The Dark Times: A Zombie Novel

by Dane Hatchell

  Beep… beep… beep…

  Beep… beep… beep…

  The van’s side window rolled down about a quarter of the way and a loud bass thump blared over the radio. Zombies once interested in breaching the CVS now turned all attention to the van. As the undead gathered and scratched on glass and metal to get in, the van began to slowly drive away.

  The black man turned his gaze down at Rico as he lifted his gaze up at him. “You guys looked like you needed some help.”

  “I’m glad somebody noticed. Thanks. What took you so long?” A smile of relief curled on Rico’s lips as he reached out and shook the big man’s hand.

  The man smiled back, showing a row of gold on his bottom teeth.

  “Where’s the van going?” Angie pointed as the white vehicle slowly drove away, horn still blowing.

  “Getting rid of the walkers.”

  “I can’t believe it. Almost all of the undead are heading toward the van,” Rico said.

  Beep… beep… beep… The horn faded as the van moved farther away.

  Rico rubbed the back of his neck and flexed his shoulders. “Okay, what’s next?”

  “Name’s Quin, but most people call me Q.”

  “Damn fine to meet you, Q. My name’s Rico, and the lady’s name is Angie.”

  “Angie is a pretty name.” Q tilted his head to the side and closed one eye, and sang an old Rolling Stones tune. “Angie. Aaaa-nnn-gie. Where will it lead us from here?”

  Angie blushed.

  Chapter 20

  An uncomfortable silence fell over the three survivors after Q’s short serenade. Angie took a few steps toward the window and looked out. Rico walked next to her and stood shoulder to shoulder.

  “They are coming back, right?” Angie asked.

  The number of zombies in view had diminished greatly. The van lured the zombies away like an ice cream truck chased by children on a hot summer afternoon. If gunshots and even their combined wails drew their attention, it made sense that something as simple as a blowing horn would, too.

  The remaining zombies seemingly had forgotten all about the three of them inside. A few shifted from side to side on both feet, and the rest wandered around in irregular circles. What were they waiting for? Had they somehow forgotten about the three living beings inside the CVS? Once a zombie was drawn to a target, did it immediately forget any previous thought it had? If that were true, then it would be useful information to defend against the undead. The last thing they needed to do now was make any kind of noise that would test the theory.

  “Just cool it, Bro,” Q whispered. He had stepped up behind the two. He was nearly a head taller than Rico. When he whipped his thin dreads from side to side, they gracefully brushed against his shoulders. “No need to sweat. You feel?”

  “So, they are coming back then?” Rico was a bit less trusting of the tall man after his overtly flirtatious reply to Angie’s introduction. Even during a zombie apocalypse, women were going to complicate matters between men.

  “Right as rain, my brotha. They ain’t gonna leave one of their own behind. Just be cool.”

  Rico dropped his head and wearily rubbed his brow. Corpses along the floor mixed with disheveled items from the barricade. He found himself staring at the face of a woman dressed in a business suit. Blood stained the strand of pearls around her neck. It was hard to imagine her as a living person—a wife, a mother. The womanly features of her face had been twisted into a ghastly portrait painted by the likes of Jack Kevorkian.

  Then he turned his head, looked at each of the undead, and tried to imagine what they had looked like while still alive, still human. Tears began to well in his eyes.

  Q put a hand on his shoulder. “You know what you need, bro?” He reached into his pocket.

  “A helicopter,” Angie said, turning a smile at the tall newcomer. She fidgeted with her hands, seeming to be unsure where to put them.

  Rico noticed her nervous gesture. Then watched her gaze at Q in a way he remembered once eyeing his ex-wife. There was no doubt she was infatuated with the man.

  “A helicopter would be nice, but naw, yo.” Q pulled something small and shiny from his front pocket. Handing it to Rico, he said, “Here you go, brotha.”

  Rico looked at it in his open palm. “A dime? What the fuck’s this for?”

  “Don’t be like that, dawg.” Q chuckled.

  “It’s for good luck,” Angie chimed. A grin widened on her face.

  “That’s right my little sweet-thang.” Q put his fist out and the two bumped knuckles.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do with a dime?” Rico raised his eyebrows and felt like he had just become the butt of joke.

  “Like the lady said, Mr. Porto Rico. It’s for luck and shit.” Q pulled a few shells from a pouch on his belt and began loading them in the shotgun. “You know, life and dimes. They say life can turn on a dime. It’s all up to you, though.”

  “I don’t get it,” Rico said.

  Q’s gold teeth showed as he smiled. “You will, brotha. You will. Just keep that dime with you at all times. I got another one.” Q patted his pocket. “I’ve had it with me for years. Got me through some tough times living in the streets. It’s gonna get me through this zombie thang, too. One way or the other, it’s going to get me through.”

  Rico nodded at the cryptic advice, pocketed the coin, and looked back out the window. Who was he to criticize the beliefs of another person? Hope was hope in any form it came. Hell, he noticed a Saint Christopher medal around one of the zombie’s neck lying on the floor. A lot of good believing in God got him. “How long do you think it’s going to be before they come back?”

  “As long as it takes, my main squeeze. You feel?”

  “Maybe,” Rico said. “Let’s just say I’ll feel much better about the situation when we’re at some place safe where we can relax.”

  Angie giggled, and Rico watched as she and the newcomer stared long and hard into one another’s eyes. She dipped from side to side with one toe up as if in middle school vying for a young boy’s attention.

  “You kinda cute, girl.” Q took her by the hand. “You ever partake, you know… in chocolate ice cream?”

  Angie softened her eyes, and said, “Chocolate is my favorite.”

  “Look you two, we don’t have time for this,” Rico said, changing the subject. “Q, how did you and your friends know we were here?”

  Q let go of Angie’s hand and exchanged his ‘come hither’ expression for business casual. “We was already headed this direction. Drugs and shit at the drugstore. You feel?”

  “Anything in particular you need?”

  “We got a lady back at base that got sick. Diabetic or somethin’. I don’t know. I ain’t no doc. You feel?”

  Rico nodded. “Yeah, diabetics are really bad off if they don’t take their medicine.”

  Q continued. “Soon as we hit the street a few blocks down, we knew what was up. The street crawling with those things like that means they found something. And lucky for you, they found that something at the exact store we was aimin’ for.” Q raised his shotgun toward the pharmacy at the back of the store. “When the crew gets back, we gonna get some digs and split. You feel?”

  “I do. The pharmacy has been untouched except for a few things we’ve taken. You know, for pain and stuff.” Rico shifted his weight onto the other foot. “If you don’t mind my asking, how many are with you in the van… and at the base?”

  “Two in the van.” Q said. “Me and one other dude. Some creepy Asian brotha that don’t speak no English. Ain’t that some shit? America, home of the brave and land of the no speak Ena…la…is.”

  Q laughed. And Angie seemed to laugh just because he did.

  Rico didn’t find stereotyping all that funny.

  “Anyway, bro. That’s all the posse that come up here.”

  “And the base? Where is it? Who all is in there?”

  “Bro, you sure is the antsy type, you feel?”

  I
gnoring the comment, Rico said, “I was thinking of going to Fort Hood, north from here. It’s close to where I live. I might find people I know. Maybe even my mother and father.”

  “I dig, I dig.” Q put his fist out, and after a moment Rico knuckle bumped with him. “I wish I found my mamma. You feel? But we ain’t no actual base, bro.”

  “Then what is it?” Angie asked.

  “It’s a sporting goods store.”

  “What, like Academy?”

  “How’d you know?” Q put out his fist again.

  Rico didn’t bump it this time. Instead, Q waited a moment in awkward silence before dropping his hand back down.

  “So, you’re telling me that you and another group of survivors… along with a dying diabetic… are living in an Academy?”

  “Yep.” Q nodded. “Best place to be, the way I see it.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Everything we need in one place, you feel?”

  “Except food and medicine.”

  “Whatever, bro. So what? You got me on a technicality. Shit is livid out there. You gots to represent if you aims to roll.”

  “Does everybody back at Academy have a lucky dime?” Rico said sarcastically.

  Q shrugged.

  “Leave him alone,” Angie said, taking Q by the hand. “He’s here to save us.”

  Q huddled next to Angie. “Yeah, bro. What gives?”

  “Nothing,” Rico said, looking down at Angie’s hand, her fingers intertwined with Q’s as if they had known each other a lifetime. “Since we don’t know when the van is getting back, let’s get ready. We just have to be real quiet so the zombies stay away. Does the van have a lot of room in it?”

  Q nodded. “It’s a cargo van. We can stack up a lot up in there.”

  “Okay, good. Obviously, we need something for the diabetic. Basic medications are going to be important, too. Let’s gather up all the food, water, and essentials we can. We’ll place them by the back door. That way when the van gets here we can load up rather quickly. I’ve got a Harley in the back that I’m not leaving. So, we’ll need to let your Asian friend know I will be following you back. No crazy driving. Last thing I need is to get lost out there. I don’t know my way around.”

  “I feel.” Q nodded. “Goin’ all commando and shit.”

  “He’s a cop,” Angie said.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “I was a cop back in Killeen. So, I have no jurisdiction here,” Rico clarified.

  “That’s cool, bro.” Q put out a fist, but dropped it down as soon as he realized Rico wasn’t in the mood. “I can get behind the Five-O. Protect and serve. What, what!”

  “You know, it amazes me how everybody remembers that line to ‘protect and serve.’ It doesn’t mean I take orders from you.”

  Q spread his arms wide. “I feel you, bro.”

  “Let’s just start gathering supplies. We don’t know when the van will be back. And I want to be ready when it does decide to show up.”

  *

  Rico worked behind the counter passing bottles of drugs to Angie. The drugs were arranged alphabetically with the generic substitutes next to them. He’d call out the names pronouncing them the best he could, and Angie would tell him what to get and what to leave. She filled plastic bags to capacity until having a plentiful supply of pain medication, antibiotics, diabetes meds, and various pills for high blood pressure.

  Quin had found a moving cart and walked around gathering up miscellaneous supplies. He started on the drink aisle, stacking soft drinks and water. Cans of food went on next, and then where he could, he piled on the snack food. It didn’t take long before the cart filled to capacity.

  When Q pulled the cart to the back, Rico and Angie were waiting. A mound of plastic bags set to one side of the Harley. “Looks like you two scored big time. I don’t guess they had any medical marijuana tucked away?”

  “I wish,” Angie said.

  Rico shot her a laser stare. “This is Texas. That stuff’s not legal here.”

  “It’s all cool, bro. I got all the food and shit we can carry on the van. Too bad there’s not room for more. I guess we can always come back. Still some shit I’d like to get.”

  “That looks like a pretty good haul to me,” Angie said.

  As impressed as Angie and Q seemed with things, Rico had his doubts. It looked like a lot of supplies, but if this Academy that Quin was talking about had a large number of survivors, then what they had wasn’t going to last long at all.

  ***

  “What wrong with your boy?” Q asked, as he removed snack food from the cart.

  Angie shrugged, “With Rico? I don’t know what’s up with him.”

  “I ain’t tryin’ to cramp on his style, you feel?”

  “I know,” Angie said. “Rico … Rico’s not like us. You know, streetwise. Even though he was a cop and dealt with people … like us, he doesn’t know how to fit in. He tries, but he just doesn’t get it.” She helped Q unload the cart by the door. The heavier items on bottom would be the first to go into the van and they needed to load it as fast as possible.

  Rico had left the two alone. He said he was going to the bathroom and going to get his bat he left at the pharmacy counter. The smell of rotting corpses filled the air like dank fungus that burned at the nostrils.

  “Then what’s the dig? He should know he ain’t like us by now and have come to grips with it. Is it just me? Is this personal?”

  “I don’t think so, honestly,” Angie said. “Rico likes to be in charge, and you coming here changed everything. There’s no doubt he’s grateful you and your friend saved us. Now he has to deal with a new situation that’s not in his control. The man’s got some indecision issues, too. But for me, I’m glad you showed up. We would have died if you hadn’t. That’s a no brainer.”

  “For real, yo,” Q said. “Although, by the body count out front, it looks like you guys did a good job holding your own.”

  “Thanks, Q.” Angie hugged the tall black man.

  Q embraced her. “For what?”

  “For saving us.” Angie started to cry.

  “It wasn’t nothin’ but a thang, little sweet treat. I got yo’ back. Rico does, too.”

  “I know,” she said, looking into his eyes. “It’s just been so hard. There are things you don’t know about.”

  Q ran his fingers through her blonde hair. “I know. It’s been hard on everybody.” When he looked up, Rico glared at him from the hall leading into the back. “Uh…” Q cleared his throat and pushed Angie to arm’s length before letting her go. “Let’s finish up. The van should be here soon.”

  Chapter 21

  The van briskly careened down a winding road lined with entrances to subdivisions. The Asian man at the wheel no doubt had traveled this way before. He weaved in and out of stationary vehicles like orange cones on an obstacle course.

  As Rico had hoped, the van stayed off two lane roads—minimizing hazards along the way. They passed a welcoming sign to Bryan, Texas, a neighboring community. Urban sprawl had provided a bypass through once rural farmland connecting the two towns.

  While loading supplies, Quin had told them how main roads leading in and out of the city were near impassable with congestion. Not only that, but the undead flocked to stalled vehicles in search for food.

  This Quin guy, Rico had a thousand conflicting feelings toward him. Q dashed in to save them like Rambo. Had he done that because he was so brave, or because he was just that stupid? If Q was reckless, then he and the driver might be leading Rico and Angie to certain doom. Had Angie been on the back of the bike right now, he might have veered off and taken chances on their own. But Angie was in the van with Q and the Asian guy. Despite how Q made it sound by using words like ‘they’ and ‘we,’ there was only one other occupant in the van. Sending only two people out on a drug hunt seemed to be a bit irresponsible. There’s safety in numbers. Then again, maybe they wanted to minimize their losses if things had gone badly.

&nb
sp; Rico had asked multiple times how many survivors were at the sporting goods store. All the while, Q avoided giving him direct answers. Why did he want to keep it a mystery?

  Loading the van didn’t take long. It’s amazing how fast a job can go while your life is threatened. Once the van was loaded down all the way, he realized how little it would amount to if there were a large number of people at home base. The goods probably wouldn’t last 20 people more than a week.

  A few of the zombies in the street had noticed the van make its stealthy approach to the back, but it wasn’t anything a shotgun couldn’t handle at the last moment. By the time the noise had attracted any unwanted attention, the goods were loaded and they were on their way.

  The pistol stuck away in the small of his back had started to rub a blister on his skin. Surely, a sporting goods store would have a nice supply of holsters.

  Rico did his best to keep from riding up the van’s ass. There were a few times when he almost got snatched by a zombie hiding between vehicles when he lagged too far behind. It was better if he rode the van’s bumper so it could act as a battering ram clearing the way. That was a bit tricky, as the van would hit the brakes unexpectedly from time to time. Once he became distracted while looking at a zombie eating a man by the side of the road, and the van weaved a hard right to avoid a turned over motorcycle. Rico almost didn’t see the object in time to swerve and miss until he was almost on it. His heart raced. His knuckles were tight—his grip on the motorcycle firm.

  Just when he thought he had enough of this shit, the sporting goods store came into view.

  The Academy front parking lot was a treasure trove of walking corpses.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Rico said, his mouth wide with disbelief.

  ***

  “Oh, my God.” Angie put her hand to her lips, leaning forward in her seat to get a better look out the front windshield of the van.

  “It ain’t as bad as it looks,” Q said, putting his hand on the small of her back. “We been rollin’ it tight at this joint long enough. If they was gonna get in, they woulda already. You feel?”