The Dark Times: A Zombie Novel

by Dane Hatchell

  He reached up, and the lump on his head throbbed anew when he touched it. Angie proved herself to be unpredictable. Most junkies were. That was the last thing he needed to deal with right now with the dead returning to life. There was no telling what was going on out in the real world. He thought of his cell phone and wished he hadn’t tossed it. Then again, even if he had the phone, he thought the towers were probably so jammed with users that he couldn’t have made a connection anyway.

  Rico looked back into the master bedroom at Angie’s pathetic excuse for existence. Then he turned his gaze to the hall. It was time to leave before she woke up and did something else reckless. He didn’t need her, and she sure as hell didn’t need him, because he wasn’t going to help her feed her drug dependency.

  He looked at Angie and gritted his teeth—then down the hall again. Time to leave. Just cut and run, and try not to think about it. Tough love is about all I can give that woman.

  Just as he approached the bathroom, he heard a vehicle creep up the gravel driveway. The low hum of the engine stopped.

  “Shit,” he said under his breath. “I’ve got company.”

  Rico ducked down and eased his way to the bathroom window. This was no easy task, considering the horde of crap piled in the room. Once in position, he maneuvered his gaze through the small gap under the window and saw the front end of an old car not far from his motorcycle. After a few minutes, two men got out of the vehicle.

  The passenger by far was the larger of the two. His basic build reminded Rico of The Rock back when he watched him in WWE’s heyday. The driver didn’t look much over five feet in height. He was thin and had a scraggly looking beard. It was hard to tell the age of either one.

  The big guy had a shotgun slung over his shoulder, and the little guy had something gripped in his right hand that reflected light as he moved it.

  Both stepped over to his motorcycle with obvious interest. They spoke in a low tone so Rico couldn’t hear what they said, but he was able to see their lips when they moved to one side of the bike.

  The thin man reached out and touched the bike, mouthing words that looked like, ‘let’s wait and see,’ or ‘all we need is the key.’ Rico had no doubt their interest lay in obtaining the key.

  The big guy nodded. The two left the Harley and started toward the trailer.

  Rico’s heart pounded in his chest. He reminded himself to keep calm and stay focused—a discussion he had been having a lot with himself lately. What the hell have you gotten us into, Angie?

  The back door. It was his only chance to escape before they came in. Rico kept low as he stepped through the bathroom. His elbow whacked a shampoo bottle on the sink. Luckily, it made little noise as it collided with the array of junk scattered about the floor. It was momentary relief for the tension that gripped his chest. His headache was all but forgotten.

  As his hand touched the knob on the back door, he stole one last regretful glance at Angie before making his escape. This was her world. She lived in it at her choosing. He wanted no part of it.

  The back door’s hinges were as rusty as the door in front, squealing like an alarm when he opened it. Rico cursed under his breath and hoped no one heard.

  The wooden steps leading to the ground were in bad condition too. The top board felt spongy and bent under his weight. He hurriedly made it to the ground and noticed a greenhouse about half a football field away.

  Overhead, the clouds had blown out and the moon shone brightly above. The night would eventually give way to day. Rico had honestly never wanted to see daylight again as badly as he did now. Tonight seemed like the longest night of his life—even longer than the first night of The Spook. Checking in at the motel and the events at the gas station felt like they happened weeks ago.

  Rico pressed his back against the trailer and listened carefully. The front door squalled and two pairs of feet tromped on the trailer floor. These guys knew he was here and acted as if they didn’t give a damn. He pulled the pistol from his belt and held it at the ready by his shoulder.

  “Come on out, June Bug!” one of the men shouted. “We know you and that cop fellow are here! No sense in hiding. If he’s a customer, that’s fine, but I want my money!”

  This douchebag must not know the world has gone to shit. All he cares about is his fucking money, Rico thought. Or maybe he does know and he’s too much of a money grubber to care.

  Now that he knew their location, it was time to make his move. He bent over and kept his gaze to the ground, careful to avoid tripping over anything and making noise. He rounded the side of the trailer and stopped once the car and his bike came into view.

  Rico reached in the front pocket of his pants, and his heart instantly sank to his stomach. The keys weren’t there. Had Angie taken them while he was unconscious? He frantically patted the other pocket and felt nothing. His hand stabbed into his jacket and crashed into what he was looking for. He must have mindlessly put his keys in his pocket when he dismounted the Harley. Fortunately, they didn’t fall out while he was laid out on the floor.

  He removed the keys and found the one to his bike. On second thought, he would wait and start the motorcycle after he pushed it down the driveway and got to the road—to buy a little escape time. The keys went back in his pocket, and he eased his way past the trailer’s side.

  The trailer was small, and surely by now the two men realized he wasn’t in there. Rico half expected to see the front door pop open, and was ready to shoot first if he had to. Time to go.

  Just as he trotted toward his bike, something clattered loudly in the trash pile. Momma cat emerged from a mound of beer cans with a field rat trapped in her jaws. Why the fuck did this have to happen now? It was time to double down on his plan. If he were going to leave, he didn’t need to give them any more time to come outside.

  His feet bounced across the ground as he raced for his ride. The throb in his head returned and matched the rhythm of each step. Should he go ahead and fire up the bike now, or stick to his original plan and push it to the road?

  By the time he reached his bike, he had the key ring out and quickly inserted the Harley’s key. No one had come out of the trailer yet. Maybe they were still in the back trying to rouse Angie. Rico resisted starting the engine and pushed it off the stand.

  The Harley was heavy and pushing it across the gravel driveway took more effort than he wanted to give, but he was almost there, mere moments away from freedom. All he had to do now was start the bike and get the hell out of Dodge. However, when he turned the key in the ignition he couldn’t bring himself hit the start button.

  Pop’s voice forced its way into his mind. “You took the job to protect and serve. You’re one of the few men who truly care about the job. About the people. You can’t leave Angie back there. What would your mother think if you did a thing like that?”

  That bitch could have killed me back there, Rico internally argued. And she was the one who got me into this mess in the first place.

  “You act like that matters, son,” he could hear Pop say. “That woman needs help, but not just any help. She needs your help.”

  Rico grunted, weighing out the possibilities.

  “Just think,” Pop continued. “Think of what those two men are going to do to that poor girl. What have they’ve already done to her? You don’t really believe she wants to turn tricks to make a living, do you? Do you think she wants to be messed up the rest of her life? She has a mother, too.”

  Yeah, one that apparently doesn’t live here, Rico groaned.

  Rico waited for Pop’s rebuttal, but nothing came. He had been indecisive all of his life, but this was the first time he had an internal conflict with another person in his head. Was sanity slowly slipping away?

  He shook off the question and blamed it on stress. Pop had been an inspiration to him, and it made sense for Rico to think of Pop when it came to making the right choice. Pop was dead now, but the old man could continue to live just as he remembered him in his memory.


  Leaving that poor girl here would be leaving her to die. She was just one girl amongst millions—hell, he had just met her tonight! He had no obligation to protect her, but fate, God, or whatever, had brought them together.

  Before he could talk himself out of his latest decision, Rico dropped the stand on the bike and headed for the trailer. The gun came up from his side, ready to end this situation as quickly as possible.

  ***

  “She’s doped up, Boss.” Gus ran his hand through his oily hair and wiped his palm on his pants.

  “Tell me something I don’t already know.” Marcus pushed past Gus and shook Angie’s shoulder. “Angie, wake up. Where’s the cop? Wake up. I know he’s with you, now where is he?”

  Angie grumbled and rolled over into a fetal position.

  “Angie!” Gus had leaned over close to her ear.

  “Wh…what?” her left eye slowly opened

  “Wake up, I said.” Marcus slapped Angie hard against the cheek. “The cop. Where is he?”

  Angie blinked a few times and finally opened her eyes. She was awake—drugged up, but awake. “Hi there, Marcus,” she said softly, wearing a faint smile. “What are you doing here?”

  Marcus continued to shake her—more violently now. “The cop. He came with you. Where is he?”

  “I… uhh…” Angie started to fade again, the drugs still her master.

  “Like I said, Boss.” Gus rested the butt of the shotgun on the floor. “She’s all doped up.”

  “I can see that, dipshit. Help me find that cop before he causes us trouble.” Marcus put his hand on Gus’s arm and gave it a shove. The big guy didn’t budge, and Marcus’s hand slipped off. “Go… take care of it.”

  “Okay, Boss.” Gus turned and walked down the hall.

  “And don’t kill him,” Marcus called out. “I want to have a little talk with him first.”

  ***

  Rico waited against the trailer next to the front door. He was wide ass out in the open, but hoped to use the element of surprise when the two stepped out the door. From the sound of things, the opportunity was about to present itself. Footsteps pounded through the living room and neared the entrance.

  The sad truth of the situation was that Rico didn’t have much of a plan. Either he was going to get these guys to surrender, or he would play O.K. Corral and put them six feet under. Adrenalin pumping through his body helped clear the pain in his head

  The front door groaned open. Rico saw the barrel of the shotgun lead the way pointed toward the ground. The big guy turned immediately and looked down at him.

  Rico raised the gun. “Police! Drop your weapon and show me your hands.” Rico stepped into view and steadied his pistol.

  He had regretted his outburst right after he made it. Years of police training had him reacting automatically. He didn’t have any backup coming to help, and the other guy was nowhere to be seen. Rico should have shoved the pistol in the guy’s side, threatened to kill him if he made a sound— and shot him if he did!

  “Throw the gun to the ground,” Rico said, waiting to shoot if the barrel lifted his way.

  The man smirked, turned his head, and spat. It was clear he had no intentions of giving up his gun. He began to laugh.

  “You sure are one crazy cop. Put that little peashooter away before you put an eye out.”

  “I’m serious,” Rico said in an even tone. “Put it down.”

  “You must be confused,” a voice called from behind. “This is my house, and I didn’t call no law.”

  Rico turned his head and saw a fist brandishing brass knuckles zipping toward his face. Things went black at the sound of a sickening crunch. Hearty laughter came from the trailer’s direction. It seemed so far away.

  Chapter 13

  Rico had only thought his head hurt before when Angie banged him on the head with the frying pan. In comparison to how his head felt now, her blow would be considered a love tap. His entire face throbbed from the back of his head down to the tip of his chin.

  The pain dominating his thoughts gave way to emerging consciousness. He was sitting down with his arms behind him and unable to move. Even though his eyes were closed, he knew exactly where he was. The trailer pimp-shack had a unique stench, and he was still there.

  Voices grew in the background. Scumbags, party of two, were in the room with him. Rico took a deep breath, and it hurt so bad that he groaned.

  “I think he’s finally comin’ around, Boss.”

  Feet shuffled to his right side.

  “About time,” the other voice said.

  Before he had a chance to lift his head, an open palm stung his cheek. Had he not already been in so much pain, he might have felt it more. He struggled to open his eyes in the bright room. Sunlight shone on him directly through a window. He had to take it slowly, blinking a few times so his eyes would adjust to the light.

  “Looks like Sleepy finally decided to wake up, Gus.” The smaller of the two men stood in front of Rico, slightly bent toward him, with his hands on his thighs. “Good to see you coming around, brother. Wasn’t sure I had it in me to wait much longer.” The man grabbed the back of Rico’s hair and peered down on him from above.

  “I don’t think he knows where he is, Boss.”

  “Just give it a few more minutes, Gus. This sort of thing takes time, unless he has brain damage. You got brain damage, boy?”

  “You know what’s best. That’s why you’re the boss,” the large man said.

  Gus… Gus must be the big guy’s name, Rico thought, trying to focus on his interrogator as he forced his eyes to peer up. The boss wore an evil grin that displayed yellow-brown stained teeth. There was a wildness in his eyes that told Rico he was in deep, deep shit.

  The boss let go of Rico’s hair and stepped away.

  Rico let his jaw drop to his chest and rolled his head around a couple of times to loosen up. His hands were bound behind the back of the chair, with what he didn’t know. Similarly, something held his ankles to the chair’s legs. All eyes were on him, so now was no time to test the restraint’s strength. He was weak, and in his condition, even if he could take the boss down, the big guy still had to be dealt with.

  How long had he been unconscious? Daylight flooded the living room, and from the intensity, it certainly wasn’t morning. As he took in the surroundings, looking for something to use as a weapon, he saw all the crap in the room the dim light had hid. Was there something hidden underneath that mess he might be able to use?

  His gaze came to an abrupt stop when he saw Angie sitting on the end of the couch. Well, she actually sat on a pile of clothing strewn about on the couch. From her expression, Rico figured he had assessed the situation correctly. She thought they, too, were in the deepest of shit. From the looks of things, Gus and the boss had spent a little special time with her.

  Angie’s upper lip was swollen, and her right eye was black and blue around the edges. Both hands pressed unnaturally against her left side, and she grimaced in obvious pain. I guess the cost of dipping into the boss’s drugs is a good ass whipping, he thought. Angie looked about as battered as he felt.

  Rico turned his head around and looked at the two men. Dust specks danced in the sunlight beaming between them. Gus had moved over into the kitchen and leaned on the counter. He picked up a can and gulped a mouthful from it. His shotgun was propped against the refrigerator not far from him.

  Boss man rocked on his heels with his arms crossed over his chest a few steps away. He didn’t wear the brass knuckles at the moment, and Rico didn’t see a gun of any sort on him. That was, until the boss turned to address his large counterpart.

  “You see that, Gus? Look at his eyes. He’s all busted up and tied down and he’s still sizing us up? He thinks he can take us on.”

  Rico spotted a pistol tucked in the back of the short man’s jeans at the small of his back. He only got a glimpse of it and couldn’t tell if it was his Glock or not.

  “You really think so, Boss?�
� Gus shook the can a few times and crushed it.

  “I know so,” the boss said. He stepped up and grabbed the top of Rico’s hair this time.

  “Leave him alone, Marcus,” Angie pleaded. Her voice quivered and sounded weak. “He saved my life back there. He did a good thing for you. I’m still yours. I can get your money back.”

  Marcus gripped his fingers into Rico’s hair and shook his head back and forth a few times before abruptly letting it go. Rico’s head jerked to the side. He grunted in relief.

  Marcus mumbled something and walked away, turning in a small circle.

  Rico went to wet his lips with his tongue to say something and tasted blood. His lips were swollen, but he hadn’t realized until now his teeth were no match for the brass knuckles. He opened his mouth and searched for missing teeth with his tongue.

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” Marcus said, and giggled. “Kinda knocked a few teeth loose there, didn’t I?” He pointed his finger at Rico and narrowed his gaze. “You had it coming to you, motherfucker.”

  Rico spit crimson filled saliva on the floor. Marcus reared his hand back as if he was going to slap him again when something banged against the front door.

  “Uh, sounds like we got company,” Gus said, craning his neck to look in the living room.

  “Yeah, no shit.” Marcus rubbed a finger under his nose and sniffed.

  “You think it’s them zombies?”

  “What would make you think that? It’s probably the neighbors coming over for tea and cookies.” Marcus grumbled under his breath and shook his head as he marched to the window and looked outside.

  “How many, Boss?”

  “Got a few of ’em out there,” Marcus said, one eye closed and roaming his gaze. “Got Bill, that auto mechanic from up the street, and about a half dozen others. I think one of them might even be his son.”

  “That’s too bad,” Gus said. “Ol’ Bill treated us right when we needed a repair.”