The Dark Times: A Zombie Novel

by Dane Hatchell

  This zombie didn’t smell of death and rot. It had the familiar rank of a homeless person. Lots of body odor simmering under a layer of grime. There were notes of rotted fruit mixed with spoiled milk. The smell was still bad enough to make Rico gag.

  After turning his head for a gasp of fresh air, he called, “My gun! Get my gun!”

  The zombie’s head struck like a snake toward his face. Rico barely managed to keep his nose from getting chomped off. Its teeth clacked against empty air.

  Fortunately, Rico was in better physical shape for this dance with the undead, because the zombie’s muscles weren’t reconstructed by alien DNA as with the first. Its muscles were fresh and invigorated by the off world life force.

  He gripped the attacker’s throat with both hands and spread his forearms wide to wedge against the flailing arms. Footfalls to his left had him wondering if the two women didn’t have the stomach to come to his aid and had decided to leave him behind.

  The brunette sobbed. Maybe June was leaving her behind, too.

  The heavy breathing he heard was his own. Despite his efforts to overcome the assailant, he was barely holding on. His arms were tired and muscles burned as if he was trying to raise a heavy barbell for that one last rep.

  Fatigue was just about to become his master when a gun fired right near his head. His ears rang, and the concussion from the blast felt like an open palm slap to the face by Hulk Hogan.

  The creature’s body immediately went slack. Rico tossed it aside and took a moment to refocus on reality. He hoped there weren’t any more zombies waiting to storm in the back, and if they didn’t hurry out, the things in front would soon be on them.

  “I just shot old man Glen,” June said, gun still aimed at the unmoving body.

  “Good grief. You knew this guy? Why’d he smell so bad?” Rico rose to his feet and rubbed the soreness from his arms.

  June didn’t answer. She acted as if she didn’t even hear him.

  “June? You okay?”

  She turned to him, and said, “His . . . his wife kicked him out of the house for drinking too much. He’s been living by the dumpster in the back of the diner for the last couple of months.”

  It was difficult for Rico to hear her soft words. He was able to read her lips and the shocked expression on her face helped him realize how she felt.

  “We don’t have time for this shit.” He grabbed the gun from her hand, and she made no resistance to keep it.

  Moonlight spilled onto the floor through the door opening.

  Rico raised the gun and headed for the exit, determined not to be taken by surprise this time. “June, grab you friend and get your ass in gear. Let’s move!” His voice resonated in his head as if his ears had been stuffed with cotton. He poked his head out the door, careful to keep his gun close to his body.

  Had June not pulled the trigger right next to his head, Rico might have heard the brunette’s cries of sorrow turn into screams of terror. Might have heard the glass on the front door give and shatter. Might have heard the rack of beef jerky topple over and crash to the floor.

  To his left, one lone sodium security lamp illuminated the dumpster about a hundred feet away. To the right, the escape route was cloaked in darkness. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim light.

  So far, so good. Rico extended an arm behind to wave the women to follow. His hand hit something, and when he jutted his head around to look, June crashed into him and tried to push him out the door. Then he saw why.

  The barricade had totally given way to the onslaught of the undead. Zombies shambled over one another to get inside. Some had tripped over the displays but were already getting back on their feet.

  June had left the brunette behind. The brunette looked up at the ceiling with a blank stare and open mouth. She raised her arms as if asking someone above to lift her up.

  The first zombie to arrive descended on her shoulder, taking a large bite out of the soft flesh. The violence pulled her from the imaginary safe place, and she screamed out at the top of her lungs.

  Blood gushed from the opened wound. Rico thought for a moment that he saw the white of bone. He went to rush to her aid but put himself in check. It was time to think and not react.

  Two zombies arriving next joined in on the feeding. She fell to the floor, and more undead dropped down and ate like hungry hogs to the slop.

  The last image he caught of her was an arm shooting up from the mass of ghouls like a drowning victim going down for the last time.

  Rico stopped resisting June’s attempt to push him outside, and both passed out the door. The area was quiet with no other dangers in sight. The hidden dangers, though, were always the worst.

  *

  Rico ran with June out front leading the way, keeping a watchful eye out for zombies from all sides. June was holding up better in the escape than he had imagined.

  His hearing had started to come back to normal. As his feet hit the ground a couple of minutes into the run, it was as if someone turned up the volume on the TV. The dull thump of boots hitting ground and the wisp of the tall grass shoved out of the way made noises he hoped wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention.

  “I think we can cross the street and head back over to the trailer park behind the motel,” June said.

  They were far enough from the gas station-diner for its lights not to be an issue. “Sounds good to me. Try to stay low and keep the noise down.” Damn, this girl was doing good for a junkie. She was leading him to safety, and if she hadn’t killed old man Glen, he might not even be alive right now.

  June nodded and crouched over as she began her trek. Rico pulled on her dress when they reached the street to slow her down in fear his boots would hit the pavement too hard. Once around the back of the motel, June came to a stop between a row of trees that separated the business from the trailer park.

  Rico whispered in her ear, “Where’re we going?”

  “Kevin lived in the trailer park. He’s got a clunker for a car. If it starts, it’ll at least get us out of here.”

  Before he could say, ‘Let’s move,’ it dawned on him. There were only two now. They didn’t need a car. “Hell, I’ve got my motorcycle. It’s parked up front, and it’ll take us anywhere we want to go.”

  “What about the keys?”

  He produced them from his pocket and jingled them before her.

  She nodded. “Then lead the way.”

  The two wasted no time, running down the side of the motel past the Coke machine where they had first met. Rico was so focused on reaching the motorcycle that he didn’t even think about his duffle bag and other belongings in his room. He just kept one foot in front of the other. By the sound of it, so did his new friend.

  “It’s over there.” He had kept his voice low enough, but in his haste to reach his bike, he kicked up a pile of loose gravel and sent it clanging against the side of a car. Shit, the last thing I needed to do was draw attention.

  A few zombies had wandered their way out of the gas station and were out front. The noised had them shambling back toward the motel.

  “Just keep running,” Rico called. If June saw the zombies, he didn’t want her to halt in her tracks and second guess the situation. “We’re almost there!”

  Rico jumped on the bike, kicked up the stand and put in the key. He hoped like hell he could find somewhere safe to hide out. The motorcycle roared to life. He felt June jump on and grab hold of his hips. The thought of his ex-wife appeared in his mind, but was gone just as fast. The moans of the dead filtered through the rumble of the Harley and brought him back to the here and now. “Hang on, June!”

  “My name’s not June,” she hollered in his ear.

  Well, that wasn’t a real surprise. Rico gave the throttle a twist and lifted his boots from the ground. Dirt kicked up as they sped away.

  They hit the highway and passed by the old, turned over, white Ford truck. The zombie inside had managed to find its way out. It had reached out in hopes of satisfy
ing its hunger. It didn’t have the slightest chance of reaching Rico and the woman, but it reached out just the same. A mindless robot programmed for survival.

  ***

  “Holy shit. She and that guy just jumped on his bike and tore out of here,” Gus said, looking out a window in the room next to Rico’s.

  “What the fuck?” Marcus rolled off the bed and darted over to see, a cigarette dangled from his chapped lips. “Fucking bitch.”

  Gus scratched the gnarly growth under his chin. “What do we do? Go after her?”

  Marcus sucked the last bit of life out of the smoke and exhaled like a pissed off bull. Then a smile curled on his lips. “She won’t go far.”

  “She won’t?”

  “Nope, not far at all.”

  “What makes you think that?” Gus asked, mashing his cigar in the ashtray next to the bed.

  “Because she’s got an appointment with the tooth fairy.”

  “You really think she’ll head back that way?”

  “One hundred percent.” Marcus reached in his pocket and tried the fit of his new brass knuckles. “And we need to get there before she does.”

  “But what about that spic that was with her? I think he was a cop.”

  “Think I give a flying ass bat about one little cop? Look around, Gus. The Spook is going down again, and this time, it’s happening to people who are alive. I have a feeling it ain’t going away like last time.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I do. I been thinking about it. You saw the same thing I did. That old woman manager was coughing one minute and trying to bite us the next. We barely got back to our room.”

  “You sure are smart. You know that, Marcus?”

  “Yes, I do, and that’s why I’m where I’m at. You’re the muscle, and I’m the brains.”

  “That’s right,” Gus said, holding the shotgun across his chest. “What you want to do now?”

  “Pack our shit. We’re going on a trip, and we need to get there before she does. That skank owes me a bundle. I aim to work it out of her until I’m paid in full.”

  Gus laughed. “While we’re out, we need to score some supplies. I’m running low on blow.”

  “Then we’ll get that, too.”

  Marcus pulled a pack of Lucky Strikes from his shirt pocket and lit one. The match cast his face in an eerie orange glow. The dancing light accented the scar on his left cheek. He sucked on the smoke and the end smoldered and fired up. He turned to the mirror and adjusted the gold chain around his neck connected to large gold letters that spelled his name.

  Only one girl had tried to quit the game on him before. Marcus taught her a lesson she would never forget.

  Angie would be the next to learn his simple code of justice.

  Chapter 9

  June hollered something over the Harley’s roar.

  “What?” The wind whistled around Rico’s ears as he tore down the highway. This was no time for his new companion to play twenty questions. God, he hoped she didn’t need to pee.

  The road took a sharp bend up ahead. By the time he saw the turn, he realized they might be in a heap of trouble. He was going fast. Too fast in fact. The adrenaline rush had him so focused on escape that he hadn’t bothered to look down at the speedometer. Had he done so, he would have known he was outrunning his headlights, jeopardizing his ability to react to an obstacle in the road.

  The desolate highway careened left and right like a black snake. The headlights lit up the center stripes of the road. Because he dared maintain his speed, the white stripes took on the appearance of a continuous line. He maneuvered across both sides of the highway—straightening it out the best way he could.

  June yelled again and squeezed him tightly around the waist.

  Even if he couldn’t hear her, he got the message. Now that he was returning to his senses, he was at least going to slow down before wrecking the bike. The road rose up a small hill, and he had no idea what was on the other side. Rico gazed down at the speedometer for the first time after letting out on the throttle. They were going almost 90 miles an hour, and for how long, he had no way of telling. All he knew was that he wanted to get as far away from everything as fast as he could.

  The motorcycle slowed as it traveled up the incline.

  “Where’re we going?”

  Well, at least she didn’t ask, ‘Are we there yet,’ he thought. Rico had started to feel more like his old sarcastic self again. It would have been useless to answer her over the Harley’s growl. He waited until they made it over the top of the hill and found flat road before bringing the motorcycle to a halt. The engine stopped at the twist of a key, and he planted his feet on the asphalt to keep the bike upright.

  The blonde uttered a few indecipherable curse words when she un-assed herself from the seat. Rico waited for the thirty minute lecture of how, ‘You drove so fast you could have got us killed.’ Just like his ex-wife. Never grateful for all the good he did for her. All she could concentrate on was what he didn’t do right. Maybe he did drive too fast. He was genuinely scared. Still, he managed to get them both out alive and now they were safe somewhere. Shouldn’t that be all that mattered? This girl probably wasn’t even going to acknowledge the fact that he had played a part in saving her life.

  She came around to the front of the bike. The harsh illumination of the headlight underscored the years of drug abuse cratering her face. Her hair was a tangled mess.

  “Thank you.” She leaned forward and gave Rico a hug.

  For a moment, Rico had been so taken off guard he almost lost his balance holding up the bike. He dropped the stand and turned off the headlight.

  “You’re welcome… I think. I thought I was about to get an ass chewing.”

  She let go her embrace and stepped back.

  It was so dark now he could barely see her. In the darkness, only their souls would shine.

  “We came pretty damn close back there, didn’t we?” she said, ignoring his sophomoric comment.

  “Yeah, I guess we did.” Rico rubbed his tongue around his dry mouth. “To be honest with you, I thought I was a goner until you picked up my gun and shot that old man. I . . . I thought you and that other girl were going to leave me behind.”

  “I was scared, and I’d be lying if I said the thought of leaving you didn’t cross my mind, but I couldn’t do that. For whatever reason, my self-preservation didn’t have me running out that door. And . . .” her voice cracked.

  Rico thought she was going to cry.

  “And it was hard for me to shoot old man Glen. He wasn’t a bad guy. He just liked to drink.” She began to sob.

  It would have been insensitive to tell her to suck it up and put it behind her. She deserved a few minutes to release pent-up emotions. Rico waited until she seemed to regain control.

  “It’s okay—what you did. The old man had turned into a monster. He wasn’t the old man you remembered. And I might not be here now to thank you if you hadn’t shot him. Not many other people I know would risk their life for me. I thank you.” Maybe a compliment might help her pull it together.

  She sniffed a few times and said, “I wouldn’t go pinning any medals on me right now. I can’t promise you that if the situation happens again that I’ll react the same way.”

  The confession took Rico by surprise. He thought about it a minute and said, “Don’t lose confidence in yourself. If you did it once, you can do it again.”

  “It has nothing to do with confidence.”

  “What do you mean, then?”

  “I may not care next time if you live or die.”

  Rico wasn’t quite sure how to take such an honest remark. Was she saying that self-preservation might rule the next time? What if she meant she might be so strung out on drugs she wouldn’t know which end was up? The conversation had gotten too deep for two lost individuals on the run during the zombie apocalypse. It was time to take things in a different direction.

  There had been no traffic on the road f
or most of the trip. Even more importantly, not one of the undead had presented itself either.

  Clouds hid a good part of the moonlight now. As far as Rico could see, which in this case wasn’t very far at all, there was nothing in the immediate area but trees. There was no artificial glow in the distance to pinpoint closest civilization. Darkness appeared to have swallowed all.

  “Sorry for going so fast. I should have had things more in control. I have a problem with that. I have to constantly remind myself to think before I react.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “We made it here without getting hurt. That’s what’s important.”

  An owl’s hoot carried across the night breeze and something rustled in the trees nearby. Rico placed a hand on the pistol grip just in case there were any surprises. As peaceful as things seemed, he didn’t want to be lulled into a sense of false security.

  “So, why did you want me to stop now?”

  “I had something on my mind that I felt we needed to talk about sooner rather than later.” She cleared her throat and followed that with a cough. “I wasn’t sure if you had a destination in mind, or if you were just driving for the hell of it. And from the speed we were going, I tend to think it was the latter of the two.”

  Rico shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t really have a destination in mind. At least not a place I was intentionally heading to tonight. I have been considering a few cities to visit while I’m on vacation. I seriously doubt I’ll be going to any of them now.”

  “Before we go any further I want to tell you my real name. It’s Angie. Angie Kinnum.” She awkwardly reached out her hand. “Tell me the truth, you a cop?”

  Rico climbed off the bike and grasped her hand dangling in the darkness. “I am—or was. My life’s story is kinda long. After tonight, I have a feeling that nothing about the past is going to matter much anymore. It doesn’t make any difference if I’m a cop or not.” Rico wanted this girl to trust him. If she trusted him, she would take orders. If she hesitated at his commands, they both might end up dead. It was time to inject a little humor. “But what the hell, woman? I thought your name was June Grape, or something like that?”