes down at her for just a moment. She looked upset, but Zach wasn’t about to be fooled by friendly strangers again. He said to Al, “Because you don’t have much of a choice. Either the guns go flat on the ground or you do.”

  Abby could hardly believe what Zach was saying. “Zach! You can’t just shoot them!” she hissed.

  “Hush, Abby!” Zach said, glaring down at her.

  “Who’s with you?” Al asked.

  “Mind your own business, old man,” Zach replied.

  “This is stupid!” Abby declared, annoyed by all this suspicion and hostility. She stepped into the open before Zach could stop her and walked towards the front doors. “Everyone just stop it, okay?” she said loudly. “Zach, come on, they’re not the Marshalls. And you guys don’t have to worry. Zach wouldn’t hurt a fly if he didn’t have to.”

  Everyone stood quietly, momentarily unsure of what to do. The strangers had been shocked to see a young girl step out so bravely to try to defuse a dangerous situation. The silence stretched for several seconds, but Abby was adamant, and she glared at Zach until he lowered his rifle and walked over to stand next to her. Everyone seemed to relax a little, and Zach said, “Sorry. I just…we’ve met some really bad people on our road. My name is Zach, and this is my daughter, Abby.”

  “I’m Al. That’s Ross and his wife, Diane. The twins are Matthew and Patrick, and Vicky is their older sister. And this is my daughter, Amber,” Al said, resting his hand on Amber’s shoulder.

  “Hi!” said Abby, smiling, but she was the only one. There was still an air of distrust amongst the recently acquainted groups. “Oh, come on everyone!” she said, “No one here wants to hurt anybody! Can’t we just get along?” Abby’s cheerfulness was contagious, and everyone looked to be a bit more agreeable, but Zach and Al still glared intently at each other, both of them refusing to trust a stranger around their daughters.

  “Zach. Be nice,” said Abby. Zach looked down at her and once again gave in to the power that she had over his heart.

  He sighed and took a more relaxed posture, and then said, “So are you folks from around here?”

  “No, we’re from Wisconsin originally. We’re travelling south to get away from the winter,” Amber replied.

  “Hey, we’re going south too!” said Abby. She looked up at Zach and said, “We should go with them!”

  “Hold on, Abby,” he replied, a little annoyed at Abby’s sudden proposition.

  “That’s not such a bad idea,” said Amber.

  “It’s not such a good idea, either,” said Al, still being very wary of Zach.

  Amber looked at him disapprovingly and said, “Dad, come on. Let’s try to be civil, okay?”

  “Be civil? That asshole threatened to kill us!”

  “He didn’t mean it,” Abby said quickly.

  “He was just being careful, Dad. You’re the same exact way! If he’s such a bad guy, would he have this sweet young girl with him?” Amber said, motioning towards Abby.

  “Zach’s not bad,” Abby said, looking at Al. “He was just trying to protect me.”

  “Yeah, I’m picking up some good vibes from them, Al. I think they’re okay,” Vicky interjected.

  “You and your vibes,” Al muttered.

  “How about this: those two join us, but we hold on to their guns for now,” Diane offered, hoping to make a good compromise.

  “Fat chance of that happening,” Zach retorted.

  “I don’t want that psycho with us. Period. The girl could come, but not him,” Al said, pointing an angry finger at Zach for emphasis.

  “I’m not going anywhere without my dad,” Abby said, taking a defensive posture.

  There was silence for a few seconds, then Amber said, “How about we put it to a vote? Everyone who thinks we should all move on together, raise your hand.”

  Amber’s hand went straight up, as did Abby’s and Vicky’s. Matthew and Patrick looked at each other, shrugged, then both raised their hands. Diane finally raised her hand, and a withering look to her husband caused him to raise his hand as well. The only people who had still not consented were Zach and Al. They were still staring each other down, engaging in a contest of wills.

  “Would you all excuse us for a moment?” Abby said, and then she pulled Zach back a little ways from the group so they could hold a quiet conference.

  “Is there something wrong with them?” Abby whispered, genuinely concerned that Zach was picking up on some warning signs that she had missed, like he had done yesterday. She was confident that these people were good people, but maybe she was wrong again.

  “No, nothing specific,” Zach admitted. “I just…I’m trying to do what’s best for you, kid. I don’t want to put you in danger.”

  “Well, if that’s the case, then I think we’d be safer with them,” Abby replied. “Strength in numbers, right? I’ve got a good feeling from them. As long as we don’t tick off Al, I think we’ll fit right in.” Then she and Zach walked back towards the group, who appeared to be finishing up a conference of their own. Al sighed loudly and made an ‘I don’t care’ motion with his hands as he walked back to his Jeep and set his gun inside.

  Amber smiled at Zach and Abby as they returned and said, “Dad agrees with us. So would you like to come?”

  But Zach was still cautious and didn’t want to trust these strangers just yet. Amber approached him, put her hand on his shoulder, and said, “Come on, the more the merrier!” Zach locked eyes with her and noted her bright smile. This sudden friendliness from Amber didn’t feel fake at all like the Marshalls’ had. The red flags in his mind were either on vacation or there was no danger to worry about.

  Amber seemed sincere, and for some reason, Zach trusted her. He wasn’t one to fall for a pretty face (as he proved yesterday by rebuffing Hannah’s flirtatious manner), but something about Amber was likeable. There was something about her that disarmed Zach completely. So when she touched him, he didn’t try to shrug her off, something that Abby noted with interest.

  “You got room for two more?” Zach finally said.

  Amber laughed and said, “Yup! You can ride with me and Dad. We don’t have much gas
though. We were hoping to fill up here, but now we probably won’t even make it to nightfall.”

  “That’s okay. Abby and I have already walked a long way,” said Zach. “We’ll just get our stuff and then we can join you.”

  “We won’t leave for a few more minutes. We still have to poke around in here,” Al said as he walked back up to the rest of the group. He still looked bothered, but was no longer being hostile. He, along with Patrick and Matthew, went inside and rummaged around for a bit while Zach and Abby got their packs, but they didn’t find much, only a few dented cans of tuna behind the counter. “Better than nothing,” Al mumbled as he came back outside. “Alright everyone, let’s go.”

  Everyone got back into their respective vehicles, and Zach and Abby hopped into the back of Al and Amber’s Jeep. The engines roared to life, and with Al taking the lead, they slowly rolled back onto the road and shortly found themselves leaving the tiny town behind them.

  Amber had been right. They had barely gone forty miles before Al cursed and reported that they were out of gas. The vehicle coasted to a stop and everyone climbed out. Ross leaned his head out of his truck’s window and said, “You out?”

  “Yup,” Al replied.

  “Yeah, we’re running on fumes. I’d be surprised if we made it another mile,” Ross said. He twisted the key and pulled it out of the ignition, turning the truck off. Pat, Matt, and Vicky did the same with their Hummer and stepped outside to join the others.

  “Well, it was nice while it lasted,” Al said. “I suppose we might as well eat and spend the night here. Night’s coming on fast and we wouldn’t be able to get too far on foot before dark.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” Ross agreed. They left the vehicles on the road as they did not need them anymore. They all grabbed their packs and weapons and moved away from the road and set up camp for the night. They had a small supper amongst themselves, sitting in a circle.

  “So where do you two come from?” asked Amber, meaning Zach and Abby.

  “Near Chicago. But our home was destroyed by raiders last week, so we’ve been looking for a settlement or something. Any place where we can live safely,” Zach answered.