As we headed into the front yard of one of the houses, I glanced back to the north to check on the dead. They were still making their slow, but steady progress. I slowed briefly as we passed the front porch, but kept going when nothing was moving. I kept my pistol ready and tried to walk quietly as we headed for the backyard. I was glancing around near the back fence when a sudden noise made me come up short.
From my right was a loud thump followed by the cracking of glass. Copeland let out a short cry, but it wasn't loud enough to carry. I spun in time to see the gruesome face of a dead woman drawing back to strike the window again. Her face was a mask of horror, with large chunks taken out of both cheeks and one eye missing. Before she could strike again, I fired twice. The bullets punched through the window, leaving ragged holes with spider web cracks around them.
The zombie froze in mid-swing and stumbled back. It had almost a confused look on its withered features before crumpling to the ground. It was immediately replaced by an even more hellish face. I think that it had once been male, but there just wasn't enough identifiable features left to tell for certain. It was mostly ragged strips of flesh, and exposed muscle and bone. Before I could fire, it drove itself through the window head first.
The explosion of glass shattered the silence. The high-pitched sound would undoubtedly carry a long distance. The creature fell onto its face, but immediately began struggling to get to its feet. Randall shot it in the back of its head before it had the chance to rise. Rancid blood erupted from the ragged hole in the back of the skull. It reeked of decay and was almost as black as used motor oil, and nearly the same consistency.
From inside the house, I could hear the shuffling sounds of more dead coming towards us. They were attracted by the noise of the breaking glass and Copeland's scream. We had no way to know how many would be inside the house, but we definitely didn't have time to stick around and count them. We needed to get out of here before more arrived. We didn't have the firepower or the ammo for a long fight.
"Let's move!" I snapped and shoved them both towards the backyard.
Randall shoved the gate open and headed into the yard. Copeland broke away from me and sprinted towards the back of the yard. I ran backwards and watched the window. The first one to come through the window took a shot to the right side of the head before it even hit the ground. I slammed the gate shut as I ran into the yard, latching it securely. It wouldn't stop the dead from coming after us, but it would slow them down. That's when I heard the scream from behind me.
I spun around to see four zombies emerging from the back of the house and stumble off towards Copeland and Randall. From closer to the fence, I heard the scream again. I turned in time to see two of the dead taking Randall to the ground. Copeland was running from a Sprinter that had come out of the small shed at the back of the yard.
Her third blood-curdling scream pierced the air and I could hear it echo off of the back of the building across the yard. All chances of stealth were now gone. With grim determination, I put away the pistol. As my hands fell upon my rifle, I smiled darkly. The entire exchange of weapons took less than three seconds. The entire tableau around me seemed to slow to a crawl.
I brought the weapon to my shoulder and aimed at the Sprinter that was chasing Copeland. My crosshairs zeroed in on the creature's head and I squeezed the trigger without hesitation. I was already turning to engage the next target before my brain registered the sound of the shot. I heard the massive boom as I felt the punch of the recoil in my shoulder. My next shot destroyed the skull of one of the dead that was attacking Randall. All attention was now on me because of the massive report of my weapon. When Beowulf roars, everyone listens.
The four dead that had emerged from the house were now focused completely on me. My third shot destroyed the shoulder of the remaining creature that was attacking Randall, knocking it completely off of him. I brought the weapon around to engage the others before they were close enough to attack me. In four rapid shots, they were all down and silence fell over the area. My ears were still ringing from the fury of Beowulf, but my heart was pounding almost as loud.
The silence reigned supreme for a few heartbeats, before a new sound erupted from around us. It was the chorus of the dead as dozens of Shriekers took up the song. They seemed to come from every direction, including from inside the house. It was time to move. We didn't want to be anywhere near this place when they arrived.
Running to where Randall was laying on the ground, I leveled the rifle at his face and looked into his eyes. They were wide open with both shock and fear. There was splatters of gore from the dead, but none of it looked to be his own. I had to be sure, though.
"Are you bit?" I snapped, watching his eyes.
"What?" he stammered, clearly confused.
"Are you fucking bit?!" I yelled, anger in my voice.
"I don't think so," he mumbled, looking at his hands and arms.
I couldn't see any obvious bites or bleeding wounds, so I had to take him at his word. I didn't have time to waste. If he couldn't get to his feet, then I was going to have to either leave him or drag him.
"Can you walk?" I asked, calmer.
"Do I have a choice?" he asked, sitting up.
"Not really," I replied, honestly.
"Grant!" called Copeland. "We've got company!"
I turned to see more of the dead trying to force their way through the gate. It was holding, but it wouldn't hold for much longer. We only had a few moments before they would be inside the yard with us and the fight would be on. We were rapidly running out of time.
"Let's go!" I shouted and headed for the back fence.
Copeland didn't hesitate and immediately followed me. Randall recovered the pistol that he had dropped and got slowly to his feet. The fence was a wooden privacy fence, so I had to climb up onto it to see what was on the other side. Fortunately, there were no dead in the alley. I had to boost Copeland up, but she scrambled over without any trouble.
Randall headed over towards me, still not moving very fast. I could tell that he was shaken and maybe a bit stunned from hitting the ground. The zombie that I had shot in the shoulder was still flopping on the ground and he casually shot it in the head as he walked by.
"Move your ass!" I bellowed. "We don't have time for this shit."
That seemed to make him take notice. He shook his head and headed for the fence. I covered him while he climbed over and waited until I heard him hit the ground on the other side before I started over, myself. I wasn't quite halfway over when I heard the sound of splintering wood behind me. The dead were coming through the gate. My last glimpse of them before I dropped over the fence was of almost a dozen of them running right at the fence. I only hoped it would stop them when they hit it.
I hit the ground and tumbled over backwards, ending up flat on my back and leaning against my rucksack. I heard the thudding impact of the dead as they hit the fence with tremendous force. They'd been at a full sprint when they struck it and I held my breath waiting to see if it would hold. I let it out in a long sigh when it did.
"We've got to move," I said, getting to my feet.
"Where?" demanded Copeland. "They're coming from every direction."
"Follow me," I snapped, drawing my hammer.
I headed for the back of the large building. I wasn't quite sure what business it was, but the back door looked to be solid. We would hide inside until the worst had passed us. Then we would continue on our path towards the police station. I just hoped that they didn't surround the building. If they did, then we would be trapped like an animal in a cage. Well, we'd be trapped until they found a way inside. Then we would be dead.
I ran over to the door and drove the pry bar end of the hammer into the crack next to the knob. Once it had a good bite into the doorframe, I leaned into it with all of my weight. The metal of the door groaned, but held its ground. I could feel that it was weakening, but not nearly fast enough. I needed more leverage or more strength.
Randall saw what I was doing and added his weight to the effort. With a groan of protest, the lock gave way and the door popped open. I slung the hammer back over my shoulder and drew the silenced pistol. There was no telling what was inside, waiting for us to blunder in. I certainly wasn't going to walk into the darkness without being ready to strike back.
I brought my weapon up in ready position and clicked on my flashlight. The bright blue light illuminated the interior of a storage area. Behind us, I could hear the creaking and cracking of wood as the dead continued to throw themselves at the fence. We didn't have a choice, now. We either went inside, or we stood here while the dead came for us. It was a hell of a choice, for sure.
I took a deep breath and exhaled, then headed inside. I spun to the left and then started sweeping the room. It was clear, for the moment. Copeland and Randall stepped inside and I pulled the door shut. The lock was ruined, but it was an old-style door with the push bar across the back to open it. I quickly snagged two brooms and a mop to shove through the bar. I put them in at different angles, blocking it shut. It wasn't great, but it was better than nothing.
The door opened outwards, so I figured it would hold for a while. If the dead had to force the door inwards, then they would have to fight against the steel door and doorframe. Luckily, they weren't very good at pulling doors open. Only one of them could even grip the doorknob to pull. As if to prove me right, I heard the sound of the dead hitting the door. Instead of working the knob or trying to yank the door open, they just began beating their hands against it.
That would hold them, at least for now. The only dead I had ever seen actually use a doorknob were the Stalkers. Thank the Gods, but so far I hadn't seen any sign of them in town. I quickly scanned the storeroom for anything else I could use that would reinforce the door. That's when I noticed that all of the boxes on the storage shelves had familiar logos. They were all liquor boxes with well-known brand names on the sides. We'd just broken into a liquor store. Some days my luck sucks, but today it was good.
Chapter Nineteen
Living Dead Girl
"Mock not the traveler met on the road, nor maliciously laugh at the guest:
The sitters in the hall seldom know the kin of the new-comer:
The best man is marred by faults, the worst is not without worth."
-The Havamal
There was no way that we were going to be able to take all of this with us, but I really wanted to. I would have to suffice with a bottle or two of Bushmills, if I could find any. I saw the shelf I was searching for. There were six cases of Bushmills of various types. That would be enough to keep me in alcohol for quite some time. I knew there would be more on the shelf, but the cases would have to be taken when we had a vehicle.
I brought my pistol up and started for the door. I was going to have to clear the rest of the place before we could safely let our guard down. It was a good sized building, so clearing it would take a little time. So long as the front doors were still intact, we could hide in here without being seen until the dead had either focused on something else or wandered off. I was hoping that it wouldn't take too long. We only had about an hour of daylight left. Worst case scenario, we'd just have to spend the night in here.
"You two wait here," I whispered. "I'll be right back."
I didn't wait for either of them to protest. Randall seemed like an alright guy, but I wasn't sure if I could count on him to cut his share of the pie and not leave me hanging. It was dangerous to go alone, but it was more dangerous to go with someone who might let you get bit by not covering their section. It was kind of a catch-22. I didn't have to like it, but I did have to deal with it.
I swept the other back rooms, including the coolers. There was nothing in the backrooms or the small office. When I peeked out into the main part of the store, I could see the silhouette of a man standing at the end of the aisle. In the semi-darkness of the room, I could only make out slight details. I crept closer and felt the hair on the back of my neck standing up. My pulse began to quicken and I moved in for the kill. I didn't want to fire until I was close enough to insure a single kill-shot.
The figure hadn't moved, but I've see the dead do this before. Sometimes, they go completely inactive when they haven't had anything to stimulate them for a while. I wanted to take this thing down quick, just in case it was a Shrieker. The last thing I wanted was for this thing to alert the others to our hiding spot.
When I was within about a dozen paces, I brought the pistol up and took careful aim. I was a little farther away then I wanted to be, but I was afraid it would notice me before I got too much closer. I decided it would be best to shoot it twice, just to be certain. Lining up my shot, I put the sights right on the middle of the back of the creature's head. I exhaled slowly and steadied my hands, then fired twice.
The suppressed handgun made very little noise, but it seemed loud to me in the quiet store. I knew I had to have hit it, but it didn't fall. It also didn't react. So, I shot it twice more to make sure I hadn't missed. It was unlikely that I would miss twice. When it didn't fall, realization began to dawn on me. Lighting up my flashlight to illuminate the figure, I confirmed my suspicions. I had just shot a goddamned mannequin in the head, four times. I could see four ragged holes in the plastic.
To make matters worse, I heard shuffling feet behind me. Spinning around, I saw two zombies emerge from near the cash registers and start towards me. One was dragging a badly damaged left leg, while the other had most of the right side of its face chewed off.
"Aw, fuck," I muttered, and lined up my sights.
Just to be safe, I put two rounds into the foreheads of both of them. They fell to the ground without so much as a twitch. Clicking off my light, I crouched as I moved towards the end of aisle. I stayed low and checked the front end of the store. There wasn't anything else lurking in the semi-darkness. It was all clear. The front doors to the store were both glass and there was a car parked directly in front of them.
I moved up to the doors and peered outside. There were a few dead wandering around the parking lot, but nothing close to the door. I reached over and discovered that both doors were unlocked. I twisted the locks as quietly as I could and locked both doors. Once the doors were secure, I stepped back behind the counter and took a quick look around. This place wasn't just a liquor store, it was also an outdoor supply store. That meant that they had ammo, fishing equipment and possibly firearms. I couldn't help but smile.
In the rack behind me, I could see several shotguns, a few deer rifles and even one civilian model AR-15. I grabbed a shopping basket and filled it with the ammo that I needed right now. I loaded ten boxes of 12 gauge .00 buckshot, every box of .223 ammo for the AR and did a quick check for anything else I could use. I found four boxes of .22 magnum and two boxes of .45 Long Colt, sticking them into my pack.
In the display case, I grabbed four knives and a sharpening stone. Beneath the counter was a snub-nosed .357 revolver that must have been there for the clerk to use in the event of a robbery. I snagged it and all of the .38 ammo I could find. I knew that the .38 ammo could be shot out of the .357, but didn't have the heavy recoil of the magnum rounds. That would be a perfect gun to give Copeland. Not much ammo, low recoil and small frame. Then I headed back to the storeroom with my treasures.
The rifle and shotgun went to Randall, who immediately started loading them. I stuck my shotgun back on the side of my pack where it belonged. Copeland seemed to be happier once I gave her the pistol. I had to show her how to load and handle it. It was a hammerless Smith & Wesson, so she didn't have to worry about cocking the hammer back. I doubted that I could have found a simpler weapon for her to use if I had tried.
Randall snuck out to the front and returned with several candy bars and assorted snacks. I snagged a peanut butter power bar and started unwrapping it. There were several of them and no one else seemed to be touching them, so I tucked them all into my pack. Those might come in handy, if I had to eat on the run. Safer than ea
ting candy too, since there wouldn't be any sugar crashes.
"So, what do we do now?" asked Randall, chewing on a jumbo Snickers.
"Well," I said, hesitating, "we could wait here for the night or try for the police station. We only have about an hour of daylight left."
"I say we stay here tonight," said Copeland. "We're all tired and my feet are killing me."
"I can't argue with her," agreed Randall. "This is as good a place as any to hold up for the night."
"Alright," I said. "Wait here and I'll be right back."
I slipped out into the front of the store and searched for a few items that I knew we would need before this was all over with. I slipped back into the storeroom and started cranking the dynamo powered lantern that I had snagged off of the shelf. I tossed the second one to Randall and he started charging that one, as well. A few moments later, we could see well enough to work by, without using my flashlight. Then I unfolded the map of the town and handed Randall a sharpie.
"Alright," I said, pointing at the map, "can you mark some places on here for me."
"What are you looking for?" he asked, uncapping the sharpie.
"Anything useful," I said, shrugging. "Firehouses, hospitals, emergency shelters."
"How about the OEM[21] warehouse?" he said, smiling.
"Hell yeah," I said, smiling. "Do you think that it's still secure?"
"I'm pretty sure it is," he replied. "We didn't have time to declare a full emergency. We weren't ready for the dead when they got here. It should still be locked and full of supplies."
"What kind?" I asked.
"Food, for one," he said. "Well, mostly MREs. The Lacland County Sheriff's Department has their command post equipment there. There's a trailer full of communications gear for emergencies. Medical supplies, cots, survival gear and tents. Oh yeah, there's a Humvee there, too."
"A Humvee?" I asked, smiling.
Ragnarok Rising: The Crossing (The Ragnarok Rising Saga) Page 31