“What’s going on?” whispered Randall.
“The dead are at the front door,” I replied, softly. “Get back in the storeroom.”
He did as I asked and I followed closely behind him. Once we were concealed back inside the storeroom, he switched the light back on. It cast an eerie blue light over the room, washing out the features of our faces and giving us all a deathly pallor. Keeping the PMR-30 in my hand but not raising it, I glanced back and forth between the two of them. One of them was a traitor and was trying to get us all killed. That didn’t make any sense to me since they would have been killed, as well.
“Someone deliberately set up a flashing light to attract the dead to the door,” I said, shifting my gaze to gauge their expressions.
Randall looked shocked and angry, but Copeland just looked horrified.
“Why would one of us do that?” demanded Copeland.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Randall. “If the dead get inside here, we’ll all be killed. There’s nowhere to run.”
“That’s exactly my point,” I said, still watching them both warily. “Either one of the two of you sabotaged us or there’s someone else inside this place.”
“How do we know it wasn’t you?” demanded Copeland.
“Well, for one thing,” I said, anger in my tone, “if I wanted the two of you dead, why the fuck would I even bother bringing you with me?”
“He could have shot us a long time ago,” admitted Randall. “Neither of us was much of a threat when we left with him. He could have killed us instead of giving us weapons.”
“Well I didn’t do it,” snapped Copeland. “If you two got killed, I wouldn’t stand a chance out here alone.”
She had a point. I had already been thinking something similar. Randall was the one that was in the restroom when we heard the dead hitting the glass. However, I was asleep when Copeland shook me and told me about the noise. They both had time to do it while I was out. Randall made more sense, but I couldn’t rule out either of them.
“It wasn’t me,” said Randall, holding up both of his hands, palms out. “There has to be another explanation.”
“I’ve searched every room in the building,” I said, frowning. “I didn’t see any sign of anyone else.”
“What about the crawlspace?” asked Randall. “This place has a false ceiling. There has to be a space between it and the roof.”
I had to admit, I hadn’t thought of that. Leave it to the firefighter to notice things about the structure that most of us took for granted. It made more sense than one of them trying to get us all killed. I still wasn’t sure I wanted to trust either of them, but I couldn’t rule out the possibility that there might be someone lurking in the crawlspace above us. It was worth checking out.
“Let’s find out,” I said, glancing warily at the ceiling.
Taking out my flashlight, I began scanning the tiles above us looking for any sign that they had been disturbed. Above us, I could see where one had damage in one corner, as if it had been forced into the space. I pointed at it and noticed that it bowed downward slightly, as if a weight had just shifted on it. Whoever was up there was right above us, listening to our conversation.
I waved at Randall to get his attention and pointed above us. His eyes grew wider and he nodded his understanding. I idly considered just shooting a few silenced rounds into the ceiling, but thought better of it. I wanted to know why they wouldn’t just approach us instead of trying to get us all killed. If I was alone out here in the zombie territory, I’d want to make contact with another group. I wouldn’t want to try to do it all on my own.
“We know you’re up there!” called Copeland, anger on her face. “Come down here and talk to us.”
“Why should I?” came a muffled response.
The voice sounded like a young female.
“Because if you don’t,” snapped Randall, “we’ll come up there after you.”
“You won’t be able to,” she replied. “You’re too heavy. You’ll fall through.”
“Then we’ll burn this motherfucker down,” snapped Randall, anger seething in his voice.
“You won’t dare!” she replied. “Not with all these supplies in here.”
“Don’t bet on it,” said Randall. “All this alcohol down here will burn hot and fast.”
“I’d listen to him, if I were you,” I added. “He’s a firefighter. I’m sure he knows all about it.”
“Please don’t,” she pleaded. “I only wanted to make you leave.”
“Come down and talk to us,” I said, trying to sound calm.
“Promise you won’t shoot me?” she asked, her voice weak.
“We promise,” I assured her.
I heard her sigh and then saw the ceiling tile start to move. In the eerie blue light of the lantern, I could see that something wasn’t normal. There were wounds on her legs and the skin seemed to be loose on her frame. Then I noticed the crude stitching that ran down the backs of her legs.
“Oh fuck,” I muttered, horror on my face.
“What?” demanded Copeland. “What is it?”
As the girl climbed to the floor, it felt like ice-water had been poured down my spine. She was tiny and frail-looking despite the odd clothing she wore. She was wearing a macabre suit of human flesh, just like another young person I had seen recently. She was disguised as one of the undead, just like the young boy I had shot.
The look she gave me was of utter hatred. Her eyes glared venom into my soul as she stood there, defiant and determined not to back down from us. She was younger than the other one had been. She had to have been around twelve years old.
“You killed my brother,” she said, glaring at me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, deeply saddened for this poor child. “I thought he was a zombie.”
“You didn’t give him time to explain,” she said, sobbing. “You just shot him down.”
Lowering my weapon, I knelt before her. Tears ran unchecked down my cheeks. She was right. I had killed her brother without hesitation.
“I’m sorry,” I sobbed, almost whispering. “I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know.”
I couldn’t look at her. I was more ashamed of what I had done than I had ever felt in my life. There was nothing I could do to make it up to her. There was nothing I could do to take it back.
“He was all I had left,” she said, sobbing.
“Why are you wearing a zombie suit?” asked Copeland.
“After our parents were killed,” she said, softly, “we were all alone. Graham noticed that they ignored other zombies, so he got the idea to wear zombie skins. We didn’t have anywhere else to go, so we made zombie suits. We could walk around in the daytime and look for food.”
“Why didn’t you look for other survivors?” asked Randall.
“We did,” she explained. “But we never found any.”
“You poor thing,” said Copeland, tears in her eyes.
“If you come with us,” I said, my voice thick with emotion, “I promise we will keep you safe and give you a place to stay. We can’t leave you out here alone.”
“What about my brother?” she asked, angrily. “What about what you did to him?”
“I am so sorry,” I said, meeting her gaze. “I promise I will do my best to take care of you in his place. We have a place to go. We have food, shelter and a warm bed for you. I wish I could take it back, but I can’t. I can only try to make it up to you.”
“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she replied, sobbing again.
“We’ll take care of you,” promised Copeland.
“Why don’t you get her out of that mess and clean her up,” I said, nodding at Copeland. “Get her some clothes and make sure she’s alright.”
“I will,” answered Copeland, taking her by the hand and guiding her towards the bathrooms. “We’ll be back.”
While they were in the bathroom attempting to remove the gore from the girl, I decided I’d try something
to stop attracting the dead to the front door. Creeping around the back end of the aisle, I got within about ten yards undetected. Then I lay prone on the ground to improve my aim and steady the weapon. Bringing my silenced pistol into position, I took careful aim at the flashing amber strobe.
If I missed, my shot would only strike the cashier’s desk causing little or no harm. Steadying my hand and exhaling slowly, I gently squeezed the trigger. The nearly silent report of the suppressed weapon coughed in the darkness. The high-velocity .22 Magnum round smashed through the emergency light without hesitation, shattering the plastic housing into tiny pieces and instantly quelling the light.
When the amber flash ceased, so did the fleshy slapping of hands against the glass. They were still there, but now they had nothing to make them curious. As long as we remained quiet, we had a good chance that something else would get their attention and they would wander off. At least, that was what I hoped would happen.
Chapter Twenty
Grimmr Bardagi
"No man lives till eve whom the Fates doom at dawning."
-Anglo Saxon Poem
It was nearly an hour before they returned from the bathroom. I hardly recognized the girl when they returned. There had been enough pressure in the lines to use the sink and the toilet. After that long sitting in the lines, it was fine to clean with but not to drink. Still, the change was remarkable. She looked like a normal girl, now. They had done their best for clothing in an outdoor supply store.
She was wearing camouflage pants and a black t-shirt that said “Redneck Hunting Club.” Her red hair was long and pulled back in a pony tail. She still looked scared, but her green eyes sparkled as she looked around. They had even found a pair of hiking boots in her size. It wasn’t exactly the height of fashion, but it wasn’t a suit made from zombie skin, either. She had to feel better without that on.
“My…,” she stammered, “my name is…Kimberly.”
“Hello Kimberly,” I said, gently. “How do you feel?”
“Better,” she replied. “I didn’t like wearing that stuff. Graham said it was the only way we could look for food without getting killed."
I felt terrible for those poor kids. After everything they had done to survive, I had killed the boy because I mistook him for a zombie. I had no way of knowing that he was alive, but it didn't make me feel any better. Even if she found a way to forgive me, I wasn't sure I could forgive myself. It was something I was just going to have to learn to live with.
The sun was coming up and I figured it was time for us to get moving. A quick check of the front door found it clear of the living-dead, so I thought now was as good of a time as any. The sooner we made it to the OEM warehouse, the sooner we could grab that Humvee and get moving. I wanted to put some distance between us and the city of Lebanon. If we came back to scavenge for gear, it would be after we had the other vehicles going. The Stryker would clear us a path, once it was operational.
I approached the front door cautiously, not sure what to expect. Dark shadows hung heavily around the area, since the sun was still low on the horizon. I still didn't see any signs of the dead, but I knew that could be misleading. Kneeling down, I unlocked the door as quietly as I could. In the still morning air, the slight click of the lock seemed like a loudspeaker. I held my breath while I waited to see if anything heard the sound. I let out an audible sigh when nothing came looking.
"So far, so good," I whispered, grinning.
The others just shrugged and looked around nervously. I couldn't blame them. If the dead came running after us, we had very few options. It wouldn't take them very long to come through the glass doors and be inside the store with us. This place wasn't defensible and the only thing that had kept us safe was not being seen. Now it was time to leave that behind and risk discovery.
Just in front of the store was a parked car. It was an older sedan and would provide good cover, if we needed it. I quietly opened the door and peered outside. I couldn't see anything, so I crouched and slipped out the door. Once in front of the car, I peeked over the top of the hood and glanced around the parking lot. There were a few other parked cars, but no signs of anything moving.
Motioning for the others to follow me, I crept around the driver's side of the vehicle and made my way towards the back bumper. There were buildings on either end of the parking lot, but they were easily thirty yards away. I wanted to get across the main street as quickly as possible. Once we were on the other side, we could hide among the buildings and make our way towards our goal. The most difficult part would be crossing the road. Other than abandoned cars, we'd be completely exposed.
By the time we'd made it to the edge of the road, the sun was rising steadily into the morning sky. The humidity was creeping up and it had all the makings of a very hot day. I was already starting to sweat beneath my body armor. I crouched low and waited for the others to catch up to me. While I waited, I looked carefully in both directions. There still wasn't any sign of movement. That was really starting to worry me. Something should have been moving, even if it was the dead.
"What now?" whispered Randall.
"I'm not sure," I replied, still looking around. "Something just doesn't feel right."
"It's awfully quiet," he observed, glancing around.
I was preparing to move into the road, when I caught movement towards the back of the building. I froze and held out my hand and lowered it towards the ground. Everyone grew quiet and got down, without question. Near the alley-way, I could see an emaciated looking zombie. It was obviously female, but in bad shape. Her face and arms were savagely shredded and her white dress hung off of her in tatters.
The cloth of her skirt was flowing around her in the breeze as she was kneeling over a puddle of water. She seemed to be reaching for her own distorted reflection. With the cloth billowing around her and clinging to her hands, it gave the eerie appearance that she was washing her clothing in the water. My jaw went slack and a cold chill ran down my back, turning my blood to ice water. It was a scene right out of Scottish legend. The old tales that my grandfather told me while I sat at his knee. Those old legends he shared when the snow fell deep and the wind howled outside our window. They haunted my dreams throughout my childhood.
"The Bean nighe," I breathed, mouth agape.
"What the hell is that?" asked Randall, keeping his voice low.
"It's an old Scottish legend," I said, not taking my eyes off of her. "It's an omen."
"What does it mean?" asked Copeland.
"N...nothing," I stammered, my mind racing.
The old legend ran through my head in the frightening tone my grandfather had when telling me tales of the old country. The Bean nighe was called the "Washer Woman" in old Gaelic. She was an omen of death. The legend said she foretold the death of the person who's clothes she was washing. According to legend, there was no way to find out who the clothes belonged to without catching her. I only hoped they weren't mine.
My family were all Northern Scots. Since Scotland had been held by the Vikings for centuries, there was a long line of Scottish, Pictish and Viking blood in my family tree. The old stories struck deep chords in the psyche of every child who grew up listening to them. They certainly did for me.
"It's just a fucking zombie," muttered Randall. "It's not some Scottish ghost."
"Yeah," I said, tearing my gaze away from the specter. "It's nothing."
As if on cue, she stood up and wandered away down the alley, disappearing from our view. I still felt a chill beneath my armor, despite the growing heat of the morning sun. I had to remind myself that those were just tales that my grandfather told me. I had bigger problems, at the moment. It was time to get moving.
"Let's go," I muttered, and headed into the road.
In the middle of the road was a small SUV with the windows broken out of it. I did a quick scan of the interior and instantly regretted it. The back seat held two booster seats for small children. Both still had the seatbelts buckled and there
was blood everywhere. It was enough to make your stomach heave.
I turned away and motioned for the others to move up to me. Copeland and Kimberly crouched and ran to me, not bothering to look around. Randall and I covered them, but I still didn't see any signs of movement. Once they were safe beside me, Randall started across the road. He hadn't made it more than a dozen paces when the report of a rifle sent him sprawling to the ground. I saw it all like it was in slow motion. The round struck him in the right shoulder and spun him around. Blood flew from the wound and he cried out in pain.
I turned to look for the source of the shot, when a bullet struck the roof of the SUV, only a few inches from my face. I dove down and stayed below the edge of the window. I pushed Copeland and Kimberly down and covered them with my body, as best as I could.
"Hey, Grant!" called an all too familiar voice, mockingly.
"What the fuck do you want, Armstrong?" I called back, anger filling my voice.
"Not much," she answered. "Sheriff Rosewood wants me to make you tell us where your camp is. I just want to shoot you in the face for what you did to my hand."
"I was aiming for your head," I replied, trying to draw her out.
"If you want to live through this," she jeered, "you'd better tell us where your camp is. It won't be long before this place is crawling with the dead."
"Then you won't be any better off than we are," I replied, glancing at Randall.
He was applying pressure to the wound and biting his lower lip. I could see that he was still losing blood, but he wasn't dead. I motioned for him to come towards us and he gave me a slight nod. I had to keep Armstrong's attention off of him or he'd never make it.
"Don't bet on it," she called out. "We've got vehicles and you don't. We can get out of the area, long before they arrive. You won't be so lucky. Last chance!"
From where I crouched, I started looking around. I could see three different Lacland County Cruisers parked around the area. I hadn't paid any attention to them before because they were parked with other vehicles. Shouldering my Beowulf, I took careful aim at the first cruiser.
Ragnarok Rising: The Crossing (The Ragnarok Rising Saga) Page 33