The Renegades 2 Aftermath (A Post Apocalyptic Zombie Thriller)

by Hunt, Jack

  I felt like a stretchy toy being yanked back and forth.

  Suddenly gunfire. Thankfully this time it wasn’t from the Tongan Crips. It was Elijah. He was standing just beyond a window across from me. He fired at the heads of Z’s directly below. They flopped to the floor. I managed to grasp the next rung on the ladder and pull myself up. It took everything I had but once my feet touched the metal, I breathed a sigh of relief.

  I quickly made my way up the ladder. At the edge I peeked over to make sure no Tongan Crips were on the roof before clambering over. I took a minute to catch my breath before assessing how the hell I was going to get out of there. As I hauled myself up. I looked across the rooftops. It was much higher up than those found in Castle Rock. For a second I found myself thinking of the old town. I felt a twinge of sadness.

  It was quickly replaced by panic when a bullet zipped past. I turned my head to see one of the Crips. They were dressed in black with a blue bandana. I returned fire, then bolted. In the distance I saw a thick pipe that extended across from one side of the building to the other. It had to have been part of the water or air ventilation system. I raced over to it, fired a few more rounds before doing a crazy balancing act. Below, the ground had to have been forty feet down. Z’s shuffled around moaning and gazing up. Across the street on the opposite rooftop was a Crip taking shots at me like a tin can. Yeah, you could say I wasn’t having a good day.

  As soon as I made it across I dashed to the emergency exit and entered the stairwell. My heart was beating a mile a minute.

  I retraced my steps back to the cinema.

  Elijah must have already made it back, as I didn’t see him along the way. I had called out his name when I reached the ground but heard nothing except the moans of the dead.

  * * *

  From the moment I entered, I knew something was going down. The noise inside had reached an epic level. An argument had broken out between Darius and Elijah. They were shoving each other back and forth.

  “You abandoned us back there,” Elijah barked.

  “What did you expect me to do, homie?”

  Elijah caught sight of me. I was sweating from running. He pointed at me.

  “He’s not even one of us. But he didn’t run. Lukas would have been dead if it wasn’t for him.”

  “Bullshit. If it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t even be out there. I say we shoot that muthafuker.” Darius pulled a Glock and before he had made it a few steps in my direction, Elijah had his own gun pressed against his temple.

  “Put the gun down.”

  “Homie, what the fuck?”

  “You’re not my homie. You’re a coward. You ran and left us behind. Now put it down. I won’t say it again.”

  By now several of the other members had their guns drawn.

  “I’m with Darius, I say we get rid of them.”

  “Fuck that. We do what Elijah says.”

  Some of them were pointing guns at Elijah, others were pointing them at those who were aiming at him.

  There was some serious discord going on here.

  “Settle down,” I said, trying to catch my breath. Sweat was running down the side of my cheek. I had my hands on my knees. I was wiped out and in no mood for an argument. “We’re alive, that’s all that matters.”

  There was an awkward pause as each of them slowly backed off.

  Elijah cast a glance at me and then looked at the others before shaking his head.

  “Someone deal with Lukas. Get him patched up.”

  “Look, I’m sorry, man,” Darius said.

  “Get out of my sight,” Elijah said before he came over to check on me. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  He placed a hand on my back.

  “What you did back there. Why?”

  I paused before answering. “I didn’t do anything anyone else wouldn’t have done.”

  “Obviously you did.”

  He studied my face, nodding slowly. Elijah turned to another member of the Black Kings.

  “Let the others out.”

  He nodded and disappeared out back. Within a matter of a few minutes, Dax, Baja, and the others were released. They were rubbing their wrists after their binds had been cut.

  “Tonight you join us to eat. Tomorrow, I’ll get your guns, a few more supplies, and if you need to get out of the city, I’ll show you how.”

  I nodded.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Johnny. Johnny Goode.”

  He grasped my hand. “Thanks, man.”

  With that said, Elijah walked away. The others came over and started questioning me about what happened. I brought them up to speed. A few hours later they invited us into the main auditorium. Many of them looked at us and talked among themselves. While most were still standoffish, a couple came over and thanked me for helping. Lukas was lucky to have survived. Had the bullet been a few inches over, he would have been dead.

  We each were given a paper plate of cooked chicken and a beer. We hadn’t had anything like that in a long time. We had been living off MREs and vending machine crap for the past week. That evening we sat in the warmth of the cinema, feeling safe. We hadn’t felt that way since arriving. Nothing had changed outside. The dead still wandered around looking for the next feast. Tongan Crips no doubt would be searching for those that had killed their own. But for now, we were alive.

  COLOSSEUM

  I woke up feeling better than I did the day before. We still stunk to high heaven but we were all able to get a good night’s sleep. I rolled off the tiny bed the Black Kings had stolen from a downtown shelter. Others slept on torn-up couches. It was the small things now that mattered most. Not feeling hunger, being able to sleep without fear of having your throat torn out.

  My head ached a little and I needed coffee. I would have settled for the dregs at the bottom of a dumpster. Anything with caffeine. Dax and the others were already up and talking with Elijah. Rap music was playing quietly in the background.

  “About time you woke up. I thought you were going to sleep all day,” Jess said.

  I stumbled over to them across an obstacle course of shit that belonged to the gang. They had collected anything and everything that could be of use to them. Old portable radios, tools from hardware stores, furniture, a generator that looked as if it was still being worked on, but mostly canned food. That stuff was gold now.

  “Where’s the can?” I asked.

  Elijah thumbed behind him. I strolled off.

  As I was washing my hands in the washroom I noticed how scruffy my face had become. I hadn’t shaved since the day before leaving Castle Rock. I ran a hand across my cheek. I was beginning to look like the wild man of Borneo.

  A few minutes later Elijah came in. I nodded and we had this awkward moment that could only be encountered in a men’s washroom. What was the deal with that? I mean, we all had the same faculties down below. But when you tossed in a few stalls, urinals, and sinks it brought a whole strange vibe to it all. Unless of course you were as drunk as a skunk, in which case you spent less time feeling self-conscious and more trying to piss straight.

  I felt like saying, “So how about those Dodgers?” but I knew he would have replied, “They are dead.”

  Somehow it just wouldn’t have had the same ring to it.

  I was still trying to figure out if Elijah was the head honcho. The night before we never really came to know if the TBKs had a leader. Some had said the original one had died, others gestured to Elijah, while a few more said there was still a bit of a pissing match going on as to who should take charge.

  While it seemed to matter to them, it didn’t to Elijah. He’d told us of how he’d grown up around the TBKs. His eldest brother was a member long before he was, that was until he was murdered by the Tongan Crips. The only commonality between the TBKs and the Tongan Crips was they were all Mormons. In fact, it was uncommon if you weren’t. But that had never stopped them from killing. There was a real disconnect between what they believed
and how they lived.

  His brother pulled him into it. By the age of twelve he had been courted in. It was an initiation to see if you could handle yourself if you ended up getting jumped by a rival gang. Four or five gang members would beat on you for three minutes and you couldn’t do anything back. How that was meant to prove if you could handle yourself was a mystery. Maybe it was all about handling pain, being all macho and shit.

  I couldn’t help think how ridiculous it all was. I understood why people joined gangs. Those who had grown up in a family that was already part of one, or those who had nothing going for them and they were looking for some sense of belonging. But the killing for no reason, seemed pointless. At least now, we had a reason to kill. It was pure survival. We were faced with life or death situations. But back before that, there was no reason, except ego. And it was the wrong type.

  Elijah showed us a photo of his family. His brother had been burnt alive by a rival gang. They had caught him off guard with his wife and two kids. Now by all accounts most gang members would let it slide if they saw you with your family. It was a sign of respect. It was the only time they would let you walk on by, however that wasn’t the case for Elijah’s brother. They had shot his family while he watched and then poured gasoline over him and set him on fire.

  They recorded the whole thing and then sent them the flash drive in a Christmas card. In a fucking Christmas card! He had never forgotten that. That night he told us of how he discovered the ones responsible for the death of his brother and his family.

  They had managed to corner the three men. What he told us next nearly made me gag. They took them out into the desert, stripped them, cut off the testicles of one of the men and made the other two eat them. They repeated it for the other two. After that they scooped out their eyeballs with spoons. All the while the men were still alive. Bleeding out, but feeling excruciating pain. When that was done they buried them in the ground near to an ants’ nest and let the desert creatures eat them alive. Who knows how long they remained conscious. It no longer mattered. To Elijah he had vindicated his brother’s murder.

  And yet as he told us this, he said something very profound. Elijah thought he would feel better afterward, and for a brief moment he did. Then the satisfaction was gone. All he could feel was numb. He realized that he had become like them. No better.

  He didn’t say it. But the look in his eyes was enough. If given the opportunity, he wanted out from the gang life. But what could he do? There was nothing else he knew. As atrocious as it was, gang life was all he had.

  Elijah led us out that morning after breakfast. He brought with him six other guys. He wasn’t taking any chances. They had been experiencing a number of attacks by the Tongans. While they had managed to secure off the area around the cinema, Elijah felt it was only a matter of time before the Tongans would try to take that as well.

  Not much had changed since the apocalypse for them. It was still about territory, respect, and being the baddest motherfuckers on the streets. To us it seemed meaningless. To them, it was everything. Gang banging, dealing, robbing stores, and putting a cap in the enemy was still at the top of their agenda.

  They took us as far as they could before turning back. They knew the areas where their rival gangs went. It would have been insane for them to cross over into that section of the neighborhood without more of their homies. I thanked Elijah and wished him the best of luck. I had a sense that he saw something in our group that he connected with. What it was? I was unsure about that but he definitely looked disconnected from his group that morning.

  When we parted ways, it would take us close to twenty minutes to haul ass over to the CDC. Elijah had given us a clear route out of the city for after. A path that would keep us clear of the Tongans and other gangs. Instead, we wanted to check out the CDC before we left. I guess we still held out some smidgen of hope that whoever had broadcast that signal, was still around, or at least had left directions to a safe zone.

  “So what do you think this safe zone will be like?” Specs asked.

  “I’m hoping it’s a harem of women, booze, marijuana, and Pop-Tarts,” Baja replied while keeping an eye on the rooftops. Truth be told, none of us had really given much thought to what it would be like. Anything had to be an improvement over our current situation. Personally I had envisioned a section of suburbs walled off from the rest of society, where remaining troops had pitched up camp and guarded the walls day and night. Dax believed it would be a camp run by FEMA. Basically a massive prison complex that would house anyone not infected.

  “Dax, you got to be out of your mind. A prison?”

  “You think they are going to just let everyone do whatever the fuck they want? It would be anarchy,” he said, casting a nervous glance around as we moved closer to Washington Square Park.

  “A concentration camp? Now if they allow conjugal visits, I might be up for it,” Baja said.

  “Oh, they’ll give you conjugal visits, dude. Just yours will be with someone named Bubba,” Specs said, chuckling to himself.

  “You guys are mental,” Izzy added.

  “Oh yeah, what do you think it’s going to be like?”

  “Well, for one they aren’t going to house us in a prison cell. I’m thinking more along the lines of a pleasant neighborhood. Something with a 7-Eleven.”

  “Sweet cheeks, as long as your ass is there, I don’t mind,” Baja commented as he charged ahead momentarily to kick a decapitated head like a soccer ball.

  “Pervert.”

  “Ralphie?” I asked.

  He rubbed his chin. “I’m hoping it’s like…” He stopped walking, closed his eyes and sniffed the air as if it was a scratch and sniff card. “Like…Candy Mountain.”

  Specs burst out laughing. “Candy Mountain. What the hell is that?”

  “An endless flow of candy.”

  “And pussy?” Baja asked.

  “No, just candy.”

  Dax tossed up another one of his hand signals. It was starting to become so frequent we thought his arm was spasming. “Whoa, guys. Hold up.”

  Anytime he had said that in our journey, we all knew to get low, and draw a weapon if we hadn’t already had one in hand.

  “We aren’t going to be able to cut through there.”

  The entire area of Washington Square Park was swarming with the dead. An endless ocean of heads bobbing up and down as they shuffled aimlessly around. The place was named after George Washington. At the center of it was the City-County Building. A giant monolithic structure that looked like Parliament in Canada. It had hundreds of windows surrounded by thick mortar and a clock tower in the middle that rose up three hundred feet like a middle index finger.

  “We can go the long route. It’s a little out of the way, but it will get us there. It takes us past the public library.”

  “Damn, I always wanted to see that place,” said Specs.

  “Dude, it’s a library.”

  “No, that ain’t no library, it’s a work of art.” I had no clue what he was on about but then again I didn’t read as much as Specs did. If his nose wasn’t in a book, he was building some weird contraption. Usually it was for his father. The very thought of his dad, made me sigh. We could never go back to Castle Rock. All the people we loved. It was gone.

  Life would never be the same.

  We stayed low and moved quietly behind vehicles until we reached 300 East Street. We hung a left and continued on our way.

  As we got closer to Salt Lake Public Library on our right, I had to admit it was something to behold. The first thing we noticed was the crescent stone wall that swept around the north and east side. The whole structure was one part stone, two parts curved glass. With a five-story walkable wall and high-UV glass, it was literally shaped like a huge wedge. Dax wanted to keep going but Specs bugged him to take a few minutes and check it out. He eventually caved in.

  “It’s meant to store over five hundred thousand books,” Specs said, staring at it in awe.

&
nbsp; Baja sniffed. “Dude, I have more than that on my iPhone.”

  “You think Z’s are inside?” Jess asked.

  “Probably a shit load. I don’t feel good about this, Johnny,” Dax said.

  “Settle down. You’ll be in and out in five minutes, I replied.

  “Yeah, Dax, you should be used to that,” Izzy added.

  We all stifled a laugh while Dax went a slight shade of red. The closer we got the bigger it looked. “It’s like the Colosseum in Rome,” I said. Small green trees were dotted around the outside, along with a fountain that ran down stone steps. Sections of it reminded me of what Rome might have looked like in modern times. As we ascended the stone steps that led up to the entrance, we could see that multiple doors were no longer there. Blood covered them. The glass had been shattered, and some of them had been torn off the framework. We knifed a few Z’s on the way in. Unless it was critical, we didn’t use bullets.

  Glass crunched beneath our feet as we stepped inside. High above us was a massive skylight. Multiple elevators to our right were no longer in service. One of them was completely covered in blood as if multiple people had been attacked inside of it.

  There was a large sign giving an outlined map of the entire place. Stores were positioned against the stone wall to our left. In the atrium to our right was a hair salon, gift stores, a flower shop, an art gallery, and multiple cafés. Tables and chairs had been overturned. The floors were littered and smeared red. Decaying bodies were laid out from brutal attacks though some looked as if people had jumped to their deaths. Did they have no other option?

  With every new place I entered, I would momentarily close my eyes and envision what had taken place. What were the horrors witnessed by young children as adults turned on each other and the once peaceful place became a scene of terror?