The Dark Times: A Zombie Novel

by Dane Hatchell

  Drew and Sarah Finley had both been Lieutenants with the Salvation Army. They seemed like good people. If half the stories they told about what they did in life before the chaos were true, they probably were. The stories included running a food bank, donating to shelters, and providing for the poor any way they could. The list went on and on, much like their mouths. Once he got used to them though, there was no doubt they were sweet people. Despite their spiritually strong views, Rico found it rather awe inspiring that neither of them talked much about God. The ex-cop just assumed the couple realized no one needed to hear the doom and gloom of God’s wrath. Hell, they had all seen it firsthand anyway. It waited just outside the door to consume them.

  Then there was Debra. She was a cute, petite girl nearing college age. Although her actual age had never come up, Rico guessed her to be about 17 or 18—definitely in the onset of adulthood. Her parents were none other than Mr. and Mrs. Finley. She was the opposite of her parents in demeanor. Debra kept to herself, much like Bruce Lee, and just watched as the grownups talked. When questioned or invited to join the conversation, she would shrug or sink back into her chair. She was obviously very shy, at least around a lot of people. She didn’t act that way when Angie spoke to her. And you didn’t have to look twice to know that Drew and Sarah weren’t her birth parents. That was because Debra was white. Mr. and Mrs. Finley were from African-American heritage. Both were sensitive about being called anything other just plain old American. An interracial family wasn’t something that bothered Rico one bit. In fact, Rico wondered, if humans survived the apocalypse, they might be so few in numbers that racism would disappear once and for all. Everyone would depend on each other for basic survival. There would be no time to pick sides and start fights. Is that what was happening now? Had things become so bad on Earth that the Universe had hit the reset button on mankind and would ultimately bring them together as one? That question was yet to be answered.

  Rico did wonder how the Finleys came together as a unit. When he thought about it, he might be up for hearing his own voice as much as Drew’s if he had as many good deeds to boast about. The Finleys were the quintessential all-American couple just doing things to make the world a better place.

  Rico liked them.

  Angie loved them. She especially was drawn to Debra. Rico watched them snickering together about this or that while the others ate their meals.

  It warmed Rico’s heart to see Angie in this light. A weak woman forced in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people. But that was then. And this was now. And now, Angie had a second chance. A chance to be the person she chose to be. Not bound by drugs or men. Not bound by laws or selfish gain.

  It felt good being a part of this group—despite how he had always preferred to be a loner. He liked seeing Angie genuinely happy. She was a new person. Second chances came in mysterious ways. And if anyone deserved a second chance, it was her.

  “What are you grinning about?” Angie asked.

  “Nothing,” Rico said, and drank from his bottled water.

  They stared at one another for a moment.

  Quin cleared his throat. “So, ah… what’s the word on the sickie?”

  “Steven is checking on her,” Sarah Finley said. “We have the medicine she needs, but none of us know how much to give her. Right before she passed out she said she was a diabetic and needed medicine.”

  “Yeah,” Angie said. “It’s pretty easy to overdose on that stuff.”

  Steven worked as cashier for Academy sporting goods. It just so happened, the night things fell apart he had pulled a double shift in order to work on price changes for the next day. He was the one who let everyone inside the store.

  The young man was in his mid-twenties and had lived an ordinary life since high school. Working at a retail store was far from being his dream job, but he basically didn’t qualify for any other line of work. Girlfriends took up too much time and money, so there was no love interest for him to worry over. Most of his free time was spent playing video games. Still, as average as he was, he did possess a unique quality. He had a magnetic level of compassion. His empathy made him seem instantly trustworthy. Steven didn’t try to run the show—in fact, he really didn’t talk all that much. But when he did have something to say, it was always meaningful, and everyone was quick to listen. It had been his prompting that had led Q and Bruce Lee to the CVS.

  Rico made a mental note to thank Steven for technically saving their lives.

  Malinda Garrett was ‘the sickie’ Q had referred to. No one really knew much about her. According to Drew Finley, the woman fell ill right after they all had arrived at Academy. At first, everyone thought she passed out from shock, but as she floated in and out of consciousness, she managed to say she was a diabetic. It wasn’t until her symptoms worsened that Steven forced the issue to go out and find medicine.

  Although everyone else was currently huddled together in the center of the store, surrounded by racks of hunting coats and camouflage jeans, Steven had gone to the break room to be with Malinda. Steven checked on her often and did his best to make the woman comfortable. When asked about Malinda’s condition, Steven didn’t seem very optimistic.

  So, after that, Rico made it a point to quit asking. If Malinda took a turn for the worse—or better, for that matter—Steven was sure to let everyone know.

  Rico turned his attention back to Angie. Where will it lead us from here? Ugh. Ever since Q sang a line from the song to her, the Rolling Stones tune had become an earworm playing over and over in his head.

  Q’s chair squeaked and he rose to his feet. He set the soup bowl on a table and stepped over to Angie, ignoring everyone else. He offered her his hand. “Hey, I got somethin’ I wanna show ya, you feel?”

  “Sure, okay.” Angie placed her bowl on the floor, and then Q helped her up. “Where’re we going?”

  “It’s a secret, yo.” Q turned and led the way with Angie close behind holding on to his hand.

  With that, the two walked away, leaving the others watching as they disappeared out of sight.

  Rico almost yelled for Angie to stop. At the last second, he held himself in check and pushed on a piece of meat stuck between his teeth with his tongue. Now was not the time to show his hand.

  “Why do you let Q do that?” Sarah asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had followed.

  “Come again?” Rico looked at his bowl and scooped up the remains with his spoon.

  “I see the way you look at her, Rico.” Sarah lifted her eyebrows. She reached over and took Drew by the hand. “You can’t keep hiding your feelings from her. If you do, someone like Quin will come along and snatch her away.”

  “Whatever,” Rico shrugged and ate the last bite of soup. “We don’t really know each other.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “So what?” Drew said, lifting his wife’s hand to his lips and planting a kiss. “Excuse the terminology, but sometimes you just got to take life by the balls and slap them around. If you don’t, they will slip right through your fingers.”

  Rico winced and shook his head. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to a self-proclaimed Dr. Drew. “First of all, I don’t intend to be doing any ball slapping. That kind of sounds uncomfortable.” As pissed as he was, he decided to make it sound like he was joking.

  Debra giggled. At least he fooled her. Rico wasn’t so sure the others had bought it.

  Bruce Lee jingled bowls and spoons as he gathered them up. Though his hands were full, he managed to carry empty drink bottles between his arms and chest. He took them to the back, toward the break room.

  Mr. and Mrs. Finley continued with the touchy feely routine. What were they trying to do? Teach Rico how he should court Angie? What was next? Debra joining in and give him some dating tips? Fuck that. Rico found his cue to leave.

  “I think I’ll help Patrick with the dishes,” he said, climbing out of his seat. “It’ll give me a chance to check on Malinda and Steven. It would b
e good to know how she’s doing.”

  As he walked away from the happy family, Rico heard Sarah whispering something to Drew. It involved the police force, or maybe the fact he had been a cop—something of that nature. This spiked his curiosity, but he didn’t stick around to find out what it was all about. Instead, he picked up a few empty drink bottles and followed the quiet Asian man to the break room.

  Bruce Lee turned as Rico neared, nodding his appreciation. The two men walked together toward the back of the store.

  Drew Finley started up his persistent rambling. Fortunately, his voice faded at each steady clop of shoes against tile. What didn’t fade was the buzzing noise coming from outside. As long as there were people inside, trapped like sardines in a can, the undead would stay put. Pounding and moaning. Moaning and pounding.

  Rico sighed. He wondered how long it would take for that persistent concert hum to grow in the back of his head and to drive him insane.

  When they reached the break room, Rico helped Bruce Lee place the dishes in the sink and dispose of the drink empties.

  Steven sat by Malinda over in the corner. He was hunched over and slightly shaking.

  Small sobs emerged and filled the dank break room.

  Steven turned and looked up, all hope gone from his expression. Tears dripped down his cheeks.

  Chapter 23

  “Keep ’em closed,” Q said.

  Angie playfully giggled as Quin guided her through the store by the elbow. With both hands up to her eyes, she could have peeked through her fingers if she wanted. But why do that? She loved surprises. And after the last few days, she thought she would never experience joy again. Her heart raced with excitement.

  The trek took long enough—probably seemed farther because of her slow pace after bumping into a display and at times brushing against merchandise. Finally, Quin brought her to a stop.

  “Okay, yo. Open that mess!”

  Angie pulled her hands away from her face and blinked her eyes into focus. She didn’t really know what to expect. And realistically, she knew whatever Q had for her couldn’t have been much. What was there in a sporting goods store, after a horde of zombies sent everyone in hiding, worth getting excited about? Nothing in particular came to mind. So the excitement was less about the proposition of gain and more over the thrill of the game. It had been a very long time since a man did something other than wave a handful of cash to vie for her attention. Quin wasn’t taken in because of some slutty outfit that her pimp had forced her to wear. And he wasn’t treating her to a surprise with the meager hopes of some reward in return. At least, that’s what she hoped.

  “For me?” She tilted her head to the side and smiled. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “It was nothin’, you feel?” Q grinned, revealing his gold teeth. “Anything to bring a smile to your sweet little face.”

  “Aw, thanks. The only thing that’s missing is a white picket fence.”

  Before them was the surprise. Quin had taken the time to set up a tent. It was her own little spot to call home. The rapper want-to-be had set up house, complete with two folding chairs in the front facing a small, steel, wood burning fireplace. Beside the chairs were several bottles of water in an ice chest, a brand new pair of hiking boots that were clearly just pulled from the shelf, and a small mobile-DVD player.

  “I wasn’t sure what size boots to get you, so I got a 7.”

  “Close enough. I’ll try them on later,” Angie said.

  “And we even got us a little somethin’-somethin’ inside,” Q said, unzipping the tent. He folded the tent flap back for her to inspect. “Got a queen size blow up mattress and battery fan.”

  “Wow,” Angie nodded. “Fresh sheets and pillows, too. You didn’t have to do this, Quin.”

  “Please,” he said. “Just call me ‘Q’.”

  “Okay, Q.” She looked inside the tent again, then at the two chairs placed in front of the tent. “It’s just that…”

  “Don’t worry, my peach.” Q puffed out his chest. “We got a few DVDs to pick from. None of that hunting crap they got on the display by the register.”

  “Peach?”

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  Angie glared at him. She thought of the names she and her girlfriends used when hustling the streets for a quick buck.

  “Don’t call me that, okay?”

  “What, peach? What’s wrong with peach? I love peaches, you feel?”

  “I don’t care how you feel, Q. Just drop it with the fruit names, okay?”

  Looking at the tent, the queen sized bed, the two chairs, it was all coming together. Quin was no different. He was just like every other guy. He just had his angle. They all did. His was just a little more subtle than walking up and asking how much it cost for a blowjob. This was just his way of staking out his territory.

  Angie turned and walked away.

  “Hey, wait a minute.” Quin followed. “What’s the big deal here? What’d I say?”

  “Nothing, just forget it,” Angie said, not looking back.

  “Just give me a second,” Quin caught up to her, grabbing her by the arm. He yanked hard and spun her around. She fell into his chest, her long blonde hair sliding down across her face. “What is the deal? I go off and make some shit and you just brush it to the side like it ain’t nothin’ but a thang. What gives?”

  “You don’t own me.” Angie lowered her gaze. Things with Q had moved faster than she expected—faster than she wanted. And despite her flash of anger toward his aggression, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of security while held in his arms.

  Q closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. “Look, Angie. It ain’t like that, you feel?” He lifted her chin but she refused to look at him. Once she finally gave in and met his gaze, he said, “We ain’t in no rush for nothin’. I just want to be there for you, yo.”

  “I don’t know.” The last several days had changed her, allowed her to feel more independent and believe in herself. As proud as she was over the change, being responsible for herself brought with it a fear of the unknown. She was used to having a man around to tell her what to do. Even though relationships had always been abusive, she felt a strange sort of comfort just having someone—anyone—who cared.

  “Hey, you let Rico look out for you, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay then, what makes me any different? I ain’t gonna try nothin’.” Q raised an eyebrow and slightly shook his head. “If we are in a tent, then you got somebody right there. Shit hits the grits, then boom. I’m in the slide before the slumps start jumpin’.”

  “What?”

  Quin laughed. “Just let me be there to protect you, girl.” He wrapped his arms around her even tighter.

  Angie didn’t refuse. In fact, she felt comfortable. Sighing, Angie let herself go. She leaned into him hard. It felt safe. It felt right. She could hear his heart pounding in his chest. It felt good to be wanted. It felt invigorating to know that someone cared.

  “Okay,” she finally said after a few moments in his embrace.

  “Yeah, yeah!” Quin stepped back and stretched out his arms. “So, what you in the mood to watch? Might as well take our minds off the shit outside when we have a chance.”

  “What do we have to choose from?”

  “We got the movie Friday After Next, Forest Gump, or Ghost Busters.”

  “What do you want to watch?” she asked, leading them back toward the tent.

  “Friday After Next, yo. Figured we could use some mindless entertainment.”

  “I can get into that. My life’s usually so hectic I never take the time to watch movies.”

  “Really? What was your life like before The Spook, part 2?”

  “You know, Q. I’ve always been a private person—kept my business to myself. But now, with things away they are, I’m just going to let it all hang out and let the chips fall where they may. You want to know what I was doing the night the dead came back again? Hustling tricks and shootin
g heroin. Not much different from what I had been doing for the last few years. That’s it. The girl you want to protect is just a street walking junkie. Or ex-junkie, I should say. Just went cold turkey with the junk. I don’t ever want to get on that stuff again. And I don’t want to sell my body anymore, either. If I survive this thing, I hope to do something with my life. I’m not sure what. I need to learn a trade, or maybe even go back to school and become an accountant. I used to be good at math back in school.” Angie turned and noticed Q had fallen a few steps behind and had his gaze locked on her backside. She couldn’t tell though if he was ogling her ass, or just mindlessly following while she told her story. “Am I rambling?”

  “Not at all.” Q flashed a reassuring smile.

  When they arrived at the tent, Angie asked, “Where do you want to watch the movie? Out here, or in the tent?”

  Q stepped over to the DVD player and picked it and a disc up. “Let’s watch it in the tent. That way, if we get tired, we can just go to sleep.”

  Angie leaned over and entered the tent after kicking off her shoes. “Hey, once you’re inside, the space looks bigger than it does from the outside.” She nestled in on one side of the mattress. “Bed’s really soft. It beats the hell out of sleeping on a tile floor in a bathroom.”

  Q entered the tent holding the DVD player by his thigh, right next to a large bulge in his pants. “Mmm hmm. Whatever you said, sugar pie. Whatever you said.”

  ***

  “Is she okay?”

  “No, she stopped breathing.” Steven looked up from Malinda still lying on her makeshift bed. His Academy nametag glistened, the overhead light shining down at him.

  “What happened?” Rico asked, kneeling down beside them.

  Malinda’s eyes were open, vacant and fixed on a single position on the wall. Rico already knew. He had seen it enough before on the job. She was gone.