by Joshua Guess
Carla nodded with mild enthusiasm. “I say we let Ran decide what the priorities are. Tony is in construction, so he’ll know what we need and where to get it.” She glanced at Tony as if looking for agreement, and he nodded. Carla flushed. “I don’t know what I can do. I’m a lawyer.”
Jem scoffed. “Which means you’re used to managing complicated situations. I’ve seen you juggle half a dozen cases without blinking. You’re right. We let Ran decide what we’re going to do, since it’s her place and also because she’s obviously competent, and we let you deal with the details.”
“What about you?” I asked Jem. “Since we’re handing out jobs and all.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I was a great cop, but you don’t need a detective. You know your business when it comes to security.”
I smiled. “You’re wrong. We do need a detective. There have to be people around town who managed to hide or get away. You and I are going to look for them.”
“After what happened yesterday?” Tony said, shocked. “Are you seriously planning to go back out there?”
“Have to,” I said. “We’ll need supplies, and if we’re planning to plant our flag here, we’ll need constant runs to gather them. I mean, we’ll have to farm, right? Set up some kind of water capture system? Not to mention building supplies, sleeping bags at the least, unless everyone is just going to pile on my couch. If we’re going to do the long-term thing, we can’t just sit on our asses.”
Jem returned my smile. “And while we’re doing it, we keep an eye out for survivors.”
“You keep an eye out for them,” I clarified. “You’re trained to catch details. I’m more of a ‘shoot the problem and sort it out later’ kind of girl. We have a better idea what’s out there, now. If we’re careful, I think we can make a go of it.”
I sounded pretty confident, even to myself. I should have been an actress. The Oscar would definitely have ended up on my mantle.
15
I’m not saying I’m a genius, but I wouldn’t turn down the compliment.
Two days after our little group decided we’d dig in and try to make a safe place for people to live, Jem and I found ourselves treating the police station like a shopping spree. I’d had the idea to come back, and once he remembered the heavy security on the weapon lockup, agreed it would be a good trip to make.
The station itself was empty. The police force had taken the first and hardest hit when the madness started. Then it was all hands on deck, and even the off-duty officers tried their best to help. As a result, no one managed to get into the lockup. From the scraped paint around the lock, someone had tried, but that door was two inches of steel and required a four-sided key.
“Oh, sweet Mary and Joseph,” I said when Jem opened it.
He snickered. “Careful, we don’t have any extra panties in here.”
I shot him a wry look over my shoulder. “You’re assuming I’m wearing any in the first place.”
Jem turned a shade of red worthy of Ron Weasley and sputtered something unintelligible. I considered it a job well done.
We’d liberated a pair of shopping carts—because really, if you’re going to steal a precinct’s worth of firepower, you want to have your arms free—and I pushed mine in.
The standard police issue for Wallace was a .40 Glock, though a larger model than my own. I still had other guns, like the Springfield holstered on my thigh, but I was happy to see a rack of familiar weapons in front of me.
The carts soon became loaded down. Two dozen pistols, half as many shotguns, ammunition by the bucket. There were three full sets of riot gear, which of course we took, though Jem told me the missing tactical response truck probably meant the other suits had been in use.
Then we hit the evidence room, which was a huge section of the basement kept behind heavy bars. We didn’t spend a lot of time there digging through things, mostly just picking up evidence bins to see if they felt heavy enough to contain weapons. Wallace wasn’t a big city with a lot of violent crime, but I did manage to find a pair of nice revolvers and an exceptionally heavy baseball bat. I actually looked at the tag to see what it was made of, because the dark wood was unfamiliar to me.
“Oh, that thing,” Jem said, walking up to me. “Nearly broke my wrist messing with it.”
I hefted the bat and felt it in my shoulders. “The tag says it’s made of leadwood. Feels like it’s made of metal.”
“Some jackass had it specially made. It’s one of the heaviest woods on the planet, apparently. Used it to threaten the officers who showed up when his girlfriend called in a domestic. Almost broke her jaw. Actually did break two of her ribs.”
I grunted and tossed the bat in my cart. “Not gonna be picky about where it came from.”
Jem chuckled. “I’d hope not since we’re raiding the evidence room.”
We made our way to the motor pool, where Tony waited as our wheelman behind the closed gate. He helped us pile all our loot into the back of the Jeep, eyes wide at the haul.
“You guys planning on taking over a small country? Jesus.”
I raised my hands palms up, as if weighing my options. “The town, maybe the county. We’ll play it by ear.”
Once we were ready, I slung the gate open and hopped in the passenger seat.
“Where next?” Tony asked. “We still gonna check out the shopping center?”
Each of us picked our own destinations. I chose the police station, Jem the small open-air market, and Tony wanted to scope out our local hardware and lumber superstore, one of the few family-owned places like it in the state. Benson’s had stayed in business by thinking ahead of the curve, and bought their own heavy equipment to rent out to contractors.
“Let’s drive by Benson’s first,” Jem said. “The market was just to look for food and stuff to plant. It can wait if we need to.”
Which was true enough; we had plenty of food if it was just the four of us for the near future. The day before, Jem and I checked out a few houses on the outskirts of town and brought back an impressive collection of canned food and dry goods as well as several large bags of potatoes. The spuds alone would keep us from going hungry for a week if necessary.
“Benson’s it is, then,” Tony said. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you got the black guy driving you around, either.” He smirked.
“Miss Daisy was white,” I said, raising a hand. “I ain’t.”
“He’s been doing that to me for like two years,” Jem chimed in. “Every time he has to drive us anywhere, or I ask him to get me a beer or something.”
Tony glanced at Jem in the rear-view. “Can’t help noticing it doesn’t bother you much anymore.”
“My white guilt only stretches so far,” Jem said with a snort.
“Besides,” I said, “it’s not like we don’t have other shit to worry about.”
That seemed to strike a chord, because no one had anything to say.
In a way, it was fortunate that none of us had family nearby. If anything, I was the odd man out, because I hadn’t been part of Jem’s circle of friends before. Part of the reason they were friends in the first place was because they didn’t have close ties with anyone locally. Which afforded them time to spend on shared interests, mostly gaming.
We avoided zombies as much as possible on our way to Benson’s. In a vehicle it wasn’t that hard; even the fastest runners in human history couldn’t surpass a Jeep with a driver barely touching the gas. Oh, we saw them. Even drove around a crowd of them. But the only real danger they posed was when we were on foot or careless, and we were learning to never be careless.
A half mile from Benson’s, we stopped. There were zombies following us, attracted like iron filings to a magnet. Rather than drag the gathering herd in our wake and interrupt our shopping experience, we decided to distract them. So I leaned out the window and dumped the contents of a small cooler on the ground.
“That’s so nasty,” Tony said.
“It was the deer or us,” I
replied. I hated to waste good venison, forty pounds of which I had in my freezer, but it was for a good cause. Also, if the power went out, it was unlikely we’d be able to eat all of it.
Several pounds of Bambi lighter, we zoomed off.
Benson’s was deserted. A handful of cars sat abandoned in the lot, but otherwise there was no sign of people. Not terribly surprising, since the place sat on the edge of town on a huge tract of land the owners resolutely refused to split up and sell. The heavy machinery yard seemed untouched, the rugged yellow hulks standing sentinel over the empty business.
We drifted across the lot, the Jeep’s wheels gliding silently on the blacktop. The closer we came, the clearer it was that Benson’s was left almost untouched. There was no damage to the windows, just some dark splashes I didn’t want to think about very hard. The doors were shut, no bodies in sight. We parked on the curb in front of the entrance.
Tony drummed his fingers on the wheel. “Do we want to check this out? I mean, looks pretty clear but we could open those doors and find like a hundred zombies taking a nap.”
That was another thing we’d discovered; zombies slept. Not curled up with a pillow under their heads or anything. It was a sort of standing sleep, like machines in standby. Jem found out the hard way by bumping into one the day before. It took a solid ten seconds for the thing to wake up, by which time we were running our asses off.
I looked back at Jem. “What do you think? You and I could go in and take a look around, couldn’t we? Leave Tony here with the engine running so we can get away?”
“I’m right here,” Tony said. “And I’d like to go in, see if anyone’s made off with stuff. If not, I can start putting together a list of what I’d like to haul back to your place. I started on some plans last night.”
“Okay,” Jem said. “But let me step inside the door and take a look first. If there’s a crowd, it’ll be easier for one person to run out than three.”
We agreed and waited as Jem went to the main entrance, which was unlocked, and cracked it open just wide enough to slip inside. He didn’t even go all the way in, leaving his right heel wedged in place to prop the door open.
He leaned back outside and waved us in.
The overhead fluorescents were still on, casting harsh light on the cavernous interior. We entered looking down the extra wide lumber aisle, which didn’t look disturbed. The racks were full, nothing was crashed onto the floor or otherwise out of place. Benson’s was huge, though, and I felt the tension in my chest ratchet up a few notches. We could only see the ends of the other aisles, which could have hidden anything.
“Prioritize,” I said, waving a hand at Tony. “Most important to least.”
“Well, I can see we’re okay on lumber so long as no one comes here after us. Need to look for concrete mix, fencing…”
I nodded impatiently. “You know the place better. Lead the way, find what you’re looking for, and Jem and I will be right at your back.”
I left the Springfield holstered as we navigated. Guns were effective, sure, but the last thing I wanted to do was attract an unknown number of zombies in an enclosed space, regardless of its size. Instead I slipped my hand through a lanyard attached to the handle of a combat tomahawk sheathed across my lower back, and pulled it free. I could always let it dangle and grab the pistol, which presumed me going apeshit with an axe wasn’t enough to seal the deal.
Tony muttered to himself as we moved, checking off a mental list.
“Maybe keep your voice a bit lower,” Jem said in a low whisper.
Tony gave a distracted nod. “Sorry.”
Though I could only see the edges of it, I started to get an idea what Tony was going for. He wanted as much concrete as possible, all the metal and wood posts he could lay hands on, and when we opened the door to the storage area in the back and found roll after roll of chain link fence, he grew excited. There were other things, from heavy plywood which I assumed was meant to reinforce the house, to odd assortments of tools he swore we’d be thankful to have down the road.
Tony wanted to build a fence and make it impossible for zombies to knock down. I couldn’t imagine the project would be quick, but I found myself a little excited, too. We would have all the time we needed once the materials were safely stored at my place.
Back on the main floor of the store proper, we made our way toward the side entrance leading out to the lot holding most of the heavy machinery. I’d been there enough times to know some of the smaller equipment sat inside, more susceptible to weather damage. I had no idea what he was hoping to find.
And just then, I didn’t get to find out. We rounded a corner and almost tripped over a sleeping herd of zombies. They stood less than five feet away, seven or eight, and the one in front must have heard us coming because he raised his head groggily to stare right at me.
“Shit!” Tony shouted, the word sending a ripple of movement through the rest of the herd as they flinched in sleepy reaction.
“Get behind me!” I said, raising my tomahawk. “Jem has your back!”
Then I threw myself into the fray.
16
The zombie managed to get an arm up, but that didn’t work out well for him. The blade of my axe slammed into his wrist. Thus distracted, it was caught entirely off guard when my left hand looped around and impacted the side of its head. The sound was that of a snapping branch, sharp and sudden, and the zombie fell away immediately.
The side of his head was dented.
It wasn’t as impressive as it looked. Brass knuckles—well, steel anyway—gleamed wetly where they wrapped around my fingers. I’d done a little work to them with my welding rig, added some extra material to the strike face. What had once been relatively flat and gentle curves now resembled nothing so much as a squat pyramid. All told it was an extra twenty ounces of steel. Heavy but goddamned effective.
I kicked at the falling body and took a small jump backward. As predicted, the lurching zombies trying to get at me couldn’t react fast enough. Two of them tripped, and I bolted forward and chopped into their heads with two fast swings.
Fear dropped away. I’d killed three zombies in a handful of seconds without taking a scratch. The flutter in my chest was replaced with a thrill of adrenaline, a rush of confidence that these shambling fuckers, however strong, couldn’t stop me.
I jumped over the bodies and went completely berserk.
I lashed out with my axe, saw it cut a terrible arc from eye socked through jaw, which it ripped in two. As I pulled the blade free, the momentum of my yank spun my body and I followed up with the same combination I’d used on the first zombie. My blow landed on the front edge of its temple, crumpling the bone there.
“Come on, bitches!” I shouted, my voice hoarse.
Things grew blurry for a little while. Flashes stand out, like fingers breaking as they tangled in the chest plate of my body armor as I twisted away. Kneeing a zombie in the hip and, when it bent double from the sudden shift in center of gravity, putting the spike on the back of the tomahawk through its neck.
When my head began to clear, I was surrounded by bodies. A couple of them twitched, random firings from creatures too stubborn to understand they were twice dead, but no threats remained. I uncurled myself from the crouch I was in and began to feel the pain. My fingers were wrapped in death grips around the haft of the axe and the sweep of my metal knuckles. My forearms felt tight as drum heads.
When I stood and turned to look for the others, I saw fear in Jem’s eyes. It wasn’t subtle, either; he was holding a gun on me. Tony looked like he didn’t know whether to be terrified, in awe, or aroused. All three were valid reactions.
“R-ran?” Jem said uncertainly. “You okay?”
I cocked my head at him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Got a little carried away.” My stomach rumbled, sudden and fierce. “Man, I kind of forgot how long ago breakfast was. I’m starving.”
Jem lowered the gun slowly. “We should go, I think.”
I sho
ok my head. “Tony needs to finish looking around, doesn’t he?”
“I can come back,” Tony said. Jem frowned.
“Actually, you go home,” Jem said. “That probably wore you out. You’ll be sore.”
“What about you two?”
Tony smiled nervously. “They have a delivery truck here. We’ll load it up and drive that back. Even if it’s out of gas, I know the owners keep a big drum of fuel and a hand pump. All those diesel engines in the yard might need it, after all.”
“Yeah, okay,” I said, giving in to my protesting stomach. “If you guys are sure.”
Tony nodded, perhaps a touch more enthusiastically than was warranted. Jem put a hand on his shoulder and motioned for him to stay where he was. Then he stepped toward me and gently guided me a short distance away. Our boots made sucking sounds as they sloshed through the gore.
“Ran, look,” Jem began, but couldn’t seem to find the words.
No longer riding high on the wonder drugs produced by my glands, I felt a little guilty. “I know, I went a bit nuts back there. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you guys out.”
Jem grimaced. “It’s not that. Well, a bit, maybe. You destroying a bunch of zombies doesn’t bother me, though I don’t think Tony has ever seen anything like it. He’s a pretty chill guy. It’s not what you did, it’s what I saw while you did it. Tony saw it too.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, bewildered.
“You’ll want to take a look in the mirror when you get in the Jeep,” Jem said. “The back of your neck and the base of your throat have these faint black lines going up them.”
The bottom fell out of my entire universe.
I expected Carla, who had after all heard every word I’d said about my captors, to react with terror. Instead she spent a few seconds examining my neck, then sat me down and poured each of us a few fingers of bourbon.
“You’re scared,” she said gesturing with her glass toward mine.