Jess lay on the ground, writhing in pain. The slug from the .45 tore along his left thigh leaving a wide gash. The pain felt like white-hot spears being driven into his leg. Ty knelt down next to Jess putting pressure on the wound. He removed Jess’s belt and wrapped it around his upper thigh as a tourniquet. He pulled off his own shirt and told Jess to press down hard. Around them, they moved closer.
Katie slammed the Ford into drive. Rick hopped into the passenger seat with a big smile on his face. Katie stared straight ahead at the events unfolding before her. One of the poor men was down because the redneck fuck shot him in the leg. His friend preoccupied trying to help him couldn’t see zombies moving in fast.
“We have to help them.” Katie and Rick said the words at the same time. She punched the gas and sped for the backside of the overturned Jeep. She slammed into two zombies sending them flying.
Ty jumped up, waving for Tom to move Jess’s truck closer, just as the big Ford blocked his view. Ty stepped back pointing his weapon directly at the driver’s door.
“We’re here to help. Get him in the back seat.“ Katie said hopping out and opening the back door. She didn’t pay any attention to the drawn weapon.
Tom, watching the events unfold before him, was about to start the truck when he heard Sugar growl. “Shit!” In all the excitement he had forgotten there were zombies near the truck. He pulled the sliding window open behind his head and yelled for Sugar to come. She scurried through the window and into the passenger seat. He reached down and started the truck. The headlights came on instantly revealing three grotesque zombies standing near the front of the truck.
“Where the fuck did they come from?” Tom said to Sugar. She continued growling.
Tom saw movement out of the corner of his eye. His head whipped around just as the driver’s side window shattered. It was the second time tonight one of the undead had him in its grasp. The hands grabbed at his shirt tearing off his collar. He pulled back and fired erratically through the door. One bullet found its mark but didn’t faze the zombie. It’s intestines and other putrid organs spilled out with a liquid thump. Tom raised the .38 firing a round through the zombie’s eye socket sending brain matter flying. He sat up and punched the gas. He didn’t know what to expect from the occupants of the Ford, but if they were anything like the guy Ty shot, he would have a fight on his hands.
Katie helped Ty lift Jess into the back seat of the Ford.
“We’re heading for the Bixter Building just as soon as I grab my keys. I’m the super there. It’s one of the safest buildings around.” Ty told the young girl.
“Sounds good to me. How about you, Dick?” Rick paid her no attention and didn’t bother responding to the mispronunciation of his name. He was too busy dropping Runners along with any Walkers too close for comfort.
“I think that’s a yes.” Katie said.
Jess lay bleeding in the back seat of the Ford. He heard the gunfire raging outside. All he wanted to do was go home and crawl into his warm bed and watch a little Sports Center. Jess could hear them making plans to go to the Bixter Building. He feared the Bixter Building. If the Convention Center didn’t work out for the other surviving residents of Redding what made them think they would be better off locked up in an office building.
Katie dropped another runner. She looked over to Rick for guidance. He aimed carefully to conserve ammo and squeezed off a solid shot. His sight changed to another runner closing the gap. Again he aimed carefully. One shot, one kill. Katie pointed to a large group of Walkers. They reminded her of the black and white zombie movies she loved as a kid.
“How many rounds do you have left? Rick asked her
“I have six shots left for the big gun and the little one is loaded.” She explained technically.
“Twelve shots.” Rick said to himself. He was really beginning to like this girl.
***
Tom inched the Chevy closer. He could see one man shooting but he couldn’t find Jess. Then he saw Ty talking with the girl. He pulled the truck in waving Ty over. Ty acknowledged his wave and held one finger up asking him to wait a second.
“Are you kidding me?” Tom said aloud.
Rick stepped to the front of the Ford and interrupted Katie’s conversation. “Mister, we need to get out of here. You’re friend is safe with us and you mentioned some building.” Rick squeezed off another shot.
“Yeah, the Bixter Building, I work there. I have all the keys…” Ty was cut off by another gunshot.
“I don’t need your life story. If you say the place is safe, I’ll take your word for it.” “Follow me and keep it tight. We are five maybe ten minutes from the building.”
Ty snatched the keys from his destroyed Jeep. He sprinted for the Chevy but stopped a few feet from the door, raising his .357. It boomed as the shot found its mark destroying the head of a short fat woman who was bloated from several days of decay. Ty pulled the door open and Tom scooted over. Ty began their final leg to the Bixter Building. In the distance, they could both hear sporadic gunfire coming from the north, the direction of the Convention Center. Ty couldn’t help but feel a little smug about making the right decision.
***
The moon appeared from behind clouds bathing the city in dim grey light. Rick watched the passing landscape. The world was dead now and He had absolutely no idea what was going to happen or how he and the others were going to survive. His thoughts slowly drifted to his friend. They were kids once, playing army in open fields and riding bikes all over Redding. Tears formed in his eyes as he remembered spending a lot of quarters at the Gold Mine arcade after school with Sammy and finally capturing the high score on Ms. Pac Man. Sammy had snickered and congratulated him for the high score on a chick’s game.
The body of Sammy Stevens sat slumped over. A large pool of blood had formed around him attracting a zombie. The zombie, a bloated black male with cloudy grey eyes grabbed Sammy’s arm and bit down. Sammy pulled his arm away minus one large bite and looked up with grey eyes of his own. He groaned and tried to stand. He fell over on to his side. He began to move his legs learning his motor skills. Sammy Stevens was now a member of a new society. A society of the dead in which he was a faceless citizen with no say, no power, and no friends. He had become what he hated most, a societal conformist.
Part Two
Thirty-Four
Sarah, no more than five years old, ran down a smoke filled alleyway trying to elude her pursuers. She had been by her mother’s side but lost her way a short time earlier when they them stumbled upon a horde of the undead. Unfortunately they had been walking upwind of the zombies not knowing the nightmare they were approaching. Her mother pushed her little body behind her telling her to run as fast as she could. “But mommy…”
“RUN!”
Sarah heard her mother scream as she rounded a distant corner and fled. She ran nearly two blocks turning onto a wide street finding it filled with zombies. She stood clinching her hands tight around her stuffed pony. The zombies walked around the street bumping into each other, falling and standing back up. Sarah remained still watching the zombies until a bloated body bumped into her from behind. She screamed and ran as the rotund zombie belched and vomited lumpy purplish vile down its chest. The scream along with Sarah’s movement attracted them.
She sprinted as fast as her little legs would carry her down an alleyway. A building to one side was burning filling the path with smoke. Sarah coughed almost dropping her pony. The smoke grew thin and she could see light up ahead. Her legs ached and her lungs burned but she did what mommy told her to do. Her head snapped back feet flying out from under her. Her pony fell to the ground as the zombie snatched her by her golden strands of hair. “MOMMY!” she cried desperately reaching for and touching her pony one last time with her fingertips.
The zombie inflicted immense devastation on Sarah’s small body, preventing her from returning. Her skull split apart with ease allowing easy access to the brain. A short time later Sarah’s mothe
r passed by her mutilated corpse stopping to tear fresh meat from a leg bone carelessly discarded. She held the leg and bit down into the warm flesh as light flooded her vision.
Tom fired his .38 from the passenger window of his Chevy while moving. The head of the female zombie eating a small leg erupted like a ripe watermelon from the back.
“That was a good shot. Did you see that?”
“Missed it. Sorry.” Ty replied.
“I’m a pretty good shot.”
“Save your ammo. You may need it later.” Ty didn’t bother looking at Tom. He continued watching the big Ford in his mirror thinking of his wounded friend riding with complete strangers though the girl was cute.
The small caravan continued a few more blocks turning onto River Drive lading to the Bixter Building. The city looked like a war zone from the river front road as fires raged. Ty maneuvered around the last remaining obstacles and entered the parking lot of his building. He breathed a deep sigh of relief seeing the building was in one piece, wasn’t on fire and didn’t look inhabited. He placed his right hand on Sugar’s head scratching her behind the ear. “We’re home, girl.”
Thirty-Five
Mariano crossed the city en route to Dayton’s group home. He passed streets completely blocked by debris and the dead however the bus proved invaluable bouncing zombies aside like rag dolls and it was quite nimble for something forty feet long. On open roads Runners couldn’t keep pace but this soon ended as Mariano worked his way to the west end of the city. He found congested narrow streets teaming with zombies. The zombies inflicted little damage never gaining entry but did leave bloody smears and pieces of rancid flesh hanging from the edges of the windows and door.
The head of one zombie, a former Miss Redding turned undead, sat wedged between the front bike rack and the bumper of the bus having been the victim of Mariano’s periodic road rage. The zombie’s blackened tongue protruded from its mouth while its grey eyes stared at Mariano. A slight chill ran up his spine every time he looked at the head. He swerved a few time attempting to free the head but was unsuccessful. Mariano looked at the head one last time as the mouth moved splitting the puffy red lips open. The tongue waved about tasting the air. This reaffirmed Mariano’s belief the world he knew was ending and he had to work quickly to rescue his friend, but first. The bus stopped, the door opened and Mariano stepped out. He grabbed the head off of the bike rack, turned and threw it as hard as he could at an approaching zombie hitting it square in the face. The zombie was knocked to the ground. Mariano’s chest heaved in and out as he screamed. Clinching his fists, he ran over to the toppled zombie and stomped hard on its head over and over until he heard the skull crack and his foot sank to the pavement. He turned and kicked the head he had thrown into the darkness. His hands were shaking as he looked to the eastern sky seeing the sun rising. He sprinted back to the bus.
1617 State Street sat in an older neighborhood built in the late fifties. The streets were old, narrow, and crowded with cars. The morning light revealed much of the neighborhood had fallen to the dead and they walked about with no purpose other than to eat. The forty-foot bus scraped along several cars parked on the street as Mariano attempted to get as close to the group home as possible. He rounded the final corner and set up his approach to allow him a quick exit to a less congested street a half a block away.
Only a few zombies walked near the front yard of the group home. Minor miracle, I’m not above praying to you God if you’re there. A small white picket fence surrounding the front yard surprisingly held out the dead. The house itself appeared dark and lifeless. No light shone from any of the front windows and the chimney produced no smoke. Halloween decorations hung in the front windows and a paper skeleton was taped to the front door. Mariano shut the bus off trying not to attract further attention. He knew the bus would start when he returned with Dayton but crossed his fingers anyways. Mariano peered into the side mirror seeing approaching zombies. The shotgun had four rounds and he had six more in his jacket pocket.
Mariano exited the bus out the front door, crossed the sidewalk and hopped over the small fence. He trotted up to the front door. The group home housed eight mentally challenged men and three support staff. Mariano peered through the front window but couldn’t see anything in the darkness. He hoped the support staff had been smart enough to keep everybody inside during the first days of the infection or better yet, in the basement. The front door was locked, a good sign. Mariano glanced at the street finding he had about a minute before two zombies reached the yard. Luckily he saw no Runners, just the slow rambling sort.
A quick knock on the door produced nothing. Mariano flipped open the mail slot door and announced him as one of the living and that he was there for Dayton. No answer. He walked down the narrow driveway to the rear of the house spying in every window he passed. The backyard had a tall wooden fence bordering a small canal and a sturdy gate. Mariano glanced back down the driveway seeing no zombies. He grabbed a small piece of rope that led through a small hole in the gate. The rope was attached to a simple latch on the inside of the gate. He pulled the rope opening the gate inward. Mariano pushed the gate and fell backwards at the sight of the Downs Syndrome stricken boy standing before him.
The boy was covered in dried blood and had large open wounds on his arms, legs and neck. The wounds were the color of night and the blackness was moving through the boy’s veins. His eyes were dark grey and didn’t blink. It wasn’t Dayton. The boy stepped forward stumbling on top of Mariano. He didn’t have time to rear the shotgun. Mariano cursed while wrestling with the zombie. The boy’s mouth was wide open producing a foul odor. Mariano used his upper body strength shoving the boy to the side. He scrambled to his feet and picked up the shotgun. The boy swiped at his legs. Mariano stepped to the side and kicked the boy in the face caving it in with his steel toes.
Several zombies walked towards Mariano down the driveway. He moved into the backyard and slammed the gate shut. The backyard was well manicured and two picnic tables sat with scattered dishes on them. A large tin dish with what appeared to be spoiled Italian food sat in the middle of one of the tables. Mariano walked past the tables stopping at a large sliding glass door. Mariano couldn’t see a thing through the door. The sight of the Downs Syndrome-stricken boy as a zombie had Mariano thinking the worst for Dayton. He knocked loudly and yelled out Dayton’s name. It moved in the darkness of the room.
Julia Holland had worked at the group home for nearly a year. She was working towards a degree in Developmental Sociology, a bullshit degree but she figured it would lead to good money. She enjoyed the boys company and felt at ease around their gentle nature. Her thesis was in the bag and her final month of volunteer work was rapidly coming to an end. Her petite five foot three frame shambled in the dark room towards the sound coming from the sliding glass door.
Mariano watched Julia paw for him from the other side of the door with pale hands. She stared with foggy eyes never blinking while her mouth gaped open revealing blackened gums. Mariano considered shooting her in the head but he knew Dayton was gone and the last thing he needed to do now was waste a shell. He had to make his way back to the bus and conserve ammo. He stepped off the back patio and rounded the opposite corner of the house away from the gate. The narrow passage was overgrown with the neighbor’s shrubs and looked quite uninviting. Mariano walked slowly down the passage stopping when he heard them.
Mariano listened carefully, hearing muffled voices. As of yet, he hadn’t heard a zombie speak. A small window sat at the base of the home near his feet. He shook his head. After seeing Julia he had lost all hope for his friend. He dropped to his knees peering through the window. Dayton’s round face looked up at him smiling.
“Mori. Ou come.” Dayton said from the basement. He could pronounce Mariano but it never bothered him.
The basement had two exits, one door in the house and one to the backyard. The door to the backyard was covered with plants and gardening supplies.
�
��Go to the outside door, Dayton. I’ll open it.” Mariano said pointing to the back.
Mariano now had incentive to live and get the hell out of the city. He tossed the gardening supplies aside and smashed the small lock with the butt of the shotgun. He door pulled open revealing Dayton’s smiling face along with five other boys from the home. Dayton ran the last few steps tackling Mariano.
“You here. I said ou ould come. I told them ou ould come. Dayton held Mariano in his freakishly strong grasp.
“I’m here, buddy but you need to let me up. We have to get the hell out of here.”
“Ou cuss.” Dayton said standing.
“Sorry D, but we really do have to get out of here.”
Mariano stared at the motley crew for a moment before speaking.
“OK boys, we have a long road to haul and those things are crawling all over the place. I have a bus parked in front of the house. Follow me and don’t get to scared if I have to use the shotgun.” Mariano led the boys to the overgrown passage.
“Dayton. Is there anybody left in the house that’s normal, you know, alive?” Mariano asked.
“No. All like Jula. She took Mike.” Dayton’s smile slipped from his face.
“I’m here D. You and your friends are safe.”
Mariano walked down the passage with a purpose. At the end, the shrubs hung well over the fence blocking his view of the front yard. He pushed the barrel of the shotgun through the wall of leaves following slowly. He found the front yard clear, however, five zombies walked near the bus.
“Stay close boys.”
Mariano walked through the front yard raising the shotgun. He pulled the butt in close and pulled the trigger destroying the head of a short round male zombie near the front entrance of the bus. The body hit the ground convulsing. The boys remained close to Mariano. One boy screamed out. Mariano turned quickly spotting the zombie moving quickly through the front yard. Mariano pulled the trigger spinning the zombie off balance. The left side of its upper body disappeared in the blast.
Welcome to Necropolis Page 15