Rapture: Survivor Chronicles 1

Rapture: Survivor Chronicles 1 Page 4

by Mike Sutton

Jason was vaguely aware of several hands grabbing him and lifting him, and Lynn’s voice telling him that it was ok, that they were putting him into the truck because they were getting ready to leave. It was only vague at best. It soon passed as he slipped back into the grips of his private hell.

  He sat in his chair, transfixed to the television. He almost thought it was a giant April fools joke, except that it would have been a month late and a huge expense to pull off. Not to mention the organization required and getting authorization from the government and cooperation with all the community figures. Still all of that happening seemed a hell of a lot more likely than what was in front of him at that moment. It wasn’t a hoax.

  The phone rang and he picked it up. It was Lynn. “Yeah, I see it, do you think they’re just fucking with us?”

  “I think it’s real, I think its actually happening.” Her voice was steady on the other end. Nothing ever shook the woman, at least that Jason could ever tell.

  “Shit.”

  “You ready?” Lynn sounded both excited and determined. He could hear Billy in the background giggling like a demented idiot while Douglas was sternly telling him to be careful with whatever he was doing.

  “What for?” His mind was still blown from what he saw on the news. It was kind of a surreal and guilty pleasure that he didn’t quite know how to deal with yet. They had actually looked forward to a zombie uprising, but to have one actually happen and fulfill the fantasy was more than he could deal with for the moment. He felt like his brain was shutting down.

  It struck him that he had also always wanted Jedi force powers, well if the zombies were here…he waved his hand at the television commanding it to turn off and fly across his room. To his disappointment it seemed that what-ever caused people to rise from the grave in order to eat the flesh of the living, didn’t bestow upon him any level of control over the force.

  “Jason? Jason? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah, I was just checking something real quick.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing too important, it didn’t work.” Force powers would have been a nice ace in the hole against the legions of undead zombies.

  “Ok, well are you ready to go?”

  “Yeah, how are we going to go about it?”

  “Billy, Doug and me will meet you over at the gun shop, we’re leaving now, hurry!” With that she hung up the phone.

  Jason hung up the phone and snapped himself out of his daze. It had finally happened and it was time to get moving. He quickly got dressed and grabbed some things that he thought that he might need, a hammer, his car keys and some nylon rope. He was out the door, down his steps and on his front lawn in seconds. He stopped on the sidewalk in front of his car to take a quick look around before he moved on.

  The street was surprisingly empty. It was eerie. Usually it was a bustling road with cars driving past at all hours. It was around nine in the morning and the cars should be driving by even now. There weren’t any. None, it wasn’t a slow day, even at five in the morning on a Sunday there were always at least a couple cars on the road. Jason looked around a little, there was a figure shambling around down the street a couple blocks, but that was it. His first live zombie, the first one he had actually seen. It was unimpressive. Still he felt it was best to keep it at a distance.

  He had been watching the news for almost three days straight now, from when he woke up until he went to bed, his eyes glued to the television. From what they knew the entire thing had been building for over a week before, the government and the world at large ignoring it as a strange anomaly. At first it was scattered cases of people falling ill, then those people started to die, but they didn’t stay dead, they got up and killed. The government had declared martial law, trying to keep people from leaving the cities and spreading the new disease, but people panicked and fled anyways.

  Last he had heard, the government had set up roadblocks surrounding every large city and most medium sized ones as well. The troops were shooting on sight. Firing on anyone who approached from either direction. Very few people it seemed actually stayed in their homes as they were ordered. Clogging the freeways, filling up hospitals, fleeing to churches to beg for divine intervention. The panicked people were spreading the plague that much faster.

  Really it was only a matter of time, hours perhaps, before the rest of civilization went down the hole. Last he had heard several cities were without power. The modern amenities were, like the human race, disappearing fast.

  He walked around to the driver’s side of his aging el Camino, Mike. He unlocked and opened the door, but before he got in he felt a sneeze coming on so he looked up into the bright blue sky to get it out. It was kind of funny, the world had changed over night, but he hadn’t. It was one of those minor quirks that would be with him no matter.

  A slight breeze made his hair dance as he stood looking up into the sunlit sky. After a minute of staring heavenward in a futile attempt to bring the sneeze, he decided to cut his losses and go. Mike started up as poorly as ever, coughing and sputtering at first, but then turning over and running relatively smoothly thereafter.

  He and Mike pulled out onto the road and started their way across town. The town had a creepy vibe that he usually got when watching an apocalypse movie. It was devoid of life, an empty shell. It was like the animal inside the shell had died and begun to rot away. He was hunted by a feeling of nausea that was edging its way into his consciousness.

  Along the way he saw small groups of people, what he thought were people shambling around. From time to time he even saw bodies lying in yards or in the middle of the roads. There was usually a lot of blood and he didn’t look to closely. He just passed by, he wasn’t ready to think about what had happened to them just yet. They were always too far away for him to be absolutely certain whether or not they were zombies, he knew, but he didn’t want to believe. Despite his disbelief, every time he saw one of the small groups, or even a lone individual stumbling around in the street, the pit of his stomach knotted and then froze up.

  They tended to turn around and walk towards him as he passed, but it was no worry since they moved so slowly and started from so far away. Jason kept moving, ignoring the street lights and stop signs. Even if there were any cops around, running a red light would be the least of his worries. The authorities had established marshal law. He wasn’t sure what punishment they would dole out for his breaking curfew, but he was sure it was going to be a hell of a lot more severe than a traffic ticket. That would be light compared to what would happen if the zombies got him. He didn’t want to much think about that, most especially since he lacked any sort of way to quickly end it before he returned to unlife to walk with them.

  Before he could meet Lynn and Billy at the gun shop, there was something he had to do first, someone he had to find. He drove with all the speed that he could safely manage until he came to the house that he was looking for. It was Jane’s house.

  After Grover got ganked, Ash spent the rest of the day trying to drone out the recorded message by burying his ears in his walkman. Until Sarge would come by, pull off the earphones and bawl him out for being a lazy pussy and get back to work why don’t you. He couldn’t, after all hear orders with those damned things on could he? What if something happened and the platoon needed him and his rifle? Now get back to your position damn it soldier! Ash would wait until the Sarge’s back was turned before putting the earphones back into his ears. Getting yelled at by Sarge was bad, but that recording was even worse.

  The music helped some, though he was unable to get it loud enough to completely escape the lieutenant’s constant droning voice. The volume of the music beating out of the headphones was beginning to hurt his ears and give him a headache.

  Ash passed the time by playing a game that he had invented just a little while before, ‘Fill the pothole with rocks and stuff that you find on the side of the road’. The rules were pretty simple, whic
h was why he was so fond of it. He sat down with his back against the wall, picked up rocks, nails, bits of glass and other junk up off the pavement, and then threw it into the closest pothole. It was a big mother, about two feet wide and half as deep, and hard to miss (though some times he got too fancy with his throws and missed anyhow). After two hours of playing, he had only managed to make a small pile of crap on the very bottom.

  He considered cheating a bit and finding bigger rocks.

  Three hours into his game, near 2 o’clock, a jeep pulled to the rear of the roadblock and a captain got out and talked to the lieutenant. Ash turned off his walkman and took off his headphones. He decided that he wanted to hear what the captain had to say. He didn’t get to hear the bigwigs in a discussion very often, so now was his chance.

  With Judy hanging from his shoulder, he tried to sidle up where Sarge the lieutenant and captain stood huddled around a map. Having Judy along made him feel more relaxed. The captain might have the crazy sickness, and if that happened, Ash would be there to frag his ass and save the Sarge and lieutenant. They’d probably give him a metal for his bravery and quick thinking, maybe the lieutenant would even turn off the fucking recording so that he could listen to his music in peace.

  “Here, here and here” the captain said, pointing to several

  The lieutenant leaned closer, looking at the places where the captain had pointed. “The aid stations? They’ve all fallen? What happened sir?”

  “Unknown. There are reports that people who die from this actually get up and start feeding on the living. Real biblicial shit. A pile of crap filled with religious nuts if you ask me. I think it’s probably at most just mobs of terrified citizens. Anyhow, command wants to send a squad from your platoon to go and check it out and report back. Good luck and get to work lieutenant.”

  Hearing about the patrol, Ash tried to slink away and get out of sight. Maybe he would hide in one of the trucks. Cummings, the corporal of his own squad, was on one of the machinegun crews. Ash liked Cummings he always had good stories to tell of the time when he visited Mexico on spring break and fucked like four girls in a single night. Two of them at one time even. Maybe Ash could get Cummings to tell those stories again. They always made him want to go to a real college so that he could go on spring break too and fuck a lot of hotties like he saw on Mtv.

  “Well Sergeant, who will you be bring with along you on the patrol?”

  A voice roared out. “Private Jones!” It was the Sarge.

  Ash stood at attention and saluted “Yes sir?”

  Sarge grinned wickedly. “Thanks for volunteering kid, knew we could count on you.” Ash stopped where he stood he had made it as far as the cab of one of the trucks. This was so damned unfair.

  “Anything else to report to command lieutenant?” Captain Highway asked as he put his left foot into the jeep.

  “So far, we’ve fired on two different groups trying to escape. Nobody has tried to get into the city though.”

  “That sounds about right. Nobody else has had much trouble from outside either. It’s just the folks trying to escape whatever plague has spawned down there. Though I’m surprised that it had been so quiet here on the highway. Especially on the inbound lane. Oh well, remember, have your men shoot at anything that moves and ain’t wearing a uniform. Word from the big brass is that you’re supposed to aim for the head.”

  “Why the head sir?”

  “I suppose that they don’t want any wounded to have to clean up in all of this. Make it more humane and all. But you have your orders lieutenant, carry them out.”

  “Aye sir! Sergeant, get your patrol and go, daylight is wasting.” The captain climbed his fat ass back into the jeep, causing the shocks to groan underneath him as he stepped up.

  There were four squads of eight soldiers each in the platoon. Each squad had a corporal to lead it. The sergeant was there as a man in the trenches to give the lieutenant the benefit of his years of experience, and of course to bitch out everyone below him if they showed the signs of having any fun. The lieutenant was there to lead the whole shebang.

  Sarge motioned to Ash to go and round up the other five members of his squad. Two were out sick with some sort of flu. Had it real bad, enough that the docs over in medical gave them sick leave. The corporal and private White were manning one of the machineguns in the truck and deep in a stupid conversation about the differences between American and Canadian rules football. Really, who the hell cares about Canadian rules football?

  “Corporal, we’re ordered to fall out in front of the sergeant and get ready to move.”

  The corporal leaned on the M60 and looked down out of the truck at Ash, “we got a mission?”

  “Yup. We’re sposed to get to it quick. Daylight is burning.”

  “Sounds like a quote from lieutenant Aresnau to me.”

  “Who the hell do you suppose it was who gave the order? Had it passed down from Captain Highway and everything.”

  “Well shit, looks like we’re taking a walk then. The whole platoon going?”

  “Nope, just our squad. Now I gotta get moving before Sarge yells at me for bein’ slow.”

  The rest of his squad was hiding in the shadows between two of the trucks, playing poker as usual. None of the dumb bastards could play poker worth a damn, but they were three more assholes who had seen a lot of war movies, and in war movies soldiers played cards when they had some down time. Not Ash, he was always broke.

  “Tex, Avery, Schmidt, The lieutenant is sendin us out on a mission to check something out, we’re all reporting to the sergeant!” Tex frowned and spit. He was probably winning, which would be a first that Ash had ever seen since the dumb bastard couldn’t tell a good hand from his own asshole. Tex was the only other bastard in the platoon, besides Grover, who had gotten a nickname. He wasn’t from Texas, or a cowboy or anything, but they called him Tex anyhow. Avery decided that someone needed to be called Tex, and he chose Private Calhoun as the most likely recipient. The nickname didn’t make a bit of sense and that pissed Tex the hell off, so much that he bitched whenever anyone used it. Soon everyone started using it cause it was funny to watch him fume and to give him more shit. Even the lieutenant started calling him Tex, though Tex kept his mouth shut when the lieutenant used the name.

  They quickly put away the cards and grabbed their rifles and ammo satchels before presenting themselves as ordered.

  Jésus spent the rest of the night pacing around the house and watching the street from his front window. Sometime in the small hours his girlfriend and his sister went to bed, quickly followed by his mother and his brother in law. The kids had been put down earlier. They were getting too excited. They were probably having nightmares. He would probably be having nightmares soon enough too.

  Thankfully they shut the television off as they left, leaving him in the silence. The news was all that was being broadcast anymore, and it was driving him insane. More cities falling. The death toll was rising and the world was in chaos. And still, the blonde girl managed to look perky and sound cheerful, even if the entire act was strained.

  Then it all stopped. They received no more reports about other countries, or even other cities. There were no more happy faces reading off disasters and human misery. Now all that remained of the outside voices was the recorded message repeating over and over. A man’s deep voice read the orders. Stay inside. Lock your doors. Do not leave your house. Martial law has been declared. The army had blocked off the roads into and out of the major cities. Violators will be shot on sight. Over and over it played, the man’s calm voice unchanging and demanding obedience.

  The message the same on every station and Jésus kicked himself again for not having gotten the satellite television when they had offered it to him “No, I’m happy with broadcast,” he had said to the telemarketer. With those six hundred other channels, maybe one of them would have something new on.

  H
e turned the television back on for a moment to see if anything had changed in the hours of silence. Text ticked by in English and Spanish. Jésus flipped back and forth between the two, but surprisingly they both said the exact same thing. The message was meticulously written and translated. The new format change had lasted around fifteen minutes before his family turned off the television and everyone had gone to bed. They waited for the news broadcasters to return, but that never happened, so they went up stairs to go to sleep.

  He could still hear his mother praying and crying as he once more shut of the television and returned to pacing.

  Pacing. His father had paced during times of trouble. His uncles too. It seemed to be a genetic nervousness affliction for the men in his family. They would wear themselves out, staying up late at night and walking around.

  His girlfriend and sister had joined his mother in praying for a little while and that would have to do. Jésus had given up on the church a long time ago. Religion was just never his thing. Especially not all the rituals. Besides, it was a waste of a perfectly good Sunday. It was a waste of EVERY perfectly good Sunday. Even the less than prefect ones too. Jésus found that he would rather stay home, sit on the couch in his underwear and watch football, any kind of football. American, Canadian or world (soccer in the states).

  He watched someone stumble past down the sidewalk. One of the zombie creatures, to be sure. Nobody in his neighborhood walked like that. Jésus leaned closer to the window and peered out through the gap that he had made in the blinds with his fingers. It was Jose. The punk looter who had been bit earlier. He was wearing the same blood covered clothes and everything.

  Jésus’ heart began to race for a second time that night and he closed the blinds, stumbling over his own shoes as he leaped back away from the window. He hid behind the couch. There he waited for the dawn light to creep through the windows.

  Jésus got up off the floor, patting away the dust bunnies that had latched onto his pants, and returned to the window. He rarely watched sunrises. Sunsets either. He had little time for the second and usually slept through the first. He realized that he had missed out. That dawn was one of the most beautiful events that he had ever witnessed. The pollution shrouding the sky, refracting the light, only made it more so in his eyes.

  He switched the television back on. Nothing, only static. Jésus flipped through all the channels, using all the channel surfing skills that he possessed to search. He rolled through all the entire dial twice, and then twice more. They were all static. He shut the television off, listening for the telltale click, sometimes it didn’t work the first time, before yawning and heading out to the kitchen.

  Jésus poured himself a bowl of cereal. Not the greatest meal, but it was fast and easy and would satiate his hunger. He broke his fast alone in the morning sun. After eating his meal, he returned to the window once more and peered out. There were several of the zombies in the street now. His family, couldn’t stay in their home. No matter what the government said.

  They would have to flee and find somewhere safe to stay. In the movies that had been a mall, at least for a little while. They had a mall, and it was pretty close to his home. The largest mall in the entire state called the city of Jefferson home. Jésus and his family didn’t shop there very often, nor did anyone they knew, the prices were too outrageous. They did however go from time to time to window shop and watch the people and hang out. Especially in the summer when the weather got hot. His mom might like hot weather, but he was raised in the north country and it made him uncomfortable. Best yet, he knew the building pretty well.

  A plan began to form in his mind as images coalesced. It worked in the movie, why not now. He wasn’t dumb enough to begin to believe that movies and real life were interchangeable, but he could recognize a good idea when it was right in front of his face. Now all that was left was to convince his family that it was necessary.

  A solid fifteen zombies were milling around in the street when his brother in law finally descended the stairs. “Morning Jésus.” He mumbled as he walked past and into the kitchen where he helped himself to some of the coffee Jésus had begun brewing a few minutes before.

  The zombies were walking in circles as if they were broken. Well maybe they were broken. The worst part of the whole situation was that Jésus recognized everyone out there. Some of them had been long time friends, others bitter enemies. Whoever they had been before, they were now dead.

  More of his family awoke and joined his brother in law. His mother flicked on the television and then turned it off again moments later when she finally decided that all of the channels were truly dead. His mother could be a stubborn woman at times. Indeed, she had kept the family together and going even after his father had died.

  As she walked by where he stood looking out the window she reached up and took his face between her hands, pulled it down and gave him a kiss. “Good morning my son. Did you sleep well?”

  “Morning mamma. I didn’t sleep at all. Too worried about those things out there.”

  “What things.”

  “The zombies. They’ve started to collect out on the street. Reminds me a little of the riot a few years back, like when you know that something bad is going to happen, there’s just that feeling in the air.”

  “Waiting.”

  “Yep.”

  “Don’t worry my baby boy. God will provide.” His mother said, patting him on the cheek and pointing at the ceiling.

  Soon everyone was done eating and Jésus joined his family as they sat around the kitchen table speaking in murmurs over coffee. Normally breakfast was a boisterous affair, a family tradition. Times though were hardly normal at the moment.

  He sat in silence for a long time until he finally found his voice. “We should get out of here.” The idea had been stewing in his mind for hours, ever since the television went out.

  “The man on TV says to stay home Jésus.” His sister was the first to respond. And the man on TV did say to stay home, when he was still talking. The television was now silent. “He says that the government has declared martial law and will shoot people if they are caught outside.”

  “Have you seen anyone get shot yet?”

  “Not yet, no, but I don’t want us to be the first.”

  “Let’s take our chances little sister, we aren’t safe here. Not from those things.”

  “Where do you think that we should go to hide bro?” George asked. The man always asked the obvious questions. If he weren’t such a nice guy and a hard worker, he would have wondered why his sister had ever bothered to marry him in the first place. But she did like them nice and dumb. He made a good father, even though he was dumb as a brick. Jésus guessed that she had already been pregnant, though he never said anything, his mother would have flipped. Bad enough that he was a gringo, and not even Catholic. But they got married, and he provided a nice home and plenty of food for his wife and children. So he had finally won her over.

  “The mall man, we should go to the mall.”

  “Why there?”

  “Because I saw it in a movie once.”

  “Man, not everything you see in the movies is real.” His brother in law scoffed, his brother in law who believed in the Grand Pumpkin cause he saw it on Charlie Brown. Sounded like another good time to use the word irony. Twice in one day he was putting his education to good use.

  “I know that man, I know that, but they’ll have everything we’ll need there, food and clothes and stuff, and we can lock the doors and keep out the zombies. Stay there until someone comes to rescue us. It’ll be like a fortress against the undead. You’ll see, we’ll all be safe.” Everyone agreed that it sounded like a good idea, and the air-conditioned mall was defiantly preferable to their hot living room.

  “Go get the van ready man. We can get the hell out of here.” His brother in law got up and did as he was told. Dumb as a brick, but willing to follow
a leader if the idea sounded like a good one. The women protested, but he ignored them. He was the head of the household ever since his father had died, and it was his job to take care of his family.

  “What took you slobs so long?” The sergeant growled at them as they came to attention with the rest of the squad. He handed Tex a heavy looking backpack of radio gear. “Tex, you got the phone.”

  “Private James! Front and center now.” Ash ran forward, saluting and standing in front of the sergeant.

  “Yes Sir?” He said as he lowered his right hand from his brow and put it back at his side.

  “You come from around here don’t you?”

  “About fifteen miles to the north east sir!”

  “Good, you know the area better than anyone else, you’re on point.” Fuck. That figured. And if there were any of those plague victims who had gone trigger-happy since they got sick, he would be the first one in their sights. He knew he should have moved faster while assembling the squad. But with his luck, and Sarge’s dislike for his hairy ass, it wouldn’t have helped any. “Confer with me for a moment.”

  Sarge pulled out a map of the area and showed it to him, leaning over it and pointing out a section. Ash looked at the map. They were going to have to hotfoot it about two clicks through the suburbs. It looked like an easy walk, they would just have to follow one main drag south, and then turn east and follow a second. They would end up avoiding all the little subdivisions along the way, so they wouldn’t get lost. “Ok quickly now, what kind of neighborhoods are we going to pass through.”

  “It’s suburb sir. Mostly middle class, some rich folks living here and there too, also a few poor folks.”

  “Well let’s get moving then. We got a lot of ground to cover. Our destination is an aid station operated by the emergency medical corps. The hospitals have been overrun with the sick, so the army set up a number of aid stations around the city.”

  Corporal Cummings spoke up, “Shouldn’t we take one of the trucks sir?”

  “No can do corporal, the lieutenant needs them all for the roadblock. So we get to hoof it over. Weapons only, none of that extra crap. We won’t need it. Oh, one other thing, if the need arises, shoot to kill. The captain says that we aim for the heads to make it definite. No goofing around now. Let’s hightail it.”

  Ash lifted his rifle to his shoulder and took off at a jog until he was around a hundred feet past the column. The joys of being on point. Anyone starts to shooting at them, he’ll be the first in their sights. Good times.

  The overpass that they had parked under was luckily one of the two roads that they would need to hike along. Lucky. Maybe not. Their location was probably why the captain had come along and assigned their platoon this duty. They were closest, so they won by default.

  Ash climbed up the embankment, using his empty hand to pull himself along. The rest of the squad waited until he made it to the top, had a look around, and then sent the all clear, before hiking up the slope themselves.

  The four lane road was empty of any moving traffic. As well as pedestrians. There were cars in the street. But they were all abandoned. Some had been dented up as if they had been left after their owners got into an accident, or just hit after they were abandoned. Those ranging from minor rear-endings with other cars to one who had hit a telephone pole and had it land across the roof of the car, nearly splitting it in half. That was a crime. The car was a ‘78 Corvette, candy apple red and had been in mint condition. Ash hoped that the bastard responsible for the accident was found and shot. Pronto!

  Ash unfastened his helmet, letting the straps hang and dangle where they may. They bounced off his shoulders and neck with each step he took, adding to his discomfort, if only to a minor degree. The damn thing was heavier than ever. The constant jostled as he marched was making his neck hurt more than ever. Worse yet, the sun beating down on the Kevlar was baking his brains. Only the fact that the Sergeant was marching at his back, rifle in hand, stopped him from taking the thing off and tossing it into the street. He was severely tempted to follow through, regardless of the consequences, but the image of Grover, bullet riddled and lying in his own blood, kept him in line.

  A hail drifted forward from somewhere behind him, “Hey private?” The voice came from corporal Cummings.

  “Yeah, whatcha want corporal?”

  “See that smoke up there?” About five miles or so off to the southeast, where they were headed, only further, was a pillar of angry black smoke. He had been watching it silently as they marched.

  “Yeah I see it. What about it?”

  “What’s it coming from?”

  “A fire.” That brought around a bunch of guffaws.

  “No shit private. You should be hanging out with Sherlock Holmes with keen senses like those. I mean, since I gotta spell it out for you, what’s on fire do you think?”

  “How the hell should I know?”

  “You came from here didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “What’s over that way that could make a cloud of smoke like that?”

  “Dugsville is up there, and it looks like the whole place has gone up. They don’t have anything that would actually burn like that otherwise.” That statement brought and unexpected silence, normally he would expect here to be gasps or something. But then again they were walking towards an awful big fire.

  Ash looked up at the sky and fiddled with the mirrored sunglasses that he had been issued as part of his equipment. The sky was filled with big white puffy clouds that always reminded him of cotton. They seemed so soft and comfortable up there floating on the wind that they made him tired. Ash stumbled, tripping over a raised block in the sidewalk that had settled wrong and drifted upwards on one side. His helmet flew from his head as he raced forward, trying to keep his balance.

  To the laughter of his squad, Ash walked over to where the helmet came to a rest. He stared at it for a moment, considering kicking the hated headgear underneath a car and forgetting about, before picking it up and continuing on. He made it perhaps fifty more steps when Sarge yelled up at him as he carried his helmet, letting it hang from his hand by the straps. “I don’t care how well armored you think that orb atop your shoulders is private, you put that Kevlar back where it belongs!”

  “It’s baking my skull Sarge! Can’t I just leave it?”

  “With you nobody is going to be able to tell if the sun has fried your brains or not, they will notice however a gaping wound that wouldn’t be there if you had your cover on. Now put it back on your head private.” Ash enjoyed the breeze for a moment longer and then complied with a grunt. Really, what was the difference between getting his brains scrambled with a bullet and having them melt in the heat and drain from his ears?

  They made their eastward turn onto a two-lane secondary road that would take them all the way to the aid station. About a block and a half further up the street, something caught his eye. Ash came to a stop.

  There was an old woman leaning against the four-foot tall chain link fence. She was staring at him, only she was holding her head in a strange way. One arm was clutched across her chest as if it was injured while she was reaching out to him with the other.

  Ash approached the old lady.

  There was something defiantly wrong with her.

  “Don’t touch nothing Private! Leave that old biddy alone.”

  The woman didn’t even seem to notice the Sarge calling her an old biddy. Ash backed off. In this part of town, even the sweetest seeming old cooking making grandma type would pull a gun from her purse and gun down who ever made the make to say such a thing. The old lady just kept reaching for Ash, trying to snatch him with her good hand.

  “What the fuck is wrong with her Sarge?” Ash tried to keep the fear from his voice, though there was a definite squeak at accompanied the word ‘Sarge’.

  “She’s one of the plague victims according to the brass. Now stand back.
” Ash backed further away from the old woman. The rest of the squad stopped, standing just outside her reach and watched her. If this is what the plague did to you, it was even worse than what Ash had imagined before. As they all stood staring at the old lady, Sarge brought down his rifle, the old lady looked right at him and didn’t make a sound, she just kept snatching at the air in a desperate attempt at reaching the squad. Sarge drilled a hole right between her eyes.

  “Holy fuckin shit Sarge!.” All the voices of the squad seemed to say at once. With personal variation. Ash was glad to find that he wasn’t the only one who had managed a squeak.

  Sarge bellowed over them all. “Shut up private. Now listen all of you. Don’t let none of the infected mother fuckers get to close to you. Intel says that if they bite you, then you’re fucked. Even a little love nip, and you end up like the old bitch there. You remember to shoot for the head. Anywhere else and these fuckers keep on coming.”

  “What the fuck is going on Sarge?”

  “I don’t know Tex, the captain says it’s a biological thing, some nasty parasite, probably cooked up by them camel jockey terrorists out there in Durkastan or wherever the hell they come from. The chaplain says that it’s an act of God wreaking his holy vengeance on humanity. But that nut-job says the same thing when the cook burns the toast. It don’t matter where it came from. Just shoot any of them fuckers what don’t talk in the head and have done with it.”

  Ash was greatly shaken when he resumed point. A disease that made people crazy so that they would turn on each other and fight to the death was bad enough. He didn’t quite understand what was involved with this new disease, but the biting? Sarge made it sound like the sick people were actually trying to attack and maybe even eat anyone who wasn’t sick. Shit. Fuck. Goddamn. Trying to kill each other, that was bad enough, but eating each other. That was just fucking insane.

  Ash forgot about how uncomfortable his helmet was for a while. He even fastened the straps under his chin to keep it from falling off again. The sudden danger made him feel alert. Bringing on a kind of rush that he hadn’t felt since his street racing days in high school. Ash held his rifle across his chest, with one finger on the trigger, if anything moved, he was going to kill it.

  Nothing moved though. Until they finally found the medical check point

  Sarge told them that the captain had said that people had flocked for the safe point set up by the medics. Ash had never quite understood what flocked meant until he saw the crowd. It looked like Christmas Eve at the Megamart. He held up his hand, palm open and facing back towards the squad. The hand sign that told them to halt, followed by the one that told them to get low.

  Ash squatted behind the hood of a car, he had his army issue, hand me down binoculars out and was studying the scene. Pandemonium. He liked that word. Pandemonium. Made him feel smarter. He even knew what it meant, mostly. It was a good word to describe what was happening around the tents. People were milling around everywhere like sheep. Some of the tents had been torn, others had collapsed and were being walked all over by dozens of the diseased. Some where themselves squatting down, over corpses, ripping pieces of flesh off the bodies and eating them.

  “Oh God, this really wasn’t in the brochure.” He said aloud as he crossed himself like he had seen people do on TV. He didn’t know if God was listening, or if the gesture would help after a lifetime of skipping Sunday school to smoke cigarettes, drink beer and chase girls with his friends. His family wasn’t really the church-going type in the first place. But it was better than nothing and it was the only thing he could think to do just then.

  Ash tried to count them all. Giving up after fifty, barely scratching the surface. They were just moving around too much for him to keep track of as he counted. Even so, he guessed that there must be hundreds of the diseased fuckers wandering around the lot, with fifty crowding around the rear end of a deuce and a half truck that was even older than the ones given to his platoon. Only one tent, of four or five, was still left standing.

  A hand closed on his shoulder, nearly making him grease his jockeys. Sarge squatted down next to him. “Doesn’t look good.”

  “No sir. There must be hundreds of them.” Sarge ignored the sir. Or maybe he didn’t even notice it. He was staring hard at the crowd for a moment before he signaled the rest of the squad forward to join them.

  “What’s up Sarge?” Asked corporal Cummings as he settled down between Sarge and Ash, the butt of his rifle resting on his knee.

  “There’s a whole lot of ugly between us and the medics over there. Assuming that they’re even around still, which seems unlikely as hell. Tex, get me command on that horn now.”

  Tex set his rifle up against the trunk of the car and pulled the radio from his back. “This is Tex, fourth squad, second platoon, Charlie company. Jake, put us through to command. Yeah I know shit’s busy, but we’re in a real weird situation here too. Need to get orders from the big boys. Yeah? That so? I’ll hold on.” Tex handed the phone to Sarge, and the squad gathered closer to try and make out the other side of the conversation.

  “This is Sergeant Donaldson. We’ve found the fifth aid station, and it’s been overrun already. Aye. Yes. I’m not sure, several hundred at least. What do you want us to do?” There was a pause and Sarge nodded, even though the voice from the other end couldn’t see the gesture. “Yes sir. Repeat that.” There was a long pause on Sarge’s part where he quietly listened and nodded. “Ok. I got it, I just wanted to make certain. We’ll do our best.” Sarge returned the phone to Tex. “We’ve been ordered to go in. And check for survivors.”

  Corporal Cummings inched forward a bit, keeping low and behind the car. “Can’t we just say that we didn’t find any Sarge?”

  “Nope. The brass wants a body count and we’re going to give it to them.”

  “But those are unarmed civilians sir, they ain’t breaking the law.”

  “The medical board says that they aren’t even alive anymore.”

  “What?” The entire squad spoke at once. Aren’t alive? They were walking around right that very moment. Dead people don’t get up and walk around. Even Grover knew that one.

  “That’s what they said. The brass had a few of them rounded up and sent back to the eggheads who study this sort of buggy ass shit, they came back and said that they weren’t alive any more. Zombies some smart ass named them. Like in all those cheap ass horror movies. According to the brass, the name seems to fit, fucked up as that is. You all seen those movies?”

  There was a chorus of ‘yeses’. Though Tex asked “How come they aren’t moving fast?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In a couple of the zombie flicks, the zombies were fast fuckers. What about these guys?” There was another chorus of ‘yeahs’ as the squad agreed. They had all seen that movie too.

  “Fucked if I know why. The egghead didn’t tell anyone, just that they were stiff and slow and that to disable them for good, you got to scramble what’s left of their brains. If they bite you, you’re toast cause the eggheads won’t be able to cure you. So if anyone gets bitten, shoot him too. It’ll be a mercy since the eggheads say that death caused by this disease is slow and painful. You all got that this time?” More ‘yeses’. Though they had more of a downcast tone.

  “That’s fucking weird man. Really weird.” Ash had seen all those movies his dad before he left home after his high school graduation. But they were movies. Ash’s brain started to buzz and then cloud over, leaving him feeling fuzzy and numb. A sensation that he hadn’t felt since he had learned of his best friend’s death in a car accident during one of their drag races. He and Big T had always thought that they would live forever and make it to the big leagues of drag racing. Then Big T died and Ash suddenly lost interest in racing, though he still loved cars.

  “Alright kids. Time to make a dent. Remember, single shots, careful aim. Check your tar
gets, who knows, there still might be civilians around here who isn’t dead yet and need to be saved. Pretty girls and the like, might be happy if a big strong soldier were here to save her from death.”

  Avery grinned and said, “I could use a couple of those.”

  Cummings shot back, “A couple? Kid you wouldn’t know what to do with your hand if you had a nudie magazine. You couldn’t handle a couple of thankful girlies. Leave that to the professionals.”

  “Enough of the jawing. Get ready. On my mark soldiers.” The squad spread out, finding comfortable cover to fire from. Sarge and Ash stayed behind the front tire of the car, an eighties model Oldsmobile that looked as if the owners had abandoned it to the elements. Ash leaned his rifles across the hood as he peaked over, shifting one leg under him so that he was resting on his knee. Squatting for very long really strained his thigh muscles.

  Lynn set the phone back down on the cradle and returned her gaze to Douglas and Billy. Billy was a bouncing ball of energy, the excitement of the moment blazed on his face, he was near giggling with the shear delirium of ecstasy. It wasn’t often that he got to live out a portion of his fantasy life and knowing just a few of his fantasies Lynn thought that was a major blessing. Billy was ready to go, he made it especially clear with how he was heaving about the tire iron that he kept for such a occasion, while obsessively peering out the window.

  Douglas, after meeting Billy for the first time, had once told her that Billy reminded him of the chaos of the original Three Stooges all distilled and purified and placed into one body and then hit about the head until retarded. She was never quite sure what he meant exactly by that but she thought that she had a reasonably good idea. The only thing that Douglas was completely incorrect about was the level of Billy’s intelligence, he was very smart, even if he didn’t always act it. He was an expert at passing himself off as a raging idiot and making it work somehow to his advantage, sometimes. Curiously enough, he hadn’t adopted that tactic until after he read the book “Scarlet Pimprenel”. Billy had a lot of bizarre fantasies, and Lynn was still trying to puzzle out how the Scarlet Pimprenel fit into it all exactly.

  Watching Billy in action was like watching a Three Stooges movie, it was funny in a childish sort of way and on some occasions he did surprise you by throwing out some higher-brow humor. But even so, it nearly always ended badly for Billy and anyone else he managed to tractor in. Like someone watching the Stooges, you could always see where it was going wrong and you were torn between shouting out some advice or just keeping silent to see where it all landed. If you were lucky you could observe the whole shebang from a safe distance, if you weren’t, it was your home where the Stooges ended up throwing their party.

  Douglas on the other hand was plainly dazed. He had taken the whole idea of a zombie uprising as a huge joke, a joke that he wouldn’t even laugh at. To be honest Lynn never actually expected anything to happen either. She had felt that their constant planning over the years was all just a huge game that she and her friends played. Only Billy, with his flights of wild fancy, ever really took any of it too seriously. Only Billy dreamed and hoped that it would one day come to pass. And only Billy was nearly bursting at the seams with excitement. The rest of them, Douglas aside, just had fun making plans about what they would do and enjoying the companionship involved making empty preparations.

  But here it all was. It was no longer a game, and Douglas was having a hard time getting that through his skull, he could be so difficult at times. Statistically, it was so unlikely that science fiction would over night become science fact, that even Lynn was feeling a bit dazed. Lynn heaved a sigh as she looked at the two men. She studied them for a long moment, they were so different. Billy was running his fingers through the mop of black hair and playing with the matching goatee that covered the bottom portion of his long, slender face. He stood several inches taller than Douglas, though he had a much more slender build. He was wearing his usual fare of a loose shirt that was three sizes too big for him, one that sported a local heavy metal band name, and a pair of holey jeans. Strange that he wore a shirt with a metal band on it, since he much preferred classic rock, and he despised college bands.

  Douglas on the other hand had a square looking face that was covered in scars. The scars shyly implied the bad acne that he had had as a teenager. His light brown hair was cropped short, he was wearing a tight shirt that she loved on him, it showed off his wonderfully tight muscles. To bottom it off, he wore pair of unflattering, loose cargo pants.

  “He’ll meet us there.” She finally said as she picked up her backpack and joined her friends at the door. “Let’s get on our way, we don’t want to be late.” Douglas just nodded, she even doubted that he had heard what she had said, while Billy nodded and continued to bounce his tire iron in his hand as he gamboled through the living room doorway and into the hall beyond. Douglas followed him and Lynn brought up the rear, passing her eyes one final time over the place that had been her home for so many years. She left it behind, rejoining her two friends outdoors.

  The sky was a beautiful blue. In all of her imaginings she had never expected this. Usually the sky had been dark and rainy. It was always more dramatic that way. Romantic and dangerous. Fleeing for your life on a day that would be perfect for a church picnic just didn’t seem to mesh well. She never really let herself pretend that such a terrible episode in life would take place on a sunny summer’s day. The dark and stormy night was cliché, but it was, emotionally, so ingrained to humanity’s subconscious. Terrible things, of course, did happen on gorgeous days, but it made for less dynamic day-dreaming.

  They didn’t even bother with the stairs, instead stepping off the porch over next to the driveway. They would take Douglas’ truck, it was the best choice for more reasons than she could name. It hands down out performed her old pacer, and Billy’s mountain bike wasn’t even really an option. Even with all of Billy’s energy powering it. The three of them piled into the cab with Lynn at the wheel, and sitting in the bitch seat Billy between them. It was up to her to drive since Douglas wasn’t yet up to speed on the reality of what was happening. He was still trying to convince himself that it was all just a huge joke engineered by Jason and Billy to mess with his head.

  The engine came to life and purred as she turned the key in the ignition. Lynn threw it into gear and then slowly backed the black truck out of the driveway, making sure that she didn’t hit anything. She hated driving the thing, it was like driving a tank to her. Of course it was nice to be so high above the road and all the other little cars, but then the beast didn’t handle as well as one of those little cars did. On second thought, a tank would have been easier to drive than this, the truck responded something more like a bus.

  They were going to meet up with Jason at the gun shop. If they were really lucky John, the gun shop owner would join them, if not, well she didn’t want to really think about that if she could help it, there were too many possibilities and each was worse than the one before. Lynn put the truck into gear and the three of them started on their way to surviving.

  The streets were almost completely empty, with only the occasional walking corpse to liven the trip. Still Lynn was exceedingly careful not to hit anyone on the way to meeting Jason at the gun shop, she still wasn’t used to the idea of the walking dead. To say the least she was rather uncomfortable running over a neighbor in cold blood. Even if that neighbor was cold blooded themselves. Lynn didn’t even want to picture the conniption that Douglas would have if she did plow into a zombie or three along the way. He treated the truck like a child, and would be livid at the prospect of having to clean human gore off of the grill. For now he was sitting in a catatonic state. She felt it best to leave him that way.

  Billy on the other hand was bouncing up and down in the seat next to her, pointing out all the people that she could potentially run over and then voicing his disappointment that she chose to ignore him. She couldn’t
figure out why he was so terribly hyper. He was like sitting next to a small child, one who had gotten his hands on an entire pot of coffee. Come to think of it, that morning’s coffee had disappeared at a dizzying pace. The whole situation made Lynn’s hands twitch. She wanted to yell at him to calm down and shut up, like she would a rambunctious five year old. The only thing holding her in check and keeping her from losing her temper was the simple fact that she knew that it would have no effect on her friend. Nothing short of drugging him would manage to have any effect.

  Miraculously enough, the three of them made it all the way across town without any real trouble. Douglas remained in his daze, though he was beginning to show signs of life as they pulled up to the gun shop, while Billy nearly burst from the cab of the truck, like a startled duck from a pond, the moment they pulled into the small parking lot.

  Douglas stayed with the truck as Lynn and Billy went over to check out the store. Billy leaned against the glass window and gazed inside an attempt to try to find out whether or not anyone was home. It wouldn’t be pinnacle of wisdom to break into a store where jumpy and paranoid owner was not only surrounded by firearms but also exceedingly proficient in their use. John was armed to the teeth and it was doubtful that he would be pleased with what they were planning on doing. If he was around, it was much safer just to get his permission and help. They could use him on their side.

  Billy stopped staring through the window and turned to her “There’s no one home.”

  “Are you sure?” They all knew that John lived in a small apartment in the back of his store. He rarely went anywhere, aside from purchasing groceries or other such things and he never left town. Not being home in a crisis like this would be very unlike John. He had the survivalist instinct and what better place to stay than in his own gun shop?

  Billy turned away from the glass and looked at her, “Well, what do you think we should do?” It was a good question, and she was glad that he hadn’t answered it his own self.

  “I don’t know.” Was all she could reply. Their plans so far had involved getting help from John. If he was gone, then they would have to do some serious improvisation. Lynn looked back through the window, shielding her eyes from the sunlight to get a better look. Nobody was home. “We have to get in there somehow.”

  “Yeah, any ideas how Douglas?” He yelled back to Douglas who had finally climbed out of the cab of his truck, only to stumbled dazedly around. He wasn’t going to answer. But really Billy didn’t look as he had expected an answer in the first place. It was then that she noticed that Billy’s face had lit up as he was looking at Douglas. She turned her head to try to figure out why he was so happy all of a sudden, but all she could see was Douglas’ truck.

  That was when it struck her. She knew Billy too long not to be able to figure out exactly what he was thinking when he looked at Douglas’ truck like that. It was a good idea if one discounted the blatant breaking and entering element and the possibility of startling the well armed and slightly unstable veteran inside. Also there was the terrible noise, not just from the act itself, but also Billy’s shouts of glee and Douglas’ response to what he was planning.

  Imagining Douglas’ response is what decided her in Billy’s favor. Crashing his truck through the window of John’s gun shop would manage to both let them into the store to do their shopping and at the same time break Douglas out of the sullen funk that he had descended into. She nodded to Billy and motioned him towards the truck. He gave her a quick grin before jumping in and closing the door behind him.

  With another guttural roar the diesel engine came to life. Billy was still grinning widely as he put the truck into gear and backed up out of the parking lot and across the street from where the store stood. Lynn grabbed Douglas by the hand and pulled him away from the window, she kept walking with him until she reached a distance that she thought was safe from flying glass and debris.

  There was a screech of the tires as he hit the gas and charged the truck forward. And then the sound of steel bars being torn and a huge explosion of glass shattering and flying in every direction. Jason was going to be upset that he had missed something like this, he loved watching things get broken. He would have flipped out over this, especially with Douglas’ truck being thrown in to sweeten the deal. She was sure that Billy would tell him, and gloat for weeks over how he had missed such an auspicious occurrence.

  Billy slowly backed the truck out of the window. Some of the remaining glass fell to the ground, as the truck vacated the window, hitting the pavement below with a wonderful smashing sound that was almost an echo of the truck going through the window in the first place. The paint was scratched a little and there was some minor denting, but beside that the truck was still in good shape. Billy had backed the truck out of the storefront, leaving them enough space to get into the building, without moving it too far away in case they needed to get out in a hurry.

  The crash had brought Douglas around to his senses, or at least close. He let out a long yip and stared in disbelief at his truck with all it’s nice new scratches and dents. Billy jumped out of the cab and gave him a grin and he passed tossing him the keys and he walked by. Lynn could tell that he had wanted to do something like that to Douglas’ truck for ages. Douglas delivered a look of pure death at Billy, he had moved strait from shock to rage, a good sign that he was well on his way back to normal.

  The two of them left Douglas out in front with his truck and stepped closer to the broken window to have a better look around. Surprisingly there wasn’t an alarm going off, which didn’t make much sense given John’s obsession with security, but Lynn wasn’t about to complain when good fortune shared with them her wonderful smile. Thank goodness for small blessings. Still they moved at a leisurely pace

  Billy giggled. Causing Lynn to look over at him in amusement. It was the sort of excited little giggle that you would expect from a 9 year old girl on Christmas morning as she waited in anticipation, drooling, to open her pile of gifts. Billy had that exact same gleam in his eye as he looked around the store. His fingers were wiggling as if they too itched with excitement. The way he moved his legs made Lynn wonder if he was going to pee himself from excitement before the day was through. He really wanted to get into the store and start picking out new toys. Lynn couldn’t blame him either.

  The two of them picked their way through the wreckage, leaving Douglas at the front of the store next to his truck, somewhere between bawling his own eyes out and gouging out Billy’s. It was the first sign of life that he had really shown in the last couple of days, ever since the shock had set in of Billy having been right in the end. All in all it was probably better that he wasn’t allowed into a room full of guns considering his present state of mind.

  The crunch of glass underfoot accompanied them half way through the store, as they climbed carefully over the larger mounds of wreckage. Their forced entry had caused some damage, but not much to anything important. Mostly it was just racks and shelves of coats and other odds and ends that they weren’t really interested in. For security reasons all the weapons and ammunition were kept to the back of the store.

  The glass cases that held the handguns were largely intact, as were the wall mounted racks of shotguns and rifles that were lined behind the showcases that lined the store. Lynn bent over and picked up a compass that had at one time resided on one of the ruined shelves near the front window. The store had been so orderly and clean and that had ended so suddenly. If she were a poet or a philosopher Lynn might store that comparison for later. She dropped the compass again and joined Billy in picking her way to the back of the store once more.

  Billy was rummaging through the wreckage, from time to time stooping to examine something that caught his interest. Billy was a strange character and Lynn never knew what might catch his fancy. He resembled a heron wading in the shallow, from time to time thrusting a out at something shiny lying on the floor below. He was probabl
y one of, if not the most intelligent people that she had ever met, that included all of her professors in school. Billy was blazingly intelligent, smarter than herself by a long shot. The frustrating part of it all was that he didn’t seem to care. He had a tendency to act like a goofy little kid, ignoring the important work ahead for a sparkly trinket that captured his imagination.

  He knew he was smart, he picked up skills as natural as breathing it seemed. But he never really applied himself. He had no direction, no ambition, he was gifted and he was content wasting his gift memorizing lines from movies (not even good movies, Billy had terrible taste in films). He had often gone off on wild flights of fancy that one might expect from a small child rather than a grown man.

  By the time she came back into reality from her own musings. Billy was leaning over one of the glass counters and admiring the shotguns. She noticed that it didn’t take him very long to get there. Kid in a candy store was an understatement and far too innocent. Conspiracy theorist in the CIA archives much more adequately described the amount of pure glee and sheer drool that Billy was discharging at that moment.

  Something towards the back of the store caught her attention. Some movement perhaps. Lynn looked up, towards the disturbance. It was John! She smiled for a moment and waved. She stepped forward with an apology on her lips for the mess before she realized that it was John. Was. The walking corpse raised its hand and shambled forward out of the doorway into the store proper before stopping and gazing around. It seemed indecisive about which direction to go first.

  Lynn called out to Billy, to make sure he had seen John too, he had. Billy catapulted himself over the counter ten feet away from where John had stopped. He quickly got to his feet with his tire iron at the ready. Billy waved his hands at John to try and get it’s attention. It took a moment for the thing to respond and when it did is awkwardly turned and started to shamble forward as speedily as it’s dysfunctional legs would carry it. Billy sighed and shook his head, he only had one option.

  “Rest in peace John,” Lynn mumbled under her breath as Billy started inching closer with his tire iron, getting ready to take a swing to end their friend’s mockery of existence. John raised his hand and reached Billy as he brought the tired iron down in his skull with a wet crunch. Lynn covered her eyes, trying to let the wave of nausea pass, as Billy took one more swing to try to finish the job. There was a thud of a body hitting the floor before Lynn opened her eyes again. The store blurring a little before her.

  “Sit tibi terra levis,” was all Billy said as he stood over the still twitching corpse. She had no idea what it meant, Billy was fond of bringing up sayings in foreign languages and Latin was his favorite. Billy and Lynn had been as close to John as he allowed anyone to get, a distant friendship at best. But it was a friendship that they both had cherished. Images flashed through her mind of happier times, when on the rare occasion John would share briefly with them one of his warm smiles, before once again hiding behind his emotionless mask. The four of the friends, Jason included, had spent hours talking about everything from religion and politics to how to best make improvised booby traps to kill or wound the enemy. The conversations were often morbid, but still rather enjoyable.

  Billy threw the bloodied tire iron to the floor as if it were now tainted and burned his hand with its mere touch. Maybe it was tainted since it was covered in the blood of an old friend. Either way Lynn would be just as glad to leave the thing behind and let it rust away with the terrible loss that it represented.

  None of that mattered any more, all that mattered now was that they get what they needed and move on to survive. Survival was their only goal, and to be distracted by anything else would lead to death, or worse, infection. It’s really how John would have wanted it. Still she felt a pang of guilt now that he was dead and they were looting his store. Lynn turned her attention back to the racks of guns on the wall. All she knew is that she wanted to make it all worth while.

  There was the occasional rifle, even some of machineguns, but none of those interested her ever. The three of them had decided that a shotgun was the way to go. It was simple and effective, or so John had always insisted. You could find more ammo for it just about anywhere in the country. And it made a huge mess out of anything that got in its way. It was pure fire power and better yet it could be put to use for other purposes such as hunting. Space was limited, so the shotgun was the way to go. The only downside to it was that it didn’t have too much range, but since the zombies wouldn’t be shooting back, that was far less important than it would be in a combat situation.

  She liked the Remington model right in front of her. Sleek and cool with a solid wooden stock. Pump action with a seven round tubular magazine. It could deal out death at a distance, or up close.

  As she was looking at all the guns available she heard Billy make a sound. It wasn’t just any sound, but his excited noise which reminded her of what might happen if he giggled the word ‘woah.’ It was a sigh, a moan and an exclamation of joy all rolled up in one strange sputter. Whenever that noise arose, it meant that Billy had found a point of interest. It had happened before, in other stores and often times the events and actions that followed that sound were memorable and highly embarrassing. It wasn’t something that she wanted to particularly hear in a shop full of potentially dangerous and deadly firearms. Of course from what she remembered of other occasions, she didn’t want to hear it in a hospital, a school playground or a principal’s waiting room either.

  A shiver ran strait down her spine as Lynn spun around to try and see what got Billy so excited. For a moment her breath caught as she expected the worst, only to be released when she saw that he hadn’t found a rocket launcher or something worse. Billy was cradling and also stroking in the crook of his left arm, a large mace. He was cooing to it like he, well maybe not him, but anyone else would to a small child.

  “Where did you find that?” She asked him as he purred to his new best friend. “I’ve never seen it before.”

  “It was in the storage room, I think John just got it.”

  “What do you plan to do with it?” She had a feeling that she knew, but nothing with Billy was ever certain and those who thought that they knew him near always encountered an unpleasant surprise.

  “I shall call him lord Bashinator, for truly one so great needs a truly great name.”

  “Lord Bashinator?”

  “Scourge of Zombie kind! He will get medieval upon the asses of any corpses that stumble across his path.” With that he took a test swing with the mace and smashed the glass on one of the cases displaying handguns. A grin spread across his face, a delirious look that screamed to Lynn that the case was just the first casualty of many if she didn’t step in and put a stop to the silliness. If she were lucky it would only be more glass, if she were unlucky he might bolt out of the front in search of more lifelike targets to test out his new toy.

  Billy tried to do some fancy sword moves with the mace, rolling it around in his hands only to drop the heavy mace and have to jump back so that it didn’t smash his toes. A moment into watching Billy’s attempts at mace ninjitsu, Lynn heard a door slam out front. It seemed that Jason had arrived at last, late as ever.

  She went to meet him at the front door. Jason stepped out of his El Camino, Mike, a little car-truck hybrid that was nearing its last days of usefulness. The expression on his face was one of amusement, though it was a mask that hid a deeper pain. A pain different than the angst filled darkness that he often lived with. He was tall, the tallest of the four of them, if not by much, particularly due to his slightly hunched shoulders. He hard dark hair, and grey eyes. He was somewhere between average and cute, closer to cute, and her female friends all agreed and wondered why he was still single. He stood and admired the mess that Billy had made both of the front window and Douglas’ car, and looked as if he was trying to save the image for all eternity.

  Everyone else was in
place and waiting for the word to go. “Ok kids. Open fire.”

  Ash took careful aim and squeezed the trigger just like he had been taught. The zombie dropped to the ground like a sack of cow shit. Hot damn. This was much better than the video games. Maybe he could get himself a chainsaw or something too.

  The zombies took notice of the snipers, if not the corpse dropping like flies around them, and slowly moved towards where the squad’s position across the street. They were slow, just like in most of the movies, and before anyone made it even midway across the street, they were neutralized with a single bullet in the brainpan. Ash slapped in a second magazine. Just like eating pancakes, as his dad always said.

  A tan pickup truck, seventies model Ford with a V6 that sounded like it was in need of some work, screeched down the road, several people were standing in the bed holding onto the roof of the cab with one hand and shotguns and rifles held, pointing to the sky, in the other. The truck came to a halt about two hundred feet from Ash’s squad.

  “Those soldiers are shooting at those people! Stop them!” A shotgun blast came from one of the riders in the truck, followed by two more and then a fourth. Glass shattered behind Ash’s head as he hid further behind the car’s engine block. Bullets flew over his head and the car rocked slightly as the engine was struck and kinetic energy was spent as lead became embedded in steel.

  A woman’s voice screamed over the megaphone, “You people, run! We’ll cover you! Run damn it! Run now!” Her words punctuated by more gunfire. “Flee to safety!”

  The mob of zombies had split, with one group heading for Ash and his squad, and the other going for the people in the truck. “What are you doing?” The woman yelled again through the bullhorn “Get to safety!”

  Tex was yelling into the radio. “We’re under attack by armed civies! We need some sort of support now! What? Ah shit!” Tex threw down the phone and yelled “We’re on our Sarge, they ain’t doing nothing to help us. First platoon has already been overrun, they took heavy casualties. Everyone else is stretched thin as it is, gotten worse now. They called the lieutenant and the rest of our guys back and let the roadblock go. We gotta save what we can here, and then meet back up with them.”

  Ash’s squad ignored the civilians and kept picking off the zombies. A gunshot could be patched up, but according to Sarge one of those bites meant ending up dead no matter how much penicillin they medics poured down your throat. Besides, the civilians didn’t seem to know how to shoot worth a damn anyway.

  Just was he thought it, the corporal went down, screaming and clamping his face as blood gushed through his fingers.

  “What are you doing?” The woman screamed over her bullhorn, “Don’t come this way! Run! We’re trying to save you from the government!” The driver of the truck tried to throw it into reverse and back away, to flee the oncoming wall of flesh that was about to crash over his truck like it was a rock being covered by an ocean wave. Ash was suddenly reminded of the movie the Ten Commandments and Pharaoh’s troops being swallowed by the red sea.

  The zombies encompassed the cab and absorbed it into their mass. Ash watched as they reached in and grabbed the driver, pulling him through the window. His body disappeared underneath a flood of limbs. Only the sounds of his screams suggested that he was still living under the crush. The driver’s friends turned their weapons onto the zombies and away from his squad.

  Ash slotted another magazine, his third. He had blown through Thirty-eight rounds so far, a third of the six magazines that he had brought along with him from the roadblock. Thirty-Eight rounds and thirty-eight zombies. Not too bad if he said so himself. But then, they were only a hundred feet away, and they weren’t trying to hide. A child could do that well.

  The area around the tents was completely clear of the walking dead. Though some still remained clamoring at the back of the truck, most of the undead had shifted towards Ash’s squad and the gun-toting hippies. Gunfire and screaming were still coming from the truck. The woman and a couple of men were sitting on top of the cab, slapping away groping hands that were seeking to rend flesh and feed.

  “Fuck.” Said Sarge. All of the zombies who had surged towards the squad were now lying completely dead in the road, turning the street into a river of blood. “Looks like we’re going to have to save those stupid fuckers.”

  “They shot Cummings!”

  “Yeah, I know. And the stupid fuckers will pay for it. But until then, we still gotta protect them. That’s our job, shitty as it is sometimes. Besides, you were looking for some chicks to save earlier, well there’s one right over there.”

  “Yeah, I wanted girls that would be happy to see us, not some brain baked psycho pot head.” Avery said.

  Tex overrode him, “She might not be happy for the help. But she also might have some weed, and I can use a good bowl of it.”

  “That shit’s illegal private.”

  “Who’s gonna arrest me Sarge?”

  “Good point kid, save a couple tokes for me, been a long time since I got high. The missus never really liked the smell.”

  They closed with the truck, picking off zombies as they went, working from the front and rear ends towards the center, doing everything they could to avoid shooting the civilians crouching on top of the truck’s cab. They left White behind with Cummings, to try and patch him up and get the corporal ready to move. If possible. The corporal looked pretty messed up when Ash handed White his spare bandages, and he was bleeding all over the place. Ash wasn’t a medic, but it didn’t look like Cummings would be up and walking any time soon.

  His squad picked off the last handful the zombies surrounding the truck. Sarge himself put the last round into the skull of a man who had been torn apart, the driver of the truck probably.

  The woman and her surviving friends climbed down off the cab of the jeep and onto the ground. Sarge stood facing them, feet spread apart and his fists on his hips. He reminded Ash of a pitbull getting ready to charge. Ash took a step back. No matter what went down in the next few minutes, it was going to be ugly. Sarge fired the first salvo. “Just who the hell are you people?”

  “You murdered Andrew! You Fascist pig!” The woman screamed in Sarge’s face. Her own face was splotchy, red and covered with tears. The woman had probably broken down when everything started going down hill and the zombies attacked the truck instead of running as expected. Ash knew that’s probably when he would have done the same, if he was in her place.

  The girl was in her late twenties, and looked like a modern hippie wannabe. He hair was in dreads and she was wearing what looked like a ratty mishmash of homemade clothing mixed with stuff picked up at the local thrift shop. A patchwork headband keeping her dreads out of hear eyes with a dress over her pants and one of those Che t-shirts popular with the commies that she probably picked up from a head shop somewhere.

  He had known a few girls like her during high school, one and all, they needed to shower more often, and shave their legs and pits. Rich bitch wannabe suburban communist revolutionaries. Ash hadn’t liked her type then, and liked them less now that her friend shot Cummings. The woman took a wild swing at Sarge. Sarge blocked her fist and pushed her down on the curb.

  Her two friends were similarly dressed. It was as if they all came from the same commune. They both looked baked out of their gourds as well. Ash could even smell the pot smoke on them. Goddamn hippies. He wondered if they had any weed that they would be willing to part with. He thought about asking them, but they both looked too lost and confused to even bother. And given the woman’s reaction, he doubted that their response would be in the affirmative.

  “Shut the hell up you stupid hippie bitch,” Sarge growled at the woman, “It’s your own Goddamned fault that one of my boys and your two friends are in that mess. You’re lucky I don’t just shoot you right here and now and get it over with! Fucking stupid commies!” That was the first time Ash ever heard Sarge
lose it. He yelled at the platoon from time to time, and called them idiots. But there never was any real anger behind his words.

  Tex was on the radio again, getting new orders. Ash and Avery stole over to the deuce and a half near the tents. Watching Sarge with the hippie woman was getting boring. He was pacing as he waited for orders and tried to decide what to do next and she was crying. The zombies surrounding the back end were intent on whatever was within and took no notice of their approach, until it was too late. Ash slotted his fourth magazine as he stepped over the still twitching remains of what had been a woman.

  Ash shouldered his rifle and began to load the first six rounds from the other magazines by hand into the empty clip. He had saved them in the front breast pocket of his shirt, never really expecting to need them, but letting his packrat instinct take over just in case. Six more bullets would mean six more dead zombies, maybe more if he got really lucky. High-speed projectiles like bullets did tend to pass on through bodies. Heh, something he learned in his high school remedial science class. Best class he ever had.

  He looked at the bodies at his feet. Several of them had been bitten recently, more than one had since been patched up. Ash wondered if the medics had been treating the bastards who then turned around and killed them.

  Avery stood tiptoe and peered into the shadows in the back of the truck “Holy shit!”

  “What’s up?”

  “We got survivors her Ash.” Avery waved for him to come over and Ash complied, standing next to his friend and trying to penetrate the gloom. He couldn’t see a damn thing and said so.

  “Take off your shades you dummy!” That did the trick. There were three of them. A woman and two men. A nurse, a doctor and a soldier. They were all huddled as far back from the entrance as they could manage, their hands folded over their ears and their eyes squeezed shut. The soldier had hung open as if he had been screaming and couldn’t stop, even as his voice collapsed under the stress leaving them mute.

  They unhitched the door and Avery handed Ash his rifle before scuttling up into the rear end of the truck. “Hey howdy guys! You three alright? Command sent us to rescue you and now we can use your help, if you wouldn’t mind, we have some seriously wounded soldiers out there.” He got closer as he spoke. His hands up before him with the palms facing out. Avery sat down on one of the benches, several steps away from the trio. He turned back to Ash and said “Call the Sarge man, these folks can use some help.”

  “Sarge! Over here! We found survivors!” The sergeant came running, the rest of the squad, at least the ones who could still stand, following close at his heels.

  “Ah hell. Ok Avery, get them down out of there, let’s get them into the tent and fixed up. We’re going to need them soon enough.” Avery and ash picked up the soldier first and dragged him by the shoulders to the back of the truck and passed him gently down to the rest of the squad. Next came the doctor, a man in his mid fifties, followed last by the nurse who was in her early thirties. The soldier had been younger than Ash, in his late teen years.

  All three of the survivors were wearing bloodstained army issued olive drab BDUs. Ash recalled hearing that there had been more than twenty soldiers and personal assigned to this particular station. He was willing the bet a month’s pay that the other thirty-seven were out on the ground, each in possession of a hollow, shattered skull.

  The three survivors were carried from the truck and placed on gurneys in the largest of the four medical tents that constituted the temporary compound. “James, Avery, you stay here and help me with these folks. The rest of you, bring in Cummings and then guard those hippies, make sure that they don’t cause us any more trouble than they have already, but don’t hurt the stupid fuckers.”

  Schmidt, Tex and White departed at a run, their rifles slung over their shoulder, barrels slapping on their thighs with each jarring step. Tex and White returned after a couple of minutes with Cummings between them. “No good Sarge, he’s gone.” Tex said as they placed Cummings on an empty gurney.

  “Damn it. All right then, you two go and join Schmidt in guarding the prisoners. But don’t fuck with them.”

  Tex and White both patted Cummings on the chest as they left. Cummings had been well liked among their squad, as well as the rest of the platoon. As much for his Spring Break stories as anything else. Even the older members, the Sarge included, enjoyed listening to his adventures down in Mexico.

  Sarge had already turned back to the doctor. The man was still holding his eyes tightly shut while murmuring under his breath. When Ash listened closely, with his ear almost touching the doctor’s lips, it sounded like “No, get away, don’t let it bite you.” Over and over.”

  Avery extended a finger and poked the doctor in the chest. The man neither opened his eyes or so much as slowed his muttering. Avery then gave him a slap across the face, enough to get his attention, but not enough to actually hurt the man. Again nothing. “What are we going to do Sarge?”

  “We’re going to get real scientific on these three. James, go out and get me a couple buckets full of water. Ice water if you can find it.”

  “Scientific huh?”

  “Yeah, scientific, now shut your noise hole and get that damn water.” Sarge returned to scratching his chin and studying the doctor as Ash left the tent.

  Ash found ice water in a half full cooler in the third tent. He removed everything that would make the cooler heavier when he tried dragging it back to Sarge. Stopping for a minute to slam down the cold wet contents of a Coke can, before he lifted the cooler and stumbling under the weight as he delivered it back to the big tent.

  “Here you go,” he told Sarge as he set down the cooler. Ash could nearly hear his back creaking with the effort. He wanted to drop it, but figured that the sergeant would yell at him some more if he did. He stood up, put his hands on his back, stretched out and cracked it.

  “Good. Now help get the doctor on the floor. No need to get the stretcher wet too.” Ash whimpered. He was still sore from scavenging the cooler full of water, fifty gallons of water was heavy, but he jumped to get the job done. With Avery on one side, they lifted the catatonic man by his shoulders and knees off of the gurney and set him face down on the ground.

  Sarge had found a plastic bucket that was good enough for what he had in mind, dunked it into the cooler and dumped a gallon of frigid water onto the doctor. The man leapt up off the floor and onto his hands and knees, screaming his lungs out and shivering. They left him at it for a moment. The doctor flipped over and sat up, staring around wildly and screaming for all he was worth.

  Sarge squatted down besides the doctor and hauled off and slapped him hard across the face, throwing his face backwards and knocking him to the ground. The screaming stopped, replaced by ragged breathing. Sarge took a hold of the doctor’s shoulder, “Are you better now soldier.”

  “I’m alive?”

  “Seem to be, yes?”

  “Betty, and private Martin? They were in the truck with me…”

  “They’re here. We were about to give them a dose of the same treatment we gave you.” Sarge gave Avery a hand signal and Avery picked up the nurse, Betty and put her on the floor next to the doctor. “Ok folks, stand back. Sir, will you be ready to calm her after the fact?” The doctor, with the rank of short colonel, nodded and kneeled down near the nurse. Ash was slightly amused by the sight of such a high level officer taking orders from a lowly reserve sergeant. Though he didn’t say anything.

  Sarge scooped up another bucket full of water and then upturned it onto the unconscious nurse. She jerked awake with a single high-pitched shriek, kicking herself backwards and trying to escape. The doctor grabbed her by the shoulders “Betty, it’s everything is fine, we’re safe.” She stopped trying to run.

  “Murray? What happened?” She asked, her voice quivering. Ash couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or just raw emotions. Perhaps it was some of each. />
  “It looks like the cavalry has arrived my dear. How many men did you bring with you Sergeant?”

  “I had six, but one of them died of his wounds before we found you. What about the private over here?

  “Best leave the kid alone for now. He saw his entire unit annihilated by those things before we dragged him into the rear of the truck with us. The kid tried to help, but his bullets were ineffective, they just kept on coming no matter how many times he shot them. He’s going to need a lot of work before he can sort out all this mess. Come to think of it, I am too.”

  “We were told by command to shoot the things in the head. That seemed to work.”

  He stroked Betty’s hair as he thought the new revelation over. She had stopped crying, and was now sniffling onto his shoulder. “Did it? A bullet to the brain stopped them? Nothing else? Interesting, like one of those horror movies about the walking dead.”

  The street was mostly clear around Jane’s house. There were a few zombies scattered about, and he had their attention, but he would be in and out quick enough for it not to matter too much. Hopefully. Jane moved pretty slow most days, so she might be hard to get to the car quickly. But on the other hand he could probably just carry her down from her apartment to the car. After Lynn she was the single most important woman in his world and he would do everything in his power to keep her safe until her natural end came.

  Jason passed through the front door of the house and climbed up the stairway to the landing on the second floor. He stopped at the door to her apartment and put his ear to the door listening for any sounds. After a moment he took a breath before turning the handle, pushing it open and entering in a single movement. The door was never locked, it never had been and probably never would be. Jane didn’t seem to ever feel the need to lock the door. She complained regularly about the state of society, and crime, and such forces, she worried about them, but she always left her door unlocked. Old habits died hard.

  He felt it immediately that there was something wrong. The kitchen was as clean as ever, but something was off. The smell. Normally the apartment smelled of cinnamon. Or of freshly baked bread. That smell was gone and replaced with the smell of rotting meat. “Jane?” he called aloud, looking in both directions. There was always hope. Maybe the Goddess Luck was still smiling on him, or at the very least, not sneering.

  Jason entered slowly. Hefting his hammer. There was no sign of the frail seventy five year old woman in the kitchen that made up the entranceway to her small apartment. The place was clean, as it had always been, he took that as a good omen. Jane always made sure that her home was clean, it was a trait that she had impressed on Jason from an early age. There he stood, looking around her kitchen. She wasn’t there, he knew it and he didn’t expect her to suddenly burst from one of the cupboards but he hadn’t yet worked up the courage to move onward. So there he stood for the moment, until his ears caught a faint sound. Something that sounded like a low muffled conversation coming from the other room. He felt his hopes rise for the first time all day.

  With his hammer still in his right hand, primed and ready to swing, Jason crept towards the sounds in the other room. He was ready for anything that might be on the other side of the wall. Carefully he eased his way along to the wall toward the doorway. Jason raised his hammer, ready to strike, as he reached the doorway slowly edging his head around the corner to get a good look at the next room without being noticed if at all possible.

  The sound of the conversation came from the television. It was sending a flicker across the walls of the darkened room. Two people were talking about the latest news and figures and statistics. Both of the anchors looked and sounded haggard as if they had been on the air for days straight without a break. Briefly checking the ticker across the bottom of the screen, Jason noted that the government forces had fallen back, still trying to protect what they could.

  Jason scanned the rest of the room. A lone figure sat in the thirty year old floral print chair that sat directly in front of the television with its back to the kitchen door. “Jane?” he asked softly.

  There was no response.

  “Jane?”

  He stepped out onto the compacted yellow shag carpet and edged his way carefully towards the chair. Jason kept a very close eye on the doorway in the wall on the other side of the room. Jane lived alone and had done so for years since he had moved out, but you never know what might happen. Years of watching horror movies had had their effect, he learned their hard lessons well, tutored by the woes of the characters within.

  The figure still wasn’t moving as he got closer. He could see that it was Jane. Hope died as he looked on her kindly old face as it was being bathed in the light from the television.

  Jason shook his head sadly. This wasn’t the way that he had imagined the end to the kind old woman who had taken him after his parents had died. She should have been surrounded by friends and family in the end, slipping peacefully into whatever darkness came after life. Instead she had cut her wrists while sitting alone in her dark apartment. Jason wanted to throw up. Jason wanted to cry. He leaned back against the wall and allowed himself to slide down to the floor.

  Jason dried his eyes on the knees of his pants. He didn’t know how long he had been crying, he had shut off the television so that he no longer had to listen to the anguish that rung out with each spoken word. He had enough despair of his own.

  He rose back to his feet, picked up his hammer. It was time to leave to join his friends. Survival came first, grief came later. With his free hand touched her head and said a soft prayer that she had taught him when he was a child. There wasn’t much else that he could do for her now and nothing else seemed quite fitting. With some last wishes for eternal peace he turned back and walked out. Of her apartment for the last time.

  Back on the street the straggling zombies had moved closer. Most of them were still not near enough to be threatening. One was standing by the car. Jason felt rage rise up in him. The zombie turned towards the noise just as Jason sent a kick into its chest causing it to tumble onto its ass, before crushing the thing’s skull with his hammer. He squatted to wipe the head of the hammer off on the thing’s clothes and stood back up.

  Jason walked to Mike again, back to the driver’s side door and got in. Tossing the hammer into the passenger’s seat. Now it was time to be on his way to join Lynn and Billy, there was work to be done.

  Jésus bounded upstairs. Taking the steps two at a time. Bursting into the small bedroom that he and his girlfriend shared, much to his mother’s shame. She was still very traditional in her views, but she mostly kept it to herself since they were getting married in a few months anyhow. Besides, his oldest brother had been illegitimate, though he never brought that fact up. His mother wasn’t so old and stodgy that she had forgotten how much fun sex was, after all she had had five children herself. Too bad most of them had moved away.

  He opened his sock drawer and sorted through it for his 9mm, and the spare magazine that he had kept just in case something bad went down. Though he always expected that it would have been one of the hooligan gang members, one of his old compadres, and not the walking dead, who would come for him in the end.

  He also retrieved his golf club from the equally tiny closet. It was a solid weapon, made of titanium. He had found it mixed in with the others in a bin at the local Goodwill. The club had been his pride and joy during his reign as a Ghetto Golf champion. Lately it had sat forgotten in his girlfriend’s closet. It was her closet after all, he didn’t need to store any clothing in there.

  Jésus also grabbed George’s double barrel shotgun and the box of shells. George always said that he was going to take up deer hunting one day so he went out and bought what amounted to an antique shotgun at a flea market. The weapon still worked, George had made sure of that, but it was rarely ever used for its intended purpose. George wasn’t a woodsman in the least, he didn’t lik
e getting up early and he didn’t like cold weather. Hunting deer in November was usually out of the question.

  He put the 9mm in his belt, the magazines in his right pocket and carried the golf club in one hand and the shotgun and box of shells in the other leaning across his chest, while taking the stairs three at a time on the way down, nearly tripping when he reached the landing.

  When he came back downstairs his mother and sister were making sandwiches, while his brother in law and girlfriend were out strapping the kids into the van and getting ready to go. Jésus passed through the kitchen and out into the garage.

  “Here, take this,” he said to get George’s attention as he handed him the shotgun and box of shells.

  George looked at the shotgun as he hefted it. “Think we’ll really need this Jésus?”

  “I don’t know friend, but better safe than sorry yes?”

  “Yeah, better safe than sorry.” George said as he loaded a couple shells into the breach before turning back to the van and putting the shotgun in between the two front seats.

  The van in question was a modified cargo van that George used for his business. The rear compartment had two removable rear seats but no windows and a partition between the front and the rear spaces. It reminded Jésus of a prison van he had once rode while participating in one of those ‘scare them straight’ sessions that the schools had loved to put on for anyone who they thought might be a trouble maker during his sophomore year in high school.

  The visit to prison had been a true eye opening experience for him, especially the part where the huge gorilla of a man told Jésus that he was a cute little boy, with a sweet little ass and he’d probably make a fine wife when he got into the system. The attention made him wet his pants for the first time since second grade and only a couple of his classmates dared to laugh. The rest had been terrified of losing control over their own bladders. One of his friends ended up breaking down and crying on the bus ride back.

  At the time he had approached the visit like the idiot child that he was, pretending to be a real bad ass, boasting that prison didn’t scare him. Jésus quickly straightened out his act. Still, two others in the field trip group ignored the lesson and ended up back in the same prison. One with five to ten the other with life. They had both sent Jésus post cards telling him to keep going straight because he didn’t want to be another man’s wife. He didn’t need the cards to know that. But, as Fire Marshall Bill always said, some things you just had to learn for your self. One of those friends ended up with a shiv in his back a couple years later.

  “I got shotgun.” He said, tossing his golf club onto his seat and setting the pistol next to it.

  “Nah man, tell you what. You drive and I’ll ride in the back with mamma and the kids, and let them know that everything will be all right. Michelle can ride shotgun with you. Sides man, it’s your idea to leave, you know where we’re going.”

  “Ok friend. That works too.” Jésus moved the golf club and placed it under the rear seat instead along with the shotgun and shells. George might need something a little extra if it came to that. The shotgun was one of those old double barrel models, making it slow to reload.

  His mother and sister joined them out at the van, a bag full of food and drinks in each of their hands like they all were going on a picnic in the park instead of fleeing for their lives. Jésus had to hand it to them, they would all need something to eat and drink and it was unlikely that they were going to find an open restaurant to get hamburgers along the way. His mother and sister were calmer than he was, but that was usually the case. The women in his family were just as tough as they came.

  His family was safe and strapped into the back, it took them several minutes to get his mother in, she had been having difficulties walking, which had only gotten worse over the past few years. George was getting ready to open the garage door. “We got everything we need?” Jésus asked. All at once, they all said ‘yes’. He turned the key and started the engine, the signal for his brother to open the door.

  George threw the door upwards and then danced out of the way as Jésus rolled the van out of the garage. His brother in law closed and locked the door behind him and then jumped into the van to join his family. Jésus watched him through the partition to make sure that he was safely in. He didn’t want to leave anyone behind.

  “Oh my God.” He heard his sister breathe. Jésus looked up to see what had set the rare occurrence of blaspheme across his sister’s lips.

  “Oh fuck.” He added.

  “Jésus! Your language!” His mother and girlfriend yelled from the back seat. His language. Yeah, right. A little harsh language was the least of their worries right now.

  The street in front of his home had filled with zombies. Lots of them. Jésus slammed on the gas and spun the wheel, driving through his own yard to get around the swarm of undead that had become aware of the family and approached the van at a lurching walk.

  The rear tires dug deep furrows in his beautiful lawn as he pressed the gas pedal all the way down to the floor. Jésus tried to swerve around a miniscule pine tree on the corner of their lot, a tree that the entire family had planted in remembrance of his father, only to crush it under one of his wheels.

  “Sorry papa!” He said quietly. He hoped fervently that his mother hadn’t noticed his crime.

  Lynn and Billy were already inside of the store when he arrived on site. The gaping hole in the front of the building illustrated very clearly how they had crashed Douglas’ truck through the front window. There were probably easier, quieter, less messy ways to get into the building, but Billy didn’t believe in panache, he was a blunt force type of guy. Why use a lock pick, when you could use a sledgehammer. A sledgehammer after all made a very satisfying bang when it struck.

  Douglas stood at the opening, yelling into the gaping hole about what they had done to his truck. The man just didn’t get it. If they didn’t get into the store then they wouldn’t survive and if they didn’t survive, well a truck wasn’t going to do him much good when the devil was roasting him in hell, as Jane had often said. Jason wasn’t big on the whole eternal damnation thing, but the philosophy still held true. Sadly all Douglas seemed to be able to see at the moment were a few scratches on the paint and dents in the body.

  Jason got out of his car and slammed the door to let his companions know that he had arrived. It was better than getting a face full of buckshot due to someone’s itchy trigger finger. It was likely that Billy was as wired up as an elementary school child on a methamphetamine and coffee cocktail. On Christmas Eve. It was equally likely that he was already armed to the teeth and aching for a chance to use one of his new toys. Not a good situation to walk into unannounced. It’d be about as much fun as walking into a room full of ruler wielding nuns, naked and then announcing that God wasn’t real. On Christmas day. With a burning bible in each hand. Either option was a good way to commit suicide without pulling the trigger yourself. The only acknowledgement that he received from anyone was a frown from Douglas before he went back to growling about the new dents in the front of his truck. Douglas threw Jason an evil look as he passed, as if it was Jason’s fault that Billy had made such use of the truck.

  The entire front half of the shop interior was in shambles. So was the front Douglas’ truck. Jason suppressed a grin, the man loved that truck. It was probably Billy’s suggestion to use it in the first place. He very likely took great joy into crashing it through the gate and window gate that protected the shop from would be robbers, at least robbers who didn’t have a large truck to crash through the gate.

  Aside from Douglas, Lynn was the first one to see him as she stepped out of the broken store window and into the morning sunlight. She was the first one to acknowledge his arrival as she looked at him and then waved him over. “You’re late.” Was all she said. She looked especially grim, which was something he had never seen of her before. It was the first time in living memo
ry that he had known here that she hadn’t smiled when she saw him. Even with the sun out blazing overhead that realization made him feel a little cold inside.

  “I had to stop by Jane’s place first.” Remembering that room brought the bile back up in his throat. It left him wondering how he was supposed to be a bad assed zombie killing survivor when he was so shaken by just a single death. A death that he wasn’t even around to witness, all he saw was the body and some dried blood.

  For some reason though it left him feeling the finality of the situation. And worst of all, he was now just that much more alone in the world.

  Sympathy and sadness struggled with one another on Lynn’s face, she had loved Jane as much as he did. Everyone who knew her had loved the woman. She had been a true gift to the world. She was one in a billion. “Oh Jason, she wasn’t…”

  “No, she cut her own wrists, she was dead and gone when I got there.” Jason shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know why, it was completely against who she was and what she believed in.”

  “Maybe she was afraid that she had been left behind when the Rapture came. She was rather devout.”

  “Probably.” Again came the queasiness. “Let’s get to work, there’s a lot to be done.” He picked his way towards the back of the store with Lynn. Glass crunching under his shoes following each footstep. They went scrambling over the fallen shelves and merchandise until they made it to the display cases that held the gear that they had all crossed town in order to seek out. Billy was already there, much as Jason had imagined him being, decked from head to toe in whatever caught his fancy for even a second. A kid in a candy store, just one with less sense and a good deal more demented glee.

  He looked like a complete nimrod in the camouflage hunting vest and bright orange hat that kept a lid his wild black hair. Running across his chest were a pair of brown leather bandoleers loaded down with shotgun shells, each bandoleer had a leather bag at its end that contained only God knew what. The three shotguns slung across his back didn’t help the image and neither did the mace that he was swinging around like a lunatic. He reminded Jason of a demented Elmer Fudd and Jason said so in a loud clear voice.

  Billy went with it, “those wascowy zombies are gonna die, uh huh huh huh huh!” Leave it to Billy to lighten the mood when they most needed it. Even Douglas, much to his own chagrin, gave a good guffaw at their clown prince as he joined them in the back to help pick out and carry off the weapons that they would need to survive in the days to come.

  Jason hopped over the counter and stood next to his friend. “What’ve ya got there Billy-boy?”

  “Well a couple shotguns, a 30-06 with a high power scope, it may come in handy.”

  “And that?” He asked as he indicated the mace in his hand.

  “This?” he brought the mace up over his head, “This is lord Bashinator, terror of all zombie-kind!”

  “Lord Bashinator huh?”

  Billy frowned and repeated “Terror of all zombie-kind!”

  “Ok, Terror of all zombie-kind!” Jason amended, as sometimes it was just easier to play along.

  “Yep, majestic isn’t he?” Billy grinned and swung the mace again, nearly hitting Lynn, and barely missing Douglas. It was dangerous just standing next to him, but at least he didn’t have one of the shotguns out.

  “Sure.” Jason said as he edged out of range of Billy’s reckless attempts to ‘bashinate’ whatever imaginary foes lay within his limited reach. It was then that Jason noticed the body. It was the storeowner John Davidson. He was laying face down on the floor of his own store. “What happened to John? You didn’t kill him did you?”

  Billy shook his head, “Don’t worry, he was dead when we got here, we only re-killed him.” Billy looked sad at that, John had been a friend of theirs, in a distant sort of way, he never got really close to anyone. Folks around town had said that he hadn’t been the same since he came back from Vietnam. After he got back he mostly kept to himself, putting up walls to keep people from getting too close. He was friendly and warm to a point, but that camaraderie was shallow and mysterious. Everything that they learned about him lead them all to believe that he must have been one hell of a man when he was younger. Jason shook his head over the loss of another valued friend before recalling that he had important things to do, and very little time in which to do them. There was nothing that he could do about John, all he could do was to move forward himself and not die.

  The wall was lined with a multitude of guns which reminded him of strung tinsel at Christmas time. Bright and shiny and oh so tempting to touch. He didn’t resist his temptation. Jason walked along the wall running his hands on all the different guns that John had collected over the long years that he had run the gun shop. Calvary sabers lined the wall along the ceiling, making a frame around all the firearms. It was a gun lovers paradise. It was a weapons lovers paradise. Jason stifled a giggle.

  Rifles. Shotguns. A couple semi-automatic M-16s. So many choices. The first weapon he picked up was an old style double barrel shotgun. It was a classic and he was a sucker for the classics. He waved it around a couple times to get a feel for it before lifting it up over his head and turning to his friends and said “Name’s Ash, house wares!”

  It didn’t get the response he expected. Lynn sighed and said “Jason, stop goofing around.”

  “What, I thought you loved that movie.” She had, each of the last twenty times that they had watched it together. Women were fickle it seemed.

  “I do love that movie.”

  “Then why the long face?”

  “Because Billy has done the same impression three times already.”

  “And I did a better job on the voice.” Chimed Billy as he raised another shotgun over his head, “This is my Boooom-Stick!” He did sound like Bruce Campbell.

  “Never pays to go on last I guess.” He set the shotgun aside and went walking further on down the row. It shouldn’t be this hard to decide. They had come to the gun shop on many occasions to look at the guns and keep current. Much drooling was done and even more chatter. He and Lynn had even spent many more hours with John in the gun range out back learning how to shoot all the different guns that the store had to offer.

  John had also taught them about cleaning and other basic general maintenance for the guns as well. Lynn took the zombie uprising thing seriously, she wanted to know all she could about guns and everything else that would help her survive. Jason had gone along simply to spend time with his friend, and to play with the guns. He already knew how to shoot and clean most of the guns here, his father had taught him much of that sort of thing before he had died.

  At last he found what he was looking for. It was a pump action Ithaca shotgun with a pistol grip and a tubular magazine. Lots of fire power in a condensed package. It did all that while managing to look good at the same time. He had been drooling over the gun for years now, it had been in his hand in his minds eye during every zombie uprising that Lynn and Billy had ever dragged him into. Together they had finished off a multitude of the walking dead. It felt good to finally actually have it in his hand, the wood was smooth and cool against his skin. He knew that under the circumstances he shouldn’t grin about finally having this gun, but he was anyway.

  He gave the shotgun a good test pump to hear the clicking action, music to his ears, before setting it down on the counter and grabbing a couple boxes of twelve gauge shells. He took one box of each slugs and buckshot, opened them both and then alternated slugs first and buckshot second into the magazine until it had all six that it could carry. He chambered the first shell and then put the shotgun back on the counter. He looked around the store until he found a sheath for the shotgun that he liked, one with ammo loops running down the length of the strap. He sheathed the shotgun, and then proceeded to fill all of the loops with ammo, alternating as before, before slipping it over his shoulder and across his chest. Born to kill.

  All he
needed was a couple of side arms. Something with knockdown power. Jason stood over the handgun case for a couple minutes looking at all the choices. It was another case of a kid in a candy store. So many good choices to make. The automags, the 357s, even a .44 magnum. How cool it would be to pull a Dirty Harry? Not that any of the zombies would get the reference. But in the end the .45s called to him. He was a stickler for the classics.

  He broke the glass on the case with his hammer, reached in and grabbed a couple and felt their heft. Both were heavy guns. One was black carbonized steel, while the other was a bright shiny chrome. A bona fide odd couple. They would do nicely.

  He hopped the counter and grabbed a belt and a pair of holsters for his new guns. He also found some extra magazines for each. With the shotgun on his back, and a pair of 45s at his hips and enough extra ammunition for the lot to fight the zombies on his own, he was damn near ready to meet the brave new world. The last thing he grabbed was a long sword off of the wall. He took a look at the blade to make sure it was good.

  He had learned long ago not to trust a sword made out of stainless steel any farther than he could throw Mike. So he took his time picking out something that was made out of hand-forged steel. A sword that would bend without breaking, a sword that was made for fighting. Something knightly and medieval feeling. With that Jason strapped the sword onto his back with the shotgun and signaled that he was ready to go.

  They loaded all the guns that they thought they needed and as much ammo as they could find into their vehicles. Extra guns were taken as well. Everything from the semi-automatic rifles, to various handguns and a few more shotguns. They also brought along some kits to clean them with, and even several swords. Be prepared the Boy Scouts said, none of them had been scouts, but none of them were willing to discard sagely advice no matter where they found it.

  The new shotgun and his sword went behind the drivers seat in Mike so he had easy access to it in case he needed it, as did several boxes of ammo for each of the guns, a large flashlight, and some spare toilet paper.

  Billy joined him and Mike, as Lynn and Douglas hopped into the truck. Aside from the grumbling when Jason had first arrived, Douglas had been silent the entire time. Jason wasn’t sure if he was in shock or just stewing over the damage that had been done to his truck. Either way the silence was welcome since he would most likely try to take over the moment he started speaking again. Phase one was complete.

  There was a deep rumbling sound from outside the tent, muffled like it was still way off in the distance. “Go see what the hell is going on private,” Sarge said, tapping Ash on the shoulder. He put his helmet back on, grabbed his rifle and dashed between the tent flaps. The hippy and her friends were leaning back in the shade of their truck, under guard by the rest of the squad. White and Tex were giving them the occasional kick and discussing getting themselves a little piece of revenge on Cumming’s behalf. The men already had bruises forming on their faces from where they had been punched or struck by rifle butts. Schmidt looked angry.

  The rumbling sound was coming from the east, down the same road that they had themselves hiked half an hour before. Schmidt was the only other member of his squad who seemed to have given it much notice, as he was staring down the road, with his hand shielding his eyes from the sun. The sound was coming from a convoy of trucks. “How many, can you see them?” Ash asked.

  Schmidt shaded his eyes. “Looks like six, deuce and a half army issue. Maybe we’ve been reinforced.”

  “Reinforced for what? There’s nothing here to reinforce. Unless you count guarding those stupid hippies.”

  “Fucked if I know. This whole deployment has been bat-shit nuts from the start. Why should that change now?” Neither let another word pass between them as the watched the convoy of trucks creep down the road towards their position, and finally stop.

  Lieutenant Arseneau jumped down out of the passenger’s seat of the lead truck and walked over to Ash, who was extremely curious and nervous about what the change of plans meant for them all. “Sir, what’s going on?” He asked, as the lieutenant stopped in front of him, taking in the squad and their prisoners. White and Tex came to attention, saluting their superior officer.

  “Command has been overrun by a horde of those things.” He said, gesturing widely at the pile of bodies around the truck. “Captain Highway was bitten and infected after fist platoon was hit by a horde of the walking dead.”

  White looked at the bodies, “You mean the zombies sir?”

  “Is that what you kids have decided to call them?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Alright then, zombies. Anyhow, we hooked up with what was left of first platoon. But, we’re alone out here. What is the situation here?”

  Ash saluted and then brought his commanding officer up to date on all the developments since the squad had been sent out on its mission. “We found a doctor, a nurse and a soldier still alive, but they’re messed up something awful. Sarge is working to get them around. We lost corporal Cummings in a shootout with those fuckers sir. Sorry. I mean civilians. They attacked us as we were working to kill off the zombies. The corporal got shot and died a few minutes later.”

  “Cummings was a good man. Why did the civilians attack you?”

  “Dunno for sure lieutenant. I think they’ve just went mental and freaked out. Won’t be the first time today that it’s happened. They yelled something about saving the zombies from the government and then they opened fire one us while telling the things to flee.”

  “I’m a captain now private. The chain of command is gone, we’re all that’s left. I decided that I always wanted to be a captain. The brass can no longer object. Things are turning my way it seems. Keep that in mind private, things are looking my way.”

  “Sorry. Captain.”

  “The sergeant will be promoted to lieutenant. You’re a corporal now.

  “Yes sir. Though Avery would make a better corporal than me. He’s smarter than I am.”

  The captain frowned and looked Ash straight in the eye. There was something unsettling about his eyes that Ash couldn’t pin down. They were the same color as always, they just seemed different. The streaks of dried blood on his face didn’t help. Ash broke eye contact, and pretended to scan the area behind the captain for enemies, or anything else. It was safer than looking into the man’s eyes. “Are you smart enough to follow orders private James?”

  “Yes sir!”

  “Good. You’re in charge of your squad. If any of them give you any trouble, you have my orders to shoot them. Is that understood?”

  Ash hesitated and nearly stuttered. That had taken him completely unawares. The rest of the squad looked as frightened and confused as he felt, Ash though he must be mirroring their own expressions. “Yes. Yes sir.”

  “Good. Now carry on with the briefing.”

  “The zombies split apart, half came at us, the other half went for the civies. The bitch kept yelling at them to run, so I guess they thought they were saving the people from us. The crazy hippy bitch hasn’t said anything since we saved their dumb tree-hugging asses from the zombies.”

  The lieutenant, or captain Ash guessed, laughed long and hard. “Stupid people. They’re like sheep. Always forming opinions about subjects which they don’t fully understand. Guess we’ll have to do something about them. This proves that they need to be protected from both the ‘zombies’ and themselves.”

  Ash didn’t know what to say about that or what the captain was even talking about. “Corporal, where is Sergeant Frost hiding himself?”

  “He’s in the medical tent sir, with the survivors we rescued earlier. He and private Avery are trying to rouse them out of their stupor. The survivors seem to be kind of brain blown sir. He got the doctor and the nurse awake, but they both seem to be a little dazed and confused.”

  “Take me to him.” The captain gave a couple of gestures and the rest of the
company and they jumped out of the truck and deployed, weapons at the ready

  “Aye sir, this way.” Ash did as he had been ordered and led the captain to the tent where Sarge and Avery were doing their best to calm the survivors. “Right in here,” Ash told the captain as he held open one of the tent flaps for the man to step through.

  “Sergeant Frost.”

  Sarge stood at attention and saluted, “Sir!”

  Sarge opened his mouth to report, when the captain stopped him short, “Corporal James here has already briefed me on the situation. How do the survivors look?”

  “Not too good sir. Whatever they saw here really wounded all three of them. Messed up their heads sir. The doctor and the nurse seem to be coming around, but the soldier is still in bad shape. We were going to try and wake him, but the colonel said that we better wait for a little while so that he can rest, the man is going to need a bit of professional help.”

  “Well get them and your squad onto one of the trucks. We’re pulling out to a new position.”

  “Aye lieutenant!”

  “Its captain now Frost, captain Highway is dead so I’ve been promoted, battlefield commission. You’ve been given the rank of lieutenant and command of second platoon. Now what about your prisoners?”

  “We should take them with us and give them to the authorities. They attacked a squad of soldiers, making one kill.”

  “Why not just execute them here?”

  “Sir, we don’t have the authority to do that. These are civilians.”

  “Oh but we do. So why not do it?”

  “All I can think of is both our orders to keep these people safe, and their bout of temporary insanity. The whole world has gone bat shit crazy sir, these people were just dragged along.”

  The captain smiled, and then giggled. He actually giggled. “Yes, insanity does seem to be spreading.” Ash looked at captain Asreneau a second time and recognized what was different this time. He had become unhinged. He had gone nuts, and now he was planning on dragging the company along with him. “Now everyone, mount up. Get those civilians into the truck. Don’t put them next to the survivors though, we don’t want them infecting those brave soldiers with their damn hippy diseases.”

  Everyone mounted up as ordered. Ash and Sarge were carrying the soldier from the tent over to the lead truck. “I think the captain is section eight sir.”

  “Stow that talk private. We have more important problems to consider.”

  “More important than being led by a nut job sir? Like what?”

  “Yep. Like surviving this thing. Maybe you’re right and the captain has gone off his gourd. That don’t mean nothing to us, cause ain’t anyone here capable of leading a company. Not even me. So keep your suspicions to yourself and keep your head down, all part of being a corporal. Welcome to hell.”

  “Thanks Sarge.” He said numbly. Ash had taken to calling the lieutenant ‘Captain’. But it never occurred to him to call Sarge ‘Lieutenant’, or Lewy, or by a name other than Sarge. After thirty years of being a sergeant, the man was a sergeant through and through.

  “Any time kid. Now watch his head as we get him up.”

  When they finished getting the soldier onto the bed of the truck, they went and found the captain. He was standing on the runner of the lead vehicle and staring off down the street. “Ah hell, look at all that.”

  “What is it sir?” Sarge asked, craning his neck to see over the cars that lined the road. Ash climbed up into the bed of the hippy’s truck to get a better command of the situation. His shoulders slumped when he located the source of the captain’s distress.

  “Looks like we got some more of these corpses coming along to us. A lot more.” There were perhaps a thousand zombies out there, maybe more. They were all stumbling towards the emergency aid station.

  “Ah hell, when do we ever get a break?” Ash whispered. Or at least thought he had whispered it.

  The captain looked over at Ash. “What was that corporal?”

  “I’m nearly out of ammo sir. And there is a lot of ugly coming our way.” He peered along the other direction. More zombies were coming from that way too. “We’re boxed in,” he said pointing at the second horde.

  The captain grinned. “Is that the biggest of your worries? We brought ammo along, half of the last truck is full of ammo boxes. That doesn’t matter though. There is enough room for two of our trucks to pass down that street side by side. We’re going to make use of that advantage and the fact that these trucks weigh more than six tons completely empty, and are full of soldiers that will make them heavier. Lieutenant: choose some men who are both calm and proficient with their rifles, the sharper the shooters the better, and put them onto the roofs of the lead trucks. Give them spare ammunition. They’ll help clear the path if need be.”

  “You heard the man James, get some extra magazines and climb up on that roof, I’ll send Avery with you, since he knows one end of his rifle from the other. I’ll get someone from another squad to man the other.”

  “Aye sir.” Ash didn’t know whether to be pleased or terrified. Sarge thought that he was calm, confident and a good shot

  The gun shop had been devoid of life, and even unlife. They expected that when they had made their plans on so many past nights. The Megamart on the other hand was crawling with the undead legions. They had expected that too. Still Jason wondered how all the zombies had gotten to the store since there were only a dozen or so cars scattered about the parking lot and the store was located in the commercial district near the edge of town, which was a long ways from most anywhere. It would have been a long walk unless the county had taken to starting a service for busing the creatures out and maybe back.

  It was very strange to see the Megamart this devoid of life since it was usually a busy place. Rather, it was unusual to see the parking lot so empty of cars, when normally you had to fight for a space. Under normal circumstances it the only store in town where usually the parking lot was almost always nearly full. Jason got the feeling that the zombies had shambled up to the Megamart from their homes over the course of the past several nights. There they stood, in small knots bumping into one another. Scattered across the length and width of the parking lot. Douglas stopped at the entrance of the parking lot and Jason pulled Mike alongside.

  Douglas rolled down the window and yelled out “You know the plan?”

  Both Billy and Jason nodded the affirmative. They knew it, of course they knew it, they made the thing up for God’s sake. Hours of working on it, spanned across many a long night at home in front of the television. Drinking beers, watching movies and sharing laughs. Douglas nodded back and rolled his window back up and started driving around towards the back of the huge store.

  “Do we fucking know the plan? What an ass!” Billy didn’t bother to hide his derisive scorn for Douglas, but then he never did. Jason knew that Billy was waiting for Douglas to get bitten, or eaten or something, so he could do his victory dance on the man’s grave when he finally died. Jason was sure Douglas was waiting for the same thing. The two only tolerated one another for the sake of Lynn. They both cared too much about her to bring her that kind of pain. When she wasn’t around on the other hand, then things got fun.

  Jason put Mike back into gear and followed behind Lynn and Douglas. As they got closer to the building they started to count how many zombies there were, or at least Billy did, Jason was too busy driving around the ones that tried to reach out and grab the car them as they passed. He could have driven over or through them, but he didn’t have a good post-apocalypse mechanic on call to fix his car.

  Half way across the lot Billy slapped the dashboard “Ah shit!”

  “What happened?” Jason asked only paying half attention to his friend’s outburst.

  “I lost count at somewhere near two hundred.”

  “Two hundred? How many do you think you had left to count?”

  “L
ots.”

  “Lots? What the hell does that mean?”

  “Lots! Most of them are bunched up at the entrances, I didn’t even bother counting those.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “No, not at all.”

  “What made you lose track?”

  “It’s your crazy swervy driving.”

  “Would you rather I hit one of them? That’d be even more distracting.”

  “Yeah, but it wouldn’t upset my stomach as much as all this jerking around.” Jason couldn’t believe his ears. He threw a dumbfounded look at his friend. It was one of the most callous and morbid things that Billy had ever said.

  Billy pointed forward screamed “Look out, old lady!”

  Jason immediately slammed on the breaks and nearly pissed himself in the process. “Did I hit her?” Killing zombies was one thing, killing old lady zombies was something completely different. Well it wasn’t, but he didn’t want to dent up Mike any more than he had to since getting him fixed would be near impossible in present circumstances

  “Her who?”

  “The old lady!” His heart was racing as he waited for an answer.

  “There wasn’t an old lady, I just wanted you to get your eyes back on the road.”

  “You mother fucker! I nearly had a heart attack!”

  “Then pay attention to what you’re doing, and that won’t happen. Besides, goofing off is my job.” Smug as always, the asshole. While they were arguing a group of zombies started to get uncomfortably close to their car. Jason hit the gas to clear the zombies and catch up with Lynn and Douglas before they got out of sight.

  The two cars drove around to the back of the building to the loading docks. There were only a handful of walking corpses that had made it to the back driveway and loading dock. It was really nothing that they probably have to worry about. Cleaning the area up should be pretty simple and at least some good practice. Douglas backed his truck up to the loading dock. Jason and Billy pulled Mike up next to him and got out, Jason with his shotgun and a sword and Billy with a shotgun and the Breakinator or whatever stupid name he had given the mace. The plan now was that while Lynn worked on opening the service door, Jason and Billy would take care of the zombies that were around, all while Douglas kept Lynn safe.

  Lynn took the steps two at a time and Douglas followed her. When she was at the door, she set her shotgun down and leaned it up against the wall. Freeing her hands to pull her lock picking tools out from her shirt pocket. When she had the tools that she needed, she went to work picking the lock. Jason and Billy watched her for a moment before turning to their own duties. There were a scant handful of zombies anywhere near them, but with zombies, one was too many. Billy set his shotgun down on Mike’s hood while Jason drew his sword. Billy looked over and grinned, Jason could tell that his friend was going to enjoy this, probably more so than was healthy.

  The door was being difficult, and Lynn vocalized it with a few choice colorful metaphors, phrases that she didn’t often use except when playing video games. In the meantime Billy put his mace to work and Jason tried out his new sword. There were so few zombies near by and they figured it would be a waste of ammunition to just shoot them. It would be wiser to save the shells for when they actually might need them. Besides they still needed to practice with the old melee weapons, to get a feel for them. The experience would be good in times of greater danger. Douglas stood with Lynn, with his shotgun in hand. Now that he had finally woken up from his stupor he was making himself useful by keeping an eye out and making sure that nothing more dangerous than a chipmunk got even close to his love as she worked.

  Jason actually recognized a couple of the handful of zombies that he and Billy killed. One of them was Ralph, the store manager. He had been a nice older man with a pair of twin daughters. The girls who were younger than the three friends by a couple of years, they had been smart kids, and a lot of fun to hang out with. Lynn had been fond of working with Ralph, as did Billy, and he wasn’t overly affectionate towards much of humanity. The other face was the general floor manager Rachel, she was a bitch and Billy actually grinned in glee when he hit her, repeatedly. Jason got the feeling that he had just got to live out a long, dearly held fantasy.

  In a few short minutes of work Lynn had the door open, and in even less time than that the loading zone was free of the walking dead. Billy whooped it up a bit as they finished before Jason shushed him. Lynn signaled them and they went to join her and Douglas at the door. Before scuttling up the stairs to join the rest, Billy grabbed his rifle and a couple boxes of ammunition from Mike’s bed. Jason gave him a questioning look while wondering why Billy thought he might need a rifle indoors. Billy just gave a shrug in return. With their backdoor cleared of the undead, they left the empty parking lot and in they went.

  Ash dashed to the last truck, grabbed a full can of spare magazines for his M-16 and sprinted back to the captain’s truck and climbed up onto the roof. Avery was already waiting for him. By the time he was settled in, he was panting.

  The six trucks roared to life as one just as Ash finished settling in on the rooftop. The second column moved into its position alongside the first. The vibrations from the six-cylinder Hercules engine reminded him of the automatic massage chair that his father had so dearly loved. The shuddering truck soon set his teeth to chattering until he clamped down on his jaw.

  He cracked open the ammo can, and took half dozen magazines and started removing the first round from each, and then loading them into his spare. Before handing the ammo can to Avery so that he could do the same. Ash placed all the extra magazines into his chest pockets and made himself more comfortable by leaning back on the canvas roof. He had a good idea what the captain intended and was itching to see how well they could pull the plan off. These were heavy trucks, but there were a lot of bodies out there.

  Avery was on the inside lane while Ash had the outside. Lewis and Washington from second and third squad respectively had been stationed on top of the second truck. Avery leaned over, offering Lewis a cigarette. “Don’t piss yourselves ladies, this shit is gonna get ugly real quick.” Ash could hear the grin in his voice as he said it, and began grinning himself. Sometimes the only way to make yourself feel better was to make someone else feel worse. Avery, the pinnacle of assholedom was a master of such tactics.

  “Shit’s already ugly Avery.”

  “Yeah. Who are you kidding?”

  “You seen these thing before then?” Avery asked the two men on the other truck as they smoked their cigarettes.

  Washington flicked away what was left of the butt before answering, “Yeah, when we picked up first platoon. Seen worse things there too.”

  “Worse? Like what?”

  “Saw captain Arseneau frag captain Highway.”

  Of all the wild tales he had expected to hear that week during the bullshit sessions with the others, Arseneau ganking Highway was about the last. Hell, it wasn’t even on the list of topics dreamed. Ash spoke up, “The captain said that Highway got bit by one of the zombies.”

  “He did. We were holding the line when a thousand or more of the zombies waltzed on in and started to feed. We thought that we were lucky since second platoon was there to help us. Highway was on the frontline as usual, and doing damn good for a man his age. Then, while he’s reloading his rifle, one of the zombies comes within reach and bites him. The fucking thing actually bit the man. Took a big chunk out of his shoulder. The captain was bleeding all over the place. Hightower freaks out, drops his rifle and grabs his arm where he got bit, and starts screaming. Arseneau pulled out his sidearm, walked over all casual, then blew his head off his shoulders.” He snapped his fingers, “just like that. Just like it was just another drill.”

  Lewis flicked away his own cigarette and said “We don’t know why he didn’t try getting Highway to the medics or something. It was only a little bite, nothing serious.”

  “A
little bite from one of these things is serious. They bite you, you get your ass infected, then you die and become like one of them. Highway knew that, must have been why he freaked out when he got bitten instead of killing the thing and fighting on.”

  “Whatever it’s all about. We have Arseneau in command, and that bastard has pure ice in his veins.”

  “What do you think corporal?” Avery had to ask a second time before Ash realized that the question was directed at him.

  “I think that I’m going to follow Sarge’s advice, keep my head down and my mouth shut, and maybe I’ll live through this.” A chorus of ‘Good call/idea’ followed his little speech. In truth, looking away and keeping his mouth shut was just easier than thinking about what might be happening. If he started thinking about everything, life was just going to get too terrifying too fast. Ask instead focused on what was about to happen. They were about to go and mow down some of the walking dead with their deuce and a halves. He had always wanted to see what the trucks were capable of, besides carrying five tons of supplies anywhere they might need to go.

  Captain Arseneau, slapped the roof of the car with the palm of his hand “You soldiers ready for some excitement?” The man nearly giggled again. The sound of his voice made Ash’s skin crawl.

  Ash glanced over at his companions. Avery, Washington and Lewis all gave the thumbs up sign. They were as ready as they would ever be. “Yes sir!” He yelled down into the cab. A moment later their driver gave a long blast of the horn, which was shortly picked up by five other trucks in the convoy. The excitement was about to pick up.

  Adrenaline flowed into his veins and throughout his body, he felt alive with a high that made his fingers twitch as he wrapped them around the rifle grip and barrel. His trigger finger began to itch, tugging at him to open fire on the horde before them. Instead he leaned back and grabbed one of the hand bars that had been bolted to the roof of the cab. Better to save the ammunition for when he really needed it. The leading wall of zombies was about two blocks away now and it spread from one side of the street to the other, bursting into the confines of unfenced yards.

  The truck jerked forward as the driver tested the gas, gears grinding and black smoke spewing from the exhaust pipe behind Ash’s head. The truck picked up speed, lurched again, throwing Ash and Avery forward as the driver switched into second gear. Faster, another jolt and then faster still. The road was bumpy. Not the road. All of the bodies lying on the road. Ash tried not to think of what they were driving over as the bones crunched underneath the tires. He crossed the fingers on his free hand and hoped that Sarge wouldn’t assign him the job of washing the trucks when this was all over.

  The convoy was probably traveling near its top speed as the 26,000 pounds of steel of the first two truck plowed into the wall of undead flesh, beating the front ranks to the ground and rolling over it like a monstrous juggernaut. The sounds of a massive meat grinder erupted from under the tires as the truck bounced and shook over a road paved with zombies. The press of bodies against the trucks resisted their momentum and the convoy slowed.

  Ash tried to drown out the sounds. He was dying to cover his ears with the sweaty palms of his two hands, to squeeze out what he had heard before it drove him as mad as the captain. To no avail, the crunches and pops filtered in despite his best efforts. He had duties to perform. One of the zombies had managed to get a hold of the grill and was pulling itself up. Ash sighted the creature and put a round through its head. He looked over at Avery, who was busy with a zombie that had climbed up into the runner under the driver’s door.

  Ash put himself back to work. He began to clear out the road to the front right. Picking only the most likely targets. There was a jolt, Ash flew forward, slamming his helmet onto his knee. He nearly screamed in agony. The truck behind them had collided with their rear bumper and began to add its power to the contest.

  The third truck in line did the same. The convoy staggered forward and began to accelerate once again, until they were free and clear. Ash stood up on the roof of his truck, feet spread wide to keep his balance. They had cut a fifteen-foot wide swath of destruction through the horde of zombies, leaving dozens crushed underneath their tires as they advanced.

  The street had been repaved with human gore in their wake. Broken bodies and blood pooled in the gutters. A quarter their number were lying on the ground, shattered, and still the zombies pulled together and tried to reach the trucks and the people within.

  Ash shuddered. This was all sorts of fucked up. He was at a loss for how they were expected to beat such an enemy, if the enemy wasn’t afraid of dying, if the enemy kept coming mindlessly forward.

  They only had so many bullets.

  The moment she crossed the threshold into the store Lynn turned on the spotlight that she had brought along. The air was cool and smelled reasonably fresh and clean. The light reflected of the white painted walls and brightened the hallway enough for them to see. Billy went a little ahead while the other two walked behind her.

  “Should I close the door?” Asked Jason as they took a few steps in.

  “What for?” Asked Douglas. “There’s no one out there.”

  Billy called back “Never know if someone, or something, might show up.”

  “Like who?” Douglas replied.

  “Like a legion of the undead. That or people looking for super savings, it is Tuesday after all.”

  Jason asked again “Well? Should I?”

  Lynn cut the whole conversation off, and solved a lot of problems by just answering “Yes Jason, that’d be a good idea.”

  “But we’ll be locked in!” Douglas sounded a little panicked, it seems that he was uncomfortable without a bolt-hole to make for. Jason made a note, it was a good thing to know and to keep in mind for times when things might get tough. He didn’t want to be caught by surprise if Douglas panicked and ran.

  Lynn answered him, she answered them all “The door opens outwards, but locks from the inside, all you need to do is push it to get it open.” It calmed him down quite a but, to the point that he looked embarrassed and got surly.

  “Lets get this done with.” He growled. Surly indeed.

  They passed through the short back hallway and into the employee break lounge. They spread out when they reached the lounge and took a look around. Billy put his rifle and the ammunition down on one of the tables nearest the hallway before pulling the mace out of the loop that he had made in his belt. The high-powered scoped rifle wouldn’t be much use to them inside a dark building.

  So far the building was empty, but really they hadn’t come that far yet. Maybe their luck would hold and maybe it wouldn’t. None of them, Billy aside, felt like doing anything stupid to test that luck.

  Lynn and Billy had both said on many different that there was nearly always someone in the store, even if it was only the skeleton crew people working to re-stock the shelves at night. They crossed through the remainder of the break room in a single file line with Billy on point and Jason holding the rear guard.

  The doorway at the far end of the break room led into another hallway. The second hallway led past the restrooms and to the main cavernous room of the store. It was a simple layout, straightforward. Of course, nobody said that the architecture on a big box store was impressive or innovative, just big.

  There were a dozen skylights in the ceiling of the cavern they were meant to let in sunshine from outside and make the store feel a little more natural. They also helped save on energy. Lynn switched her spotlight off to save battery power as they walked out of the hall into the store proper. The rest of them followed her lead.

  It was unnaturally silent and still. The only sounds came from their footsteps as they scraped across the tiled floors. Usually the store was bustling, bright and noisy. There was almost always movement everywhere. The noise usually had tended to be confusing, with music and in store advertisements fighting to be heard over th
e clamor of the shoppers. Now to be there when it was dark and silent made the hairs on the back of Jason’s neck stand on end. It would never be busy again. So surreal.

  After several long moments of silence Lynn spoke up with a question. “Who brought the list?” Jason jumped at the sudden break in the silence, he noticed that he wasn’t alone to be startled.

  Billy pulled a sheet of paper out of his back pocket and handed it to her. She looked at the list for a moment before tearing it in two and handing one half back to Billy. “Lets get a couple of flat bed carts and then split up to get this done quicker.” The carts were in the storeroom, which was the first place that they plundered. They each took a couple boxes of full of the different sizes of batteries. Batteries would be a good thing to have, a necessity that would be difficult to replace when they finally ran out, so they took all that they could carry.

  Aside from the ample supply of batteries, the storeroom actually held nothing else that they really needed. They took their carts back out into the store and got ready to do their shopping. Lynn called out one last set of instructions, “If you hear shots come running. I don’t want to die this early in the game because the cavalry decided that they weren’t needed and didn’t come to the rescue.” Douglas frowned, looking like he thought he was all the protection that she needed, and irked that she didn’t agree with his assessment.

  They parted ways. Jason and Billy were to head towards the sporting goods side of the store, while Lynn and Douglas would start picking up some basic food supplies. Lynn waved back over her shoulder as they parted and walked away with Douglas, arguing with him in a low voice, most likely about who was going to be in charge. That was an easy one to solve, Jason and Billy simply wouldn’t follow any of Douglas’ commands and if necessary they would make that abundantly clear to him if he felt the need to test the water himself.

  With one hand each on the cart Jason and Billy went on after their own objectives. Billy read off the list as they walked slowly past the women’s clothing department, while Jason kept a constant vigil for any unwanted guests that might be in the store with them. It turned out that they needed simple things like flashlights and walkie-talkies and a portable radio. Several of each. Backups for spares so to speak. They also needed a grill and as much charcoal as they could find. Then there was the all important toilet paper and extra blankets. Necessities all.

  They were at the electronics department when Billy looked up from the list and stopped. They both stared. All the electronic goodness there for the taking and nobody would ever notice. They could loot without consequence, but it would all be useless junk.

  “Funny how the universe works, huh?” Billy said with a small bitter laugh.

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well I’ve wanted one of those huge flat screened televisions forever, and one of the new video game systems and all the games for it. Hell, I wanted all of the different systems. Now it is within my grasp, I can taste it, and see myself playing. But then it doesn’t matter since I couldn’t use it even if I grabbed it. Couldn’t afford it while I worked here, and no, they aren’t worth a damn.”

  “Ain’t life a bitch like that?”

  “Yep. Well we can still get a CD player or something, one that runs on batteries.”

  “Excellent idea, and an instant music collection.”

  “No country.”

  “Bah.”

  “I mean it, I’ll shoot you myself if I see a single Garth Brooks disk”

  “What about Johnny Cash.”

  “Johnny Cash is the exception. Johnny Cash is not country. Johnny Cash is a god.”

  “Glad you agree, I’d of had to have shot you instead for such blaspheme.”

  The two of them walked down the aisle flipping through the music, from time to time looking around to make sure that they were still alone. They acquired an impressive stack of music, one that spanned all the genres, including some country that Billy snuck in when Jason had his back turned.

  From there they wandered around the electronics department grabbing other useful things, portable music players and handheld video games, several sets of walkie-talkies and watches. It wouldn’t be difficult to fill the cart at this rate.

  Billy and Jason each put on one of the watches. Jason said “Synchronize watches,” he had always wanted to use that line. Mine says 11:45 right…Now.

  “Mine is blinking twelve.” He shook the watch and then fiddled with some of the buttons before taking it off his wrist and tossing it over his shoulder. After a minute or two of looking he grabbed another watch out of the display case and put it on.

  “11:45?”

  “No, but who cares, it comes with a built in compass.”

  “What do you need a compass for?”

  “I dunno, what if some evil wizard comes and picks up and puts in a maze to fight monsters and solve puzzles in order to escape? All for his own twisted amusement.”

  “An evil wizard?” Jason couldn’t completely hide his astonishment, not that he didn’t try. He was simply dumbfounded. Billy always found a way to surprise him even now and usually not with good things like by making dinner, or cleaning their apartment. It was always something really strange and really random. Like the time with the goldfish and the water cannon… no, best not to rehash that incident.

  Billy deftly ignored the look that he was being given, a trait that he had cultivated over long years of being a goof. “The zombies had to have come from some where.”

  “But an evil wizard?” Jason was having a hard time deciding whether his friend of so many seasons was being serious, his first reaction was to say no. But then it was Billy, a kid who believed in Santa Claus until he was twelve. As far as Jason knew, Billy still believed in the generous fat man to this very day.

  “What do you believe made the zombies?” Jason admitted that he didn’t have a clue, he never really thought about why they were there. They were just there and needed to be dealt with. “Space aliens? The government? Ha! My money is on an evil wizard.”

  “Evil wizards aside, you don’t even know how to use a compass.”

  “I don’t, but Lynn does.”

  “Maybe we should get maps and compasses too.” That had never occurred to either of them in all of their prior jam sessions. It wasn’t on the list, but it couldn’t hurt to have that sort of thing. Maybe the two of them could puzzle out how to use those tools as well.

  Despair began to creep in along the edges of his mind. He fought it, pushing the darkness away, as he turned around and sat back down.

  “Feeling it finally buddy?” Avery asked as he offered a cigarette. He wasn’t a smoker. He preferred the occasional chew, but he had neglected to bring his pouch along on the deployment. Right now, his body was calling for nicotine. Ash took one of the cigarettes and lit it, taking a deep drag and coughed until his lungs managed to expel all of the offending smoke, as well as whatever other air they held. Avery sat beside him laughing and slapping his back to help him breathe again. Lewis and Washington joined in with Avery as he laughed, echoing their own chorus of ‘pansy’ and ‘little girl’.

  “What the hell was in that thing?” Ash asked between deep wracking coughs.

  “Just a normal ciggy. Thought I’d get you away from that nasty ass chew that you love so much. Seems that you don’t have the bad-assed lungs of a real smoker.”

  “And thank god for that.” Ash made to flick the cigarette down onto the road. Avery reached over and removed the cigarette from between his fingers, brought it up to his own lips and took a long drag, sighing as he exhaled a ring of smoke.

  “Ah, that’s good. Really calms you down after you’ve seen some heavy shit.”

  “Must be an acquired taste.”

  “Yeah. I started smoking when I was eight. Swiped some of my ma’s ciggs from her purse. I cut down to a pack a day a couple months ago, been trying to quit. Was doing pretty well with it, and then they
called us up for active duty. When I get bored, I smoke.”

  “You need to find a better hobby. When I get bored, I play my Gameboy.”

  “That shit will rot your brain!” Lewis yelled.

  “I was wondering where you disappeared to. What games do you have?”

  “Just a couple. One’s a fishing game my dad gave me, and the other is a racing game I picked up at the Megamart right before we were called up. I figured I’d need something to do in the down time. We always seem to have a lot of down time.”

  “You never answered my question.”

  “What question?”

  “I asked if you were finally feeling what we were in for.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean the crazy officer in charge and being surrounded by millions of hungry corpses. You looked as if you had a major revelation when you sat down.”

  “Yeah, we only got so many bullets, and a lot more of them zombies out there that need to be killed.”

  “Don’t I know it. What do you think we’ll be doing next?”

  “Why the hell should I know?”

  The captain made you corporal right?”

  “Yeah, but only cause he thought I’d shut up and take orders.”

  “You going to?”

  “I told you earlier, I’m gonna follow Sarge’s advice to, shut up, look stupid and keep my head down.”

  “You got the stupid part working for you already Ash.” There was only one way to reply to such a comment. Ash extended both of his middle fingers.

  Lewis yelled over from the next truck, “What do you think we’re going to do next?”

  “Before we linked up with 3rd squad here, I heard him say something about finding a new base of operations and then setting up to save as many people out there as possible until reinforcements come.” Washington answered.

  Avery nodded as if he liked the idea. “Sounds good to me,” he said. “I need some sack time, I’ve been up and operating for sixteen hours now. Aside from that, we can’t just keep running around killing those things, we’ll get ourselves killed.”

  Over the next several hours they drove around seemingly at random. Weaving in and out of streets, killing small groups of zombies and fleeing from larger ones. Ash was sure that the captain had something in mind, but neither he nor his roof top companions could tell what that plan might have been.

  Time and time again they ran across small groups of civilians. Some needed to be rescued and others merely flagged the convoy down. They were all looking for protection from a world gone mad, and a company of soldiers seemed to them the best bet for safety. So far all the people they had encountered had been happy and willing to come along. Ash got the feeling that if they hadn’t, the captain would have commanded that they be taken anyway.

  At last, after hours of searching, the captain ordered them to stop. Ash was down by three magazines by then, having scored a nearly thirty more kills since they left the first horde of zombies in the dust and sucking their fumes. If they still able to breathe. The movies had all suggested that they didn’t, but even Ash wasn’t stupid enough to believe that this all just a movie. Thirty headshots from the top of a moving truck wasn’t too bad.

  The trucks pulled to a halt outside of a large warehouse in the southern river district. Sarge jumped out of the second truck, started walking down the line and bellowed orders as he went. “Company fall out! Company fall out now! On the bounce people.”

  Ash and Avery slid down to the hood and from there onto the ground. They ran to their platoons and took their places in their squad, as sorry as it was looking, there were noticeable gaps in the ranks, and stood at attention, waiting for the captain to address them and give them further orders.

  The civilians had also climbed out of the trucks in which they had been traveling. The doctor and nurse that Ash’s squad rescued earlier joined the civilians, looking them over and inspecting them for any wounds that they might have taken.

  Ash pulled his attention from the doctor’s activities when the captain finally made his appearance, strutting down the line and grinning like it was Christmas morning and he found out that had just gotten a puppy. He stopped in front of first platoon and addressed them.

  “First squad first platoon, you will stay with the trucks and protect the civilians. The rest of first platoon, I want you to secure the perimeter of this building. Get on it.” First platoon took off at a run, rifles in hand and helmets on their heads. Ash reached up and felt his head. His helmet was gone, and he hadn’t realized it. Some time in the fog his cover had disappeared.

  Avery leaned over to him and whispered. “You chucked it at a zombie, one in either the third or fourth small group that we chanced on.” He sounded like he wanted to laugh, but was holding in his mirth.

  Ash remembered. His rifle had jammed right when they closed with the pack. Rage exploded from within and he had stripped the helmet off and hurled at the zombie closest to the truck. Hit the thing with a glancing blow across the temple hard enough to knock it down. By the time it was back on his feet, he had cleared the blockage and was delivering hot lead to all comers.

  “Second platoon, you will be securing the interior under lieutenant Frost. Ready your flashlights as well as your rifles, you’ll need them both. Look sharp.”

  Ash switched on his light, one of the L-shaped Government Issue flashlights that the entire company had been provided with. He then clipped it onto the left breast pocket of his coat, making sure that he kept his hands clear of the light-beam. He wanted both hands free to fight, but they would need light within.

  Sarge led them personally and was the first member of the platoon through the front door and into the dim interior. Ash’s vision adjusted slowly as twenty different flashlights shined this way and that. The warehouse was huge. Gigantic. Ginormous. And a few other words came to mind, most of them prefixed with the slang adjective ‘fucking’.

  Jésus gunned it across three more lawns, leaving a pair of troughs in the grass behind him as he went. A regular drumbeat played on the front bumper as he crossed Mr. Rodriguez’s lawn. He hit every damned one of the hundred or so pink flamingos and lawn gnomes that the man had collected since the death of his wife, even when he had to swerve a little to reach them. Jésus hated the tacky decorations with a passion and long held the secret desire to take this very action. He savored each ‘thunk’ and the crunching plastic sound of every shattering flamingo as he passed.

  Jésus was barely able to suppress a broad grin as it tugged at his lips. They might die out here, but at least he took Mr. Rodriguez’s lawn ornaments out with him. You always had to look on the bright side, or so his father had always said.

  They crossed behind the Andrew’s split rail fence, around a cluster of zombies and then onto the street. “Hell yeah!” Jésus yelled as rubber met asphalt and they left the scores of zombies in their wake.

  Jésus took the back roads to the mall. They passed within sight of or even over several of the highways. The major roadways had been plugged by accidents caused by panicked drivers. The side roads were an obstacle course of zombies and cast aside cars, but even factoring in the hindrance of taking a more indirect path, they were far safer and made better time. On occasion and almost randomly, they would see other people. They even saw a small group of soldiers marching once. Jésus took a hard left, causing everyone in the back to scream from fright as they were thrown against their seatbelts by the centrifugal force.

  The zombies seemed to pool in together like drops of water rolling to form a puddle after the rain ended. They seemed to collect towards popular businesses. Jésus began to feel a little uncomfortable.

  The mall was in a minor valley in the southern western half of the city. Or rather it was enveloped in one of the suburbs that had in turn been devoured by Jefferson as it grew and sprawled out across the expanse of prairie turned farmland, now long buried under a bed of concrete, on which i
t had been founded.

  His family sat chattering in the background. A mall visit was a rare happening for them, to go there to live was surreal to say the least. Like living in a dream. George was telling everyone over and over about how he was going to visit the Jerky Hut and try single one of their flavors, even if it took him days. The man loved jerky.

  Jésus crested the final low rise between his home and the mall and slammed his foot onto the brake, throwing everyone forward against their seatbelts, stopping just beyond the summit. The mall parking lot was half full of peculiarly parked cars and crawling with moving figures and they weren’t fast enough to be alive. Just like the movie.

  “What’s happening Jésus? Why have we stopped so suddenly?” His mother asked from the back seat. He had told them that they would be safe if they got to the mall, now that clearly wasn’t true.

  “They got here before us mama.” There was a stunned silence and then the voices came all at once.

  “What are we going to do now?”

  “You said we’d be safe!”

  “We’re all going to die!” His niece and nephew started to scream, not comprehending what was wrong, only that something was amiss. Now what were they going to do?

  “Quiet!” He yelled. “This place is over run, so we find someplace else away from the city. If people become zombies, then we need to get away from all the people.” Simple and logical. He wondered how many other people had made the same discovery.

  He made a U-Turn right there and made their way back to the north. They would find a road around the mall that lead out to the open roads beyond the city. Jésus prayed that they would be at least partially free of the confused traffic that had congested the city itself.

  “Michelle, get the map out, lets find a route out of town that doesn’t use the main highways.” She dug around in the glove compartment until she located the sloppily folded map that George saved for the rare occasions that he was forced to venture beyond the comforting embrace of his home city. He had never been able to figure out how to get a map to return to its original shape after opening it the first time, even with several minutes of study. Michelle cursed as she tried to pry open the map as it tore along several poorly used fold lines

  “Ok,” She said as she straightened the map with her hands, pressing it against the dashboard. “Take a left on 117 up here to start with. Where do we want to end up?”

  “I’m not sure. I think a nice little farm town tow would work for a little while. Get us back out in the country.” Their family had been farmers and farm workers. The country was in their blood.

  They stopped around noontime to eat lunch at a small back road gas station. They had seen scant few other drivers out on the road, most of whom were traveling in the opposite direction as if they were going to try and sneak into Jefferson. Jésus tried to mull over what might push people to try and venture into the city with the situation as it currently was and came up with only a single logical answer. Family. Nothing else, that Jésus could see, would cause a rational human to put their hands into the hangman’s noose like that.

  Though on the other hand, maybe these people were no longer rational. Maybe the onset of plague subsequent collapse of human civilization had driven them insane.

  He looked down at his sandwich, random lunchmeat on white bread with generous helping mustard. Jésus suspected that his sister must have made this sandwich. The woman loved mustard, always had, so much so that she usually drowned her hotdogs in the spicy yellow sauce.

  He walked around the small parking lot stretching his legs. Their flight from the city had taken at least two hours after they arrived at the mall. The remainder of their time had been spent on the back roads. They would drive along the arrow straight lanes for a half hour at a time, only to come to a blockage caused by a wreck. From there they would backtrack and find a way around the pile-up.

  Jésus didn’t have a single clue where they were going. They were simply driving. Wandering, in hopes that they would stumble upon the Promised Land. If they kept moving, then they wouldn’t have to think.

  He tested the gas pumps, lifting the handle and giving the lever a squeeze, only to find that they had been switched off. Gasoline wasn’t a problem, yet. He and George had been siphoning gas from abandoned cars that they had come across. Food though, that would be harder to find. His mother and sister had only packed enough for lunch and a few snacks in between. The snacks were mostly for the kids. Jésus had gotten everyone so excited about the mall, and the safety that they would find when they arrived, that nobody had bothered planning further ahead than that afternoon.

  Jésus tossed aside the corner crust of bread, the last remainder of his sandwich and he peered into the gas station window. He lifted his hand to shade his eyes and help them adjust to the darkness within the store. The gas station was of the Shop-and-Go variety. A small convenience store that specialized in cold beverages mostly, but had cans of soup and boxes of donuts and other snacks too. He considered breaking through the glass and helping himself, but refrained himself. He knew his mother would never forgive him for that. Ignoring the government was bad enough, but theft Jésus? What has overcome you today? The last thing he needed was one of his mother’s lectures about how he was in need of God in his life.

  The sun had set an hour before and twilight was in full force. Stars were just beginning to appear along the eastern horizon. The farmhouse stood alone on the hill, though some outbuildings such as a shed and a large red barn were nearby. Hill wasn’t the right word, it was more of a minor mound, rising a few feet over the surrounding fields. Whatever one called it, in the vast, flat, farm country, the ridge and occupying house dominated the skyline, standing over tracts of trees that partitioned the individual fields. Jésus knew nothing of architecture prominent out in the country, even so, the house had a distinct air of age and tradition. Respect which was only slightly sullied by the strong odors arriving from the adjacent livestock farms. The building looked empty enough from the road for Jésus to venture closer.

  He pulled the van halfway into the driveway, put it into park and turned off the lights and engine. Jésus breathed a sigh of relief as he unbuckled the safety belt and opened the door into the cool night air. The crickets were out in full force. There were other sounds as well, a sort of singing chirp that rose over the crickets that he didn’t recognize.

  They had only come across a few zombies since arriving in the country, and most of those had been few and far between. Though, truth be told, he had avoided as many of the small towns as possible. Towns had people and, well the rest was obvious.

  Jésus stretched his back as he walked up the gravel driveway towards the house. There was a sudden flash from near the house and blast tore through the night, silencing, if only for a moment, the choir of chirping creatures. There was a shape on the porch, he could just make it out.

  The recesses of the warehouse were dimly lit. Windows near the top of the walls seemed to be covered in newspaper, filtering the light to make a distinct white haze. There was just enough light for Ash to make out the catwalk that ran around the perimeter wall, just below the windows. An unlit office stood at the top of a set of steel stairs on their right. The stairs also lead to the catwalk. They stood still for a moment, listening. Not a sound. Not even dripping water or the wind. Ash felt like he was dreaming.

  The roof was at least fifty feet high and it covered an area at least the size of a football field, it was supported columns of steel I-beams that were as big around as Ash’s waist. Heavy duty shelving units, similar to the ones used in hardware stores, ran in ordered rows along the rear half of the building and reached up into the darkness to brush the roof. These were packed with pallets and boxes. The rest of the smooth concrete floor was covered more pallets, arrayed to be randomly mazelike.

  Ash wasn’t the only soldier with his mouth hanging open at the sight. Anything could be hidden in
there.

  “Alright kids,” Sarge growled. “I know this isn’t what you’ve been trained for, we’re engineers, and reservists at that. But I think that as soldiers we can handle clearing some goddamned corpses out of this place. Don’t get itchy. Call out and check your targets. Remember, these things can’t shoot back and they’re slow as molasses in January. Just don’t let them get close. First squad, you’re with me, we’re taking the catwalk. Second squad has the right, third the middle and fourth the left hand side. Get on it. The captain and the rest of the company are waiting.”

  Sarge signaled his squad and led them up the stairs, leaving the rest of the platoon to carry out their orders. The sounds of boots striking concrete filled his ears, taking the place of the buzzing that the sudden silence had left.

  “White,” Ash said, “You take point, keep your eyes peeled for the zombies. I’m next. Then Schmidt and Tex. Avery, you bring up the rear. The rest of you keep your eyes out for our people.” They all followed his orders as if he had been in charge for years rather than hours. Quietly and efficiently. They were probably too scared and tired to bother making any trouble, realizing that the sooner they finished this sweep, the sooner they could take a break.

  White led them down what was roughly the centerline of the cavernous warehouse floor. He wound his way around the pallets, coming to dead ends, and forcing them all to backtrack and try a different route. The crates in places stood ten feet tall, blocking the even the meager light that the windows had allowed in. Tex tripped at virtually regular intervals as his boat sized boots caught on one of the wooden frames of any given pallet.

  After the sixth such incident Schmidt turned around and nearly screamed at the man, “I swear, if you do that again you clumsy ass, I’m going to deck you.”

  “I can’t help it, these fucking walkways are too narrow and it’s too damn dark.”

  Ash had finally had enough. “Enough you two. Shut the hell up and focus on your jobs or I’ll suggest to Sarge that you’ll be the assholes in charge of cleaning off the deuces. White, find us another way through this crap.” That kept them silent for a bout five minutes, until Tex tripped again. This time Schmidt merely grumbled a little and kept it to himself.

  Walking single file in the dark with no room to maneuver or fight was not the ideal way to hunt zombies. Not with a clumsy bastard like Tex tripping every fifth step. The phrase ‘A recipe for disaster’ went through his mind repeatedly. Ash had never had the chance to use it before, and even so, he didn’t feel like uttering it now. Wouldn’t do wonders for morale.

  They were stumbling along what looked like a clear path that was a little wider than the breadth of Avery’s massive shoulders when a burst of gunfire rang out from the darkness up ahead. Ash couldn’t determine how far ahead the shots had come from since the reports echoed across the walls, bouncing back and forth until it became a solid blanket of sound closing in from all directions at once. Up ahead in the dark, men were screaming incoherently, while a woman was yelling for a medic. “Shit. Let’s go see what the trouble is. Schmidt, do you have your medical pack with you?”

  “Yeah Ash I have it.”

  “Alright, let’s go then.”

  “We’ll need to find a way through this damn maze. It would be easier if we could see better, if it were one of those mazes on paper.”

  “On paper? That gives me an idea. Schmidt, we’re gonna boost you up onto the top of this pallet, you go ahead and find us a route through. Careful that you don’t trip and fall, we don’t need any more casualties. When you find the people calling for the medic, climb down and give them help, we’ll find the rest of the way ourselves.” The screams and calls for medic hadn’t lessened as they boosted White and he strode forward, pointing out clear and easy paths. Ash’s squad made better time with Schmidt on point, and it got him out of Ash’s ear so he didn’t have to listen to the man grumble anymore. A win-win situation as far as he was concerned.

  Schmidt quickly disappeared, leaving the squad on their own again with White in the lead to pick their path. The crying had died down, as had the calls for medic, leaving it obvious where Schmidt had gone. Even to Ash.

  When they arrived on the scene, they found Schmidt working on a wounded man, trying to stop his leg from bleeding. Two other’s lay on the ground, being attended to by other medics from the different squads on the floor. All three squads who had been ordered to scout the floor had merged once more into a mass of confusion.

  Sarge’s voice came in over the radio, silencing the noise around him as the soldiers stopped to listen. “What the hell is happening down there?”

  Ash responded. “I just got on the scene sir. Three men shot and wounded. None of them are ours.”

  “How did it happen corporal? The captain said to be careful.”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll ask around and then get back to you.”

  “You do that.” Ash looked around to see who was in charge. Cervantes from second squad seemed to be the highest ranked and in charge of the situation.

  “Ok, Cervantes, what the hell happened here with your people?”

  “I’m not sure, everything just came quickly. We heard someone moving in the shadows. Eric flashed the light, we saw something move. He yelled for them to freeze, that we were soldiers, they walked towards us, and didn’t say anything until they were shot then they started screaming, that’s when I called for the medic since ours was sick.” Eric was a tall man, probably about six foot two inches and with a pencil thin frame and toothpick arms. He was in his early thirties, the assistant manager of a Burger King in the real world. Ash got the feeling that he often treated his position in the reserves as being just a game, though since he had just hooked up with them, Ash couldn’t be sure, and didn’t dare voice his conclusions.

  “How do they look?”

  “The wounds don’t look too terrible, though that leg wound might have clipped an artery, it’s bleeding a lot. The medics say that they’ll be down for a while, but otherwise fine.”

  “Any idea who they are?”

  “Look like looters to me. Or gang members. They don’t belong here.”

  “Sarge, looks like we found some survivors.”

  “And then they got shot. Good work corporal.”

  “They came out of the dark, the private that we picked up at the private Martin told them to freeze and to declare themselves, they didn’t say nothing and kept on moving forward. The private opened fire to defend his-self from what he thought were zombies attacking him. We have the medics working on them now. Looks like he’s a lousy shot sir, he missed their heads.”

  “That’s probably why he ended up in the back of that truck in the first place. Will they continue to be survivors? Or are you just wasting your time?”

  “The medics say that they’ll be ok, though one wound might be serious. Should we get them out to the doc?”

  “Good idea corporal. Get that organized. Keep me informed. Get the squads back to scouting and make sure that they get a good look at what’s out there before they start shooting.”

  “Will do Sarge.” Ash returned his radio to the pouch on his belt. “Ok everyone. I need six people to take these men back to the doctor. The medics and four others. The rest of us will divide into two squads and get back to making our sweep. Cervantes you take charge of the first squad, I’ll take the second. Eric, you did the shooting, you get to help bear the load, you too White.” Ash let Cervantes chose the other two bearers and then send them off towards where they had entered the warehouse in the first place.

  Ash took charge of what was left of his squad and half of fourth squad, Cervantes took the other half of fourth squad and the rest of second. The entire company had been severely depleted in the last few days and manpower was at an all time low. Even in their short deployment overseas, the company had come away with fewer casualties, and they had come across some hairy firefights.

  Wi
th everything that they needed on the cart, and even more that they merely wanted, they started back to meet up again with Lynn and Douglas. They had only run into two zombies the entire time, both had been employees, clad in their dull green vests. They had probably been working at stocking the shelves when the shit had hit the fan, figuratively speaking of course. One was a very fat man with short blond hair and acne, the other was a tiny middle aged woman with grey lined black hair. Billy didn’t know either of them when they were alive and gladly killed them both now that they were dead.

  The Megamart store employees were expected to treat one another like family, but Billy didn’t take that too seriously and beyond Lynn and maybe a handful of others, he never bothered to really get to know many people that well. It showed with how he had handled the zombies outside, as well with the two that they found inside. Maybe he had had the right idea. It would be much worse to strike someone down who had once been a good friend. Jason was unsure if he could force himself to do that, all the bravado aside.

  Billy didn’t kill with any particular glee or relish that he had in the parking lot several minutes earlier. Jason thought that maybe the situation was finally beginning to sink in and the shock was beginning to wear off. Maybe Billy would act a bit more seriously from now on. Not bloody likely, but it had been a day of unexpected firsts all around, even Billy could change after all they’d seen come to pass. Or perhaps the novelty had already worn off. Who knew? Not Jason, and probably not even his friend.

  They reached the entrance to the staff break room just as Lynn and Douglas were returning with a cart heaping with food. Cans mostly, with some boxes. They would need to find an airtight box to store the boxes in, neither of the vehicles were waterproof.

  The lovers were arguing and looked as if they had been arguing for quite some time. “I just don’t understand why we have to load the truck up with all of this if we’re going to stay here.” He was having his say.

  “It’s for an emergency, we’re doing it in case we need to leave in a hurry.”

  “Why would we ever need to leave? This place has everything that we might ever need. I thought that we were going to stay here until it all blew over.”

  Lynn sighed and Billy rolled his eyes. “Nothing is certain, that is why you make backup plans.”

  “It just seems like a lot of useless extra work. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “What else do we have to occupy our time with these days? This needs to be done, so we are doing it.” With that they pulled their cart next to Billy and Jason’s. “Got everything on the list?”

  Billy was the first to respond “and how!” He started showing Lynn everything that they had picked up. Babbling about the items that he was most excited about. Sometimes Lynn reminded Jason of a worried mother who had to deal with a bunch of little children. Sometimes he even understood her attitude. Most often it was directed to either Billy or Douglas, he was spared most of her exasperated motherly sighs, most of the time. He wondered if she was aware of the whole situation and how she was responding. He wouldn’t be surprised if it had become a second nature to her after all of her years dealing with Billy and Douglas and their squabbling.

  Lynn turned her spotlight back on and led them through the break room and the back hall to the door. Billy put away his mace and readied his shotgun before signaling her forward. Jason followed them while Douglas stayed a respectful distance back. Jason was glad for once of Douglas’ cowardice since the hall was cramped enough with just the three of them. There would be just enough room for the three of them if anything went down. Any more people though and it could get confused and dangerous.

  They stood there in front of the door, getting ready for anything that they might see out there. Visions of seas of the undead, packed shoulder to shoulder and waiting flashed through their minds eye. They hesitated.

  Then Douglas spoke up “Why don’t we go up to the roof and take a look around first, just in case.” It was Billy’s turn to look flabbergasted, it was perhaps the first creative and intelligent suggestion that either of them ever heard. And it came from stiff old Douglas. Lynn on the other hand smiled at him and nodded in agreement. It was a good idea and good ideas were welcome no matter the source. Billy just shrugged his shoulders and followed Lynn and the rest.

  Lynn led them back out through the hall and then to the opposite end of the employee lounge. There, hidden in the back corner, was metal door that she told them lead up to the roof. It was locked. She knelt in front of the door and patted down her pockets for her lock-picking tools for a moment before Billy leaned over and handed her something that jingled when he moved. “Where did you find these at?” He didn’t answer her, he only leaned over and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Oh.” And a spreading look of sadness was her only response.

  Lynn wasted no time with tears, she would cry later when there was time. She quickly found the right key, it turned out to be the one labeled ‘roof’ and opened the door. They went single file up the steep and narrow metal stairway. The echoes of their footsteps announcing them long before they arrived.

  The roof was, for lack of any other descriptive words, huge. It had none of the aisles in the store to break it up into neat little rows and compartmentalize it, adding to the effect. With the exception of the skylights and some vents and air conditioners the surface roof went on uninterrupted all along the building’s length and width. A vast plateau of tar that was covered in a layer of small stones. Douglas had said that the stones were there to help rainfall drain by adding more surface area or something or other. The explanation didn’t make much sense to Jason, but neither did covering a store roof with small rocks in the first place. Billy looked like he though Douglas was completely full of it, but he still managed to hold his tongue.

  Lynn led them over to the edge right above the door into the loading dock. The stones crunched underneath their feet as they walked and Jason found the sensation strangely enjoyable, like walking on a beach. There weren’t any zombies crowding around the door. But several more of the undead had managed to work their way around the building and onto the street that led around the side of the store to the loading dock. Following the cars that had zipped by so few minutes before.

  Lynn nodded to herself, reassured that there would be no problems, if they didn’t goof around. Her mind was made obvious by how she glared at Billy. He didn’t seem to notice her hints, but he was never the master of picking up on the subtle.

  “They shouldn’t be too difficult to take care of when we get down there.”

  She was already started on her way back to the stairs when Billy looked as if he had the most wonderful idea in the history of the entire world. It was such a good idea that it pushed the ability to speak in rational or even coherent sentences, all he could managed to get out was a stream of monkey-like sounds. It also caused an ever widening grin to stretch across his features.

  In a move that surprised them all, Douglas was the first one to respond to Billy’s unintentional ape behavior, “Does Coco want a banana?”

  Now Jason had all seen everything, Douglas had a sense of humor and actually cracked a joke, it was truly the end of the world. Chalk another one up for the day of surprises. Still in his eloquent state of mind, Billy answered the barb by extending the middle finger on his right hand. Rather than trying to explain his great idea, Billy just bolted down the stairs, and then back up with his rifle in hand. There he sat down and started shooting at the zombies in the street below. Actions after all spoke louder than words, and Billy liked to speak as loudly as possible.

  His first shot hit a male zombie in the stomach hard enough to knock it down. Tearing a big hole in its torso and causing blood to pool underneath it as it struggled back to its feet as if nothing at all had happened. None of them expected it to stay down after getting hit, and were unsurprised when it finally managed to get up. His next shot shattered the thing’s skull, spilling gor
e out onto the road in a stream behind it before it crumpled to the pavement like a rag doll dropped by a small child. It didn’t get up after that. There were six more zombies that they could see, and Billy took them with one shot each.

  It seemed an elaborate and pointless waste of ammunition. One that might draw more attention than they wanted. It was just as easy to kill them one at a time using their swords, and Billy’s mace. At least until Billy explained why he had done it.

  “I just wanted to see if you actually needed to hit them in the head to kill them for good. Seems that you do I guess. It beats finding out the hard way when they’re nearby.” Billy ran his hand over his mace as if he was rather disappointed that he might not get another chance to use it that day. But he still looked rather pleased with himself for his forward thinking, even if it might ruin some fun later.

  “Good thinking.” Said Douglas with an appreciative nod. Miracle number two. When Jason’s heart started beating again he raised his hand and manually closed his jaw. Billy was hiding his surprise by reloading his rifle. After a moment or two of just standing around on the roof in silence, they all walked to the door and filed down back into the store.

  Loading their supplies took them about a half an hour, including the time they took to sort out their loot and divide it between each of the cars and get some plastic bins from inside to keep it all in. Jason made sure that each vehicle got a pair of walkie-talkies, a radio, extra batteries, a compass and a stack of maps. Everything that they would need if they had to escape in a hurry. They were back inside before they knew it, all without running into any of their new neighbors.

  The three men that Eric had shot were the only other living souls in the warehouse aside from a few rats scurrying around in the dark and the cats that had come in to feed on them. Ash and Cervantes met up at the rear of the building. “Sarge, we’ve finished our sweep, the place is clean.”

  “Good work corporal. There isn’t anything alive up here either. Though we’ll need to clean up a mess before it begins to really rot. I’ll report to the captain that we’re all clear, you and the rest of the people make your way around to the front, double time.”

  “Well you heard him, get moving people.” Ash slung his rifle and led the column at a jog to the front door where the captain and Sarge were waiting.

  “Excellent work lieutenant.” The captain said, surveying his troops. “Good work. I’m going to send first platoon into the next warehouse to the east. I want your platoon to stand guard and get some rest for when we next call on you. The plan is to clear out the district and make it our base of operations.”

  “Yes sir. Thank you sir.”

  “Did you take note of what was stored inside?”

  “Some sir. Mostly dry goods, a lot of tools and other hardware. Though the front right quarter seems to be full of bags of rice.”

  “Rice? Good. We’ll need that later. Well you’re dismissed. Enjoy your down time, it won’t last long. We have a lot of work ahead of us.”

  To Ash, the captain’s words were prophetic. The company spent the rest of the day sweeping the warehouses that lined the northern riverfront. Several large groups of zombies were destroyed and left to rot in the streets, though the doctor protested this course of action since the rotting corpses would bring disease. The captain didn’t seem to care and just ordered his soldiers on to the next objective.

  Nobody really knew what the captain had in mind. Not even Sarge. The man kept his mouth closed and his cards close to his chest. He chose the third or the fourth warehouse that the company had secured, Ash wasn’t sure about the exact progression of events that day, one warehouse was much like the next. Too much had happened, leaving him in a dizzy haze as his mind tried to either absorb the information or just dismiss it all together.

  The warehouse that the captain had finally settled on was the smallest of the lot. It also happened to be comparatively empty. The captain ordered all of the crates that were housed within, most of which were full of old high school textbooks, to be moved and placed along the perimeter. When he found that there weren’t enough to complete a circuit, he had more crates and pallets brought in from the building next door, until he had a full ring around the inside wall. Once again, nobody knew why he was doing this, and nobody bothered to ask. As far as Ash could tell, the captain was just making busy work for them to keep their minds off of all the shit that was coming down around their ears, he was grateful for it too.

  No one in the company had any better plans. It was a sad fact. They were way out of their league. The company was made up of fewer than fifty weekend warriors, half trained and poorly equipped and watching the end of civilization as it happened before their very eyes. Ash had heard more than one soldier mention ending it all right then and there.

  The captain offered his soldiers something to hang on to, something tangible, even if it didn’t make any sense to his troops. If nothing else, they were doing something, they had goals, and Ash hoped, plans to carry out. Even doing the wrong thing was better than sitting on your hands. Ash kept his head down, his mouth closed and got to work doing anything the captain or Sarge ordered.

  When they finally got the warehouse walls ringed with the crates and pallets, the captain finally revealed that portion of his plan. They were building a base camp and this would be their new barracks. He wanted them to shore up the walls from inside as best as they could manage with the materials that they had available. He wanted them to have a veritable fortress when shit finally hit the fan.

  The captain said that the city was in shock, and when the shock wore off, the shit was really going to hit the fan. The captain seemed to like that phrase and used it every chance he got. The company had to be ready for any inevitability. Any contingency. The captain said that his goals were simple. The company would survive and then impose order back onto the chaotic citizens, helping them rebuild civilization.

  In the following days, the company fortified their position further. Their morale renewed with their new sense of worth. The captain had an engineering company that had been substituted for riflemen when the situation became critical and numbers got spread too thin. They were engineers because in they as individuals had brought in training and skills from the real world when they joined up and the engineering company was where the brass had decided to stick them. Now they were doing the kind of work that they had been intended to do in the first place.

  They cut gun ports and murder holes in the walls at strategic points and mounted eight of the dozen M60s that they had salvaged. The other four they left for emergency use at hot spots should they ever boil up. They welded steel plates as a poor man’s armor around the gun ports to better protect the soldiers who manned the station. The walls were a bit thin and likely not to do much to hinder a bullet’s velocity. The company also constructed some crude sniper’s nests on the roof. The company didn’t have any real snipers, but the captain said that they train some in time, or perhaps recruit one or two.

  When the fortress was to his liking, the captain started organizing patrols. One platoon out each day, divided into two groups to cover more ground. They wandered the city on foot. Killing off any zombies that they encountered. The company blew through more than a thousand rounds the in the first four days and finally the captain ordered that small groups were to be taken hand to hand. Larger groups were to be avoided if at all possible.

  To carry out the captain’s orders for their change in the rules of engagement, the company made use of sporting equipment that they had found in one of the warehouses. The company took all of the baseball bats and golf clubs and turned them into weapons against the zombies. The captain left it the individual soldier to decide which he or she preferred. After just two weeks of fighting the undead, mostly up close and personal-like with a bludgeon in hand, morale began to rise once again after a sharp downfall when the orders came down that they would be cutting back on ammunit
ion use. The company was once more had goals to strive for. It also had showoffs among its numbers.

  Eric, the shooter, was one of them.

  Ash had been given command of two prior patrols and had done reasonably well. His people had killed over three hundred zombies in melee combat, no combat wasn’t the word, since the things didn’t fight back. Slaughter fit more, killing the things was like killing cows, except cows knew what was happening and tried to do something about their fate. They had beaten the zombies to death instead. They were becoming exterminators rather than soldiers.

  The highest point in pride for Ash was what he had done to help the people of the city with his patrols. His people had also saved more than fifty civilians and returned them back to the base. The captain was talking about promoting him to sergeant.

  What his dad would have said about hearing that, Ash would have liked to hear. Probably would have slapped him on the back, and given him a beer, Miller Highlife, for some reason his dad loved the Beast, before saying ‘Damn good job boy, yer mom an I are proud! More than we ever ‘spected from a knucklehead like you! Drink up!’ And then they would have gotten drunk together.

  He was feeling good. This was his third patrol, leading two squads numbering twelve soldiers in all and armed with their rifles and a mixture of the bats and clubs. A month ago they would have looked and felt ridiculous carrying the bats on a patrol through the streets of a major city. A month ago they wouldn’t even have been patrolling the streets. That would have been left to the real army, his company would have just been employed in the role of support unit. How life had changed.

  Ash couldn’t yet decide if the change was for the better or not. He was almost a sergeant after all, and had a certain amount of respect among his troops and the civilians. Life was a helluva lot more exciting these days. But then, Avery had mentioned the other day, ‘grand as all this is, nobody will be making any more video games or movies or writing books for a long time to come.’

  Books Ash could live without, he was never really fond of reading, not even the articles in Playboy. Though he did love to read automotive magazines. Video games television shows and movies though, were the lifeblood of his entertainment world.

  “What the hell are you doing on my property?” A voice from the shadows of the large wrap around deck yelled. Jésus’ hands went up over his head. His sister’s children started crying.

  “Sorry sir, we didn’t know that the house was inhabited. We’ll be on our way, if you don’t mind.”

  “Hold it right there, are you from the city?”

  “Yes sir, we came from there.”

  “What the hell is going on in there?”

  “I’m not sure, but according to the news, it’s happening all across the world.”

  “So it is, at least that’s what they do say. Now, why are you here?”

  “We were just looking for a place to sleep. We didn’t mean any harm.”

  “We? Ah, yes. How many you got in there with you? Sounds like a couple kids. Well, better come on in, we’ll get you something to eat.” George and Michelle were each holding one of the children. Jésus waved them to stay where they were, shrugged his shoulders and followed the shotgun wielding man through the door.

  The man led him to the living room, it was well lit with gas burning lamps. The curtains were all drawn tightly so that not so much as a glimmer of light would be perceived from the outside. The man turned around to face Jésus. He was clad in farmer’s overalls, though they appeared to brand new, as if he just liked the style. The man looked like he was in his mid thirties, light skin, dark hair and light eyes. Jésus would have hazard a guess that he was of German heritage, which was merely a safe guess considering that the German immigrants had most heavily settled the region in the previous centuries.

  “Where is the rest of your family?” The man asked, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

  “Well…”

  “You left them outside so that you could scout us out and make sure that we weren’t going to kill you and eat you like in Texas Chainsaw Massacre or something.”

  “Not in so many words, no.”

  “You really are city folk.” Jésus looked at his feet, ashamed of himself for insulting his host. “That’s ok, I lived in the city most of my life too, a real culture shock coming out here to the sticks, but we liked it so much that we dropped everything and left. Confused the hell out of the kids, let me tell you. To go from our high-tech modern lifestyle, to wannabe farmers. Just like that stupid show on the TV.” He yelled over his shoulder “Gretchen, we have company.”

  A slightly heavyset woman in jeans and a flannel shirt bustled down the stairs stopping as she reached the last step. “Jacob, that isn’t Henry, who is he?” She looked to be around ten years older than the man, though the familiar way that he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and rested his hand on her hip implied that they had been together for numerous years.

  “Well?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Jésus, and my family…”

  “Ah yes, your family, call them in, lets get them something to eat and some rest. I’ll bet you had one long day.”

  Jésus smiled at Jacob. A weary thanks. And turned to the door. His family was still standing around the van where he left them. He stepped out onto the porch and waved to them to come over. George stood on the sidewalk, slowly as if he were carefully considering what to do next. But only for a moment until their mother passed him by. Jésus took her by the hand and led her back inside, the others at his heels.

  Jacob and Gretchen were talking heatedly when he entered the room with his mother. Jésus stood in the doorway to the living room for a moment, waiting to be acknowledged and then cleared his throat. “This is my mother Selma, my sister and brother in law Michelle and George, their kids Christiana and George Jr. and my girlfriend Emily.” He pointed each family member in turn, receiving a glare from Emily. He would be hearing about her being introduced last the next time they were alone together. Likely everyone in a mile radius would be hearing about it too. Jésus sighed and tried to put his little faux pas out of his mind. He would deal with it when he had to and not before. She wasn’t family yet, and until she was, she wouldn’t be among the first introduced.

  Jacob smiled at them all, “Come, have a seat, all of you, you look exhausted.” He waved around to the couch and chairs.

  “Thank you sir,”

  “Call me Jacob my friend.”

  “Thank you Jacob, but we’ve been sitting in the car all day…” His mother tugged on his sleeve. “Yes, I know mama! Where is your bathroom please?”

  “Ah yes, of course. We don’t have a bathroom at the moment, but the outhouse is out back.” Emily gasped, she was a city girl through and through, and Jésus doubted that she had ever expected to visit a home without working plumbing. How rustic. Jacob picked up one of the lanterns that was sitting on the end table and led them through the dining room and out the back door.

  “We were in the middle of remodeling the house, and well, we haven’t gotten the bathroom back together yet. Getting up in the middle of the night to take a walk out to the outhouse makes you appreciate all the wonders of modern civilization let me tell you. Anyway, here it is. We’ll be back inside when you’re done. There’s a bottle of sanitizer on the…well you’ll find it.” With that Jacob turned around and walked back to his house.

  Jésus studied the outhouse as he waited his turn. For all of him, the tiny structure looked as if it had been built before the civil war. He was amazed that it was still standing. The outhouse made of wood, weathered grey boards and looked not much different than the artists interpretations in the funny-pages in the newspaper. After his turn came and went, Jésus had one clear assumption about the family inside the farmhouse, they really loved living in the country. Because you would have to really and truly love a place to be willing to deal with an outhouse on a day-to-day basis. The smell. T
he splinters. The bugs. He must have been bitten, in rather sensitive areas, by twenty different kids of bugs. Some he couldn’t even name. The fact that they had to go outside. He didn’t want to imagine what winter would be like out here, in the middle of the night in winter, in a blizzard.

  But then, George came out and said that it was really cool. Michelle started at the man as if she had never seen him before and his mother asked God to protect her from crazy people.

  Jésus left his family behind and returned to the house. Jacob was standing over a kettle full of stew as it was heating on the stove and Gretchen was slicing bread. An actual solid loaf of bread that hadn’t been pre-sliced. Even his mother, as much as she often tried to cling to some of the old traditions, had always bought Wonderbread from the supermarket. He watched her as she worked, fascinated.

  “We’ve been waiting for our son and his family to come out from the city.” Gretchen said as she worked. “Jacob thought that you were them when you pulled up. When you turned out to be strangers, well, we’ve seen some unpleasant things on the news lately.”

  “The city was pretty messed up for us. A lot of zombies all over the place. We had to backtrack several times, and we avoided the highways in and out of Jefferson. The government had soldiers blockading all the major highways. But it was easy to get out using the minor roads.”

  “Where were you all headed in the first place? The government declared martial law.”

  “Well we stayed home until the television stations stopped broadcasting. By then, the street in front of our house was beginning to overflow with the zombies, so I suggested that we head to the mall.”

  “Like in that movie. Good idea.”

  “Thanks sir, that’s what I thought.”

  Gretchen piled the bread onto a platter and asked “What movie?”

  “Something of the dead, it’s about a group of people who hide in a mall when the apocalypse comes and the dead start rising and eating people. Rather like the other day actually. Well what happened at the mall?”

  “The creatures got there first. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands of them. We decided to go somewhere else.”

  “That must have been disappointing.”

  “I’ll say, George spent the last three hours complaining that he never got to visit the Jerky Hut.” That brought a laugh from both Gretchen and Jacob.

  “A fan of jerky is he? A man after my own heart. I have some he can try.”

  “You do that, and you might never get rid of him.” The statement brought an expression that was both sad and guarded. Jésus suspected that there was going to be some bad news in the future. That’d be a switch, he thought darkly.

  The rest of his family joined them, standing in the door, waiting to be invited back in. Gretchen waved them in and over to the table. It was a solid piece of furniture meant to seat at least ten. Jésus admired the wonderfully carved feet as his family chattered, asking and answering questions of their hosts.

  During the meal, George offered to help them install their bathroom fixtures, when he found out that everything was ready and waiting for the plumber to arrive. He said it was the least he could do. Jésus, knowing next to nothing about plumbing in general found himself dragged into assisting. George tended to ignore the fact that Jésus was near useless around tools, his brother in law just liked to pull him into similar projects whenever he had the chance. A chance to bond, he said.

  Dinner came and went. The bread and stew were delicious, his mother asked for the recipes for each, both of which were freely given. They sat in silence for a while as Michelle and Selma put the kids to sleep.

  Gretchen broke the silence, “This meal was meant for our son, his wife and our grandchildren. They called and said that they would be here tonight. We had hoped that they would be here sooner. We’ve been worried about them.” Jacob leaned over and took his wife’s hand and gave it a squeeze. A simple gesture that seemed to convey fear, and hope within the same breath. Jésus himself felt worried for this kind couple’s son, daughter and grandchildren.

  “Don’t worry, they’ll make it. The roads were a little difficult, but not that bad. They probably just had to find a way through.”

  Jacob made a sad half smile. “If, no, when they do arrive. Uh, well.” It was the first time all evening that Jésus had seen their host struggle for words.

  “When they get here, your home will be to crowded and it’ll be about time for us to move on.” Jacob and Gretchen sent him thankful looks. These were hard times, and it would be difficult enough to take care of their own. They wouldn’t be able to manage with all the extra mouths. Even so, Jésus was thankful for what they had given him and his family. An island of respite in turbulent seas. “Until then, do you mind if we cool our heels? We need to get our heads straight and figure out where to go next. We’ll be glad to help out with the chores.”

  “That, I think is very fair. Besides, we can use some company way out here anyhow.”

  They spent the rest of the night talking. Movies, television shows and books. His mother sat quietly knitting as the conversation flowed around her until they broached the topic of religion. She was eternally trying to convert people to what she saw as the only true religion, Roman Catholicism. She was fervent, though no blind zealot, in her attempts to bring people around to sharing her beliefs. In Jésus’ mind, with her kindness, patience and generosity, she better represented his namesake than all the priests in the church. Though she lacked the experience or education, she was a fine missionary, at least to those who hadn’t made up their mind. She was passionate about this one aspect of life, and that had been embarrassing when he was growing up.

  Gretchen was an ex-Lutheran according to Jacob. She hit him when he named her so and he said “What was that for? You haven’t been to church since before we got married!” Still, she held herself as a Lutheran and was fairly certain in her faith. She and Selma got into a long and pleasant discussion about their views of Christianity, one that they would rehash in the days to come.

  Jacob on the other hand proclaimed himself a Pagan, who was fond of smoking marijuana and dancing nude around the bible fire until Gretchen hit him on the shoulder a second time and told him to behave as Selma gasped and crossed herself before saying a quick prayer. The two women returned to their animated discussion.

  He really was a Pagan, that was no joke, but he enjoyed making the non-Pagans uncomfortable in their ignorance whenever possible. Jésus found the sentiment amusing. The humor passed well over his brother in law’s head and George then asked, “Do you ever sacrifice goats?”

  Jacob smiled, “Yes, but only when we can’t get a hold of children.” Gretchen hit him again, though it seemed to be more of a reflex since she and Selma had by that time moved onto the relevance of a priesthood in worship and communion with God. Jacob laughed. “Mostly we, or rather I, pay homage to nature. There isn’t really a single set of beliefs for all Pagans. The group just got lumped together by the outside world. You just make it fit how you like and take the meaning you can from life. I honestly doubt I’m even really a Pagan, I just like to call myself one because it sounds cool, and it pissed my folks off. In the end, all religion happens to be is a set of beliefs to make life easier to deal with. Some order and structure in the universe, a way to explain why things are as they are.”

  “What were your parents?”

  “They were strict fundamentalist Evangelicals. Frighteningly so. I rebelled from that in college. I haven’t spoken to them since they found out that my kids and grandkids read the Harry Potter books. Things got even worse between us when they found out that I owned a copy of the series myself. ‘Harry Potter lures kids away from Jesus’ they said. So I said ‘Mom, Dad, I’m a Pagan remember.”

  Jacob laughed and shook his head, a wry grin spread across his lips as he recalled the conversation. “Well, they just didn’t get it. I didn’t even receive the brunt of t
heir anger, that was Gretchen, after all Gretch is still a good Christian girl in their eyes, even if she wasn’t an Evangelical. She failed them big time as far as they’re concerned.”

  Jésus had to admit, the whole Christian far right both fascinated and confused him. “I’ve never met any Evangelicals. A few Pagans were on campus, so I got to see them. But none of the Christian far right. Everyone back in my neighborhood was Catholic, if in name only.”

  Jacob shook his head again and grinned. Amusement was glittering in his eyes. “Saw some Pagans, you make us sound like a circus side show.”

  “For me, they were. Not nearly as cool as the first time I saw a couple honest to God lesbians when I was fifteen. That was a major highlight of my teen years.” Jacob laughed while Emily rolled her eyes. She had become used to his lesbian story, as lame as it was.

  Jacob chuckled again. “Lesbians,” he said again with a smile and a sigh. The conversation lulled for a few moments, leaving Jésus to think about his first lesbian encounter, and all the late nights it led to, before Jacob returned with a request. “I do have one question for you about your trip,” he said, “if you wouldn’t mind answering me.”

  “Ok, ask and I’ll do my best.”

  “Did you see any empty piles of clothes in the streets?”

  Jésus was confused by the question, but he conferred with Emily and George and they all agreed that they hadn’t seen any such sight between here and their home. They said so. “Ah then, must not be the rapture. My folks, if they are still alive, will be disappointed to see that. They were certain that the rapture would be coming soon. Guess they got it all wrong this time. Even so, I bet that they won’t ever admit some sort of error on their part and still blindly condemn evolution and Harry Potter. It’s just the kind of people they are. Never willing to surrender, or even adapt, straight forward even if it means driving into a brick wall. I always figured that they would die out eventually. I just believed that the world would be going along afterwards.”

  The conversation eventually tapered off as everyone, grew weary of talk. Jacob showed everyone where they could sleep. Gretchen and Selma stayed on long after, talking and quoting the bible. The next morning Jésus wondered if they ever bothered going to bed, since when he woke up, they were in the same seats as they had been the night before. Likely his mother had slept in one of the reclining chairs in the living room, if at all. In her mind, the less walking the better.

  Coffee cups in hand and heads bent together in conversation. He never knew that his mother was so fascinated with religion. Devout, yes, but not so obsessively so. Still, it was good that she found a friend who shared her interest. Jésus just hoped that they didn’t decide to start a doomsday cult, as now would be the ideal time to do so.

  Jésus chuckled at the thought of his mother leading a doomsday cult.

  Breakfast was simple but filling, scrambled eggs and toast. A couple different varieties of cold cereal for anyone who wanted it, which meant his niece and nephew. They carried a passion for eating cold cereal every morning that only possible with young kids.

  After breakfast, George led the men up to the bathroom to take a close look at the mess that awaited them. The bathroom was pure chaos as near as Jésus could discern. The floor had been finished for some time, but all the fixtures, from the bathtub to the sink, were still in their boxes. George grinned, he was in his element. It was now Jésus’ turn to be the big dumb one for a change.

  They unwrapped the fixtures and sweated their way through the morning until it was lunchtime when they treated themselves to a refreshment break of sandwiches and iced tea. Very satisfying after a morning of labor. The afternoon saw the tub installed. Jésus would have expected that the toilet would have been the first priority, but George explained that the bathtub would need to be in first so it could be fit into place with no real trouble. The toilet would be in the way if they installed it first. Jacob fully backed George’s suggested order of installation. Neither he nor Gretchen had had a nice hot bath at home for over a month now.

  It was early afternoon. Lynn and Douglas were off alone enjoying some couple time after they finished their wonderful meal of canned soup and peanut butter sandwiches. It was their first meal in their new home. The food was going to get boring very quickly, but it would still beat slowly starving to death. Jason and Billy were walking in circles around the store, looking for something to do to fend off the boredom that would soon begin to creep up on them. Jason was counting off his strides against the tiles on the floor, he was doing about two and a half tiles per step, just a little longer than Billy.

  It took three circuits before they finally tired of walking around in circles and not finding anything new in the store that they hadn’t seen before, no secret doors or passages, no new zombies. They lingered for a few minutes at the front entrance. The hordes were pressing in, packing one another in tightly. Jason shivered as he imagined what would happen if that glass ever broke and the safety gates ever came down.

  Jason shook his head in awe “how many do you think are out there?”

  “I dunno, more than the two hundred that I actually counted earlier.”

  “We need to actually count them or something.”

  “Maybe tonight, if I can’t get to sleep.”

  “I still want a better estimate, if not exact numbers.”

  “What for?”

  “I want to know what we’re up against here man.”

  “Good idea, lets go take a look at them from the roof.”

  Billy grabbed his rifle from the employee break room as they passed the table that he had left it on earlier, and then left it leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs just inside the doorway. It was a short walk across the roof of the building, from the stairs to the front door. They made much longer than necessary though, by the detours for them to look into the building the skylights out of curiosity over what the store looked like from above. There were a sea of colors that probably would have been far more interesting had the lights been on inside.

  The two of them stood over the main entrance silently for several long minutes looking down on the sizable crowd of zombies that were milling around outside their front door. Their numbers had grown significantly since the group of survivors had arrived at the store just a few short hours prior. Most of the zombies were at the door, but more were crossing the parking lot as they watched, and even more of the creatures stumbled down the road towards the Megamart.

  “Maybe we should bring in the welcome mat.” Billy quipped as he counted the zombies. “Ya know, before more decide to stop by.”

  Chuckling over the idiocy of the statement Jason couldn’t help himself from tossing out a rejoinder. “I think it’s too late for that. Do you think that they’d go away if we pretended that we weren’t home?”

  “It never worked for my family, and they’re all about as smart as those bastards down there, I don’t think it would work now. Stupid zombies.”

  “Yep, that they are.”

  It was eerie how accurate the movies had been about the nature of zombies. First, the whole ‘destroying their brain’ thing was important, as Billy had found out earlier when he tested his rifle. Second they did seem to want to congregate at places that they had known in life. Since it wasn’t likely that they were too interested in the insane low prices that the Megamart had claimed to offer. Thirdly there was the whole eating of the flesh of the living thing. They ignored one another but experience told him that the undead were more interested in the living than was healthy for anyone who could still draw a breath and remember their name.

  Billy picked up one of the rocks that was sitting on the rooftop and then heaved it as far as he could. It was difficult to be sure what he was aiming at, but unless it was the ground, he missed by a long way. Even Lynn had loved to tease him that he wouldn’t be able to hit the ground if it weren’t for gravity. Two more stones followed, clattering on th
e pavement, before he finally managed to hit the windshield on one of the cars.

  “Nice throw,” well he had managed to hit something anyways. Though the look on his face suggested that the car wasn’t his intended target.

  “I was aiming for the fat lady in the flower dress.”

  “How do you miss a target that big? By that much?” The fat woman was at least twenty feet over to the left of the car.

  “Think you can do better?”

  “Couldn’t do much worse.”

  Billy just grabbed more stones and kept on throwing. He was erratic at best, some stones would come within perhaps ten feet of the fat woman, while others wouldn’t be anywhere near her. Really. He would have been further ahead to walk over to the back of the building and drop one of the stones straight down. It was sad.

  Jason joined in. He scored his first hit on the fat woman after five tries, it bounced off of her shoulder and made her stumble a bit. It was a good throw, one which only made Billy throw harder and miss wider. Twenty more throws and Jason connected with her head, which was good because by then his arm was beginning to ache. The fat woman went down like a sack of bricks.

  Billy looked a bit peeved as Jason grinned at him. Then he just shrugged and sat down with his legs draping over the edge. They watched the zombies for several more minutes in silence once again, just enjoying the warm afternoon in the late part of the spring. Finally Billy spoke up.

  “Hey Jason, you’ve seen Braveheart right?”

  “Yeah, we watched it together like a few months ago.” For probably the twentieth time. But it was how Billy started conversations that involved new and potentially dangerous ideas.

  “You remember the castle siege scene?”

  “Yeah.” Billy just grinned, it was obvious that he wanted Jason to guess what was on his mind. “I give up man, what did you think of this time?”

  “Well it just occurred to me that we have a lot of heavy objects that we’ll never need. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to drop a five thousand dollar television onto someone from a rooftop?” Now it was Jason’s turn to grin. If Lynn were completely deaf but standing on the roof with them, she would have known instantly that something stupid was about to happen just by the way that they were grinning at one another. Jason was convinced that even though she wasn’t there, she was still getting an itch between the shoulder blades to warn her. Women’s intuition she had called it. Douglas had called it the stupidity detector.

  Both were probably dead on descriptions.

  “I can’t say that that has ever crossed my imagination, but you have my curiosity peaked.”

  “In the name of science then?”

  “You going to take notes on it?”

  “Hell no!”

  “Maybe not in the name of science then, if it were for science we’d have to do it right and document it somehow.”

  “Well how about using some camcorders?”

  “Do we have any?” Science after all needed to know such things as the effect an expensive television had when falling off of a store roof on top of a walking corpse. Science needed to know everything.

  “Brother, we have everything.”

  They did have everything. Jason and Billy spent an hour in the electronics department, they ended up with five video cameras, batteries and casettes for each camera and three tripods. They also grabbed some lumber and rope so that they could lower one of the cameras down over the edge and get a zombie eye view of the carnage. They loaded all the cameras with batteries and film and then tested each one to make sure it worked and to make doubly sure that they knew how to use them. The exercise wouldn’t be entirely wasted if the cameras didn’t work out, but they wouldn’t have a kick ass souvenir and that would dim the experience a little.

  It took them about ten minutes to get all of the cameras set up how they wanted them. They had two cameras on the roof, mounted on tripods and pointed down at the crowd below. They had a third camera on a tripod, ready to be lowered to the ground before they started their experiment. The last two cameras they were going to hold in their hands. Everything up there was ready. It was back into the store to find things that would be fun to drop.

  The very first place they stopped at was the storeroom for one of the giant projection televisions. They had finally wrestled the thing out of the protective cardboard wrapping and onto the cart that they had dragged with them before something finally occurred to Jason “Wait a minute, how are we going to get this thing up to the roof?” There was no way that the two of them were going to carry it up that narrow stairway.

  “We’ll take the service elevator in the back of this store room.”

  “There’s an elevator?”

  “Yep.”

  “To the roof?”

  “Yep.”

  “What for?”

  “I asked that once, they use it when they need to do repairs on the roof.”

  “I guess that makes sense.”

  “I even have the key for the elevator.”

  “Then what are we waiting for? Wait a minute. How will the thing work without power?”

  “It’s on a backup generator.”

  “By itself?”

  “Pretty much, there are generators for the rest of the building, but it looks like they’re offline.”

  “How do we know if the backup generator is running?”

  “We push the button, if the elevator goes up, the generator is working.”

  “Should I be worried here?”

  “Only if you’re claustrophobic.”

  “And if the generator is off?”

  “Then we have a choice to make.”

  “And that being?”

  “How much do we want to drop a television off the roof. Those things are heavy and the stairs are not the best for moving heavy furniture.”

  “That’s an easy one. I don’t want to see it happen that badly.”

  “Lazy bastard.”

  “And how.”

  “Come on, let’s go.”

  They pulled the cart to the back of the storage area, and true enough there was an elevator and even more surprisingly Billy had the key for it. They strapped the television onto the cart to get it ready for the rough ride it was about to take over the stone covered roof and then took it up. Jason had thought that getting the television onto the cart in the first place was difficult, getting it to roll over the stones was ten times worse. After a lot of sweat and more cursing, they made it to the spot that stood over the main entrance to the store below. Finally they got the television off the cart and onto the edge of the roof and in position to be pushed.

  “Before we go farther, how do we want to do this?” Jason mopped the sweat off his forehead. He hadn’t noticed before how warm the weather was that day, but he was noticing it now.

  “Well, we turn the cameras on and then we push it, I thought that was pretty simple.”

  “I mean how do we want it to land?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well we want to see what happens to people who have a big TV dropped on them, but do we want it to land face down on them or on it’s side?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. Good question. We could try both.”

  Jason exhaled suddenly “forget I asked.”

  “Come on, where’s your sense of curiosity?”

  “It was leeched out of me by that death march we just made across the roof.”

  Getting the second television across the roof was even more draining than the first. Though they knew what they were up against the second time around, and had worked out a system to make it easier on themselves, they were still tired from dragging the first one. When they finally got it into position next to its brother they both flopped down into the shade and heaved a sign of relief. It was at least half an hour before they were ready to move again in the slightest.

  “Well what else do you think we should get to throw before we get started?�
�� Asked Billy in a slow sleepy voice.

  “I don’t know, I guess we should look around the store again, maybe things like bowling balls and whatever.”

  “Wait a minute.”

  “What?”

  “I just had a kick ass idea!”

  “You don’t want to throw Douglas do you?”

  “Even better but no. But very close. Remember how Lynn suggested we get rid to the zombies we killed inside?”

  “Oh damn. You’re not suggesting…”

  “Yes I am.”

  “God is going to kill us for sure.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know, but the idea seems so wrong.”

  “That is why we need to do it.”

  “All right. But when we get to hell, I don’t know you” They lazily got up to their feet and walked slowly back to the elevator, dragging the cart with them.

  They ended up bringing back four bodies, several bowling balls and a couple of smaller televisions (when Billy realized that the big televisions didn’t have glass and wouldn’t explode when they hit the ground). The strangest thing that they brought back up was a dancing Santa Claus display that Billy insisted upon throwing off the roof, it seemed that the thing had annoyed him to no end and now he was going to make it pay for being so irritating. It went first, in the hope that it would help to break the television’s fall. If only in a minor and symbolic way.

  They turned on all the cameras and got into their positions. Billy was grinning ear to ear by the time they stood behind the first television set and got ready to push. “On three” said Jason as they got ready, he counted down from three and they gave a heave on the TV. It sailed off the roof. It was one of those special slow motion moments, the magical kind that normal folks might experience when they’re in the arms of their true love. Floating through the air for what seemed like minutes before it finally and very suddenly hit. Crossing between the roof and the zombies below so quickly that it was as if it had folded the space between.

  It had flipped end over end and landed screen side down. The crash and sickening crunching sound that followed when it hit was astounding. It had crushed at least a dozen or so zombies under its weight.

  Billy was giggling like a lunatic, which wasn’t a surprise, breaking things was fun, Jason himself had a good chuckle at the sight below. He was disappointed to see that some of the zombies under the television were still squirming under the weight of the television that sat on top of them. Jason had hoped that they had killed all of the creatures. Everyone that might be crushed was one less that they might have to hack to pieces later. The zombies around the television were completely oblivious to it’s being there, with some of them climbing onto it in an attempt to get closer to the door.

  “Ready for the second one?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  They got behind the second TV and got ready to push. This one should do some more damaged to the ones it managed to fall on, as well as break apart better since it was going to land on it’s side. It had been situated several feet further down the roof from the first. They wanted a fresh batch of the corpses for the second experiment. They eased the set slowly over the edge, tipping it and watching it slide the rest of the way on it’s own.

  It hit, and made and even more spectacular crash than the first. It also turned the three or four zombies that were unfortunate enough to be under it into some greasy stains on the concrete. The entire front side of the television had come out, leaving the shell of the set empty. It was as thoroughly broken as the bodies underneath it.

  “I think there’s a medical term for what happened to them.”

  “Oh? What is it?”

  “Aunt-Jemimahed.”

  “Medical did you say?”

  “Yep.”

  “Ok doc, whatever you say. Looks like we got our answer though.”

  “What was that?”

  “Well the TV breaks, and so does what-ever happens to be standing underneath playing outfielder at the time.”

  “Gravity is a terrible mistress.” Said Billy with the grin still in place.

  “Only when you’re standing under a falling television.”

  “Too bad we don’t have any dishwashers, or better yet, a piano.”

  “A piano, no, the televisions were hard enough to drag across the roof. A piano would be nearly impossible.” Just thinking about it made Jason tired.

  “But think of the damage it would do and the sound it would make as all the wires broke. It would be like watching a cartoon.”

  “If you could get some cartoon characters to haul the thing I’d be all for it. Else you’re on your own bud.”

  “Just what the hell are you two doing?” The both jumped strait up in the air and spun around in time to see Lynn storm across the rooftop with Douglas a little ways behind her. She didn’t look too pleased. Retrospectively, Jason had been amazed that she hadn’t come when the crash of the first television rang through the store. But she was here now. “Well?” Nope, she was not happy at all. Best to let Billy answer.

  He prodded Billy in the ribs with his elbow, silently willing his friend to talk. “We’re running experiments involving gravity and heavy objects.”

  “You could have fooled me, here I thought you were just dropping things off the roof.”

  “That involves gravity.”

  “And the objects were heavy.” Chimed in Jason.

  “What did you drop?”

  “You know those big projection televisions that we thought we’d never unload?”

  “Oh no.”

  “We finally unloaded them.”

  Lynn walked the rest of the way over to them and looked over the edge at the remains of the two giant televisions and the zombies that broke their fall. She shook her head in disbelief. Douglas joined her and Jason was amazed when he stifled a laugh himself. “Billy, what possessed you to do this?”

  “The violence on television warped my innocent mind and made me do it.” Lynn just stared at him, she didn’t bother responding after a moment of her intense scrutiny he cracked. “What else were we going to do with the televisions? We had them, it was something to do and we killed some zombies at the same time. What’s the big deal?”

  Lynn turned to Jason “Why didn’t you put a stop to it? I thought you had sense.”

  “He brainwashed me and programmed me for evil, I couldn’t stop myself. Thank God you’re here to stop his evil plans.”

  There were many long, convoluted and interesting conversations that followed through the next few days in their life on the farm. Jacob had been a scholar of some sorts before. Jésus could never quite pin him down as to where his specialty was or even what fields he studied. The man seemed to be a Jack-of-all-trades and was more than willing to read about, or more likely to discuss just about any topic imaginable. Though he did have some strange ideas. The moon was made of cheese! And how do you know it wasn’t? Have you ever been there? Ah, so you can’t say for sure that the moon isn’t made of cheese.

  He was filled to the figurative brim with predictions about which direction follow human civilization would take next, most of them dark and unpleasant. Tiny city states would spring up where survivors could band together and then go to war with their neighbors over food or women or whatever.

  He went on with great elaborate detail until Gretchen leaned in and said “You know where he got all that?” With an answering headshake from Jésus and George she added, “from the Mad Max movies. He watched them every time they came the television, didn’t matter which channel, or even if they were already half over when he found them. Don’t take his dire predictions too seriously boys, they’re culled from movies.”

  Midway through their third day staying on the farm with Jacob and Gretchen, their son Henry and his family made their appearance. George was just applying the final bead of caulk to the last little gap between the toilet and the floor tiles when a battered
SUV pulled up into the driveway behind their van and stopped. Gretchen yelled up the stairs “Jacob! They’re here!” Letting the bang from the screen door as she ran out of the house punctuate the statement.

  Jacob was on his feet and down the stairs before George could set aside the caulk gun and rise to his feet. Sounds of relief and joy met them as they followed Jacob down the stairs. Gretchen was crying and laughing at the same time.

  Jésus watched the spectacle from the safety of the front porch. After three days with Jacob and his stories about his family, Jésus felt as if he knew Henry already, sight unseen. But he knew his familiarity was an illusion at best and a conceit at worst. No matter, the reunion was a time for family and there was no need for his intrusion.

  He hated to admit it, but he had been hoping that Henry and his family wouldn’t be showing up, while reassuring Jacob that they would arrive at any minute. Their appearance meant that his family had now been displaced from a happy and safe home. His entire family, himself included, was about to be disappointed and cut loose once again.

  Jacob had been right. The house wouldn’t fit any more people. Michelle and George were sharing a bedroom with their children. While he and Emily had the other. His mother stayed and slept on the couch down stairs. Any more people would be forced out into the yard.

  Jésus leaned against the outer wall, his hands crossed behind his back, and waited. With a few more minutes of hugging and crying, Jacob led his family towards the house.

  “Henry,” He said as he mounted the steps “I would like you to meet our friend Jésus. He and his family accidentally found us a few nights ago and have been staying here since.” Jésus offered his hand to Henry, and had it nearly crushed as the man took it and gave it a shake.

  A sneer flickered across his face and was gone in an instant. “Pleased to meet you Jésus,” Henry said as he passed into the house. “So dad, you got some illegals to help you and mom out with the house did you?”

  Jésus jaw dropped in surprise. After living with Jacob and Gretchen and hearing the stories about their son, he had heightened expectations. The handshake and the ghost of the sneer he could pass off as part of his own active imagination, but his comment, that was just too blatant to ignore.

  Jacob looked furious as his bored into the retreating back of his son. “He’s gotten worse.”

  “Worse?”

  “He spent far too much time with his step-father as a boy. That’s where he learned that crap from. I tried to tone it down as much as I could, but as you can see, the damage has been done. That was just the most minor tip of the ice burg. He gets far more unpleasant when he’s been drinking. Rachel, his wife, said that he’s been drinking a lot the last few days, which is why they were so late, they waited each morning until he was sober enough to drive and then when they were done driving at night, he would get drunk again.” Jésus could only shake his head again.

  “After spending this time in the pleasant company of you and Gretchen, and hearing the stories, I must say that I’m shocked.”

  “We probably should have mentioned his little foibles.” Jacob grimaced as his mouth formed the word ‘foibles’. “No,” he said. “The boy is defected. But he’s mine. And his wife and children are still wonderful people. We’re not sure how that happened. I guess you can plainly see why we’re so very reluctant to have company while he’s here. Even some so pleasant as your own. Gretchen has really taken to Selma.”

  “As my dad used to say, some times the apple falls far from the tree.”

  “That it does. A wise man, your dad. A wise man. Well hell, lets go get some dinner, have one last good meal together.”

  “We’re thankful for everything you’ve done for us.” Jacob surprised Jésus by giving him a rib creaking hug and patting him on the back before following Henry indoors. Jésus was so startled by the sudden display of warmth, that he went rigid and was immediately worried that his friend would take it as a sign of non-existent anger.

  Dinner was fantastic. The women had worked to out do themselves. Normally at home, Selma took the roll of master chef, while she enlisted everyone else to work under her expert direction. They had adopted a similar tradition here, though it was devoid of men. Nobody really took charge either, they just seemed to form some strange committee on which they all sat. Even the newcomer, Rachel, Henry’s wife, had full membership to their club. Girls time, they called it and they sent the men back up to upstairs to put the finishing touches on the bathroom. When Jésus, Jacob and George were once again summoned (Henry had opted to stay in the living room), they arrived to a true feast.

  Aside from a few snide remarks about Mexicans by Henry, all of which either Rachel or Jacob immediately stepped upon, the conversation was lively and fun. The kids were all about the same age and had a ball running around outside and screaming like maniacs. Jacob grinned, he liked having little kids around he said. “At least the neighbors can’t call and complain about the noise.”

  Lynn just gave up. You can’t fight city hall, or a hurricane or a runaway freight train. Billy was all three at once, minus the city hall. It was best to just get out of the way and hope for the best. “Ok, ok. Just don’t make too much noise, you’ll attract attention.” Realizing how stupid that request was, Lynn turned around to walk back into the store. Before she followed Douglas down the stairs she stopped and turned to face them again, “I almost forgot why we came up here in the first place, aside from the huge crashing sounds, take these.” She handed them each a walkie-talkie and then turned around and walked back into the building again with Douglas at her heels. “Channel four,” she called out as she disappeared through the doorway.

  “Brainwashed eh? If that’s the case, want to go get me a beer?”

  “Not really, I was saved from that fate by our beloved Lynn, oh savior mine.” They both giggled like twelve-year-old girls sharing a secret at a slumber party.

  “Well what do you want to throw off next?”

  “I would like to hear why you hate that Santa Claus so much.” Jason leaned over the cart looked down at the Santa Claus below. It was about two feet tall and made of plastic, with some felt cloth as clothing. The only feature that set it apart really from any other Santa decoration was the black sunglasses that covered its eyes. “I don’t see why it’s so annoying.”

  Billy leaned over the edge and clapped his hands twice. The Santa came to life. Billy set looked down at the thing and glared. The Santa stood there for a moment before fully coming to life, when it started to sing and dance. It’s hips swayed to the tune of a bastardized Elvis song and then when Jason thought it couldn’t get any worse the thing started singing. He stared for a full minute in horror as the beast went through and finished its routine and then started back up again. Both televisions had missed it, and the damned thing had survived the twenty-foot drop. There it was, grinding its gears and wiggling its hips in defiance. As if to say “You mere mortals shall never slay Santa Elvis, now I dance!”

  Billy merely pointed at the Santa and said “Think about working next to that for two full months.”

  “Ok throw the TV. Do you want to shoot it on the way down too? You can use my shotgun.” It was all Jason could say. The thing was a terrible symbol of commercialism and more than that it was a terrible entertainer. The dancing mechanism was choppy as best and the recording was of poor quality. It was the perfect symbol for the Megamart as a whole. Billy had bitched about the Santa for months during the Christmas season. Jason now wanted to hit the thing with a hammer after spending a mere two minutes in it’s presence.

  Billy picked up the nearest television set, a small thirteen inch model, lifted it over his head and threw it as hard as he could at the zombie masses below. “See you in hell you obnoxious little fucker.” Venom dripped from his voice as he uttered the farewell to the little decoration, Jason finally understood the venom. The television landed the head of one of the zombies
below, sending it to the ground in a crumpled heap, before coming to rest on the shoulders of several of the packed in bodies. Billy looked as if justice had been done at last and he was going to drink in every second of it. He had missed the dancing Santa this time, but it wouldn’t be long before he had his revenge in full.

  Jason let him enjoy it in silence for a couple of minutes before he asked, “do you think we could kill a zombie with a zombie?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s worth a shot.” They walked back to the cart and grabbed the corpse of the fat blonde kid and dragged it over to the edge and rolled it off. The fat kid bowled several of the zombies it landed on over without doing them really too much damage. They grabbed the second body, it was a good deal lighter, so rather than just rolling it off the edge they held it upside down by the ankles before dropping it head first. It struck with a huge crack, knocking down the zombie it hit and at the same time oozing a good deal of blood and gore. It was rather unpleasant to watch, even after all they had seen.

  “That was nasty.” Jason’s face crinkled with disgust over the broken body that they had just dropped.

  “Yeah it was.” Even Billy looked a little grossed out by the smattering of goo below. “Ready to throw the next?”

  “Sure, I guess.” The last two bodies went over, all but repeating the results of the second. Seeing it was still a rather unpleasant sight to behold, but not quite as shocking as the first time. “The bowling balls then?”

  “They’re all we have left.” Billy walked back to the cart and started unwrapping the first ball.

  “Why does this store sell bowling balls?” Their town didn’t even have a bowling ally. There wasn’t a bowling ally for well over 50 miles in any direction. It was much akin to trying to sell sunbathing accessories to people who lived in the Arctic and did not actually enjoy going to the beach.

  “For about the same reason that they carried those rear projection televisions, except with more success.” Billy finished getting the ball out of the packaging, putting all the plastic that it came wrapped in back into the box. It was a strange thing about him, he didn’t litter when he could help it. Sure, he’d drop a pair of giant, expensive television sets off of the roof and onto the pavement just to watch the crash, but he wouldn’t toss out a paper cup or a plastic bottle if he could help it. “People around here can’t afford to buy a TV like that, but they can afford bowling balls, even if they don’t get to play very often. They still seem to like to bowl. So we give them what they want.”

  Jason shook his head in disbelief at the silliness of the people who had lived around him for so long. And then shrugged his shoulders when he realized that it really didn’t matter anymore. He got his own bowling ball out of the packaging and then joined Billy at the edge of the roof. First thing they did was to check the cameras to see if they were still recording, they were. Everything was still in place. They took up their positions.

  “On the count of three.” Billy took his turn to count down. On three they both threw their bowling balls as hard as they could. A pair of zombies collapsed and were swallowed by the masses below. The number of the creatures had nearly doubled since they had started their experiment and more were on their way. Jason felt a glimmer of despair clutch his chest and twist his stomach. Somehow when they had discussed the zombie apocalypse in the safety of their homes it had never dawned on him what it would truly be like to be a survivor.

  He went back to get a second ball and then a third. He threw both of them as hard as he could, striking down a zombie each time. And so it was with each ball that he got until they ran out. In his mind it stopped being a game, now it was about their survival. He would fight for their survival.

  The sun was drifting down towards its resting place in the distant unseen west, ending a long day. Jason and Billy had run out of things to throw long before, leaving perhaps a couple dozen or more dead, or rather completely dead, zombies on the pavement below. The two of them were sitting down again, enjoying some patio furniture that they had brought up after they exhausted the last of their missiles. Missiles, which included the cart that they had used to haul everything up from the store. The cart had done a good bit of damage itself, which was a pleasant surprise. A surprise that would probably almost outweigh the tongue lashing that they would get from Lynn when she found out what they did.

  The rooftop was quiet, except for the occasional squeak of the furniture as one of them reached for a drink or adjusted themselves on the chairs. The only other sounds were the occasional rush of wind, or a bird calling. Of course there was the ever present scraping of shoes on the pavement of the parking lot below. They tried to block that out though.

  Jason scratched himself and leaned back. He and Billy were enjoying the first sunset in their new home. The weather was particularly fine, and under the circumstances they were enjoying themselves.

  They were drinking cheap warm beer. Not usually a good combination, but then they couldn’t get their hands on cold beer. They could switch to, if they had so wanted, to good beer but after years of living the lives of poor students the two of them had acquired a taste for cheap beer. It all brought a sense of normality. The sun was still warm, worse now that the pavilion that they had scrounged wasn’t providing shade. There was a warm breeze blowing across the roof and out over the parking lot, thankfully blowing the stench of the corpses away from them for the time being.

  Jason grabbed another can of beer, tossing his empty into the recycle bin that Billy had insisted on bringing with them. Who was going to recycle, Jason had no clue, but that sort of detail didn’t matter a jot to Billy. Warm beer. At least it was wet. He got up and walked to the edge of the roof and looked over.

  “Still there?” Billy grabbed himself another beer and took a drink, leaning back in his comfortable chair.

  “Yep.”

  “Don’t they see the ‘’Sorry, we’re closed’ sign?”

  “I don’t think they do. But maybe they’re just ignoring it.” Jason leaned over the edge and yelled down at the zombies “Go home! We’re closed for business.” He looked back at Billy “No such luck.”

  Billy shrugged back “What’d you expect?”

  “Not too much really, but I can hope anyways.”

  “Maybe we should offer them some more super values on low priced goods.”

  “All they would have to do is catch them. But what else could we throw?”

  “Bowling balls?”

  “Threw them all.”

  “We already threw all of the meat in the store at them.”

  “Yep, at least it wont start rotting inside. That would be an unpleasant stink.”

  “We’ve thrown enough televisions already.”

  “More than enough.” Jason rubbed his back, it was getting sore from all the carrying that they had done earlier. “Something kind of light I think.”

  “I’ve got an idea.” He paused for dramatic effect, waiting for Jason to ask.

  “Well, out with it.”

  “We can get a big bin and fill it with rocks and then dump the rocks all at once on our friends down there.”

  Jason looked up at the sky, it was getting dark. “Maybe tomorrow, we have a lot of both time and zombies to kill. We can spread out our wacky shenanigans.”

  “Yeah, those we do.” Billy finished the last of his beer in a final swig. “Well, shall we join the others?”

  “Sure.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Dunno, let me check.” Jason looked at the watch he had found earlier. “It’s 11:45.”

  “It doesn’t look dark enough to be that late.” Billy sounded confused. Jason felt that way too. He held the watch up to his ear and noticed that it wasn’t ticking.

  “It seems that I grabbed a dead watch.”

  “Why didn’t you notice that earlier?”

  “I didn’t want to look too closely, I thought the watch looked good on me.
That and at the time it was around 11:45.”

  “Does this store ever carry any working watches?”

  “You tell me, you work here not me.”

  “To hell with it, lets just go.”

  Jason finished his beer as well and then nodded his assent. Billy heaved himself out of his chair, stood up and stretched for a moment before picking up his gun belts off the table and strapping them back on. Jason put his guns back on too and they both headed back to the stairs down to the interior of the store. They grabbed their flashlights and walked down the stairs into the lounge.

  “You know, with all the zombie uprising chats we’ve had over the years, why didn’t one of us think to learn how to use the generator?”

  “I don’t know, good question, but a bit late.”

  “I guess we always figured that the generators would be up and running.”

  “Honestly, I never really even gave it much thought.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me, you were always thinking of new ways to kill zombies.”

  “Somebody had to. I wonder why Lynn didn’t think of it, she thought of just about everything else.”

  “True that.”

  Speaking of the devil, Lynn and Douglas were sitting at one of the tables, themselves enjoying a beer. Or at least drinking beer, it was hard to enjoy drinking the stuff while it was warm. They joined their friends at the table and started discussing their dinner plans. They spent most of the day to themselves, Lynn and Douglas off reading somewhere or doing something else that they didn’t seem to want to mention, Billy destroying things, and Jason floating between. They had decided that they would spend meal times together.

  Canned soup and sandwiches it would probably be once again. They had a long time to look forward to canned soup. Sandwiches on the other hand would only be in their diet for a week or perhaps two before the bread started to mold over. They would also enjoy the fresh fruit while they could. It was a treat to have it and they all knew it.

  “We should set up a stove on the roof tomorrow.” Jason knew he wouldn’t be able to stand eating cold canned soup for very long before he cracked. They all agreed that a stove was a good idea, then they could start eating other things besides the cold soup. Maybe actually do some cooking. They had a world of supplies to choose from and it would be best to use the vegetables before they went south with the fruit.

  The four of them went grocery shopping together.

  Dinner was as bland as he had expected, but he enjoyed the company of his friends. Even Douglas. Douglas had changed enormously since just that morning. It was rather darkly humorous that it took the holocaust to make the man lighten up. They were sitting in the lounge, it had become their living room after they moved some of the tables and chairs out of the way and replaced them with something more comfortable. Billy was rolling back and forth on his computer chair, while Lynn was rocking away.

  They had brought out a deck of cards and were playing a game of euchre, or at least some of them were playing it. Jason still couldn’t figure out the muddled rules of the game, which annoyed Billy to no end since they were teamed together. Jason sat there looking at his cards and trying to figure which one he should play. It felt like he had a better chance at drawing a royal flush than he did at putting the right card down during the right hand.

  “Why can’t we just play poker? That game at least makes sense.”

  Lynn sighed with exasperation, it was the fifteenth time that night that he had made the same statement and she was probably beginning to think that he was a bit slow in the head. “The game isn’t that difficult Jason, just give it a chance.”

  “I’ve given it a chance, and I’m still as confused as I was forty five minutes ago when explained the rules of this train wreck of a game.” It was frustrating as hell, it seemed like some cards changed value depending on the position of the stars in the sky, he put down a black ten, without bothering to see whether it was spades or clubs.

  Billy exploded, it had been building since the game began and he realized that Jason was a dullard at card games. “Damn it Jason!” He threw his hand down on the table and cradled his head in his hands.

  “I told you, I have no idea what I’m doing.” He turned his hand face down and threw it into the middle of the table with the rest of the cards.

  “Should we just play Go Fish? Something at your level maybe, like fifty two pickup?”

  Jason merely responded by extending the middle finger of his right hand in an upward direction and showing it to his friend. Lynn sighed while Douglas hid a huge grin behind his cards, it was amazing that the man was able to hold in his mirth that successfully. They sat in silence for several minutes letting it all go. Lynn grabbed the cards and straitened them up before putting them back into the box as she sat and waited.

  Douglas ended the silence with a simple question “So, what do you think caused the whole zombie thing to happen?” They sat in silence some more thinking about the question. There were tons of potential causes that fans of zombie movies the world over had proposed to answer the same question that haunted the survivors of their favorite films. Maybe it was a comet, or perhaps it was a global plague, or aliens did it, or it was the alignment of the stars. Nobody could ever agree on one explanation. The phenomena was relived on a smaller scale right there in that room that night.

  Lynn was fond of the global plague explanation, some sort of particularly nasty virus. But she could never explain why the four of them alone had survived while everyone around them had perished. Jason kept silent, why it had happened didn’t ever matter to him. The simple fact was that he wasn’t a scientist and he would never understand why what was going on was happening. It could be a plague, or for all he knew aliens could have done it, it didn’t matter. What he did understand was that it had happened and that was all-important. The apocalypse had come and he was going to do his best to make sure that they all survived it.

  “It’s all the act of an evil wizard. He’s targeting me personally.”

  It was the first time that Lynn had encountered the evil wizard theory and needless to say she was amused. “Really? Does this wizard have a name?”

  Billy nodded solemnly “Merlin, his name is Merlin.”

  “King Arthur’s Merlin?” She couldn’t keep her disbelief entirely out of her voice, but it didn’t matter since Billy either didn’t notice it or just ignored it completely.

  “The very same.”

  “Why would Merlin cross both time and space to wipe out humanity to get back at you?”

  “I made fun of his beard.”

  “That’s all? He killed off humanity to turn them into an army of zombies to punish you for making fun of his beard?”

  “Yep.”

  “Kind of over the top isn’t it? The whole zombie thing just for a beard joke?”

  “He’s an evil wizard, what do you expect?” Douglas and Jason looked at each other. Neither was sure whether the other two were actually taking the conversation seriously, but they both knew that they didn’t want to get into the middle of it. The best thing to do when Lynn and Billy got that way was to sit back and ride it out.

  The storm ended quickly when Lynn just wisely gave up and acceded the field. The evil wizard conspiracy was just as plausible to Jason as the rest, not very likely, but just as possible as far as he was concerned.

  Lynn turned to her fiancé “You asked the question in the first place what do you think?”

  “I think God is pissed off at us for some reason or another.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in God, that you were an atheist.”

  “I was.”

  “What happened?”

  “I didn’t believe in zombies either, if I can be wrong for one thing, why not the other.”

  It was a good point and as valid as the other two arguments. It also brought back to mind another thought, the other change in Douglas that Jason had noticed. “Hey Douglas, what
happened?” God had appointed an evil wizard to create a virus because of stupid jokes about beards.

  “What do you mean? When?”

  “To you? You seem to have lightened up a hell of a lot since this whole thing started.”

  “Ah yeah. That.”

  “Well?”

  “I realized that my career in accounting was over before it began and that I wasted my college career.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I hate accounting. I hate number crunching and busy work.”

  “Then why were you getting a degree in accounting?”

  “It pays well, my father is an accountant and I’m good at it. A lot of stupid reasons that don’t mean anything any more, I’m free now.” Lynn reached out and took his hand in hers. He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it lightly and smiled at her the man actually looked at ease and happy. If Jane were still around she would say something about making silver lining when life gave you lemons. The woman wasn’t ever any good with keeping old cliché sayings straight. The thought brought back a stab of pain and despair.

  The rest of the night was uneventful. They talked some more and played board games before finally deciding it was time for them to get to sleep. Jason and Billy grabbed some of Jason’s camping gear from Mike and set it up in the lounge. Lynn and Douglas on the other hand found a futon to use out on the store floor. It was near black outside and a sliver of the moon was up in full, peeking at them through one of the skylights. Jason and Billy were back up on the roof for one last breath of fresh air and one last cigarette before they turned in for the night.

  Billy lit up and took a drag, offering Jason one, Jason refused. “Not tonight man.” Jason only smoked on occasion, he had had a couple earlier to calm down and he felt that that was enough for the day. Usually he just smoked when they were drinking, it only really felt good with a little alcohol in his system.

  They stood by the door, enjoying the cool night breeze and looking up at the sky. There were so many stars, Jason could even see the Milky Way, that broad band of light that looked a lot like a glowing cloud. It ran through the middle of the sky and Billy told him was the core of their galaxy, a place that held billions of stars packed closely together. It was the first time that he had ever actually seen it before.

  It was the first time that he had actually seen a lot of the stars before. A few of the brighter ones even made shapes that were probably constellations, the only constellations he ever knew were the big dipper and the little dipper and truth be told he couldn’t even find the little dipper and the North star. The only way the sky could have gotten any more magnificent was if the northern lights made an appearance. He had seen them once when he was out camping with Billy’s family. He sat for hours watching the show, hypnotized. That had been over ten years ago and he still remembered it vividly. The fluid dance of bands of red and green lights across the sky, blotting out all but the brightest of stars in the sky.

  “Do you know any of the constellations Billy?” He turned to his friend who was looking up and enjoying the show as well.

  “You mean besides the big dipper?”

  “Yeah. I know that one.”

  “Well that one that looks like a funky ‘W’ is the queen Cassiopeia on her throne. The vain Greek queen who almost got her daughter killed. That square shaped thing by the W is Pegasus.”

  “I recall the story from the movie Clash of the Titians.” His command of mythology was limited to say the least to the point that he thought that Hercules was a nice guy after watching all the movies. Until he heard some actual tales about him, Hollywood sure did take some liberties.

  “You see those three stars that make up that line? That’s the belt of Orion the hunter, he also has a sword sticking down from the belt, and that red star up there, called Betelgeuse is his shoulder.” Billy put out his first cigarette in a coffee can that they had brought up for butts and then lit up another.

  They stood for a while, enjoying the silence and the stars. Billy finished his second cigarette and tossed it into the can with the first. “Beautiful night.” He said as he turned to head inside.

  “Yeah. Why have I never noticed it before?” Jason felt as if this were the first time that the sky had looked like this, so many stars, all hidden for so long.

  “They’ve been drowned out by the light of the city. Light pollution. The one thing I envy people who live in the country for is the darkness they are blessed with at night. The clear skies that they enjoy.” Billy turned his flashlight on and went inside. Jason stood still for a moment after his friend left, enjoying the night, before taking one final deep breath and following him inside.

  When he got down to the lounge, Billy was already in bed and on his way to sleep. Jason himself didn’t feel really tired so he decided to make one last round of the store. He walked quietly with his flashlight on low so he didn’t disturb his friends with his wandering. He didn’t quite feel like going to sleep yet and was unsure how successful he would be if he tried. Not to mention whether or not he wanted to actually succeed. He was prone to nightmares and had been so since his parents had died. Sleeping tonight was probably going to be unpleasant if he was lucky and terrifying if he wasn’t.

  The store was dark with only a sliver of a moon and some stars to light it. The aisles were wide and clear so he didn’t bother to turn on his light right away. In part it was so he didn’t disturb Lynn and Douglas with his wandering and also so he didn’t alert them to his presence. If Lynn caught him wandering around she would worry about him try to mother him. He didn’t want to add to her list of troubles and worries. He also wasn’t in any mood to be mothered, so he moved quietly.

  He was about fifty feet from Lynn and Douglas when he heard a quiet sobbing and some low talking. Lynn was finally showing her grief and Douglas was doing his best to comfort her. He had never liked Douglas before that evening. After getting to know him better he was beginning to dislike the man less. He knew part of his dislike stemmed from jealousy, something that didn’t make him proud, but he accepted it. The sole reason he tolerated the man for so long was that Douglas made Lynn happy. He was good to her. He turned away from the lovers and continued walking into the night.

  He made his way to the front of the store to make sure that the doors were locked. It was perhaps the tenth time that day that he had done so, but it made him feel better to see that the gates were down and that the doors were intact. Jason walked slowly, once again measuring his steps as he went, enjoying the peace of the night and the solitude.

  There were two front entrances to the store, two entrances in the back and a fire exit on either side of the building. The fire exits and the loading dock were all solid steel doors and they didn’t cause any worry. It was the two front doors that made him itch. They were made of glass.

  Lynn said that to break the glass you’d need something more than your bare fist, or even say a crowbar or tire iron. The glass was bullet proof. Still they agitated Jason. He had watched too many movies and in those movies glass was never a good barrier against the living dead. It left him feeling like a little kid again, afraid of the monster in his closet all while knowing that the monster wasn’t actually there but not being able to let go of that fear. This time, the monster was real and he could see it, he was just powerless to do anything about it.

  The doors were holding. It was kind of strange to look at the main entrance from ground level after watching it for almost the entire day from the above on the roof. The zombies were hard packed into the entryway, pushing against one another and against the door in a vain attempt to get inside the store. They were all a mass of dark moving shadows squirming around just beyond the edge of his light. He suppressed a shudder and moved on to the next door.

  There seemed to be fewer zombies at the second entrance than at the first, it was hard to tell without proper light, but he still got that feeling. There might have been fewe
r of the creatures at the second door but they were no less driven to get inside. Jason approached the door and flashed his light through the glass. Half of the light reflected back at him, glaring in his eyes. The faces on the other side of the glass were human, if a bit pale, but still human. The faces were human, but the eyes weren’t. They still had the color and shape, just none of the humanity or intelligence. Glazed over and dull they stare back at him. Reacting to the light, reacting to his movements.

  Jason lowered his light, turned around and headed back to try and get a good night’s sleep. While he was still alive, hope was never dead, and hope might one day be all he had.

  Billy and Lynn were talking about something, it was a bit hard to follow this early in the morning. But it sounded like they were making plans to invade Russia, that or Billy just didn’t want to eat cold soup again for breakfast. The four of them were sitting out at a table in the main part of the store under one of the skylights, waiting for the coffee to get done. There were a lot of things they could live without, but coffee wasn’t one of them. Jason wondered what they would do if the coffee supply ever ran dry. Suicide was the most likely answer.

  He scratched his cheek and wondered if he should shave or just grow a beard. They both had their strengths and drawbacks, but he would probably keep on shaving out of habit. Besides, beards were always hot and itchy when summer came around. And summer would soon be there. Winter was another matter, assuming that they survived that long.

  The coffee was finally ready. Douglas handed them each a mug in turn, naturally starting with Lynn. Jason held his close and inhaled deeply. For him this was the last vestige of humanity. If they lost coffee, they were no better off than dogs. He savored the bitter taste of his first sip. Jason took his coffee completely black without any cream or sugar to taint it. He was a purist. A thing ought to be enjoyed for what it was, not for what one could make it be. If he wanted cream he would drink milk. For something sweet he could drink cola. He wanted coffee.

  He felt the fog enveloping his mind clear as the first drop touched his tongue chasing the sleep away. With his clear new mind he was finally able to figure out what the discussion was about. It seemed that Russia was safe for now and so was the canned soup for that matter. They were going to be eating something else for breakfast. It sounded like biscuits and jam, along with fresh fruit would all be on the menu. They would make up some powdered milk. They would eat whatever else seemed appetizing at the moment.

  They were all cleaning up after breakfast when Lynn told them that she expected that they wouldn’t be adding to the mess that they made yesterday. Translation: no more throwing things off the roof, onto the zombies or otherwise. Looks like they wouldn’t be dumping a bucket full of stones on the heads of their guests after all. Billy looked disappointed and he kicked Jason for making him miss his chance at visiting the horde with even more chaos.

  They would need to find something else to do, so it seemed.

  Breakfast was over and so they split up again. Lynn and Douglas wandered off to be by themselves, while Billy and Jason decided to wander the store and see what they could find. First they checked the front doors again, on Jason’s insistence, before moving on. They passed by the woman’s clothing department, were Billy detoured to hit on a couple of the more attractive mannequins. That brought them to the health and beauty department.

  “I have a kick ass idea.” Said Billy with a grin.

  “What’s that?”

  “Two words ‘Make Over’.” He sounded serious, but with Billy it was always difficult to tell. “Well, what do you think?”

  “Three words: No, no, no.”

  “Why not, I could make you gorgeous.”

  “Why in the name of God would I want you to do that?”

  “Higher sense of self?”

  “I feel fine as is.”

  “Suit yourself, but one day you will feel down and on that day I’m going to make you a raging beauty, one that will make all the guys drool.”

  “Why do I get the feeling that those mannequins turned you down?” Not bloody likely. Jason didn’t even bother saying it, he just moved on. The toy section was next. Oh the glorious toy section. Jason grabbed the first doll that he could find and tossed over to his friend. “Here you go, practice making her beautiful.”

  “A master such as myself needs a real human to work with, a real challenge.”

  “A real challenge?”

  “Making you beautiful would take all of my worldly skills.” The next doll he threw caught Billy between the eyes. His friend went down laughing and he joined him. It was funny. The moved on through the toy section, oohing and ahhing whenever they came across something particularly cool. Like the giant robot that transformed into a fighter jet. They would stop and talk about the toys that they had as kids, remember and envy. They picked up several board games, scrabble for Lynn and Douglas, chess for Billy and Yatzee for Jason, plus a few others they all might enjoy including Risk.

  They didn’t bother taking the games with them, there was always time later. On they went. Household supplies was next. Billy picked up a bottle of bleach off the end cap of the aisle. “You know we could probably make some ass kicking explosives out of all this stuff.”

  “We who?”

  “Me and you.”

  “Where did you learn how to make bombs out of chemicals?”

  “McGyver.”

  “I didn’t know he worked with explosives.”

  “Yep. I once saw him make a nuclear bomb out of a bucket, some paper clips and a couple different chemicals.”

  “Wouldn’t that be a bit overkill for us?”

  “Depends, there are a lot of zombies out there.”

  “Yeah there are. Do you remember what chemicals he used?”

  “That I don’t. They kind of blacked that part out.”

  Jason shook his head and moved on. It was a game to Billy, to lead him on with some silly idea and then just drop it. The only not to lose was not to play, Billy wouldn’t let anyone off that easily if he could help it. “Lynn is in school to be a chemist though, I bet she could pull a McGyver with some of this stuff.” That was indeed true, she was a chemistry major, maybe the school taught her to make a bomb out of Bisquick.

  “Not likely Billy boy, but since when did likely ever matter to you?”

  “Check and mate. We’ll ask her anyways.” He wasn’t going to let it go. This would not end well.

  “Alright, we’ll ask. But I don’t think she’ll be willing.”

  It was in the sporting good department that they found the answer to their single most pressing question. Jason was wandering the aisles while Billy was still dreaming about mixing chemicals and destroying zombie-kind in one fell swoop. Jason grabbed one of the old fashioned bows from the shelf and tested the string.

  “Hey Billy.” He called back over his shoulder.

  “Hey what?” His friend called back.

  “You ever used one of these before?”

  “One of what?”

  “Come here.” It only took him a moment to come around from the other side of the shelves, but when he did Jason could almost hear the drool hitting the floor.

  “No, I’ve never used one. But since when has that stopped me from trying?”

  “When? Never. But there were a few times that it should have.”

  “The police never caught me that time.”

  “But you destroyed a church.”

  “That bulldozer was screaming out to be played with. They even left the keys in it.”

  “But a church.”

  “That just proves that there is no God.” Billy walked the last few steps and grabbed a bow of his own and tested the string, pulling it back and letting it go in order to hear the pleasant twanging sound that it made. His eyes lit up. “You know what the best part is don’t you?”

  “It’s quiet.’’

  “Yep and this way we won
t be throwing or dropping anything, we’ll be shooting stuff instead.”

  “Loopholes are good that way.”

  “Until she finds out and gets mad at us.”

  “We’ll have bows to protect ourselves with though.”

  “Good point! Well what are we waiting for, we have rules to bend.”

  They grabbed a cardboard box that was jammed with aluminum arrows and made a beeline for the roof. While they weren’t overly stealthy, they did keep a close eye out for Lynn. Most likely she wouldn’t see their plans in the same light that they did. There would be yelling, lots of yelling. The worst part was that they probably wouldn’t get to shoot any zombies. Billy went on ahead and then would stop and signal Jason to hurry and catch up.

  They made it all the way to the roof without running into Lynn or Douglas. Jason dragged the box of arrows with him over near the edge where he set them down and took a fresh look at the zombie hordes below. There were even more of them today. A lot more. It was almost as if the store was drawing them like iron filings to a magnet. Their hours of work the day before hadn’t even made a dent in the numbers.

  Billy looked down and shook his head. “We’re going to need more arrows I think.”

  “There any more in the storage room?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good, because we used all the televisions yesterday.”

  “All the big ones anyways, plenty of small ones still lying around.”

  “No good, too much noise and Lynn will kill us, bows or no.”

  “You ever shot one of these before?”

  “Nope.”

  “Think we should learn how?”

  “How hard could it be?” Famous last words. It turned out to be more difficult than Rambo made it look, plus they didn’t have the benefit of exploding arrows. With their first ten shots, neither of them hit what they had been aiming at, oh they killed maybe twelve or thirteen zombies, but not any of the ones that they had been aiming for. To make things worse, they had picked out zombies with fat heads to shoot at.

  “I didn’t expect it to be that hard.” Said Billy as he set his bow down on the table and lit his first cigarette of the day. “Maybe we should practice on bigger targets first.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, we could bring up some stuff from down below to shoot at, like mannequins and what-not. Course we’d have to build a back drop to stop the arrows first. That might take some time and sweat.”

  “Well what are we waiting for?” Billy took one final long drag, then put out his cigarette before following Jason over to the stairs and back down into the store. They headed back to the home repair section and grabbed some hammers and nails to do the building, as well as some rope, because who knows when you might need rope. The Megamart didn’t carry any wood as such, but it did carry a large assortment of do it yourself shelving sets that were mostly made of wood, or at least what had at on time been wood.

  With a little creative carpentry, which mostly involved a lot of hammering and even more cursing, they got a target made for their home grown do-it-yourself archery course. They leaned their new backdrop up against the cinderblock wall that protected the stairway and then went back inside to find something that would be fun to shoot at.

  Within minutes they were back on the roof, sporting everything from mannequin heads to posters to candles that they could light so that they could do trick shots. They set up their new targets in a row in front of the backdrop. Billy lit up a cigarette and took a drag off of it as Jason took a bite out of one of the Granny Smith apples that they had brought back with them. The two of them admired their handy work for a while longer and then decided to start learning archery.

  Well on the upside they managed to hit the backboard most of the time. There were a couple arrows that were fired a little high and lost to the parking lot below. On the downside they were aiming for the stuff in front of the board, not the board itself. Archery was difficult to master in the space of a morning it seemed, but they still kept plugging on.

  They celebrated the first grazing hit with a beer. Still warm. Still low quality. But beer none the less. The two of them sat in their chairs in the shade of their canopy enjoying their beer and what looked like it was going to be another beautiful day. It was the kind of day that most right-minded people would skip work to go out and enjoy the beach or the park with their friends. Clear blue skies, a slight breeze, big fluffy clouds and the sun shining brightly warming everything up. Good beach weather. A spring day that gaily alluded to the summer to come.

  Jason finished his beer, got up and was about to toss the bottle down at their friends when Billy spoke up. “Ah, remember, no throwing things off the roof.” Jason cursed under his breath and then again rather loudly when he realized that there was no reason what so ever to curse under his breath. He walked back over to his chair and set the bottle back on the table, picked up his bow and started shooting again.

  It was probably about noon when Lynn and Douglas emerged from the store to join them with a picnic lunch. By that time Jason and Billy had actually managed to hit several of the things that they were aiming at. They had also consumed several more celebratory beers apiece.

  Lynn was surprised to see their handy work. But surprised in a good way. At least they weren’t throwing objects of the roof. Billy and Jason waited for several endless seconds for her to explode and tell them what idiots that they were. It was a wasted worry because instead they watched her disappear back into the store only to reappear five minutes later with a bow of her own and another for Douglas. They rattled off several brief but thankful prayers to the various Gods who they thought might be listening at the time and heaved a sigh of relief.

  Lynn acted as she intended to show them a thing or two about shooting a bow. And it turned out that she did show them a thing or two about shooting the bow. Jason often wondered if there was anything that she couldn’t do. Even after all the years that they had known one another she was still a mystery at times, still surprising him. By the look on Billy’s face he was rather surprised and impressed as well.

  Billy finally recovered from his shock and awe enough to ask, “Where did you learn to do that?”

  “Douglas taught me a couple years ago when we first started dating.” Billy and Jason were even more amazed and they looked at Douglas askance. They had always thought of him as a bore, but it turns out that he was more like an onion with all its layers. Sure the topmost layers were boring and annoying, but they were beginning to be peeled away finally. Good riddance. Also like an onion he made them want to cry.

  Douglas smiled at them and took the bow. He had always said that actions speak louder than words and in his defense he had tried to live up to that saying. He had lit one of the candles before walking about twice as far back as Lynn had been when she was shooting. He drew one of the arrows, held it for a heartbeat and then loosed it. The bastard was good. The arrow sliced through the burning wick of the candle before embedding itself in the backboard with an audible thunk.

  After so many surprises in such a short period of time, surprises cease to be as fun as they at one time were. As usual Billy recovered his wits first, perhaps because he had fewer to collect. “Where the hell did you learn to do that? Is archery required for accounting majors these days?”

  “I’ve always been interested in medieval weaponry and combat.” Douglas set the bow back down on the table and went to fetch the two arrows. “That’s actually how Lynn and I met, I was in the lounge reading a book about swordplay in England during the Dark Ages and she came up and introduced herself.”

  “We talked for a long time that day.”

  “Then I asked her out, started dating and what-not.” Lynn looked up at him and stood up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. They hugged and did other cutesy couple things while Billy and Jason tried to assimilate what was actually happening.

  In the years that they had kn
own Douglas, they had never expected him to be interested in swords. Or in using those swords. They had assumed that he was in to dull things like preparing taxes and organizing his sock drawer. Billy had often wondered aloud and at detailed length how big his stamp collection was. When your reality comes crashing down, it really comes crashing down. First the dead came back to life to attack the living and then Douglas turns out not to actually be a stereotypical account at heart. It was too much. Jason and Billy each took another beer.

  The beer was still warm, and the couple was still kissing. Jason and Billy looked at one another. They had two real choices with their archery, admit that they sucked and just give up. That or keep on practicing and maybe improve. Practicing won out. Especially when they realized that if they gave up on it, they would have to find something else to do. But they would have lunch first.

  The four of them sat around the small table in the shade and enjoyed their lunch. The bows and arrows were put aside as they ate, but talk of archery wasn’t. It wasn’t conversation so much as Douglas giving them pointers on how best to shoot. Jason and Billy resisted his help at first, until they realized that there was no stopping him, that and he knew a lot about bows and arrows and archery in general.

  In all the years that they had known Douglas he had hardly spoken to them. Jason guessed that he had sensed their dislike for him from the beginning and felt it wasn’t worth bothering to speak. It was like a dam had burst. Douglas was passionate about weapons, it was obvious by the gleam in his eyes and the pitch of his voice as he lectured them excitedly about how to shoot better. He even got up several times to demonstrate techniques and stances to better punctuate his words.

  Lynn, Jason and Billy had long finished their lunch by the time Douglas took his final bite. Up to that final bite he lectured between mouthfuls. Jason’s head felt like it was packed with more information than he would ever need. He now knew the difference between an English longbow and a Mongolian compound bow. They had been inundated with a flood of statistics and facts and observations on the part of Douglas. He talked as they cleaned up. He talked up until Lynn dragged him through the door and back downstairs.

  “Wow, I didn’t know the man knew that many words.”

  “Why not?”

  “He never talked to us.”

  “You always hated him and let him know it quite plainly.”

  “Yeah I guess. I wish we had some of those longbows he was talking about.”

  “What for?”

  “Because they shoot like 300 yards.”

  “You don’t need to be able to shoot 300 yards with a bow.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you have a rifle that will shoot further than that and you know how to use it. Besides, the zombies are right down there, you could drop the arrows off the roof and still hit them.” Billy just shrugged and lit a cigarette.

  Practicing archery kept them occupied until night began to approach in earnest. They had improved markedly since the morning and had actually moved further back from their targets for more challenge. Neither of them were nearly as proficient as Douglas or even Lynn, but they were still able to hit what they intended to most of the time, if not always exactly.

  They had gone inside and taken a break for dinner. Jason had never realized how unappealing spam was before then, but it was still a fine reprieve from the peanut butter they had been feasting on at lunch. Aside from dinner they stopped shooting for a while to start setting up a gas grill for future use. Setting up the grill went well, then they realized that all the tanks of propane were out front with their zombie guests. They opted for a old fashioned charcoal grill instead.

  All told it was a quiet afternoon. Jason rubbed his finger tips as he put his bow down for the last time that night. They were worn and sore from pulling the string all afternoon. He was probably going to get blisters from shooting all day but it was worth it. Between the two of them they had managed to break around fifty or so of the arrows that they had brought with them that morning. In the end they had even moved away from shooting targets on the roof, to shooting at zombies on the ground below.

  For the most part they had shot at the zombies with arrows that were near their breaking point. Neither of them felt much like wasting arrows that they could still use, just to thin out the horde slightly. It made more sense than just shattering the things on the roof. And if it killed off more zombies all while allowing Billy and Jason more practice, practice on real targets, then all the better. It was still similar to shooting fish in a barrel, but now finally they were hitting the fish that they had actually aimed at.

  As the night approached a storm began to roll in. Jason sat in his chair and watched the long line of dark clouds coming from the west. It looked to be a powerful storm. “Did you check a weather forecast before the television went down?”

  “About three or four days ago. Why?”

  “Did they say anything about a thunderstorm happening today?”

  “Said there was a possibility. Ohh, we should get inside.”

  The two of them spent twenty minutes hauling their table and chairs into the safety of the elevator compartment. The elevator was pretty much full by the time that they were done, and the door was closed. The storm in the meantime had edged much closer. They could see the bright forked tongues of lightning reach out and briefly connect the clouds with the earth. They could even hear the occasional faint peel of thunder rolling over the land. The storm was maybe thirty miles out.

  “We should bring up some barrels.” Jason said as they walked back down the stairs and into the lounge.

  “What for?”

  “To collect water.”

  “We have water.”

  “I want to bathe.”

  “Good idea, you are getting a bit ripe.”

  Jason clicked on his two way radio and called Lynn. “Hey Lynn, there’s a storm coming, want to grab Douglas and help us get some barrels up onto the roof to catch water?”

  The radio crackled a little bit and then Lynn’s voice came over with a little static “Sure thing Jason, we’ll be ready.” They all met at the home and garden department near the back of the store, each grabbing a stack of thirty-five gallon barrels and loading them onto the remaining cart. Jason made sure to grab a number of cinder blocks as well, much to the confusion of his friends. By the time they got back to the roof the storm was a lot closer, perhaps half as far as it was before. It was moving fast.

  They lined the barrels up in two rows in the middle of the roof about fifty feet away from the door, between the two outcrops that protected the stairs and the elevator. Jason put a cinder block in as many of the barrels as he could and said “We don’t want them all to get blown away in the storm.” Billy nodded and grinned. He knew that he was going to hear something about his having two good ideas in a row, something sarcastic, the only unknown would be the exact phrasing. They tied off the rest of the barrels, running a length of rope between the handles.

  The wind was beginning to pick up and the lightning becoming more frequent. They were halfway back to the stairs when the sky opened up and soaked them with a sheet of rain. It was an instant shower. An unwanted shower. When the rain came it initiated a race back to the door, Lynn won, but she played dirty. In they went and quickly. Closing the door behind them to keep out the rain they filed down the stairs and into the lounge.

  The four of them were soaked and dripping at the bottom of the stairs, they could hear the clatter of the rain on the tin roof above punctuated by the occasional peel of thunder. Lynn lit several candles and then they all stripped down out of their wet clothes. None of them had brought along any spare clothing but that didn’t matter too much. They went shopping again.

  Billy immediately went to the women’s clothing section. Jason followed, quite curious to see what his friend would do. It wouldn’t be out of character for him to put on a dress for shock value, or just because h
e wanted to wear a dress. Lynn had always told them that skirts were quite comfortable and breezy. Jason almost expected that Billy wanted to find out for himself once and for all. He didn’t and they just passed through the women’s section with Billy making just a few bizarre comments about how he would like to try on some bras.

  Jason and Billy didn’t need that long to find some acceptable clothing and get dressed. In the mean time they decided, rather Jason decided, that they would check the doors once again. The doors were closed and safely sealed shut. He watched the zombies pressing together outside in the rain, mindlessly going on as they had been since they arrived. The flashes of lightning making them seem much more spooky. Ignoring everything in their vain attempt to get inside. Not knowing why they needed to get inside, but striving to do so regardless. He bet the weather didn’t faze them at all.

  The thought suddenly occurred, what would happen if you froze a zombie? Could they be struck by lightning and die that way, some how getting their brains fried? Or did you have to physically damage their heads or necks? The movies never really explored such ideas. All he had to go on was what the movies had given him, before this week it had all been a fantasy in the minds of uprising fans. Some fantasies were best left alone.

  Billy tapped him on the shoulder, bringing him back into the present. Billy was carrying several of the board games under his arm. Yahtzee. It was going to be a slow night. Maybe he should take up reading.

  After they had taken care of more important things, like eating and drying and cleaning their guns, they played games together for several hours. Nobody really felt like playing anything too complicated or involved, so all that left was games of chance. Cards and dice and so forth. They played a few hands of poker and a couple of Euchre before switching to dice. Billy was spitting blood at Jason’s ineptitude at euchre, so Lynn thought it was best to change before events got too ugly.

  Jason had tired of dicing, he hated games of luck. Cards were an exception, there was some skill involved there, but dice was too random. The constant clatter of the dice as they rolled onto the table was giving him a headache, so he got up and took his leave. He made his usual rounds, checking and double-checking the doors, grabbing a banana to eat as he walked by the fruit display, before moving on. For a while he sat out in the store, away from his friends, and listened to the rain falling on the skylights. Enjoying for the first time of his life the the sound of the thunder as the lightning flashed across the sky making fascinating shadows play and dance across the floor. Thunder had always scared him before, but now, the bone-rattling rumble was a relaxing reminder of the past.

  He wandered the aisles, looking at the goods and wondering why in the world anyone would ever have paid money for any of that crap. There was a mind numbing variety of useless junk all around him and nothing useful to do with it, if one didn’t count throwing it off the roof at the zombies. Bright colored and made of molded plastic. Honestly, who would ever buy a giant plastic hamburger? Jason grabbed one of the hamburgers from the shelf and punted it towards the children’s clothing section. It landed somewhere in the middle beyond his site. Good riddance.

  Maybe he and Billy could talk Lynn into letting them do a free super savings promotion event for the horde outside. On the other hand, word might spread about the promotion and they might bring their friends. The place was crowded enough as it was.

  He browsed the aisles for what seemed like an hour. He had seen it all before, in past visits of the store, but he had never really paid any attention to the variety, just passing it by as something that he didn’t need. After a while he ended up reading some stupid spy novel that he grabbed off one of the shelves. It had a catchy name and a woman graced the cover with a beautiful pair of legs clad in some red leather high heels. He went over to one of the couch displays and read, resting his flashlight above his head on an end table to shine over his shoulder and onto the pages. It was a stupid spy novel, but he couldn’t put down until he could barely keep his eyes open. Sleep came to him as he read.

  There was a shapely, long legged girl in red shoes, lots of zombies, and he was a international playboy spy. There was a lot of running around foiling the evil worldwide terrorist band R.A.G.E.. Somewhere in there he got the girl, only to have Billy show up and feed her to the zombie hordes. Jason woke up to the faint echo screams of his beautiful lover and the maniacal laughter of a monocle clad Billy. That was probably going to be the last time that he read a pulp spy novel before he went to sleep at night. The dream left him wanting to strangle his friend. Leave it to Billy to find a way, even in his dreams, to ruin Jason’s chances with the ladies.

  Jason turned on the small camping lamp that he kept by his bed and checked the time. It was 7:36 and he was wide-awake. Grey light was just beginning to filter in through the skylights. He assumed in the morning since Billy was still asleep, and he doubted that he had slept through an entire night and then the next day. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and crawled out of his sleeping bag. He stood up and put on a pair of pants, turned on a flashlight and off the lamp before heading out into the store to greet the day.

  The day wasn’t too much worth greeting. The storm had died down before the arrival of the dawn, but it was still dreary, grey and drizzling. First things first, the doors. Jason walked to the front, wondering if he was growing obsessive. Probably so, but there were worse targets of obsession that he could think of.

  Booth sets of doors were still locked and barred. The glass was still intact and the chain gates were still in place. Nothing or nobody had gotten inside during the seven or eight hours that he had slept. Zombies were still packed up against the windows, worse than sardines, more like people in a Japanese subway during rush hour. The miserable weather didn’t seem to phase them a single bit. He grabbed an apple on his way back to the lounge, breakfast would wait until his friends were ready, but there was no reason not to have a snack. He took a box of granola bars too. Who knew how long that they would make him wait.

  The next item on his agenda was to check the water barrels on the roof. Jason picked up a long raincoat from the men’s clothing department. He made his way out back and up the stairs without managing to wake Billy up in the process. Even though he was sorely tempted to leave the apple core balanced on his friend’s forehead as he slept.

  The weather was exactly as he expected, only worse. The sky was a dark iron grey, dreary and rainy to be sure. But the air was also cold, with a chill that resembled the very edge of winter, rather than the late spring that it really was supposed to be. Jason hitched up the hood on his coat, trying to banish the rain from his skin, and got to work. The wind had died down, just leaving a fine mist in place of the driving rain from the night before. The mist was still enough to be able to soak him through and leave him freezing and shivering in a few short minutes. Jason hated the cold and almost envied the dead and their indifference. Almost.

  Happily all of the barrels were still standing. Unfortunately none of them were even remotely close to being full. He estimated that if he combined all of them together he might get a barrel and a half. Might. That was a liberal estimate.

  Jason busied himself with taking all of the blocks out of the bottoms of the barrels and then pouring the water into a single barrel. One barrel and it came well under the rim. They might need to make a tarp or something to catch the rain next time and direct it into one direction. It was a good thing that they had enough bottled water to drink for at least two years to come.

  He walked across the roof to the front of the building to check on the horde out front. They were just as packed as they had been before, though amazingly enough there didn’t seem to be any more than there were the night before, signaling that the flood of undead may have finally stopped.

  The rain had done a lot to wash away the gory results from their experiments from two days ago. It also made a lot of wet zombies. The drenched horde made him wonder i
f they were going to have to live with that ‘wet zombie smell’ until the sun came out and baked them dry. Zombies smelled bad enough completely dry, wet zombie must reek to high heaven.

  Before heading back inside Jason quickly replaced the cinder blocks to make sure that the barrels didn’t blow away in a sudden squall. He sat at the top of the stairs, his back to a wall just inside the door. There he passed the time watching the sky while he ate his granola bar for his pre-breakfast snack.

  He still had a few hours before his friends woke up. They didn’t really possess any driving reason to be awake early these days. Waking up early was just an old habit of his, one that he enjoyed, watching the sun rise in silence, well before the idiots of the world had a chance to get up and ruin it.

  He found that the rain fit his mood well. He wasn’t feeling depressed, but he was feeling rather dark and pessimistic. The weather fit the state of the world, cold, dark and dangerous. If he wasn’t careful he would catch himself writing some overly emotional poem about his deepest darkest thoughts, just what the world needed, more bad poetry. And poetry that angst ridden needed to be written in the blood of the poet.

  Jason found his mind drifting back to the time that Jane had taken him to the beach for a week, just a few months after his parents had died. The weather had been a lot like this for most of it, with just a couple days of sunshine in between. Mostly they stayed inside and watched television and played board games. One of the sources of his dislike for board games he thought.

  Jane had done her best to cheer him up at the time and had managed to succeed some, if not as much as she had hoped to. Still the eternal truth remains, time heals all wounds. Those that didn’t kill you at least. If you were smart, you learned from the experience. Then you wrote a book, sold it to clueless people and became a millionaire by exploiting your pain, and their gullibility. With the gigantic bucket of cash you bought an island and surrounded yourself with beautiful, scantily clad women. That was the way to do it.

  Jason wondered if zombies could read.

  Between the time that he got up and the time that he had breakfast with his friends two and a half hours had passed. Billy managed to drag himself out of bed at around nine thirty and the first thing that he did was to have a cigarette. He stood on the roof alone in the rain, scratching himself as he woke up completely with the first smoke of the day. Jason sat in the doorway and waited, wondering at his friend’s morning routine.

  They broke their fast with some cereal and condensed milk, reasonably fresh fruit and spam fried up on a little propane burning camp stove. They also made coffee. Coffee was a wonderful thing. Though Jason found that he could live without it, life wasn’t quite the same when he didn’t start his day with a hot mug of the bitter, black liquid in the morning. And that was how he liked it. Pure and straight, no cream or sugar. The only other necessity of true civilization that they were living without was the hot showers. For Jason the true symbol of civilization was the ability to get a good hot bath regularly. Civilization was dead, for now.

  He broke the news about the poor results for the water collection. Lynn and Douglas were as disappointed as he was, Billy never really liked taking baths anyways. They decided to make a pair of frames with tarps to help catch the rain and direct it to the barrels. It might not help this time, but it would give them a jumpstart on the next storm. After they had finished eating they cleaned up and got on with the rest of their day.

  The biggest problem that the four friends faced these days, zombie horde at the doors aside, was what they were going to do with all of their time. They had a lot of time and no real duties to attend to. Jason had a feeling that that was the way life would be for a long time to come, years perhaps. Aside from the zombies that filled the lot in front of the building their only real enemy was boredom itself. The zombies were at least tangible and could be eliminated. Wiping the zombies out would be a messy endeavor, but it would offer them tangible results in time. The zombies were a hell of a lot easier to deal with than boredom.

  After breakfast Lynn and Douglas took a trip up to the roof to stretch their legs and get a breath of fresh air. Billy and Jason went to check the front doors at Jason’s insistence. They were solid. As usual. So much time to kill. They continued their walk around the store. Sadly this time Billy made true on his promise to try on the woman’s bra’s. They didn’t do much to give him more cleavage or even the illusion of cleavage. Nature just didn’t see it fit to give Billy large breasts. Even the package of sock stuffed down his shirt didn’t help much. Jason ignored the fact that Billy didn’t take them out of the wrapping.

  They were wandering through the toy department when Jason first got his idea. The shelves were lined with Nerf dart guns. They had seen them earlier when they had walked through upon their first inspection, but they managed to resist the urge to unpack the entire inventory of guns and storm off to invade the next county over. The harsh realities of having a wall of undead between them and their destination wasn’t completely ignored either.

  But the Nerf guns. There were so many possibilities. Many of which would probably get them in trouble with Lynn, true enough, but so many possibilities regardless. There was one thing for sure, they wouldn’t be playing Yahtzee until much, much later. If any of them had enough energy to get a game going.

  Three words were burned into his mind. Capture the flag. Two teams of two, with the entire length of the store to play in, it was a dream that he had had since he was a small child. A dream that he cherished and held dear. One that was soon to become reality. The joys of surviving the end of the world were few in many ways, but there were simple pleasures. One of those was the freedom to do things that had gotten them thrown out of the store during more civilized times. Billy had already taken advantage of that when he had run completely naked through the store for several long minutes as the others hid themselves back in the lounge. Now it was Jason’s turn to cut loose. And he was taking his friends with him.

  It turned out that Lynn was all for a game of capture the flag, Douglas as well. They split into two teams, or rather resumed the two teams that they had been all along. Lynn and Douglas took their flag and headed off to the grocery department while Jason and Billy set up their flag in the toy section. Billy was still wearing the bra that he had tried on earlier, Jason wasn’t sure if he had forgotten it, or if he had just really liked wearing the thing. Lynn and Douglas had stared when they saw him wearing it, but wisely had said nothing on the subject. Either way Jason made his friend take it off so that they could set it up and use it as their all-important flag.

  “We need a team name.” Billy said as he attached the bra to a broomstick and stood the stick upright using one of the wet floor cones.

  “What for?” Jason was getting his gun ready, they had decided that he would take the first turn to go out and try to capture the other flag.

  “Because all good teams have a name.”

  “Like who?”

  “The A-team, Team epsilon and the Jordan era Chicago Bulls to name a few.”

  “You have anything in mind?”

  “Yes, actually.”

  “What were you thinking?”

  “Well since we’re using the bra as a flag, I had a German…”

  “The next words out of your mouth better not be ‘keepum from flappin’!”

  “How did you know?”

  “You bring that stupid joke up damn near every time you encounter a bra.”

  They settled on the name ‘Happy Sunshine Gang’. It wasn’t really very intimidating, actually it was rather stupid, but it was the only thing that Billy would agree to that didn’t some how or another involve breasts and fake German. Billy was rather fond of breasts and to be honest Jason was too, just not enough to wear a bra himself.

  Jason hefted his Nerf gun and left Billy to defending their flag. He grinned over his gun, it was a multi-barreled-dealy made of red and black plastic
. It launched a multitude of small yellow foam balls and was named the Maelstrom by the people who marketed these things to kids. And adults who never completely left their childhood behind, or wanted to recapture it in a frenzy of launching foam balls. Nerf, in his opinion, was one of the single greatest inventions in the long history of toys. Even better than video games, unless there was nobody around to play with. The Maelstrom went a long way to make up for their lack of hot showers.

  With a distant lone peal of thunder echoing off in the distance he set off towards enemy territory.

  Jason knew that there were three possible scenarios for their game. The first was that he would get to the flag with no trouble to find it being guarded by both Lynn and Douglas. He thought that was the least likely case of the three, Lynn was fairly aggressive when they played together, though he had never had opportunity to test Douglas’ mettle. Lynn would want to be on the attack right away, which excluded the double base defense.

  The second and option involved one of them remaining behind to guard the flag while the other went out on the offensive. Splitting their forces was another big no-no for Lynn. Most likely she and Douglas would leave the base undefended and just charge. The scheme had worked for her in the past. Nobody ever really expected such a bold straightforward tactic from her, which always worked to her disadvantage.

  The Megamart was a big store, even as the big boxes were judged. Cavernous was how it had been described by the media as it was being built. So much room to move around, and better yet so many places in which to hide along the way.

  The store was dark and shadowy with very little of the grey light making it to the floor through the skylights. Jason was going for stealth rather than speed. He took the long way around, hoping that Lynn would just go for the straightest route. Chances were that he wouldn’t see anyone until he made it all the way to Lynn and Douglas’ base. That was a good thing since it would increase the chances that either Lynn or Douglas or both would make it all the way through. Some excitement made it less likely that Billy would get bored and wander off leaving the flag unprotected. A turn of events that had occurred in the past.

  If Jason knew Billy, and he did, he was probably back at their base naming his Nerf gun. Billy liked naming things nearly as much as he liked boobies. He was easily entertained, but he was also possessed with a short attention span. That short attention span had cost Billy many losses over the years.

  In a matter of minutes Jason found himself crouched behind a freezer in the frozen foods section of the grocery department. He was peering down the aisle at the Lynn and Douglas’ base and wondering where the guard was hiding. Nothing moved, making him suspect that he had been right about Lynn’s choice of action. Crossing the store had been uneventful as he had hoped. He had weaved his way between the clothes racks and shelves that lined the aisles of the store. For a moment he had gone back to when he was a little kid and pretended that he was a hunter stalking his prey in the woods, closing in on it and getting ready for the kill.

  Jason crept quietly towards the flag. Slowly. He kept low to the ground, inching his way across the floor, keeping an eye out for whoever was defending the base. He had the flag in his hand before he realized that he was alone. Lynn and Douglas went with the most aggressive plan of attack, they both charged over instead of bothering to leave someone behind to defend. Billy was most likely going to be out flanked and overwhelmed. Jason might be lucky and Billy could have gunned one of the two down in their assault, evening the playing field for a one on one death match. Jason didn’t expect that. Billy probably just tripped and fell and somehow managed to shoot himself in the face in the process, taking out his eye, with a Nerf dart. In the end, leaving the base completely undefended.

  Such a turn of events would make the game more interesting. To win, a team member needed to bring the enemy flag back to their own base. Not only that but they needed to be in possession of their own flag at the time in order to score any points. Once Lynn and Douglas took care of Billy, all they had to do was find Jason and baring an unforeseen miracle they would shoot him, get their flag back and win. Not a pleasant turn of events. But as Clint Eastwood said, adapt and overcome.

  He grabbed the flag and ran. Changing the game from simple adventure in capture the flag to downright hide and seek. If he really wanted to be a pain in their collective asses, he could find a comfortable place to hide, and then fall asleep, only to emerge hours later. That would drive Lynn nuts. The notion brought a slow smile to his heart.

  Jason found himself hiding in the middle of a circular clothing rack in the woman’s clothing department. Being surrounded by long dresses felt a mite peculiar, and took him back to his childhood when gone shopping with his mother. He within the clothes rack the perfect hunting blind and it would take his friends forever to find him. Nearly perfect anyhow, since he was as unable to see them as they were him. All that was left was to wait until they split up and then attempt to pick them off one at a time. Minutes passed slowly. Sitting in a clothing rack was boring. Very boring. He was in the middle of a long argument with himself on whether or not to emerge from his hiding place and go to hunt his friends when he heard the slight scrape of soft footsteps on the carpet nearby. His first victim approached unawares.

  The sound of the footsteps grew and then began to recede. Jason slowly, carefully pushed aside the curtain of skirts that had so well obscured his presence. Time to meet his fate. He went into his low crouching walk that Billy and Lynn had always jokingly called ‘Ninja mode’. A habit that he had developed through long years of playing hide and seek and capture the flag out in the woods. He liked to think that it had saved him from getting shot in the ass during paintball matches on occasions too numerous to name. He was probably wrong.

  Jason rounded a corner into one of the aisles, only to see Douglas’ back. He had no real second thoughts or guilt when it came to shooting someone in the back. Living by a bulky code of honor was a nice thing for a samurai or a medieval knight or some stupid character a movie, but survival was far better. Honor would only serve to get him killed. All was fair in love and war. Besides, shooting Douglas in the ass would be a lot of fun and was not an opportunity to be missed.

  He had his gun mostly raised when his foot scraped the floor, alerting Douglas to a presence behind him. He spun about to face the his hunter, raising his own weapon as he did. Jason fired as fast as he could, spraying Douglas with a hail of foam balls. The showdown was all over before it had really begun, as a foam ball bounced off of Douglas’ forehead.

  “Cheap Jason, real cheap.” Growled Douglas in a low voice. He knew the rules for the game, he was dead. Dead folks were allowed to talk, but only with each other and the people who killed them. If happen to pass along any information to their living teammates then they would automatically forfeit the game.

  “No worse than doubling up on our base,” said Jason in the same low voice. He grinned at Douglas. He missed shooting him in the ass, but he still got away with a good surprise attack and that still meant something.

  “That was Lynn’s idea, and a valid move.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me, she is a crafty one.”

  “That she is.” Douglas sat down in the space where he was shot and began his wait. There he would stay until the game was over. Moving around and breaking the rules would just never occur to Douglas, he was just too much of a straight arrow. On the same note, Jason would be astounded if Billy managed to keep still and remain where he had been this entire time. Billy was not known for his patience. A strange turn of events, Douglas ending up playing with them so often, the three friends were competitive in their games and cut close to the bone as they strove to win.

  He left Douglas behind. All he needed to do was to find Lynn, shoot her and get their flag back in order to win the match. And not be shot himself in the process. He figured that if he kept his wits about him and didn’t let his mind wander, h
e stood a decent chance. After all he knew that they were the only two left in the game, that sort of intel had to count for something. Jason went back into his stealth mode, he looked like an idiot he knew, but nobody was around to see. Or maybe there was and they just didn’t notice.

  He kept close to the edge of the aisle as he crept along. He kept his ears open, stopping from time to time to see if he could catch the sound of approaching footsteps floating in the air around him. The store was quiet, it was hard to get used to. All those years that they had spent coming when the thing was almost always packed, the music playing over the intercom system and people going about their business talking and moving around looking at all the goods. He almost expected his ears to start ringing from the sound of the silence.

  A sudden noise, coming from up ahead brought him back to the game from his musings. He hoped that it was Lynn because if it wasn’t, either a zombie had gotten in or there was a rat problem in the store. To Jason one was as bad as another, a plague of zombies was bad enough by itself but giant rats would make a bad situation worse. Maybe the giant rats would eat the zombies or something, or perhaps the zombies would learn to somehow ride the rats, that would be a sight. Hell, what if the giant rats were zombies themselves and they ate the brains of the other giant mutant rats. Leaving him and his friends to form an alliance with the living rats to survive the avalanche of the dead just outside their door. Wouldn’t Billy be pleased?

  Giant rats, zombies! Back to the game damn it. Back to what was right in front of him, back to what was real. Nerf capture the flag might not be universally relevant to the fate of humanity, but he could do something about it. And there he was criticizing Billy for his lack of attention span. Jason started slowly tiptoeing towards the origin of the sound. Probably wouldn’t be giant mutant zombie rats anyhow. Jason was ten paces from the end of the aisle when Lynn stepped out from between two clothing racks. They both froze in their tracks.

  Jason and Lynn looked at one another with disbelief. Each held the other’s flag in one hand and a Nerf gun in the other. Neither had expected to run into the other. The surprise only lasted for a minute. They both dropped their flags and raised their guns and fired as the flags hit the carpeted floor with a clatter.

  “Well that was rather anti-climatic.” Said Lynn after Jason’s ball bounced off her left shoulder.

  “Yeah, I know.” Said Jason as he pulled the suction dart off of his forehead. “How did you get that thing to stick? They never stick.” They both lost, but that was better than either one of them winning, it saved face and kept their pride from becoming too wounded. Playing games with this particular group of people was dangerous at times, especially when they got really competitive. Some times a tie was a good thing that kept their friendship healthy.

  “Skills, I have skills with Nerf guns.”

  “Too bad Zombies are immune to Nerf, you’d be a powerful foe to the dark forces of the undead legions.”

  “Yeah, but maybe I can use those skills with a shotgun too.” Lynn lowered her weapon and walked the ten or so feet to stand next to her friend. “It was a fun game anyways. Let’s go find the others.”

  “To hell with finding them.” Jason said. He cupped his hand over his mouth and yelled. “Douglas! Billy! Over here.” He smiled at Lynn. “Less walking this way.” She shook her head and leaned over to pick up her flag. They didn’t have to wait long for the others to join them. Douglas came at a run, while Billy ambled in at his own pokey pace, he was balancing the barrel of his gun on his nose and pretending to walk a tightrope as he walked.

  “Who won?” Billy asked when he came upon the rest of the group. Dropping the gun from his nose into his awaiting hand.

  “It was a tie.” Said Lynn. She swung her flag around, making it flutter a little, before tossing it to Douglas. “Shall we try again?”

  Jason shook his head, “Nah, four people just isn’t enough for a good game of capture the flag.”

  “What would you like to do instead?” Asked Douglas as he examined their flag. He had set his gun on the floor and leaned it against his leg as he fiddled with their flag. Silly thing to do, very silly.

  “How about this?” Jason asked as he fired several balls at his friends, before turning and running as fast as he could before they could do anything more than flinch. With startled yells and declarations of vengeance, the hunt was on!

  The four friends sat on the floor exhausted. The game of capture the flag had turned into a Nerf free for all brawl that extended the entire length of store. Nobody was safe. A giant battle that left Nerf darts and balls littered everywhere they turned. It was like a war zone, in the same inexact and highly exaggerated way that a child’s messy room might be said to have been struck by a tornado by a weary mother. Chaotic and confusing to be sure, but not really similar to a true war zone in any way that mattered.

  Lunch of canned soup had been about all that they could throw together after their game was over. They barely managed that. Peanut butter sandwiches rounded out whatever vague nutritional requirements were left unanswered by the soup. The upside, Jason realized, was that they wouldn’t have to suffer peanut butter sandwiches for much longer, but that was only because all the bread would soon be inedible due to a bumper crop of mold that was due to start growing. A crop that was hinted at on his tongue as he ate his sandwich.

  They cleaned up their mess as quickly as they could so as not to waste any time that they could be spending lounging around and recuperating from the good times that they had enjoyed earlier. Afternoon had arrived and the sky was beginning to lighten a little. Still grey and dreary, just a little less so than it had been before. Jason made his normal rounds of the front doors, this time Douglas went with him.

  The two of them walked in near silence, a little small talk, but neither of them said anything of real importance. Old habits died hard. Jason was relieved to find that the doors still held, if unsurprised. He couldn’t quite understand, let alone explain, his obsession with the two front doors. They were simply a terrible itch that refused to go away, the image of the horde breaking through the front doors and invading their fortress played over and over in his mind. They were safe and comfortable inside the store, he was afraid to lose that. Lynn believed that the Megamart was a bastion of safety, and to have that taken away suddenly would really be a devastating blow to his friend.

  Jason and Douglas actually approached the glass to get a closer look at their neighbors. As individuals they seemed to be entirely oblivious to the creatures that they were shoulder to shoulder with, their entire attention was focused on Jason and Douglas. Their only urge was getting inside to feast. “You think they smell us or do they see us?” Douglas asked as he wrapped on the glass door with his knuckles. Leaning closer to get a better look at one of the zombies that had pressed it’s face up to the glass in a vain attempt to get to the meat on the other side.

  The zombies looked rather grey. Years of watching zombie movies, and playing zombie video games gave him a distinct idea of what zombies should look like. Dead rotting creatures with vacant stares and green pus filled flesh. The vacant stare part was right, but so far as he could tell they weren’t rotting yet. They were just pasty from a lack of blood flow to their faces. They looked more like his fellow nerds than the undead. “Dunno for sure. Good question though. I would have to guess that they see us moving in here.”

  “Think they could smell us?”

  “Possible I guess, I’m getting a little rank, especially after all that running we did today.”

  “I mean in general though.”

  “I doubt it, unless dying makes their senses sharper, human beings have a poor sense of smell when their brains are fully functional. I bet these creatures work mostly on sight and hearing.”

  “You’ve thought about this way too much.”

  “A week ago I might have agreed with you.”

  “A week ago, so wou
ld I.”

  “Tell you what, stand completely still and see if they lose sight of you.”

  “Ok.” Douglas did as he was told. The zombies went on doing as they had before, pushing at the glass, trying to get through. Jason decided to take it a step further and danced around like a court jester who had gotten into his lord’s wine. The undead creatures in front of him redoubled their efforts to get in.

  “It would appear that they hunt by sight, or at least they do when there’s two inches of glass between them and their potential prey.”

  “It would appear so. Nice dance by the way, where did you learn it.”

  “That was my recreation of Billy’s rendition of ‘Oh Sweet Mother of Crap, Jesus has Returned: The Interpretive Dance’.”

  “I’ve never seen him do that.”

  “It only happens when he’s drunk.”

  “I’ve seen Billy drunk.”

  “When he’s really drunk, like last fourth of July.”

  “I’ve heard some stories about that party, but after a while Lynn just breaks up laughing.”

  “From what I remember, she’s lucky she can tell any parts of that story at all without her sides splitting, that was a wild weekend. At least the stories any of us can actually remember.”

  “Lots of drinking it sounds like.”

  “That’s what I’m told.”

  “I thought that you were there.”

  “That’s what I’m told.”

  “Were you that drunk?”

  “Well all I recall seeing from the entire weekend is Billy’s dance. The rest of it I’ve heard about from other people. For me it’s all a grey blob that ended with me throwing up in Lynn’s parent’s neighbor’s swimming pool and I’m not quite sure how I got there since we started a hundred or more miles away.”

  “Wild weekend indeed.”

  “Yeah, the videos of it were pretty awesome.”

  Douglas shook his head and they started walking again. The second entrance was just like the first, solid and safe and crammed with the undead. The two of them made their way back to Billy and Lynn, once again in silence. Jason found himself disliking Douglas less intensely than he did, but that was about all. Old hatreds were hard to let go, they were like beliefs and addictions. A crutch to hold on to, an excuse for avoiding change and evolving into something better. He didn’t want to let go of his dislike for Douglas and he doubted that he ever would, even if it wasn’t as sharp as it had once had been.

  Lynn and Billy were sitting pretty much where they had left them. Lynn was leaning back slightly, resting on her hands, while Billy was sprawled out along the floor like a puppy. Jason half expected to see his friend kick his legs out as if he were dreaming about chasing a cat or something, it would have completed the image rather nicely.

  There was only one thing on the agenda for the day, one thing that needed to be done. They had to devise a way to catch more rain. There were several suggestions, ranging from simply placing more barrels, to building a large tank, with pipes and stuff (Billy was grandiose with his promises but rather non-specific. He merely told them in a dozen different ways that it would be really damn cool) to collect water. Eventually they just decided that they would build a system of frames that would hold tarps and direct water into the barrels.

  The rest of the day they spent together lounging. They passed the time playing games that required little or no movement. Reading was another popular option and from time to time just sitting in silence. There wasn’t too much talk. Politics had become a moot point, none of them were religious, the weather was rainy, and their favorite topic of old, the zombie apocalypse had come to pass. There would be no more books that were to be written, no movies to get excited over, no new music. There wasn’t a lot to talk about in their favorite old topics.

  Passive entertainment was a thing of the past. Now they would now have to invent their own entertainment. They just wouldn’t be starting with the lost art of conversation.

  The sky had broken at last and the sun was out and shining once again. That was somewhat of a fallacy, the sun was always out and shining brightly. Wow it was just wasn’t obscured by clouds, and the people standing on the roof of the Megamart could enjoy its warming rays.

  Jason enjoyed the feeling of warmth on his skin. He took off his shirt and tossed it aside. The sun and wind on his back and chest made a wonderful respite from the grey weather. The last few days reminded him of when he was a kid, when the rain forced him to stay inside and play. He hated being confined indoors, even as a child and no matter if he had his friends present. His growing into something like adulthood hadn’t changed a thing. He liked feeling the weather from time to time, being indoors grew stale quickly. The four friends crossed the roof to take a look and see what they could see.

  The passing days seemed to have finally quenched the flood of incoming zombies. The numbers of the horde had grown little since the last time they viewed it. The teaming masses of bodies stretched across the front of the building from one entrance to the other, about fifteen zombies deep at the thinnest and two to three times that in the knots in front of the doors. They went so far as to begin to spill into the lots at the sides of the building, getting dangerously close to the loading zone in the back. Almost meaningless in the face of the wall of meat below, there were perhaps another one hundred or so of the zombies scattered across the parking lot, like lost shoppers searching for their cars.

  Jason and Billy offloaded their furniture from the elevator where they had stored it before the storm had descended upon them. Meanwhile Lynn and Douglas checked the water barrels in hopes that they had collected more water while the storm finished blowing itself out. From the looks of it, they were rather disappointed.

  Jason stood at the edge of the roof and looked down at the horde. Depressingly counting heads until he became lost in the numbers was developing into a disturbing habit for him. Much like checking the front doors. The problem being that he didn’t have much experience estimating bodies gathered in crowds. All he could guess was that there were several hundred zombies pushing at the gates below in an attempt to get in. And thousands more crushing the zombies at the door. He picked up a rock and threw it down into the throng beneath, there were just so many. So many.

  The store was like an island sanctuary. An island of life in a sea of death, a sea that was trying it’s best to flood the island and all of its inhabitants, to scour them away as if they never had been in the first place. He had a friend who was a native of Hawaii while he had still in school. He never understood what had possessed her to leave a tropical paradise for such a cold backwater in the middle of the plains that was their town.

  She had told him that from time to time the natives were infected by something that they called island fever, which she explained was the deep need to get the hell off of the island. The island was like a prison to them after spending so many years confined by its blue walls. Jason couldn’t imagine a place like Hawaii being a prison, or at least he couldn’t then. Things had changed and he was dropped into his own prison.

  He had never before experienced an attack of wanderlust so desperately as he had in the last couple of days of being cooped up indoors. Days spent thinking about being stuck in the store for an unforeseeable amount of time for the future. He hated it when old adages could be applied to his life, but the one about not knowing what you had until you lost it rung true. Freedom was a wonderful gift.

  While Jason brooded about being imprisoned in the store Billy was working hard to find a signal on the small portable radio. Days had passed since they had heard anything of the outside world and they had all decided to check again in hopes that perhaps help was on the way.

  Billy was huddled over the radio when Jason returned from the edge. Lynn and Douglas were with him, sitting in the lawn chairs and silently watching as he grumbled to himself and fumbled with the knobs on the side of the radio. He had headphones on and the
antenna extended. Slowly, he twitched his hand, checking each frequency and waiting.

  “Wait, I think I got something. This is an emergency broadcast, blah blah blah blah, Please stay in your homes until the proper authorities sound the all clear…Damn it, it’s the same message that was playing, and we then so blatantly ignored, when we left home in the first place.”

  Douglas shook his head, “Hope they don’t find us here.”

  “Why not?” Asked Jason.

  “Breaking martial law is a serious offense, lots of jail time I would think.”

  “Not to mention the trespassing and theft. But I don’t think they would be too upset if they found us alive. More survivors to help fight the undead hordes and repopulate the world.”

  “Don’t be so sure…”

  Lynn cut them off with an irritated look that could have frozen water before they could continue any further in their debate. “Billy, is there anything else?” She grabbed his shoulder to make sure she had his attention.

  “I dunno, nothing that I’ve found yet, I’m still checking.” They all held their breath until Billy finally spoke up again. “Nah, that government message is all there is. They keep telling people to stay in their homes and that help will arrive when possible. I suppose that I can try hooking up some sort of larger antenna, but from what we’ve seen so far, I doubt it would help any.”

  “That doesn’t sound too promising.” Jason sighed and ambled back over to the edge and looked down again. Trapped, with no rescue in sight for the foreseeable future. He was glad that he was outside during all of this, if he had been inside he was sure that he would have had an attack of claustrophobia and freaked out. As it was he was feeling a touch of both panic and depression.

  Anger replaced the panic and depression as he looked at the creatures that were holding them all prisoner. His anger was irrational and childish, he knew that even as it welled from within, but the knowledge didn’t seem to change his feelings. Jason leaned over the edge a little and shouted down at the hordes “Hey assholes, did you hear that? The man on the radio says that martial law has been declared and that you all need to go home.”

  “They leaving?” Jason was startled by Lynn’s voice coming from a couple of feet behind where he stood.

  He shook his head, “no, they’re still out there, damn civil disobedience for you. Some times it works for you, some times against. Too bad we don’t have some national guardsmen or angry redneck cops with clubs to sort them all out.” Jason left the edge again, this time to flop down in his chair and stew with his own thoughts. There was no escape unless they cut a way out through the horde themselves, but if they did that, then what? Escape to where. Trapped was trapped. They would need somewhere to go. Maybe Billy would have some answers.

  “Dude, I dunno.” Billy shook his head as they looked down at Mike.

  Jason was standing next to his friend, enjoying the view and wondering what Billy was on about. “Dunno what? He’s still in pretty good shape. Considering his old age.” It was another grey day, though not yet stormy, and the overcast sky didn’t shed the best possible light on the car. If one wanted to be honest, the best possible way to view Mike was around twilight, while squinting. But who ever wanted to be honest when thinking about an old friend?

  “In car terms, Mike is ancient my friend. Hell, he’s older than everyone here except Douglas. Better let him go.”

  “What do you mean let him go?”

  “I mean let him go, to rust in piece. He’s earned an extended vacation.”

  “And then what? We can’t all fit into Douglas’ truck.”

  “That we can’t.” Billy said with a grin. He was leading up to something, and in his normal drama queen fashion was taking his sweet time getting there. Jason on the other hand was about ready to toss his friend off the roof in an attempt to see if the laws of gravity still held sway over the space between the top of the Megamart and the pavement below.

  “Then what are you suggesting.”

  Billy grinned. “Look over there my friend, what do you see?”

  There was a line of trees and Jason said so. Hoping that his friend would get to the point before they both found out whether or not Billy could fly.

  “Do you happen to remember what is situated beyond those trees?” Jason must have had a blank expression on his face, because Billy said “Oh hell I give up. There’s a car dealership over there.”

  “Why couldn’t you have just come out and said that in the first place?”

  “Where’s the fun in that? Anyway, there’s a lot full of brand new cars and trucks just waiting to be claimed.”

  “Might work.”

  “The best part is, we won’t have to deal with the idiot salesmen.” He switched into his oily salesmen voice, “I’ll have to talk it over with my supervisor.”

  Jason shrugged his shoulders. “Alright, let’s give it a shot.” He thought for a moment, “figured out how talk Lynn into letting us go?”

  “Are you really that afraid of Lynn?”

  Jason asked again, “have figured out how talk Lynn into letting us go?”

  “I figured that we would just sneak right by her.”

  “We’re doomed.”

  “Shut up! It’ll work! We’ll take some wire cutters for the fence, our weapons and something to eat and drink. The dealership is less than a half a mile away, we can go, find a new truck, and drive it back. Besides, Lynn knows how bad of shape Mike is in too, she was there that day when he started belching black smoke, she’ll agree that he needs to be replaced for all of our safety. If that doesn’t work we can point and say ‘what the hell is that’ and when she turns around and looks where we’ve pointed, we yell ’yoink!’ and then run! It’ll be foolproof.”

  “Lynn isn’t a fool. What about the zombies?”

  In his dreadful ‘English accent’ Billy responded, “we shall have Lord Bashinator with us, old chap! We need not fear the undead scourge.”

  Jason shook his head again, it was getting to be quite the habit, one that he was in whenever Billy spoke. He decided to throw in the towel, and followed his friend back down the stairs, Jason knew when he wasn’t going to win and when a fight wasn’t worth the cost. Lynn and Douglas were sitting in the employee’s lounge playing a game of chess. Once again going for the grandmaster title of the known world. Considering that the known world was the four friends, and neither Billy nor Jason had much of an interest in playing the game, the title was rather meaningless. On top of that, it changed hands on a daily basis since the two were so evenly matched.

  At least this time they weren’t playing strip chess. Jason had gotten more than enough of an eyeful of Douglas’ furry torso during the first and subsequently last (so he hoped) time he had walked on them while playing that variation. Sadly Lynn had had her back to him, so he didn’t get to enjoy the wondrous vision of female cleavage (she had been winning at the time and was largely clothed).

  “Keep your pants on this time,” he said to Douglas as he and Billy passed them by. Douglas blushed and grinned while Lynn giggled.

  Billy lead Jason around the Megamart gathering tools that they would likely need. Bolt cutters, wire cutters, a pair of walkie-talkies, a hammer, a crowbar, a couple heavy-duty flashlights, and rope. Billy handed his friend the rope, watching him for a moment and waiting, the corners of his mouth twitching with anticipation, but Jason decided not to rise to the bait and let Billy go off on another one of his awful impersonations. Billy frowned and sighed his shoulders slumped in disappointment, next time perhaps. Despite the respite, Jason could still hear Billy’s voice in a bad Irish accent rattling off the lines that he had held so dear. He groaned anyway.

  They put most of their new gear into backpacks, with the radios on their belts. “Channel seven,” Billy said as he adjusted his headset. With that, they made their way to the back door. Jason wondering every step what sort of outburst that he could expect fro
m Lynn. On one hand they were doing something dangerous, on the other, Billy was right and it was something that desperately needed to be done. Besides, raiding the lot of a car dealer was something to do. Being inside or on the roof of the Megamart day in and day out was beginning to make his feet itch.

  “We’ll be back later, when we find the right truck.” Billy said as they walked by the employee lounge to the back door.

  Lynn waved as they passed, “ok, which channel are you using?”

  Billy waved back, “Uh, seven. We should be back in an hour or so. Keep an ear out and mind the door.”

  Lynn called back, “be safe and good luck.”

  The lack of general outburst on the part of Lynn left Jason’s ears ringing. It was like being in a loud environment for a long time, and then stepping into a silent room. “What the hell was that all about?”

  “Oh, we already talked it over, we all agreed that Mike needed to be retired. It was my job to make you see it too.” Jason was near fuming at the trick his friend had played on him. He wished that they were back on the roof for that gravity test. So much for missed opportunities!

  “You bastard,” he finally managed to say with a slap upside the back of Billy’s head as stepped out the door and back into the grayish light of the overcast sky. Billy grinned again, shrugged and joined his friend. He had expected to get slapped. Billy had probably even drawn out the matter on purpose just to piss Jason off that much more.

  Billy lit up a cigarette and took a drag, offering the pack to Jason “Ya want one?”

  “Nah, I decided to quit.”

  Billy’s eyebrows leaped straight up his forehead and into his scalp, landing somewhere near the scruff of his neck. “Really? Why?”

  “Well, I figure one day I might have to run, and I don’t think that smoking will do much to help me. That whole coughing and hacking up a lung thing.”

  “Good point.” Billy dropped the cigarette he had just lit, grinding it under the sole of his boot. The rest of the pack soon followed. Jason heaved a sigh of relief, quitting smoking had just gotten a lot easier since his friend would no longer be offering him ciggs. “Well let’s go,” Billy said, taking out the wire cutters and walking over to the fence.

  They decided that they would cut a straight line down the chain link fence, from top to bottom and then roll a ten or twelve foot section off to the side so that they could get the new vehicle through, afterwards doing their best to mend the fence to keep any stray zombies out.

  The cutting took several minutes, Jason started at the top and Billy with the bottom, they would meet in the middle. Billy managed one cut for Jason’s two, using both of his hands to squeeze the wire cutters, cursing in fake Klingon as he went. With the fence cut, they rolled it out of the way, removing the guide wires along the top rail as then went, before tying it off at the end with a section of Billy’s vaunted rope.

  The lot behind the Megamart was empty of all but waist tall grass beyond the first row or two of trees. Even those were spaced widely enough to get a car through, meant only to block the unseemly view of the store from the delicate haughty eyes of the upper class commercial district beyond.

  There was little movement for as far as they could see in any direction. The street beyond was as empty as the field in which they currently stood. Jason let himself relax a little. Not all the way, but enough so that the muscles in his back had a chance to stop clenching and aching. As they stood in the field, they eyed their destination. A parking lot full of rows upon rows of what had until recently been bright and shiny new cars. They had become dusty and dingy from neglect in the weeks past, but they were all in excellent shape. At least hopefully. Jason wracked his mind, trying to remember if there had been any major recalls in the last couple of years.

  Jason had his sword in hand as they snuck across the grassy field. Billy had his mace out too, Jason refused to refer to it mentally by the stupid name that it had been bestowed. Silence was good, it was what they needed at the time, and gunshots would draw unwelcome attention to their presence.

  At the far edge of the field they stopped again, taking a closer look at the car dealership lot as well as some of the surrounding buildings. Jason saw a flicker of movement and dropped into a crouch.

  There were several zombies walking around mindlessly inside the building. Jason pointed them out to Billy, who nodded and motioned Jason to follow once more. They darted across the street and in between a couple of parked SUVs, fleeing from the restless eyes of the dead.

  Billy looked around for a moment, peaking from behind the SUV that was concealing them from the zombies in the building. “Well, whatcha want?” He said.

  “Something with a lot of storage.” There were a ton of different models to choose from and it might take a while to find the best fit.

  “Leather seats? What color?”

  “Nah, those are unpleasant when it gets either hot or cold, I think cloth would suit my needs better.”

  “CD player?”

  “Damn strait, a CB radio would be a good thing to have too.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that, though I doubt that we can find one already installed. They don’t get much use anymore. We’ll probably have to pick it up elsewhere and install it ourselves.”

  “They might have them inside as accessories, we could take it into the garage here and install it before we head back.” Jason picked up his radio, hit the call button and whispered “Lynn, we’re at the lot, we’re going to take a look around, do some shopping.”

  “Rodger,” came Lynn’s voice softly over the radio.

  Jason clipped the handset back onto his belt.

  “What do you think?” He said in an undertone to Billy, “do we clear off the lot first or the building?”

  “I think the building, that way we have a safe place to retreat if we run into trouble.”

  They looked in every direction, several times. Billy stood on the hood of the SUV to get a better view of the lot before making a break for the door of the dealership showroom. The zombies inside had seen them through the large windows that stretched from floor to ceiling all across the front half of the building. Panes of glass that were four feet wide and were only broken by the few inches of steel that they were framed by.

  By the time the two friends made it to the door, at least four zombies were already pressing themselves against the glass, trying to get out to feed on the tantalizingly flesh that was so near, but so far away.

  Billy tried the door, it was unlocked and swung open outward. Jason followed his friend indoors, drawing his sword. The small group of undead were standing to their left, a mere eight feet away and trying desperately to get closer. They were dressed like salesmen, wearing long sleeved dress shirts and expensive slacks. One, the furthest away, had several bites taken out of his leg and his costly pants.

  “You take the one on the front right,” Billy said as he charged the one on the left. Bringing a free meal to the zombie and in the process making some of its fondest desires come true.

  Billy was already swinging his mace down onto the head of the first zombie, crushing its skull, by the time that Jason had neared enough his own to attack. For a second or so he considered doing something tricky like piercing its eye, or grandiose like decapitating the creature with a single swing of his sword. But that would have been more of Billy’s style. Douglas had told him that his blade had been designed mostly for thrusting, though it did passably well with chopping too. So instead he just stabbed it through the neck, severing the spine, causing it to drop to the ground, and finally accept that it was truly dead.

  Jason looked over to see that Billy was cheerfully clubbing his second zombie into the afterlife, and that there was only one more to go, about five feet away from where the other three had stood. Jason looked at his sword and gave it a quick wave, before deciding to hell with it.

  He took two quick steps forward, and raised his blade flat end acro
ss and over his left shoulder like a baseball bat. With all his strength and momentum he swung the sword at the zombie’s neck, severing the head from the shoulders and sending it flying several feet where it hit a shiny black sports car and bounced off, leaving one hell of a stain on the finish. Jason admired at the sword with a new level of appreciation for the craftsmanship, if it was designed for thrusting, but could still cut, it was good work.

  “Yick, zombie gunk,” Billy said, giving his mace a shake, sending droplets blood onto the polished floor tiles.

  “Don’t try too hard to clean that thing, we’ll probably have to kill more.”

  Billy brightened a little, “yeah you’re right.”

  “What have you got against these guys?”

  “I just always wanted to hit a snooty car dealer prick.”

  “What the hell for?”

  “They wouldn’t sell me a car.” He said grumpily, giving one of the corpses a kick in the ribs.

  “You couldn’t afford one from this place.”

  “That’s what they said, the assholes.”

  “You don’t even have a drivers license.”

  “They didn’t know that, at least not at first.”

  “What did they do when they found out?”

  “They threw me out, literally. And told me never to let them see my face back here again. But here I am!” With that, Billy started into his victory dance.

  Though he had always wanted to sit back and watch the whole thing, Jason stopped him short. He was rather pissed. “You mean that you dragged me over here just so you could get revenge on what’s left of a couple of yuppies?”

  “Yes. Well, no not really. Sorta. But no.”

  “What do you mean sort of?”

  “Mike does need to be replaced. You admitted that yourself. He’s going to die one of these days and leave us in the middle of a world of shit. This place was close, and their product is the best that German engineering has to offer. We got to kill two birds with one stone. Anyway, who doesn’t wish harm on a car salesman?”

  Jason had to admit, Billy did have a good point. “You sound like a television commercial.”

  “I can’t help it, I love that new car smell. It does something to my brain.”

  “Bud, you’re not smelling cars, you’re smelling blood and rotting zombie corpses. Anyway, lets check the rest of the building, and catch them before they find us.” Jason quickly cleaned his sword off on the ragged pant leg of one of the corpses before making for the back of the building.

  Most of the offices were empty, they found a couple more of the dead walking around in a conference room on the second floor. Stale donuts and cold coffee left forgotten on the table. Those were quickly dealt with. In the manager’s office they found the lockbox that held all of the keys for every car, truck, SUV, and moped on the lot. Billy’s fingers twitched with greed as he ran them over the keys, causing them to sway on their little hooks like grass in the wind.

  A handful more zombies, most of them back in the automotive garage, and the building was theirs.

  “Well, what do you want to look at first?” Billy asked. “I’m pretty sure we could get you into a subcompact fairly inexpensively.”

  “What we’ll need is something with four wheel drive, decent clearance, a bit of storage space.”

  “Hmmm, truck or SUV?”

  “I think a truck would be better, though something with an extended cab and a cap over the bed.”

  “How about colors? I’m just going to say darling, that you would look scrumptious in hot pink.”

  “You through? We have work to do.”

  “For now.” Billy said “for now.”

  They found the stairway to the roof and climbed up to get a better look at the lot. Crouching low to attract as little attention as they possibly could while they surveyed the vehicles below. “Looks like only three of those trucks have caps. Lets take a closer look shall we?”

  They went quickly to the manager’s office to see if they could find the keys that went to their prospective target. The keys were organized using a system that even a half blind monkey could understand, which was fortunate for Jason and Billy since they lacked much in the way of patience for figuring such things out. They took several keys for likely candidates, and then went outside again to sort everything out.

  They hadn’t seen any movement around the lot while they were on the roof, but they remained vigilant as they snuck forward to the trucks section of the lot.

  “Oh damn,” breathed Billy getting a look at the prices listed on the stickers. “Good thing we brought a coupon!” He grinned again and patted his mace for a moment.

  They wove their way through thirty different trucks, from time to time Billy would point out some of the nicer features that one or another boasted, from the red one that had eight cup holders (though it could only hold two people), to the dark purple one that was dark purple with red flames, no special features, Billy just thought it was too damn cool to leave. True to form, he was gladly willing to share his thoughts with the world. The world, as usual, being Jason.

  In the end they settled on an SUV. Not one of the frilly little status symbol designed for soccer moms to shuttle their brood back and forth between school and home while never once leaving a paved road. An actual four wheel drive SUV that was meant to explore the wilderness with its owner. Like in the commercials where they tore up and down through remotest mountain ranges while classic rock played in the background.

  Jason wasn’t a car man by any stretch of the imagination, but he did drool a little when he opened the door and climbed in. It was a worthy successor to Mike.

  Finding and then installing the CB radio took them near an hour. In that time they also filled several emergency gas cans and found a couple of extra spare tires. They radioed home and let their friends know that they were about to return home. Christening the SUV Kime, after his old car, he poured a half empty bottle of water over the hood before jumping in.

  Jason turned the key to start the engine, and it came to life with a soft purr. Billy was in the passenger’s seat playing with the CB radio, the am/fm radio, the power windows and locks and everything else within arm length that had a knob to fiddle with. Jason threw it into reverse, hit the gas and was amazed by the lack of smoke and other groaning noises that Mike had normally given off.

  The drive home short and quick, less than two minutes, even including the time it took for them to navigate through the line of trees. Lynn and Douglas met them at the back door and helped them unload everything from Mike and put all the supplies into the SUV, before moving Mike out of the way on the across the hole on the other side of the fence and then patching up the hole, using yet more of Billy’s beloved rope to tie it all off. The hole in the fence might come in handy one day.

  Jason tossed Douglas the extra handheld CB that they had gotten from the dealership, and they all went back inside for lunch.

  Later that week they learned one new fact first hand. Stones were heavy and difficult to move with a snow shovel. Who knew? Obviously not Billy, since he was the one to suggest that they shift the stones lining the roof top with shovels in the first place. ‘It’ll be a lot easier and faster, we’ll get the job done in no time’, he had said as he handed Jason a shovel.

  Still the work went faster than if they had done it without the shovel, transferring all the rock with just their bare hands. Jason and Billy cleared an area about ten feet long and four feet wide, revealing the tar slathered roof, they then covered the blank spot with the rug that they had found in the furnishings department downstairs. Lynn asked what they were working so diligently on, Billy told her that since they were now officially retired, they were taking up golf.

  Jason and Billy took a few more minutes to set up after they finished installing the platform. They had brought couple of complete sets of clubs with them mostly for some strange fancy of Billy’s. Jason didn’t want to think of what use
Billy might have for a putter in driving balls off the roof, but Billy was strange like that, so Jason just rolled along with his friend’s eccentricity (Douglas called it insanity, and Jason didn’t argue the point).

  They cracked open the first of what would be many cases of golf balls that they had secured from the back storage room. Many cases. It wasn’t like they would be getting the balls back any time soon. Jason thought that it was lucky that the store had stocked up for the golf season, and a better thing that golf wasn’t overly popular in these parts. They would have something to keep them occupied for a long time.

  At least three days, or so Billy had calculated. He didn’t show his work.

  Billy drove his first ball, sending it out beyond the edge of the parking lot into the middle of the water filled ditch that acted as a barrier to separate the parking lot from the highway. Jason was sick of being amazed by little surprises. Billy knew how to play golf, or at least swing a golf club.

  “Where did you learn how to do that?”

  “I used to play with my dad from time to time when I was in Jr. High and High School.”

  “I’m glad that I didn’t take you up on that bet.” Billy had tried to interest him in a contest to see who could hit a golf ball furthest. The winner gets to make dinner for a month, and would have to wear a dress, nothing too skanky, in Billy’s words.

  “That was just a practice shot.”

  Jason took his first shot, and was happy to see the thing fly off the roof. He had envisioned himself breaking club after club in a cartoonish fit, slicing and swearing and of course missing. All in all he was doing ok. They fell into a rhythm, swing, replace the ball and then swing again. They were halfway through the balls that they had brought with them before they stopped to take a breather and enjoy some refreshments. Cigarettes and warm beer.

  “You want to try hitting something?”

  “I thought I was doing pretty well. I’ve hit the ball with every swing.” He corrected himself, “Most every swing.”

  “What?”

  “I thought I was doing fairly well at golf for my first time.”

  “No, no, no, I mean aim at something with the golf balls.”

  “You mean like the highway?”

  “I was thinking something smaller.”

  “One of the cars?”

  “Or one of the zombies.”

  “I’d be lucky to hit the highway, much less one of the cars.”

  “You’re getting better.”

  “Maybe, but if I hit a zombie, it’d be pure luck. Like if one of them accidentally walked into the golf ball.”

  “Never know until you try.”

  “No, I know that I’m not too good at golf. Trying to hit a small moving target is a lost cause for me.”

  “Alright, how about that white caddy out there about three quarters of the way to the edge of the lot? Think you can hit that?”

  “Maybe. I’m pretty sure I can get the ball out that far.”

  They went to work. It turned out that Jason hit a lot of zombies, for a while more of his balls hit the zombies than they hit the car. It was a saving grace that some of them never got back up after he beaned them. His incompetence was less embarrassing that way. It was a shame that he wasn’t aiming at any of them. Ah well, at least it wasn’t a total loss.

  After a couple of hours the car was full of dents, all the windows were either cracked or shattered. Billy turned to him and said “Are you ready to try for new targets now?”

  “I guess. I don’t feel that much better though.”

  “You’ve gotten a lot better, besides, I’m getting bored with hitting that damn car.”

  “Alright, pick your target.”

  “Ok, that big guy in the cowboy get up.”

  “I see him.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Doesn’t it feel weird at times to you?”

  “Doesn’t what feel weird?” Billy placed another ball and lined up his swing.

  “Treating these people as if they aren’t people. Pelting balls at them and dropping shit on their heads feels kind of wrong.”

  “They aren’t people.”

  “Yeah they are, look at them.”

  “They’re walking corpses.”

  “They were people.”

  “Yeah, they were, but not any more. Now they’re just empty shells, shadows of their former selves.”

  “I wonder if they still have souls.”

  “If they did before they died, I doubt that they still do. I’m telling you, they’re hollow.”

  “Still feels strange to kill them. Some times I even enjoy it, that scares me.”

  “Killing them is ok, as long as you don’t kill people that aren’t zombies yet.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Billy swung his club, driving the ball out into the lot. He came within mere inches of the skinny guy that they had been aiming for. He cursed and put down another ball. Jason watched him take another swing, again missing by inches. “Jason?” He had stopped playing and put his club down before turning to look at Jason.

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t want to be one of them.”

  “What do you mean?” Jason wasn’t sure what his friend was getting at. Who wanted to be a zombie in the first place? He usually had a hard time following where Billy was going when he changed gears suddenly.

  “I don’t want to be a zombie.”

  “Ok.”

  “If it ever I ever get infected by one of them and die and come back, make sure that I don’t stay that way. Please.”

  Jason shrugged. “I’ll kill you myself if I have to.”

  “Thanks man.” Billy looked relieved in a strange sort of way. He picked up his club again, readied another ball and took a swing. This time he hit. He hit the man dead on in the middle of the forehead. Jason could hear the skull cracking all the way across the parking lot as the zombie crumpled to the ground below. One less shell walking around, one less creature to worry about. So many more to take its place. Jason placed another ball of his own and was joined promptly by Billy.

  “You won that round.”

  “Was there any doubt?”

  “Not really, no. Who shall we go for next?”

  “How about the fat man in shorts out by the red Buick? He might be a large enough target for you to hit.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “Maybe I will, but not just yet. Ready?” Without waiting for an answer Billy drove his first ball and scored a hit on the fat man’s ample stomach. The creature didn’t seem to even notice that it had just been hit by a hard ball traveling near a hundred miles an hour. It truly was just a shell of a human being. Jason took his turn, missing as usual.

  There was a squealing of tires on the pavement as a compact car came racing up the road towards the Megamart parking lot. Jason hit Billy’s shoulder and pointed, mostly out of surprise for seeing another living breathing human being, rather than just to point out the new development to his friend. Though Jason was a master at stating the obvious, and from time to time he enjoyed putting his skills to work.

  The car was swerving wildly around the walking dead as the driver raced into the parking lot from off the street. The driver made it halfway across the lot before completely losing control of the car after hitting a curb. They bounced off the curb and the driver tried to regain control only to have the car flip over onto its roof while going full speed. The compact slid fifteen feet further before slamming into the car that Billy had hit with stones a few days earlier.

  Jason lifted his binoculars to his eyes to try to get a better look at what was going on. Most of the compact was obscured by the vehicle that it had just smashed into. He could see the driver’s side door, it looked like the driver was struggling to get out and not having very much luck. What he could see clearly was that the accident had gotten the attention of a parking lot full of zombies and the walking dead were beginning to
slowly close in.

  “Get out, get out!” Jason screamed at the top of his lungs, urging the driver and what-ever passengers he had with him, onwards. Billy ran to get his rifle from where he had left it leaning next to the door to the stairs. Jason grabbed his bow and drew an arrow. He released his first arrow and watched it hit the chest of the zombie nearest the car. Shit, that wouldn’t even slow the thing down. He fired another arrow into the same zombie as Billy returned to the edge of the roof with the rifle and a spare box of ammunition.

  Billy raised the rifle to his shoulder, took aim and finished off the zombie that Jason had shot with his bow. There was movement at the car. Jason looked through his binoculars again, the passenger had finally freed herself from the car and was beginning to walk towards the building. More zombies were closing in on the small car as she got moving.

  Jason screamed again and waved his arms at her “Go around the back! Run damn it!” The woman started moving as fast as she could towards the back of the store, unfortunately the best she could do was a shaky trot.

  “Oh shit man!”

  “What?” Billy shot a zombie that was getting close to the woman, clearing a path for her to go through.

  “I can’t help her, and the people in the car all at the same time. Who do I focus on?”

  “Help the woman, we know she’s alive.”

  “Alright, will do.”

  Jason grabbed his walkie-talkie off of his belt “Lynn, Douglas, get to the back door, we have company coming real quick.” Billy shot another zombie as the woman made painfully slow progress. Jason kept on watching the car, hoping that the driver might make it out. The zombies were closing in on the driver. Several were already within arm’s length. His attention drifted back to the woman, she was about halfway to the end corner of the building when a scream came from the car. Jason fired another arrow at one of the zombies near the car, hitting it in the neck. A lucky shot that severed the spine and dropped the creature to pavement for good.

  She turned around and started walking back towards the car. Jason screamed at her again “No, you can’t do anything to help, just keep running.” The woman looked up at the roof in a dazed sort of way, but followed his orders. Jason fired another arrow, missing the zombie that he had been aiming for and instead bursting the rear driver’s side tire.

  The man in the car kept on screaming, making Jason wince each time a cry burst out in either terror or agony. “Billy, can you hit the gas tank and make that car explode or something?”

  “I don’t know if it’ll work that way, but I can give it a shot.” He ignored the woman’s plight for a moment and aimed his rifle back at the car. The man inside the compact had stopped screaming and his silence tore at Jason’s insides as much as the screaming had. Billy took his shot, it looked like he hit the car, but nothing happened.

  “It didn’t work, go back to helping her.” Billy took a moment to reload and then turned his attention back to killing zombies and making a path for the woman to tread. Jason pulled out the flare gun that he had been saving for a special occasion. This wasn’t what he was hoping to use the flare for, but that really didn’t matter. He aimed the flare gun at the car and pulled the trigger, lobbing the flare towards the car. It flew in a lazy arch over the heads of the seething mass below before bouncing off the bottom of the vehicle and bursting into flames, landing on the blacktop next to the car. Billy must have hit the tank, or else the tank must have leaked because in a matter of seconds the entire thing exploded into flames, sending a plume of black smoke skywards.

  Jason nodded to himself, the man in the car was dead, but at the least he wasn’t going to have to walk the world as a shambling creature living an un-life. He checked back on the passenger, she was at the corner and heading around the side of the store. Both Billy and Jason followed her around to the side of the building. There were fewer of the creatures, but still enough to potentially cause her problems if she faltered.

  The woman kept stumbling forward at a steadily trot as Billy cleared the rest of the creatures from her path. Jason kept on calling down to her urging her on, she was almost safe.

  She rounded the last corner. They had kept this area completely clear of zombies so there was little they could do except watch and wait and keep urging her on.

  A call came over the walkie-talkie, it was Lynn “What’s going on out there? Jason?”

  “There was a car, it crashed, but a woman got out, she’s coming to the back door now.”

  “Is she hurt? Has she been bitten?”

  “I don’t think so, it doesn’t look like she has. Get ready she’s almost at the door.”

  The door opened a scant few seconds before the woman finally arrived. Douglas leaned out, grabbed her hand and pulled her in, she had barely disappeared through the doorway before the door slammed shut and was locked against intruders once more.

  Jason put his binoculars away, he hadn’t realized that he had been squeezing them as he watched the woman’s progress. “I’m going to go and see what’s going on down there.”

  “I’ll be down in a few, I want to pick off the stragglers before they decide to see if there’s anything back here worth checking out.” Billy re-loaded his rifle and then got to doing what he had to do. Jason took one last look at the cloud of smoke billowing from the burning car in the parking lot before stepping through the doorway and inside.

  Jason stood in the doorway for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness inside before tackling the stairs. There were a further three thunderous reports from Billy’s rifle, before he felt ready to go in. He flipped on the flashlight that he had left at the top of the stairs when he and Billy had come up earlier and then proceeded to head down into the store, feeling nearly blind after spending so much time in the bright sunlight.

  He took the steps two at a time, fairly fast, but still safe. He kept one hand on the rail until he reached the bottom just in case he did something retarded and tripped over his own two feet. It had happened to him before. They were all sitting at a table near the entrance on the other side of the lounge. The woman was on the bench next to Lynn who had her wrapped up in a blanket. Lynn was speaking softly into her ear trying to calm her down.

  After what she had been through Jason thought she might need a couple of stiff drinks to do the job. He crossed the room to their makeshift bar and poured out a glass of brandy for her and then one for himself for good measure, his hands were still shaking a little after what he had just witnessed happening to the woman and the faceless man. Jason gave one of the glasses to the woman and kept the other for himself. He drank half of his brandy in one gulp while she just sat next to Lynn holding her glass. He walked over to the bar and topped off his drink before taking another sip.

  Douglas sidled up to him at the bar and whispered, “Was there any one else?”

  “She was in the car with someone, a man I think, but he didn’t make it out.”

  “Oh God.”

  “Yeah. They got him. I ended up torching the car with one of the flares after he stopped screaming.”

  “Couldn’t you have done anything sooner?”

  “Billy couldn’t get a clean shot.”

  “What a way to go.”

  “Hopefully it’s over for him now.”

  “Did you happen to get her name?”

  “No, she only just stopped sobbing a few seconds ago. Where’s Billy?”

  “He’s up on the roof making sure she wasn’t followed. And if she was, to put an end to the chase.”

  “He’s a smart man when he isn’t playing the fool.”

  “He’s smart then too, it’s just that he does dumb things.”

  The woman was sobbing again. She still hadn’t touched her brandy and Lynn was still talking to her softly and hugging her shoulders. Jason wasn’t sure who would be happier for the new woman’s presence, Billy with his need for female companionship, or Lynn with her need for someone who wa
sn’t a man. For a living human that she didn’t feel the need to have to mother full time.

  It was a couple minutes before Jason had realized that he no longer heard gunshots coming from the roof. He turned to look at the doorway just as Billy stepped through with his rifle slung over his shoulder. He crossed the floor, passed Jason and Douglas and took a seat next to Lynn and the stranger. He reached out and took her hand and held it in his own.

  “Amy, are you alright?”

  She moved. She lifted her head and looked at Billy. It was the first sign of life that Jason had seen in her since he had arrived just a few minutes before. “Billy?”

  “Yeah, it’s me. What are you doing here? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “My neighbor Crayson and I. Crayson! Where is he?”

  “He didn’t make it.”

  “Oh God, he’s one of them. He got stuck in the car and he told me to run and I panicked and took off, but then he started screaming.” She broke into sobs before she could finish. But they all already knew what happened. Crayson, a name to go with the screams as they echoed in Jason’s head, bouncing off the walls of his skull and growing with each pass. Jason covered his ears, trying to will away the sound of the screams. He could smell the smoke. Crayson, he was Crayson. Crayson is dead.

  “No, we made sure that he wouldn’t become one of the zombies. I’m sorry, but that was all we could do for him.” Amy started crying again. The rest of them waited in silence, Lynn was stroking her hair and Billy was squeezing her hand. Jason took another drink and Douglas just watched them. Hours seemed to pass before she had finally cried herself out. In all that time, nobody moved from where they stood.

  When Amy had calmed down to where she could once again speak without bursting into tears, she continued with her story.

  The man leaned back against the park bench. Legs splayed out before him, a half empty bottle of Five O’clock in one hand and a blood drenched tire iron lying across the lap of his dirty blue jeans. He was beginning to feel numb, a good sign as far as he was concerned, so he took another swig to ease his mind onto the path of painless oblivion. Even the vodka didn’t burn his throat on the way down, as it had earlier. Another good omen.

  The man smiled a little, and scratched the three-day-old stubble on his cheek with the lip of the bottle. A shave, he could use a good shave. Then a shower, and a decent meal. He would have liked to change out of his stained Jeans and tank top, as he had been wearing the clothes on his back for two or three days or even longer. The last week had been blurry, even before the vodka.

  A nice thick steak, slightly charred on the grill and still pink on the inside so that blood would run with each cut of the knife. With a baked potato and sour cream on top. A salad off to the side. He never cared much for lettuce, but he did like the taste of Blue Cheese salad dressing, and the rabbit food gave him an excuse to have it. Anything would be better than the two cans of Dinty Moore beef stew that he had choked down that morning.

  Instead of getting up, cleaning himself off and helping himself to more food, he just sat and watched the empty playground, from time to time taking a swig from his bottle and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The sun was sinking in the east. No west, the sun sank in the west, not east. The vodka was working its magic and making him forget. The playground began casting shadows that grew long enough to reach out across the sand and sidewalk to where he sat on his bench. This would be the first sunset that he had watched in the months, ever since he had been working the midnight shift. Usually he had bee asleep at this hour.

  Stare, swig, wipe.

  The pattern repeated itself until he had finally drained the bottle completely. By then the sun had completely set. A fifth of vodka, on a largely empty stomach, was enough to make him forget taking the shower and getting himself some food. He had even managed to forget his name. Finally.

  He threw the empty bottle at the empty swing set, missing by about ten feet and cursing his own drunken ineptness until he forgot why. The man uttered a lengthy string of what he had meant to be four letter words, harsh ones that would make the human garbage who appeared on Jerry Springer stand up and take notice. At least he intended to do so. His slurring was so terrible that had anyone actually been listening, he would have sounded more like Yosemite Sam than anything else.

  The vodka was gone. His mind was buzzing. The sky was dark.

  He fell asleep. His head on his shoulder. Sometime during the night, during the dreamless emptiness, the tire iron fell from his lap. The resulting bell-like clang of the metal bar striking the concrete did nothing to stir him from his alcohol fueled blackout and sweet oblivion. Passers by could have picked the man up and dropped him without them noticing.

  Nobody else took notice either, simply because there had been nobody left in town. Living or dead. The man had had a busy three days.

  The morning sun woke him. The bright light stabbing at his brain through his eyes as he started awake. The world was bright and blurry. The man threw up an arm to block the painful light as he rubbed his eyes with his free hand to try and clear them up of the crusted gunk that his mother had always called ‘sleep’.

  The clock in the tower on the far side of the park said that it was 10:27. On what day, the man was not sure, the pounding headache from his hangover and the kink in his neck were much too distracting to allow him to recall such useless facts like ‘what day is it?’ and ‘who am I?’ No, some notions were no longer important.

  All that mattered anymore was his hangover, and finding a way to cure it. The best way to do so, in his experience, was to drink more liquor. The man set off down the sidewalk towards the convenience store that he had looted the day before. Iron in one hand, the other was busy trying to massage his neck to get the kink out. He thought that he might as well be more comfortable, if only a little bit.

  There had been a lot of vodka there. Bob’s place, the town’s only gas station. Enough to make sure that he never remembered anything ever again, perhaps enough so that he would one day wouldn’t wake up. The man smiled at the notion of embracing the eternal blackness. That would be nice.

  The man vaguely recalled breaking the window the night before with his tire iron. There was still a scraping of dried blood on the glass that remained in the frame and even more in on some of the shards that littered the floor within. He had ransacked the shelves nearest the door in his mad quest for mind-numbing booze.

  For a moment he took a side trip to the corner of the gas station. Relieving himself on the brick wall that ran from the corner of the building to the end of the property. He supposed that he could have whipped it out and taken a piss inside the building, that there was no reason to walk to the corner and shield his manhood from the world. But there were still proprieties to live by. He wasn’t and animal. Not yet anyhow.

  He opened up a can of the beef stew that he found sitting on its side on the floor. His instincts told him that he needed to eat, even as his stomach protested, gurgling loudly. It both wanted the contents of the can, and at the same time feared them. Feared the chemical laden mush inside.

  Death would have been a nice release, but he was too much of a coward to take the quick and easy way out. He was too much of a coward to simply act and take what he really wanted in life. He always had been. A failing that had come back to haunt him time and time again throughout his life. He always remained passive, never aggressive. And now as too late to change all that. So he ate some of the nasty beef stew, much to the displeasure of his stomach. The whiney traitor. Loudly demanding food, then threatening to expel the food it was given.

  But vodka didn’t mix well with anything else.

  The man slapped his stomach and groaned. He set down the tire iron on the top shelf and patted his stomach again, attempting to placate it. By all appearances, he wouldn’t getting drunk again until everything settled down again. Or at least until he stopped caring.


  He lay his head down over his crossed arms on the metal shelf that held the SPAM and canned meat products that were less savory. The man was looking for some sort of relief from the nausea, short of vomiting up everything that he had worked so hard to choke down. His stomach nearly revolted completely when his mouth was placed so near to the vile canned meat. He didn’t care. The metal that made up the cans was pleasantly cool against his forehead.

  There was a clatter of cans and glass behind him, his hand darted out towards the tire iron on its own accord. He turned, weapon in hand and faced the invader, expecting to see another one of those mindless creatures. His instincts took over, even though his mind vaguely repeated that they were all dead already, he had killed them all.

  Staggering a little as a wave of nausea accompanied by its eternal comrade in arms, dizziness, swept across him. He broke out in a cold sweat.

  There was a man there, wearing a leather jacket with the word, name, Dirk emblazed on the chest. Brightly colored patches ran up the sleeve of the jacket. The newcomer was in his late twenties and leering back. He spoke, taking the man aback. “Hey sweetie, you ready to dance with me?” He said as he pulled a knife from his under his coat and held it up. A real living man and one who didn’t mean well.

  The knife wielder, Dirk, took a careful step forward through the empty doorframe and onto the glass strewn floor inside. His eyes locked with the nameless man’s own, his shoulders and the knife waving back and forth in a swaying dance with each step. He looked as if he was getting ready to have himself a party. The man wasn’t interested in parties, he just wanted this Dirk to go away. Moving with a speed that belied his massive bulk, the man swung his tire iron and backhanded Dirk across the temple.

  Surprise widened his eyes even as the tire iron crushed his skull, and ruined his face, sending his lifeless corpse to the floor. If you crush the skull, or destroy the brain, they don’t get up again. That much the nameless man still remembered.

  He stooped over to check the body. Dirk was dead.

  He saw a pair of laced boots stop before him as he squatted over the lifeless corpse of Dirk, and watched dully as one of those boots rose up and smashed him in the face, sending him flying backwards and onto his ass. The boots belonged to a woman with grey streaked brown hair. A woman, who according to the lines on her face, that life had used hard. She was athletic and well muscled and dressed much like the belated Dirk. The woman strode over to the nameless man, kneeled down on his chest and held a knife to his throat. He remained very still. He wanted to die, here was his chance, and he couldn’t force himself to take it.

  “Check him!” She turned her head and looked over her shoulder. She pointed at the body. “Check him out,” she commanded one of the shapes that were standing in the doorframe behind her. The shape moved to Dirk, reached out a hand and felt for a pulse.

  “Who are you buddy boy?” She asked the nameless man. She had ice blue eyes that reminded him of a glacier he had once seen on a vacation to Alaska as a kid. Eyes that were not only the color of the ice, but also as cold. She was a killer, a long time hard rover and murderess. He said nothing, not so much out of resistance, as he plainly couldn’t remember anymore. Who was he? What did that matter? He had spent two days pickling his brain in alcohol and forcing himself to forget all the annoying little tidbits that still caused him pain.

  His name had been one of those details.

  “Not much of a gabby man are you?” The strange woman asked, running the blade of her knife along his throat.

  One of the men, the one who was checking Dirk for a pulse, turned around and called out, “Chief, he mother-fucking killed Dirk! Dirk is totally going cold! His head is all busted open and his brains are leaking out. Yuck.”

  “Is he now? With one blow? The idiot must have finally gone over the deep end with all that crap about being able to hypnotize his prey with that stupid dancing walk of his.” She pulled back the knife blade and ran her fingers across his stubbly cheek. “You’re a strong man,” she whispered into his ear. “We can use a guy like you. We can always use strong men in our little organization. What’s your name big guy?”

  He didn’t say anything, even when she lowered the knife to his crotch and made the gesture that she was going to relieve him of his manhood. He just passively watched her. She smiled at him and touched his lips with one of her fingers. “Not much of a talker? Well then we’ll call you Dirk.” She put the knife away. “One of you give him Dirk’s jacket and bandana, he can be our new muscle.” He stood up and put the coat and bandanna on, grabbing a couple bottles of rotgut and putting them in his new pockets. On the way out the door, he stip some blood, a couple of teeth and rubbed his battered mouth, looking forward to his next chance to get drunk and drown this new pain that he had acquired.

  She never told him her name. Everyone just referred to her as Boss or Chief. Perhaps even they didn’t know for sure. She led him by the hand to a motorcycle, a Harley Davidson and handed him the keys. “I hope you can ride big guy, cause if you can’t you’re no use to us.” He could ride, even half drunk. He still remembered how to do that, even with his pickled brains.

  The Chief bedded him that night when they stopped and made camp. His legs, hands and back were sore from a long day of riding the bike. His stomach still churned from the vodka and beef stew bender he so recently had been on. Dirk was just beginning to relax in front of the campfire, stretching his sore arms and legs, when she summoned him to join her out in the shadows beyond the ring of the firelight. At first he ignored her command.

  She came to him, grabbed his by the hair, with her knife to his throat and whispered into his ear, “Just remember who’s in charge here stud, one more wrong move and I’ll bleed you here and now. We make a sport of that sort of thing. Maybe I’ll give you to the boys first and then gut you myself. They enjoy a little bit of play with whatever they can get.” With that she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him off into the night away from the campfire, he tried to protest, she ignored him. In the end he just followed and did as she commanded. Life was easier that way. The humiliation would end sooner.

  There was nothing romantic about the act, she used his body for her own pleasure, grinding her hips into him and making animalistic grunts, running her hands over his muscles and placing his hands on her breasts. Had he been anything other than apathetic to the world around him, he might have considered what the Chief was doing to him as rape.

  Oh, she was kind enough to get him off in return for services rendered. Or maybe she was still just enjoying his body when he finally managed to climax. He hadn’t thought that he could function on that level just yet, and was astonished to be wrong. She lay on his chest, with her hands braced on his shoulders, for a moment or two, breathing heavily from her exertion, before climbing off and dressing herself.

  “Where are we going?” He asked as she got pulled on her t-shirt, speaking for the first time in days.

  She hiked up her pants over her hips. “So you can speak, you’re not just a retarded mute.”

  “Where are we going?” He asked a second time.

  “Back to the campfire.”

  “I mean in general.”

  “Stud. We’re going crazy. And you’re coming along for the ride.” The Chief turned away from him and went back to the fire. “He wasn’t too bad, though he was a lazy lay, and he wasn’t nearly as big as the old Dirk. Still, he was a good ride. Kept it up all the way to the end. A lot better than you ever could Ritchie.” She yelled in a loud boisterous voice, announcing her return. “Just remember children, he’s mine. He owes me for what he did to our first Dirk.”

  Dirk followed the Boss back to the campfire where he was greeted with the smell of cooking and congratulatory whoops from the rest of the gang. He sat down, leaning against a large rock and stared into the flames as if he trying to see into the future like an ancient seer.

  Dinn
er that night consisted of more canned stew, opened up and heated next to the fire until whoever lay claim to the can grew tired of waiting for their meal and devoured what was available. When it was his turn, Dirk ate slowly and mechanically, unable to taste the stew as he spooned it into his mouth and chewed it.

  The rest of gang treated the stew as if it were Ambrosia. Perhaps it was. Their Ambrosia gave strength to the body. And they had survived the cataclysm that had devoured humanity, so maybe they were Gods. Gods only ate Ambrosia, or so the stories said. Dirk began to laugh. At first a quit rumble deep in his chest. At last he finally broke into stomach clenching guffaws. The rest of the gang stupidly followed suit. The pot that they had been passing back and forth and the bottles of liquor dulling their minds so that they didn’t question why they were laughing, they just rolled with it and enjoyed the feeling. Only the Chief was sober enough to be confused by their collective fit.

  Dirk’s laughter slowly faded, only long after the rest sunk into a stupor smoke. Oh they might be Gods indeed, but they were a sad group of Gods as had ever walked the face of the Earth in the collective imaginations of humanity before them.

  Someone handed him a bottle. Dirk didn’t even bother to read the label, he merely lifted it to his lips and poured a stomach full of forgetfulness into his head.

  His third patrol started like the first two. Though the weather was damp and dreary as the skies shook off the final remnants of the previous day’s storm. All outings had been canceled the day before. The captain said that traveling the streets carrying rifles and golf clubs during a thunderstorm would be too dangerous, and the rain would make it difficult to spot their prey, so the platoon had stayed in. Not that anyone complained, they didn’t much mind staying dry, even if it was boring.

  The pavement had dried, by the time Ash took his first step from the barracks ahead of his two squads. Cervantes would be headed east, while Ash was ordered to go west. After spending the day indoors, with nothing to occupy their time, the platoon was itching for some action. Some of them were even boasting about how many zombies that they would kill that day. As if killing zombies was that hard, the things moved slow and they didn’t run or try and protect themselves. They just tried to grab you and take a bite.

  The rumor had gone around the company for a while that the things wanted to eat brains. Ash had cursed when he had heard that. He had lost his helmet the week before, leaving him unprotected. A lot of soldiers laughed at him when the subject came up. Cervantes told him not to worry, the zombies wouldn’t come after something so puny as his brain.

  The doc finally cleared the mess up. He had seen what the zombies do. They just bite people and try to eat their flesh. They ignore the brains, or at least don’t go after them specifically. There’s a lot of bone in the skull, which makes getting to the brains difficult. The doctor didn’t make any jokes about Ash being stupid, and Ash got the feeling that he wasn’t even thinking them quietly while they were talking. The doctor was cool like that. He was a nice guy. A retired military surgeon who, like Sarge, was in the reserves to relive old memories and try to capture some of his youth while helping his country out as best he could.

  His patrol was seven blocks west and two south when they stumbled onto their first zombies of the day. The captain had given all the officers, including noncoms, standing orders not to enter any buildings, and to only engage small groups of zombies on the street. Small being no larger than twice the number of the patrol. Any less could be handled safely. Any more could get messy. Ash was more than happy to follow those orders, though they usually got around the letter of the law with certain strategies that the company had worked out in the weeks prior.

  Though there wasn’t much to actually fighting the zombies, they did employ certain tactics to make the job of extermination as safe and easy as possible. First, they let the zombies come to them. When they saw a group that was a bit too large, they stood their ground and made a lot of noise, attracting the creatures’ attention. Since the walking corpses didn’t all move at the same speed, the pack usually thinned out enough to handle in a safe and orderly manner.

  For large groups, narrow alleys and spaces between buildings were preferred territory for the kill, since a small group of soldiers could safely hold off so many more times their numbers if need be. The patrol would lead the mob to the alley, kill them until there was a pile of bodies and then withdrawal further into the alley. They would leave just enough room between the soldiers to allow them to swing their clubs, with everyone else waiting behind the line to take their own turns. Zombies were uncoordinated and often struggled over the piles of bodies. Fallen zombies were easy prey.

  This was a dangerous tactic if used carelessly. On one occasion, first platoon had gotten themselves bottled in when they engaged zombies from one street in the mouth of a side road, without first checking what the road opened up to. A even bigger horde of the undead heard the sounds of battle and were drawn closer like sharks to blood. Thankfully the corporal in charge had enough sense to post guards at his back just in case such an emergency occurred and they managed to fight their way free without any losses. Though they became pinched, nearly fighting back to back at the end. The captain had still been pissed and beaten the corporal senseless for being an idiot and endangering his troops that way. Only Sarge’s stepping in had managed to save the corporal’s life, though he had since been busted back to private and forced to wear a dunce hat wherever he went.

  As they patrolled to the east they came to an old manufacturing district that had been partially rebuilt by some useless urban renewal program. The streets were lined with buildings that were only around three or four stories and probably had stood there for a hundred years or so. Most had been made of brick while others had been constructed out of concrete. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to how they had been placed, with newer and brick buildings standing next to one another at random.

  The buildings, though low in profile, each took up half a city block, or more, and butted up to one another as if they were conjoined. The patrol would have no bolt-holes or alleyways to duck into should things get hairy out here. The city had transformed the buildings into lofts for yuppies and art galleries and over priced coffee shops where you could buy a triple shot of double mocha cappuccino for ten bucks, but if you ordered a simple plain black coffee they would look at you as if you were nuts and then call the cops to come take you away. A modern and stylish new place to live in the middle of what amounted to be a ghetto. People had flocked there.

  The first pack of zombies for the day was small, numbering little over thirty. Nearly three times the size of his patrol, to be sure, but after fleeing hordes numbering in the hundreds and even thousands, this group was manageable. Eric was on point, ranging half a block ahead. The man made a good scout, and reported back what he had found. The first group of zombies were milling around a small park that housed a fountain and some meaningless modern sculpture that looked like a giant ball of tangled string.

  At the very edge of the little park Ash arrayed his people in a wide and shallow ‘V’ formation, with the point facing away from the group of zombies and himself positioned at the very tip of that point. There was enough space between each soldier for a broad man to step comfortably through without rubbing shoulders with the soldier on either side. Ash chose his spot because he preferred to watch the action rather than be a part of it. Sarge said it was his job to direct combat rather than fight and as he had so often, he was there to keep his eyes open and watch the area surrounding in case any unwelcome guests showed up.

  Ash had taken Sarge’s words to heart. So far the man had not given him bad advice. They started making noise, pounding their bats and clubs on the ground and yelling. The uproar resonated through the buildings

  The zombies turned to find the source of the commotion, and came. “Alright, ready up folks. We’re going to bag us some zombies today. Stay
in line. Any of you apes gets out of control and I’ll club you myself and leave you for any of the zombies what come along. Keep it orderly and keep it tight.”

  Ash didn’t expect to have to actually need to use violence against his people. So far they had all acted with decent discipline, considering that they were weekend warriors. Still, some times they got out of control, and that could lead to some bad shit.

  Apes was one of the terms that Sarge was so fond of using when he addressed his troops. Ash decided that he should ask where Sarge had found the phrase. He had a few other strange ones as well and Ash thought it might be an interesting fact.

  Eric made the first kill, and the second. By the time half of the zombies were dead and lying on the ground, Private Martin, Eric, was hooting and hollering for more. Eric was the solider that his squad had rescued from the back of the truck with the doctor and the nurse. He had come out of his shock looking for blood, like he had something to prove to the world. Ash spent time with the man on patrols and found his guesses about his personality to be pretty accurate. He was wild and reckless and Ash didn’t like taking him on patrol. Still, Ash had a hole in his ranks after Cummings died, so he took what he could get.

  Ash hadn’t even taken a single swing between when the first kill and the time when the final corpse hit the pavement. “Fine work people.” He said as he walked along the bodies, prodding each body to make sure that it wasn’t about to get back on its feet and keep advancing. None of his troops had taken a wound, leaving him to call the encounter a success. “Alright folks, lets go find some more.”

  None of it made any sense to her. None of it. She tried to comprehend what was going on but her brain was still buzzing. Amy hadn’t moved in what felt like days, she sat glued to the television, flicking between the five or so channels that were still on and transmitting the news full time. There wasn’t much new on. The dead were rising and eating the living. Like some bad Hollywood fantasy come to life. The ticker along to bottom kept on repeating that the government had declared martial law and that all citizens were to stay in their homes.

  She had stayed in her home, a small one bedroom apartment on the sixth and top floor of her building. In the beginning the news anchors had offered lists of tips on how to make life more comfortable for the long haul. Of course it was all expected to blow over in matter of days, that the government would take care of everything and life would quickly return to normal. But better safe than sorry they said and repeated often. There was something wrong they said, over and over, but stay calm and it would be ok in the end. At first they smiled reassuringly as they delivered their lines, eventually, they stopped wearing their makeup and began to look hunted and frightened. Eventually they all lost focus, succumbed to the despair that they so heartily had been admonishing the public against. They ended up being swallowed by something that they did not understand. Survival tips from vapid fools. She didn’t know what bothered her more, that they were giving out advice, or that she had followed it to the letter in her panic. She had never before so completely realized how tiny and confining her little apartment was.

  Some of the advice was actually pretty good, though it frightened her to think about how long the precautions were meant to last, they reached further into the future than the officials had said was necessary. She had filled her bathtub, not to mention every container that she could find with water. She had gathered food from the homes of her neighbors. She had assembled a survival kit with batteries, and a radio and a dozen other things. She had barricaded the door and found something that she could use as a weapon. Mostly she had stayed put, watched television and cried in frustration and confusion.

  After the second or third day of the Living Dead Crisis, as the media dubbed it, there had been precious little new information. They had lost contact with much of the country. All she knew is that people had gotten sick and started dying. After they died they didn’t stay dead and had risen up to kill and eat the living. It was going on all over the world. It was like one of those movies one of her friends loved to watch. That was the unbelievable part, that a movie could come to life like this, that real life could so closely imitate art. Her head spun with the thought. More than once she wondered if she was simply living a bad dream from which she could not awake.

  The government had declared martial law and set up roadblocks on all the roads both in and out of all the major cities. The news had shown footage of the roadblocks and of panicked crowds of people trying to escape, only to be gunned down by their own soldiers. Looters they said would be shot on sight. They said that they did this to keep people in place. They declared that anyone caught trying to escape would be killed on sight to keep the plague from further spreading. Nobody was allowed to leave. So there she stayed, it beat dying out on the road, at least that’s what she had told herself. But she still risked dying in her own home.

  The only living breathing human being who she had seen over the course of the past two days, had been her neighbor Crayson. Crayson was a man who was about ten years older than her. They had lived next door to one another since she had moved in to the building five years before, but had never really spoken to one another, with the exception of awkward greetings, well her ‘hellos’ were always awkward anyway, he was always friendly and flirty with her. At best, she considered him to be a vague acquaintance. It was saying something about today’s society that it took the onset of the end of the world for someone to bother and get to know their neighbors.

  Crayson had saved her just the day before from being killed and eaten by their neighbor Mrs. Francisco, a doting old woman who loved cats and children but who had none of her own. Mrs. Francisco was one of the few people in the apartment building that Amy had felt even a little close to. She was a woman who had a sweet voice and a ready smile. There was always a word of kindness whenever they passed in the hall, sometimes they even stopped to chat for a little while. She had succumbed to the plague and was a woman who was bludgeoned further into death by her neighbors as they were looting her home for supplies. They couldn’t bury the woman, or cremate her, so they took their only alternative available to them, they threw her body out of the window so that it wouldn’t further rot, stinking up the entire floor. Life was not fair. Amy shivered while thinking about it

  She had seen Crayson on and off since then. Mostly he had kept to his own apartment, the more things change, the more things stayed the same. He seemed to be like that, he was a good neighbor, quiet and helpful with small things like carrying grocery bags and fixing small problems with the apartment if the landlord was dragging his feet. She knew him better than she had known anyone else in the building, except Mrs. Francisco.

  Amy opened a can of beans and took some hotdogs out of her refrigerator. The news people kept on saying that they should stockpile any canned goods that they could and eat all the perishable goods, they kept saying that there was no way that the government could keep the power going for very much longer, and that in some places the electricity had already gone off. Nobody knew when it would come back on, so they should use it while they could and be prepared. She was going to take their advice and enjoy every warm meal while she still could.

  She placed her food onto a TV tray and flopped down on her couch in front of the television. The talking heads were still going at it. From time to time there was a guest speaker, from the government or some hospital or another speculating on the cause of the outbreak under the guise of actually being helpful. She flipped through the remaining five channels while she ate. Four of them were just repeating the same lack of news over and over again along with the warning to stay at home for the sake of safety. Same material, different faces.

  The fifth channel was the public access channel. It was different, though the man who was speaking was informing his viewers what was going wrong out there. He wasn’t offering any scientific answers, or even ones that sounded scientific. He made no excuses.
He simply blamed the viewers for their sinful lives and those of their neighbors. He hadn’t stopped talking since the whole thing started and it was beginning to show. There were bags under his deep-set eyes and he was slouching, bracing himself on his desk. The man looked tired to the point of exhaustion. But his baritone voice was still filled with the passion of his message.

  The gates of hell have been opened, and the damned have returned to walk the Earth. Repent ye sinners and return to the hand of God, for repentance is your only path to salvation. Do not be cursed to forever walk among the damned! Join the crusade against their very being. Our government has failed us and needs to be wiped away.

  Amy let the preacher’s words wash over her. She had been raised in a fire and brimstone religion and she was used to the dark and pessimistic outlook on life, still the words chilled her. The dead were walking.

  Your only way to salvation is to accept Jesus into your heart. Else you will burn in hell fire for all eternity, cursed to walk forever, dead among the living! You will be delivered unto the hands of Satan for eternal torment for your wicked ways.

  This was all old news too. Older even than what the other stations were running and with less science to back it up than the crazy hippy lady who was claiming that Mother Nature had created the plague to punish humanity with their darkest fears for they way it had abused her for so many long centuries. She said that Earth had found a way to cleanse itself of the cursed disease of humanity. Amy wondered if the Hippy and the Preacher had gotten together to compare their notes as she shut the television off.

  Amy woke up with a line of cold drool running down her chin and into a puddle on her shoulder. The room was almost completely dark. Even the ever present street lights were off.

  Amy felt panic surge through her.

  She was dead. She was in her coffin. They buried her. Oh God she was buried alive! She was on her feet before she realized that she was still in her living room in her apartment. Safe and alone in the dark. Alone as usual. But safe. She crossed the room to the window, on the way kicking the leg of her chair and hurting her small toe. Yelping in pain, she hobbled the rest of the way. The only light in the room was coming from the full moon. It cast a weak silvery light that did little to illuminate her surroundings. Amy welcomed the moonlight, as soft as it was. The light felt magical to her, and calmed her nerves.

  The street below her window was empty for as far as she could see in either direction, though much of her view was blocked by some decrepit looking hedges on the neighboring property. Aside from one bad experience with her former neighbor, she hadn’t seen a single sign of any of the walking dead, zombies, or whatever they were. It all made her wonder if it was another case of the media blowing a problem way out of proportion, like the year two thousand computer glitch. A bunch of fools talking about events that they really didn’t understand, but they sounded scary, so they talked on anyways. Trying to grab as much airtime as possible and sell advertising space.

  The moon was beautiful as it reflected off her window, lighting her living room as it’s beams passed by the budding leaves on the trees outside. Amy watched the moon for several minutes, noticing slowly all the stars that were beginning to emerge in the night sky around it. It had been a long time since she had seen many stars, a long time since she had even bothered looking for them. Sky gazing was usually rather pointless for city dwellers, it was like reading the Cliff’s notes of a Shakespeare play, you got the idea but most of the beauty of the experience was missing. The night sky was forever bathed in reflected light cast off into darkness of the universe by humanity, washing out millions of points of light. Drowning, for humanity, a beautiful show that their ancestors had experienced for centuries long past.

  The moon had moved around a thumb-span of the way across the blackness of the night sky before she stopped watching the stars. She had most enjoyed the unending dance of the Aurora Borealis. Amy stifled a yawn. Now it was time to get some sleep, her nap earlier had helped a bit, but she was still exhausted. She wasn’t sure what time it was, all of her clocks had died with the failing power, time became meaningless in the darkness of night. All that she knew was that she was being over come by the power of her yawning and the leadenness of her eyelids. She made it as far as the couch, where she lay down and slept through what little remained of the night.

  The loud knocking at the door is what finally woke Amy up. It took her a moment to collect her thoughts, coming out of the daze of sleep and figure out what was happening. The sound just seemed to come out of nowhere, dragging her screaming from the safety of her dreams and into the waking world. She dreamt about a canoe trip she had taken with her father when she was a teenager, before his heart attack took him from her. It was a happy dream and she longed to return to it, but the knocking persisted and grew more desperate. The alien sound invading the dream itself.

  Amy pushed herself up and out of the couch and made her way towards the door, stopping just short. She fumbled around on her table before picking up one of her heavy brass candle sticks before stepping even closer to the door and cursing the fact that she didn’t have a peephole installed. The knocking continued.

  “Whose there?”

  “Amy, it’s me.” It was her neighbor Crayson. Crayson was the man’s last name, she didn’t know his first, he had never told her and she didn’t think that it would be polite of her to ask. He always had gone by his surname, strange as it was. Amy opened the door and looked at him.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I just wanted to make sure you were ok.”

  “I’m fine, I was just asleep.”

  “I mean, with everything going on, especially with the loss of the power last night. I got worried when you didn’t answer at first.” He actually looked a little embarrassed at admitting it, with his kind of boyish way of looking at the floor instead of at her. If only he wasn’t so heavily muscled, and he shaved off that goofy mohawk of his. He also had too many piercings. He was cute, but in a face full of metal kind of way, like he had been making out with a sewing machine or something.

  “No, I’m fine, I was just asleep. I haven’t gotten that kind of sleep for years now.”

  He looked down at her and smiled, flirting with her a little. It was the end of civilization and the man was flirting with her. She found the whole thing funny, but did her best to suppress the laugh, as much as she needed it. He might have taken her laughter from her to mean a million different things, and none of them would be good.

  She realized that she was keeping him standing on her front doorstep. Inviting him in might give him unwanted ideas, but sending him away was out of the question. He might be her only companionship for a long time to come. Her grandmother had always told her to cherish her friends as much as she did life itself. So she invited Crayson in.

  He smiled at her again as he crossed the threshold and walked cautiously into her living room, taking extra care not to trip over anything as he went. She offered him a glass of wine, it was all she had, which he accepted. Better yet, it was one of the cheap box wines that her mother and aunts had favored. She joined him in the living room with the wine. They looked at one another for a moment before sitting down and savoring their wine, both waiting for the other to speak. The silence stretched.

  Finally Crayson cleared his throat and spoke. “I think we should leave.”

  “What do you mean?” What a strange man, the first time they really sat down to talk and the first thing he asks her to do was go away with her. It was almost romantic.

  Crayson had wanted her to leave with him. To go out into the world find somewhere safe, or at least safer than their building. To break martial law and ignore the curfew. He said that they would simply run out of food and water soon, water first. Food would no longer be a problem when they ran out of fresh water to drink. Water was going to become scarce quite quickly, even with all of their preparations.

/>   He told her that he had been into all the other apartments in the building, most of them were abandoned, at least by the living, the rest had been occupied by poor creatures like Mrs. Francisco. They had been the only two survivors in the entire building to stay as they had been ordered to do. Everyone else it had seemed had picked up and run right when things seemed to have gotten to be their worst, leaving most everything behind. Oh yes, they had food in abundance.

  They both knew that marshal law had been declared early on when the government had realized that things just weren’t going to get better. Though, by then it was difficult to tell just how long the plague had been spreading. Crayson said that there had been cases reported in the news papers for months before hand, that they were largely ignored as a hoax. They had announced that they would strictly enforce the declaration with lethal force if necessary. There had been rumors that the government troops had shot anyone who had approached their road blocks. Then there were the creatures. Footage was shown of soldiers fighting waves of walking corpses. Shooting hundreds of bullets at the things without even slowing them down.

  The news never really said what was going on out there, but Amy had friends who had loved watching those stupid zombie movies, some times she even watched a little with them. Well they seemed less stupid now. She didn’t want to get eaten alive by one of them. Or even worse, to be bitten and to become a zombie herself.

  It was funny to think that the people that she had laughed at for liking those stupid movies were in the end right. It was another case of Irony coming back to slap her. She wondered about them, one in particular. He was probably having the time of his life. He had often stated that he was looking forward to a zombie uprising or some such thing just to see if he could survive it. If he wasn’t dead already from the sickness that was going around, it looked as if he would have his chance.

  She wasn’t sure what the world out there was like now, all she was certain of was that she wasn’t desperate enough to want to leave the safety and familiarity of her home. For now she was comfortable and alove. She had enough food for at least a few days, and enough water for at least that long. She felt safe here, surrounded by all of her things, her memories.

  Crayson eventually just sighed, shrugged his shoulders and gave in, opting instead to stay with her and probably in his mind keep her safe. All that was really left was to pass the time and wait for rescue. Wait they did. They got rather good at waiting.

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