Jason stood still, breathing heavily through tightened jaws. He stepped away, dreading the impending sight of yet another man who had died under his command. He turned from the carnage he had wrought and made his way over to the body of his fallen Marine. Dunford sat cross legged next to Jeffries’ body, staring off toward the open road and wearing the tiniest hint of a smile.
“Nick,” Jason said calmly as he took a knee to look the Corporal in the eye. “Talk to me.”
“We were at Parris Island together,” Dunford started. “It’s funny, we hated each other when we first met. I thought he was a careless shithead. Who knows what he thought of me.”
“Parris Island has a way of changing one’s opinion of others,” Jason said.
“Not at first,” Dunford replied. “We never got along. Until the Crucible. When we paired up, I thought I would have to carry his ass through all fifty-four hours. But it turned out, we carried each other. He wouldn’t let me quit no matter how badly I wanted to. He pushed me harder than I could ever go alone. When I earned my Eagle, Globe, and Anchor, he was the first person to shake my hand after my Drill Instructor. It turns out, he never hated me at all. I took his silence as arrogance, but he was just shy. He was a good friend.”
“And a good Marine,” Jason added.
“That too,” Dunford sighed.
Jason searched for something to say, but found nothing. Dunford sat in silence, a look of serenity and calm across his face. Without explanation, he removed his rifle, laying it on the ground in front of Jason. He drew his pistol, dropping the magazine and thumbing the 9mm cartridges from it.
Jason was about to ask what he was doing when the van’s horn blared twice before the engine kicked over. The engine sputtered for a few seconds before finally smoothing out.
“Where were they?” Jason asked when he heard Murphy approach.
“Hanging on a nail behind the counter,” Murphy said. “What…uh, what are you doing there Corporal?”
“Call me Nick,” he answered.
“Okay. Nick it is,” Murphy replied. “Why are you clearing your weapon, Nick?”
Titan suddenly appeared at Murphy’s side, his tongue working the remaining sludge from his teeth. He stepped over to Jason, nuzzling his hand. Jason scratched behind his ear, not taking his eyes from Dunford. Titan leaned into Jason, happily accepting the attention.
“Taking what I need,” Dunford replied as he reached over to give Titan a quick pat. The dog sprang to his feet, dropping his head and snarling, his huge canines dripping saliva. Titan backed away from Dunford’s hand, letting out a low and deep growl.
“Titan!” Murphy snapped.
“No,” Dunford said with a faint smile. “He’s right.” Dunford pulled his sleeve back to expose the oval ring of teeth marks on his wrist, black tendrils stretching from each individual puncture. “I think I’m going to stick around here for awhile. Braden deserves a proper burial.”
“What about you?” Jason asked quietly.
“I never went in for that kind of thing,” he chuckled, slapping the magazine back into his pistol. “Sorry Gunny, but I’m going to need my sidearm. I only need one bullet, but it doesn’t do much good without the weapon.”
“We can take you somewhere,” Murphy said. “Anywhere, you name it.”
“Thanks, Gunny,” Dunford smiled. “But I’m where I want to be. I’m going to bury my friend, then I’m going to sit here and enjoy the silence for a while.”
“Are you sure?” Jason whispered, his soul awash in guilt.
“I am, Jason,” he answered. “And thank you. For getting us off the beach in one piece.”
Jason swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. “It wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t good enough!”
“I got to spend a couple more weeks with my best friend,” Dunford said as he lay back on his elbows. “I had it better than most. So, Gunny…permission to tell the world to piss off and end my watch?”
“Permission granted, son,” Murphy said. “You make sure when you get to those golden streets you tell Jeffries I’m still going to call him Dipshit.”
“Sorry, Gunny,” Dunford smiled. “Never really bought into that whole afterlife thing.”
“Well, I’ll try and believe enough for the both of us,” Murphy said.
“You do that,” Dunford laughed. “Now with all due respect, you two are screwing up my quiet time. Gunny Foster, I hope you find your family. It’s been an honor, sir.”
“The honor’s been mine,” Jason said, firmly shaking the young Corporal’s hand. Jason’s jaw stiffened as a tear rolled through the grime and dirt until it fell to the ground.
“Pussy,” Dunford laughed.
Jason shook his head. There was no more to say. He collected Dunford’s rifle and ammo and climbed to his feet. Dunford handed Jason his pack, and then turned his attention to his fallen friend.
“Time to go,” Murphy said, fighting back his own emotions. Titan let out a long whine as he looked up to his master and companion.
Jason walked away, remaining silent as he climbed into passenger seat of the minivan. He stared off toward the gray overcast horizon as Murphy cut the wheel toward the road. Dunford stood at attention, giving his final salute as the two men drove by.
They passed the pie shop without stopping. Jason did not have much of an appetite, he just wanted distance. He wanted to get away from the carnage and pain and grief. He no longer wanted to find his family, he needed to. His thoughts were so fully occupied by family that he barely noticed his radio crack to life.
“Any station this net, any station this net…this is Echo Four Delta. Remember these names. Staff Sergeant Eric Robertson. Staff Sergeant Jamal Lee. Lance Corporal Karl Daniels. Private First Class Jennifer Villanueva, Corporal Braden Jeffries, Corporal Nicholas Dunford. Killed in action at the Battle of Del Mar Beach. We held to the end. Semper Fi.”
“Oorah, Devil Dog,” Jason whispered as the radio fell silent. “Oorah.”
Chapter 14
It was dark when we finally pulled into what looked like an abandoned warehouse. When I first saw the weathered red brick building, I thought it might have once been part of a railroad. It was long and narrow, like something you would expect a train to fit through. But if there were ever rails there, they were long since removed and forgotten. Just above the very large double doors was a partial sign reading MES & SONS HA in heavily faded black paint.
We would have missed it entirely had the bus been locked up tight as intended. The fumes had grown so overwhelming that we were forced to open everything that could be opened, including the main door in front. It kept us from being overcome by fumes, but the shrinkage inducing cold was less than enjoyable.
As if the cold and fumes weren’t enough, we had to drive very slow because the plow started to drag along the ground. Not only were we constantly worried about ripping the plow off, but the noise was like sending a forwarding address to every undead thing within a five mile radius.
As soon as we stepped outside of our rolling fortress we knew the dead were around. They weren’t close enough for us to hear yet, but the whole area smelled like three day old road kill. We didn’t know if it was coming from inside the building or from the nearby woods, but we knew something dead and hungry was close by.
Had the bus not sustained as much damage as it had during the –pull Dan’s ass out of the fire yet again— rescue plan, we would have just left and found a place more suitable to a decay free lifestyle. But we were running on borrowed time. Eventually the plow would completely break off and possibly tear the entire front end apart in the process.
Joe stayed behind in the bus, with Mark still manning the pickup truck. The plan was for Matt and Anna to push open the large double doors, and Chris and I would move in as soon as they were opened. We would use the bus headlights to do a quick search of the first floor. If all was good, we would pull the vehicles in and then clear the second floor.
Sounds like an awesome pl
an, right?
Our first mistake was assuming the doors would simply open. If you are actually still alive and reading this…well, first off, bravo! Now imagine the doors are solid wood, about sixteen feet tall, and wide enough to drive a truck through with all the age and wear of doors that had not moved in at least a decade. It took Chris, Matt, and Anna on one door and Mark, Joe and myself on the other before the hinges finally broke loose. Of course the rusted metal hinges sounded like Chinese new year when the doors finally swung open.
Our second mistake was being so focused on the noise we were making on the outside that we didn’t consider the noise level would have anything on the inside make a bee line right to us like a vegan to a salad bar. Which they did.
There were four of them. A middle aged man and woman shuffled through the door, the gold rings on their gray fingers glinting in the bright headlights as their undead hands immediately reached for us. A teenage boy shambled beside them, his white eyes glaring at Anna as a wet gurgle escaped his torn lips. Long foamy strands of sticky drool dribbling from their lips as they made their way to what they no doubt hoped would be an easy meal.
Behind them walked a little girl, barely eight years old I would guess. She wore a pink nightgown that looked very much like a princess dress, rust colored stains stretching the length of the outfit. Her curly blonde hair, matted down with grime and filth, hung in spiral strands in front of her glistening black eyes. Lips curled back, exposing gleaming white teeth as dark foam erupted from her mouth.
She threw her head back, opening her mouth just as Chris stepped forward to slam his rifle butt into the man’s forehead. The little girl screamed, and it was all I could do to keep myself upright. The shrill, piercing wail felt like it tore through my eardrums and started chewing into my brain.
I drew my hammer from my belt to put an end to that piercing shriek. With a sideways arc, my weapon slammed into her temple, sending the girl spinning to the floor, her head bouncing off the concrete with a hollow thud. A noxious yellow fluid seeped from her ears, the horrendous odor knocking me back as if I had just been pepper sprayed.
I stumbled away, trying my best not to breathe in whatever it was that was saturating the air, blanketing everyone in its vile stench. I carefully slid my hammer into my belt before I dropped it. The impact with the kid’s skull (I’ll never get used to saying that) had torn my recently bandaged wounds. My hands burned, blood seeping through the gauze until it fell in heavy drops to the ground. My fingers protested as I tried to ball up my fist to hide my injury.
As soon as the wonderful aroma of black-eyed brain permeated the air, the two remaining zombies stopped in their tracks. They turned toward the unmoving corpse of the little girl, stained teeth bared in savage snarls. We suddenly found ourselves ignored as their intention turned to devouring the remains of the kid. The creatures fell on their faces and dragged themselves toward the tiny body.
Chris and Joe were on the things before either one of the monsters had a chance to tear into the girl, pulling the zombies away from her and stomping their heads into the concrete. Dead or not, no one wanted to watch a child get disemboweled and eaten. Even if that girl was ready to turn us into a midnight snack just moments before.
The entire encounter only took a little over a minute, but we made enough noise to rouse the dead…pun intended. We had to move fast.
Joe and Chris worked to drag the bodies out and away from the building as Matt and I moved inside. I did my best to hide my hands to keep him from seeing the blood seeping from my palms.
The space was completely empty. Not even a spare board or odd rusted tool littered the long narrow building. A simple metal stairway sat along the far wall, the thin and rusty structure disappearing into the darkened upper level. Once we were sure nothing else was waiting to attack us on the first floor, we waved everyone in. Joe had already rushed back to the bus, pulling it inside as soon as we gave the all clear. Mark followed closely behind with the truck until the trailer cleared the entrance.
They shut down their vehicles and rushed back out to help Chris and Anna close the swinging doors. Closing the two heavy doors was not nearly as loud as it was opening them, but the noise was still enough to have everyone cringe when the pop of the rusty hinges sounded the –we’re over here— alarm.
Nails scratched against the ancient wood on the other side of the door only seconds after it had shut. We all held our collective breaths as we listened for more of the things to show up. Chris gently lifted a chain from the back of his truck, feeding it through the rust caked door handles as quietly as he could before popping a padlock through the chain loops. I crept over to Chris, moving as stealthily as I could manage.
“What do you think?” I whispered.
“It sounds like there’s only one,” he whispered back. “But it smelled like death on parade out there. I’d put money on there being more nearby.”
“We made a lot of noise, but I bet the screamer led it right here.”
“Probably. I’m wondering if that God awful smell is attracting it too. I have some bleach in the bus. Maybe that will kill the funk.”
“Anything to get rid of it. I thought the zombies were bad, but this thing smells like a hundred of the rotting meat sacks took a massive undead shit into a paper bag and lit it.”
Chris shot me a look that was both confused and annoyed. “Where do you come up with that stuff?” he asked.
“I hired a team of writers. I get a daily text of smart-ass comments,” I whispered.
“Figures,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know if bleach will do anything other than help us tolerate the stink. But if that thing out there knew we were in here, it would be trying to beat its way in already. If we stay quiet, we might be okay for a while. Best case, we kill the odor in here and it goes after the girl’s body outside and forgets about this place.”
“That’s pretty horrific,” I whispered with a shudder.
“It is what it is,” he shrugged.
“Well at least we learned something from it,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“The screamers are also the black-eyed ones.”
“Very true. Interesting tidbit, but we still have no idea where they came from and how they fit into the scheme of things.”
“I know,” I whispered almost to myself. “Should we get everyone back on the bus?”
“I’d feel more comfortable with eyes on the outside. I’m pretty sure I saw windows upstairs, and I’d like to get someone on overwatch. Plus I’d like to know if there are any more zeds waiting for us up there,” he said quietly. “Besides, if this bleach works, the second floor will be the best place for us to hole up until we can fix the beast.”
“Good point,” I replied. “Joe and I can check the second floor before anyone else comes up.”
“No,” he said. “Matt, Mark, and Joe can handle that. Your hands are bleeding again and Rosa would string me up by the short hairs if I let you tear your hands up any more then you already have.”
“I’m fine,” I protested. “I can still carry a rifle.”
“It’s not open for debate,” he said as we started creeping our way back to the bus. “I want Lexi to go up there once everything is clear. That girl can pick out a crow at midnight. She should be able to tell us what’s happening out there.”
“I really hate that you keep using her this much. She’s still just a teenager,” I whispered, shaking my head.
“Don’t let her hear you say that,” he smiled.
“Yeah, no kidding. My ears are still ringing from the last time I called her a kid. But still, I don’t like that we’re using her like she’s a combat tested veteran.”
“Dan,” Chris sighed. “Everyone here over the age of ten is a combat tested veteran now. Even the kids will have to learn to fight sooner rather than later.”
“Another good point,” I admitted. “But I’m not ready to put Katie, Faith, or Jane behind a firearm just yet.”
“Me neither, but sooner or later it will happen.”
The wooden doors crackled as they were suddenly rammed from outside. The dead moans grew as fingers tried in vain to claw their way inside through the tiny gap afforded by Chris’ chain. We looked at each other before hastily waving everyone inside the bus.
Chris quickly explained the plan to everyone. Matt, Mark, and Joe would sweep the second floor. Rosa and Anna would cover the kids until the upper level was deemed safe. Lexi would accompany Chris and keep an eye on the doors while he bleached the floor, then would head upstairs as soon as it was safe.
What was my role according to Chris? Sit on my ass and watch the show.
Uh huh.
If you have somehow gotten your hands on some of my scribbling, you already know how well I obey the whims of others. Not only am I someone who doesn’t take direction well, but I will generally flat out ignore those directions while whistling show tunes and tap-dancing my way over to do exactly what I was told not to.
Chris retrieved a bottle of bleach and a towel from the back of the bus. He shot me a look as he walked by, as if telling me he knew I was up to something.
“I mean it,” he stopped in front of me. “Stay here.”
“Okay, mom,” I rolled my eyes at him.
He grunted something unintelligible as he turned and left the bus. Matt and Mark were already out and heading toward the metal stairs. Joe paused on his way out to plant a kiss on Rosa’s lips. This, of course, brought on the usual chorus of ewws from the kids. Rosa simply smiled and sat back down to play with the girls.
Lexi took one step down on her way out and stopped, looking over at me with a raised eyebrow before finally exiting and creeping over to where Chris had already started bleaching the floor.
“You’re going to ignore Chris, aren’t you?” Anna said from the seat behind me.
“You know me so well,” I smiled back at her as I stood and grabbed the S&W rifle. “Rosa, mind watching Katie for a little while?”
“Can you at least let me replace the bandage on your hand?” Rosa replied.
This Dying World (Book 2): Abandon All Hope Page 14