The Reckoning - 02

by D. A. Roberts

  I turned on the headlights and turned into the parking lot of the Tool and Die. Then I went around to the back of the building and drove inside. The bodies of several zombies were still on the ground from where Spec-4 had run over them on the way out. I illuminated the shop with the headlights and didn’t see any movement. Once inside, Gunny hopped out and pulled the door shut with the chain pulley.

  I shut the engine down, but left the lights on. Then I jumped out and pulled my pistol. We swept the interior of the shop, making certain we were alone inside before we let our guard down. We were safe, for the moment.

  “Look around for any fuel cans or anything we can use,” I said.

  “On it,” said Gunny.

  I turned off the headlights and plunged the shop into semi-darkness. The only light was filtering in through a few greasy windows on the back of the building. It was enough light to see by, but not well. Gunny returned from the offices with a case of soda and a box of snack crackers.

  “I found these,” he said, smiling, “but no fuel.”

  I took a soda and some crackers and sat down on a bench.

  “I haven’t found anything, either,” I replied. “But I do have an idea.”

  “What have you got in mind?”

  “There’s a gas station a few miles up the road,” I said. “I can travel much faster without all the gear. You stay here with the dog and I’ll make a fuel run.”

  “You want to go out there alone?” asked Gunny, surprised.

  “I don’t think want is the right word,” I replied. “If we want to drive, we’ve got to get more fuel. I can go faster alone.”

  “How are you going to carry fuel that far?”

  “I don’t have to carry a lot of it, just enough to get the truck to the station.”

  “I don’t know, Wylie,” he said. “I don’t feel comfortable with you going out there alone.”

  “Hey, it ain’t exactly my idea of a good time, either,” I replied. “But someone has to stay here to secure the door and guard the gear.”

  “From what?” he asked. “I haven’t seen a zombie yet that’s even remotely interested in finding new gear.”

  “It ain’t the zombies that worry me. I’ve ran into more than one group of survivors that weren’t interested in helping out. We’ve been ambushed twice and shot at several times.”

  “You should at least take the dog,” he said, shaking his head.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I think it would be best to go alone.”

  “It’s your call.”

  I started unloading my gear from the truck. I wasn’t going to carry any more than necessary, to save on weight. It would be better to travel light and fast. I selected the AR-15 and maxed out the ammo. I loaded up ten full magazines of 30 rounds each. I also took the two M-9 Beretta 9mm pistols. I loaded out all eight magazines for those at 15 rounds each.

  Then I emptied out my rucksack. I wasn’t planning on taking any food, at all. I was going to a store. I could eat there. I stuck four water bottles in my pack and secured it. I left the Keltec strapped to the side of the pack. It loaded out with 15 rounds in 12 gauge, and I put another fifty rounds of the Winchester Supreme Elite’s in the bag. I also stuck my hammer in my belt.

  I left the big Army Colt and the Henry in the truck. I’d have plenty of guns and ammo without them. Out in the country this far, I doubted that I’d run into any large packs of zombies. At least, I really hoped I wouldn’t. If I did, I was boned. Once I was loaded up, I turned to Gunny.

  “Well, I’m as ready as I ever will be,” I said, grinning.

  “You be careful out there,” he said, seriously. “If you get into trouble, you don’t have any way to call for back-up.”

  “I know, Guns,” I said. “I’ll be careful.”

  Then I headed into the front offices. Gunny followed me, and we checked the windows before clearing the front door. Before I could open the door, Gunny stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.

  “Listen, son,” he said. “Don’t do anything stupid. Just get the fuel and get your ass back here. Don’t take any unnecessary risks. And above all else, watch out for those fucking Trackers.”

  “Got it,” I said.

  I opened the door and slipped out. Gunny had to hold Odin back from bounding out the door after me. I crept to the edge of the building and peeked around the corner. It was clear. Behind me, I could hear the sound of Gunny blocking the entrance. Satisfied that the path was clear, I headed across the parking lot at a trot.

  My pack felt like it weighed nothing, after all the weight I’d been carrying all morning. I made it to the far side of the parking lot and crept along the edge of the other building. I looked in through a window and saw that it was storage for the Tool and Die. There was nothing that I could see that resembled fuel tanks.

  “So much for that idea,” I mumbled.

  I moved along the back of the building, heading towards the road. I crouched down at the end of the building and looked both ways. I didn’t see movement in either direction. I decided that I’d move out to the edge of the road and follow it, so long as I could see where I was going. I’d have to be careful on hills and corners.

  I didn’t want to stumble upon a group of dead, but I really didn’t want to get hit by a speeding vehicle full of survivors, either. There was no sound to be heard, other than the whispering of the wind. I was pretty sure I’d hear a car coming long before it got to me. I was willing to take that chance, anyway.

  Following the tree line would give me better cover, but I wanted to get to the station as fast as possible. The sooner I got the gas, the sooner I could get back and fuel up the truck. I could raid the store for supplies, while I was at it. What I really wanted was a good map of the area. It had been years since I navigated with a map and a compass, but I was pretty sure that I could still do it.

  I kept the AR-15 at ready-arms. I had already locked and loaded it and just had the safety on. I lengthened my stride to a nice ground eating pace and started off. If my mental map was accurate, the store had to be close to ten miles away. I should be able to cover that in a few hours, so long as I didn’t get attacked.

  The sun was getting high in the morning sky and the air was turning warm, so I slipped my sunglasses out of my pocket and put them on. I considered marking time with military cadence, but decided against it because of the noise. I remember how cadence helped pass the time on marches in the Army, but we didn’t have roaming zombies to contend with back then.

  I’d walked for almost an hour without seeing a car or a single zombie. I was starting to feel like the last living thing on the planet, when I saw a deer standing in the road. I stopped when I saw it and it jerked its head up and looked right at me. It was a beautiful eight point buck. During normal times, I’d have been glad to have scored a buck like that. I definitely would have shot it for the meat.

  While I was pondering that, the wind shifted and the deer’s head snapped up and around the other direction. Its ears started twitching and the white tail came up like a flag. He was getting ready to bolt. Taking my cue from the deer, I slipped off the road and into the trees. Then I knelt down and watched.

  From farther down the road, two zombies appeared. When they saw the deer, they launched forward. They were both Sprinters. The deer didn’t waste any time and took off like a bat out of hell. It was running towards the other side of the road and heading for the trees. It didn’t have any trouble staying ahead of the Sprinters, but they pursued it right into the woods. For several minutes, I could hear them crashing through the woods in pursuit of the deer.

  I waited quietly, watching the direction that the two Sprinters had come from. When no more zombies appeared, I stepped out of the tree line and continued on. This time, I stayed in the ditch close enough to the tree line that I could duck in quickly. Around the bend in the road about half a mile ahead, I saw a house.

  It was an older house with fading white paint and green shingles. I couldn’t see any cars pa
rked in the area. It was on the opposite side of the road and I kept an eye on it as I got closer. The front door stood wide open and none of the windows appeared to have been boarded up. It looked abandoned.

  As I came up even with the house, I could see an empty garage behind it. Still no cars to be seen, but I did see a mountain bike sitting in the garage. I thought it over for a few minutes before I decided to risk it. If I could get in there and grab that bike without alerting any zombies or getting into a fight, I could cover the distance to the gas station in no time. It was definitely worth the risk.

  I glanced both ways, and headed across the road. When I reached the end of the driveway, I stopped and listened. I couldn’t hear any noise coming from the house, so I crept forward keeping my weapon at the ready. Moving slowly, I made my way to the back of the house. The backyard was clear, so I moved on into the garage.

  As I was reaching for the bike, I heard a shuffling sound come from the back of the house. I spun around in time to see an elderly man in his pajamas come out the back door. It was clear that he’d been dead for some time. The bloody wounds to his neck and face had long since turned black and his mottled gray skin looked nearly putrefied.

  I could tell by the way it moved that it hadn’t seen me, yet. It must have heard something when I walked by. I didn’t want to shoot it and make a ton of noise, so I grabbed my hammer and slipped the thong around my wrist. Gripping the handle tightly, I moved to the edge of the garage and waited. I didn’t have to wait long.

  It came shuffling towards the garage and stepped around the corner. Before it could react, I spun the hammer once around on the thong to generate momentum and slammed it right in the forehead. The skull gave way with a sickening crunch and the old ghoul was propelled backwards out of the door and onto his back. He didn’t get up.

  I stole a quick glance at the back of the house. I didn’t see any more zombies, but I didn’t plan on waiting around for more to show up. Grabbing the bike, I quickly checked the tires. They were both flat. The side trip had been a total bust. Disgusted, I headed back down the driveway as quickly as I could and took to the road.

  I didn’t see any more zombies for the next hour and a half. I knew I should be getting close to the crossroads where the little gas station had been. If I could reach it, I could figure out a way to get some gas out of the tanks and get my ass back to the Tool and Die.

  Chapter Four

  One Stop Shopping

  “The planet's survival has become so uncertain that any effort, any thought that presupposes an assured future amounts to a mad gamble.”

  - Elias Canetti

  It was nearly two in the afternoon when the station came into view. There were four vehicles sitting in the driveway. I remembered them being there when we passed in the Humvees. At least I wasn’t about to run into another group of possibly hostile survivors. The last thing I wanted was to get involved in a firefight and attract every zombie in the area down on me. It was one thing to go in guns a-blazing when you were in an up-armored Humvee. It was quite another to do it on foot, with nowhere to run to.

  I approached the store slowly, staying inside the tree line. I took my time getting there, careful to make as little noise as possible. When I made it to the edge of the field across the road from the station, I knelt down and waited. I listened for the telltale sound of the dead, the incessant moaning. I was relieved that I didn’t hear any.

  One vehicle was an old Ford pickup with mismatched paint. The driver’s door stood open and there was blood on the windshield. The second was a small economy car with a flat tire. One of the remaining two was a red mini-van. It looked to be intact. The last one was an expensive European sedan with a smashed front end and broken out windows. It looked like zombies had forced their way inside to get whoever was in there. I didn’t see any bodies, but there was plenty of blood.

  I glanced up and down the road and still didn’t see any sign of the dead. Waiting a few heartbeats to gather my nerves, I stood up and headed out of the trees. Moving in a crouch, I crossed the road as quickly as I could and ducked down behind the pick-up. The keys were still in the ignition but there was blood on the seat. Lying on the ground next to the driver’s door was a Taurus 9mm pistol with the slide locked back. I picked it up and tucked it into my belt.

  Lying in the seat was a machete in a green sheath with the handle wrapped in black duct tape. I snagged that and stuck it in the top of my pack. I glanced down and saw a brown work boot sticking out from underneath the truck. Kneeling down, I pointed my rifle at the boot just in case it was a Crawler. It wasn’t. It was a boot with part of a leg still inside of it.

  Rising up slowly, I peeked over the truck and into the front of the store. The windows were dusty, but unbroken. The sign on the door still read “Open” but the lights were off, probably along with the power. Switching from my rifle to the shotgun, I made sure that it had a round in the chamber and the safety was off.

  Satisfied, I crept towards the door. My boots crunched softly on the gravel and seemed to be like trumpets in my ears. Sweat was running down my face in rivers. Once I made it to the door, I peered in through the glass. I could see isles of merchandise, but no “customers.” I pulled the door handle slowly, careful not to jangle the bells attached to the top of it.

  I slipped quietly inside and immediately was hit with the smell of rot. Not the putrid stench of the dead, but the sickeningly sweet smell of bad milk. I was all too familiar with the smell of rotten milk. It was a staple of my refrigerator before I married Karen. Usually, the only thing in it was rotten milk and beer. I moved slowly towards the register when I stepped in something sticky. It was a large pool of semi-congealed blood. I stepped carefully around the rest of it and walked behind the counter.

  I glanced around the store and saw more blood near the coolers at the back of the store, but no bodies. On the floor behind the counter lay a sawed off double barrel shotgun. I retrieved it and opened the breach. Both barrels were spent. I ejected the empty casings and reloaded it from my ammo supply. Then I sat it on the counter. On a shelf beneath the counter was a pocket sized Missouri road atlas. I shoved it in my cargo pocket and kept looking around.

  I couldn’t help but smile at what I saw at the other end of the counter. This store sold hunting and fishing supplies. That meant they had ammo. I wasn’t sure how much would be left, but I planned on cleaning them out. Once we fueled up the truck, we’d take everything they had left.

  Snagging a can of the wintergreen chewing tobacco pouches, I broke the seal with my thumbnail and opened it. The smell of the chew was intoxicating. I slipped two pouches into my lip and savored the flavor for a few seconds before slipping the can and a few others like it into my pocket. When the rush hit me, I smiled at the sudden burst of energy. It was time to clear the building.

  Taking the flashlight off of my belt, I clicked it on and swept the room. I still didn’t see anything in the main part of the store. Clamping the light between my hand and the pump on the shotgun, I headed towards the door to the back rooms and the sign that said “restrooms.” Careful not to step on anything that would make noise, I slowly made my way to the door.

  I paused at the bathroom door and pushed on the door with the barrel of the gun. It opened easily and the flashlight lit up the tiny room. One toilet, one urinal and one sink were all that was in the room. I let the door close slowly and moved towards the store room. There was a small office just past the bathrooms and the door stood open. Seated at the desk was a woman in her late fifties or early sixties.

  She was dressed in jeans and a cotton smock with the name of the store on it. There was a ragged bite mark on her left forearm. I didn’t have to worry about her standing up, though. There was a large handgun clasped in her right hand and the back of her skull was missing. There was gore all over the wall behind her.

  “I’d have done the same thing,” I whispered.

  Gently, I pulled the pistol from her dead hand. It was a Ruger Super Red
hawk in .44 Magnum. I opened the cylinder and checked the load. She’d eaten her last bullet. It was empty.

  “No sense leaving this behind,” I muttered and slid it into my belt.

  I turned to head into the storeroom and froze in my tracks. My heart nearly beat out of my chest and I almost yelled out. Standing not ten feet away from me was a zombie. It was an elderly man in his sixties or seventies with a bloody button up shirt and jeans. There was dried blood around the mouth and down the chin. It must have been attracted by the light.

  It saw me about the same time I saw it. It lurched forward and I snapped the shotgun up and fired. The blast was nearly deafening in the tiny hallway. It caught the worst of it right in the chest. The force of the blast threw the zombie back and into the storeroom. Before it could move I fired again, only this time in the face. There wasn’t anything left of the head after the impact.

  I heard more movement from the storeroom and worked the pump on the shotgun. Shining the light into the darkened back room, I was surprised to find four more zombies inside. They had been gathered around what was left of a dog. Before they closed the distance, I started blasting. Four shots thundered out and four zombies fell to the ground, never to rise again.

  When my ears stopped ringing, I listened for more movement but didn’t hear any. I just hoped that the 12 gauge blasts hadn’t been heard outside the store. I’m sure that they were, but just how far the sound traveled was anyone’s guess. I whispered a silent prayer that no other zombies were in range of the sound.

  I swept the backroom and found lots of extra supplies. There was a large puddle of water where the ice machine had leaked, but other than that everything appeared to be in good condition. I headed back up front and towards the hunting counter. I froze in my tracks when I saw two Shamblers moving towards the front door. I knelt down behind the potato chips and heard the jingle of the bell on the front door followed by the shuffling of feet. They were inside the store.