by Micah Gurley
The front door the old store was closed, which Abe said hadn't been closed when he visited yesterday. Kyle nodded at the information and gave Eric a nod. Eric gave a small nod back, and walked up to the door and knocked slightly.
"Anyone in the house?" he shouted in a casual fashion, which was in opposition to his stance.
"Who's out there?" someone shouted from the inside. Whoever it was who answered was slurring, and had obviously had a few beers.
"It's Eric from down on Buck Swamp," he replied.
"Eric with those three ugly beagles that can't hunt for shit?" the voice said.
Eric tensed up and gave Kyle an angry look. Kyle just shrugged and hoped that he didn't do anything too stupid.
"Yep," Eric said casually, but he had his hand on his berretta. "Those dogs never did learn the right way.”
"Come on in here boy, we got plenty of beer."
"I got some of my friends with me, got enough for all of us?"
"Shit, I guess there is but we done drank a lot of it.”
Eric gave a look to Kyle who was behind him and slowly opened the door.
Chapter 17
The first thing Abe noticed when he walked in was the smell of beer. It was overpowering. He felt like he was getting drunk just standing there. It permeated everything. He looked to Kyle and the others who had all walked in before him. They stood to the left of an open space that was before the cash register. The strangers seemed content to yell out greetings and threw some beers in their direction. Abe barely caught his as he wasn't expecting it. This gave one of the guys a good laugh at his expense. There were three of them. All big and completely drunk. They wore different variations of jeans, and each of them had on brown Carhartt coats. None of them had shaved or seemed to have showered lately. Abe didn't like the look of any of them. He had seen their kind before. Bullies. The beer only brought it out more. Redneck bullies. He and Kyle had to deal with them growing up, even their family had some of them. What Abe hadn't been expecting to see, was a skinny pale guy leaning back against a huge backpack. He had reddish-brown hair and was so white he looked like a ghost. He had a bloody nose and his left eye was almost swollen shut. He didn't move or respond in any way when they had walked in the room. Probably scared, someone had worked him over.
"Looks like you guys have had a party," Eric said. Abe wondered how the guy could be so casual. He looked over at Kyle and saw a look that didn't bode well. His jaw muscles were clenching and unclenching like they were on a battery. He eyes were locked onto the drunk who started talking. He was angry. Abe had been on the other end of that look a few times and it always scared him, though he was usually angry himself.
"You bet ya man...The world's done gone crazy and we were on our way to see our families when we stopped here last night," the drunk man finished and took a long swallow of beer. He finished it and then threw it at the kid on the ground. The kid gave an angry look back but didn't say anything.
"Where's Jeremiah at?" Abe asked, not quite keeping the hostility out of his voice. Eric shot him an annoyed look but he didn't care if he liked it or not, he wanted to know.
"What?" started one of the other drunk guys with even more of slur. "Who's this fella?"
"Ah, just one of my hunting buddies, don't worry about him. He's just sore he lost his dogs earlier," Eric said, trying to keep it tone light.
"Don't tell me the buck there is one of your huntin buddies?" asked the first, pointing his shotgun at James. He had found another beer and cracked it open. He looked at James with anger and a promise of violence. James, for his part, kept cool and just looked back.
"He helps clean up after the dogs," Eric said lightly, as if it were normal. "Works cheap. Got to watch him though, he's a lazy one. Eric turned to look at James and give him a wink when his head was turned. The three drunk men didn't see it. "What's the story with this little fella?" Eric asked, nodding his head over to the young man on the floor.
"You ought to hear this fella talk." He stopped to laugh and take a swallow of beer. "All fancy like. Gave us a little trouble when we came in. Tried to stop us from gettin something to drink."
"That's a bloody lie," said the young guy from the floor. "They were havin a go on the old man."
"Shut your face," the leader said, voice full of anger. He walked a step over and kicked the guy in the ribs. "Didn't I tell you he spoke all fancy? I don't know what's he saying half the time.
"Must be one of those queen's boys," Eric nodded. "I've heard them a time or two." The young man shot Eric a nasty look at the mention of the queen. "Well, we just came for a few things. Where's the fella we pay for our things?"
Kyle had listened long enough to know that they were in a bad situation. Of course, that didn't take a great tactician. He considered his options. They could just take their stuff and go, but that left the kid still trapped here. Or they could ask to take the kid with them, this would just anger the rednecks and possibly create a worse situation. He needed to take these guys out without drawing too much harm to his brother and friends. He had the advantage now, but shooting the guys seemed extreme. Kyle decided he needed to know what happened to the old guy who worked here. Then a decision.
Eric's tone was still light, but the drunk speaker gave him a cold, appraising look. He turned his body to face Eric, pulling his gun around as he did. He remained looking at Eric, while his friends looked at him for directions. He must have decided he wasn't being called out as he turned off the stare. "Don't worry about that. He tried to give us some trouble also but we took care of him. He's out back. Go ahead and grab what you need."
"Hey, Dukes of Hazzard?" Abe said, voice full of derision. "Where's Jeremiah?"
That's did it, Kyle thought. Couldn't let us do this the smart way. He watched as the inebriated rednecks finally caught the insult given by Abe. The one closest to him raised his shotgun up and pointed it at Abe, who to his credit, didn't flinch.
"Why don't I just let you meet him," the drunk sneered at Abe, then laughed. Kyle watched the guy with the gun. He had a beer in his left hand and was also trying to hold on to the unstable barrel of the gun, though at the range he was at, if the gun went off, it would surely kill Abe. The drunk moved his finger from the trigger guard to inside it and on the trigger. Kyle tensed when he saw this.
Think. He need a distraction. "What the hell is that?" he demanded, looking out of the far window, acting his part beautifully. Not his best work but it would do. All three of the drunk thugs turned in unison to look through the window.
With the ease of a professional, from long practice, Kyle pulled his 9mm from his holster, and not taking aim but pointing in the direction of the man holding the shotgun on his brother, fired three shots. Kyle knew that at this distance he would hit the torso and of the three shots, at least one, would hit a vital organ. Kyle didn't watch for the result. He immediately moved his handgun to the next target, who had acted quicker than Kyle thought he would in bringing his long barreled shotgun up, and fired another three deafening shots. The man's body jerked when the bullets entered his body, then he crumpled unceremoniously to the floor.
The third thug, and leader, had fumbled his gun but now had his barrel pointed directly at Kyle when the back of his head exploded. Blood erupted from the wound, covering the corner of the room in a Poe-like scene. Kyle, who had been holding his breath unconsciously, let out a long gasp and turned to look at James, who nodded back at him.
"Judas Priest!" cried Abe, who had finally been undone by violence in front of him. He looked at the grisly scene in utter horror, then to his brother, whose hardened eyes found his own. Their eyes remained locked, and Abe felt his brother’s resolve in the matter. He felt, through the look, questions and answers both, being laid before him. It almost felt as if Kyle was asking, did he understand now? This is the world I have known and know again, a nightmare returned but one I know how to walk in. He nodded to Kyle, maybe he did understand a little now.
"I'm going to go check
for Jeremiah," Abe volunteered, putting the surreal and horrifying experience behind him for the time. Just because it was necessary didn't mean that what had just happened didn't make him want to throw up. He barely made it out of the back door before his stomach couldn't hold on anymore and it emptied on the gravel. Abe tasted the vile acid as his stomach spasmed to rid itself of what was left. It slowly passed, and Abe took a minute to collect himself, then took a look around. Jeremiah was lying on the other side of the door. He was glad that he just threw up.
The poor old guy had been beaten badly. His face, which was now half caved in, was a terrible sight. His nose was completely smashed back into his head, while his left eye was missing. Abe, in a futile effort, reached down to see if he could find a pulse. None. Abe closed the old man's open eye and placed his arms over his chest. The old man had died in a horrible way. Abe was glad that they had died. He understood.
Kyle watched as Abe went out the back door and turned his head back to the three men on the ground. James was already checking them out.
"Dead?" he asked, better to make sure. Kyle was surprised that he didn't feel too bad about killing these guys. The look of horror on his brother's face had much more of an impact. He just hoped Abe would understand. This was nobody's idea of a nice world anymore.
"They’re dead," James replied calmly.
"Them boys was always going to come to a bad end, but damn Smalls you got some balls shooting them like that," Eric said, looking over the bodies. "Nearly shit myself. You had the right of it though, that boy looked like he was about to shoot."
"It was just like in the America movies," the kid blurted out. "You just shot them down."
Kyle felt annoyed at hearing it described like the OK Corral and he was a little embarrassed that he had forgotten about the kid. He looked at him, "What really happened to the old man?"
"It's like that trash said," the boy responded. "They tried to knick some things and the old man said they could have some water but needed to pay for the bullets. Then the leader hit the old man in the face with the bottom of his gun. I think it might have knocked him out or killed him, but there was blood everywhere. After that. he fell down and they took him out back."
Abe walked back in as the kid was finishing his story. "He's right. Jeremiah is dead. Half of his face was punched in?." He looked at Kyle and nodded his head. He hoped that he conveyed that he didn't judge him for what just happened. Abe wanted him to know that he was right.
He was about to keep talking when the sound of gunshots rang out from outside. Kyle immediately thought they might be some friends of these rednecks. He rushed to get to the door and had to allow the closer James and Eric to go through first.
"Looks like they followed the sound," James said, popping his magazine out of his handgun and checking it. Kyle had to agree. Coming from almost every directions were the diseased. They were spread out and not coming in a mob. They looked rough, but these didn't seem to have as much blood and gore over them as some he had seen. There weren't many of them since the store was pretty isolated, with not many houses within two miles. Kyle figured they were lucky that they weren't in a more heavily populated area.
"Patrick, Yolanda, start shooting left to right in front of you. Remember head shots," Kyle instructed. He was glad that neither one of them was in the store a few minutes ago. They had seen enough yesterday.
"Righto Boss," Patrick answered smiling. He turned to his wife and kids, "Stay behind me, this will only take a minute." Patrick's wife just frowned at him and then pulled her kids close to her side.
James had started shooting beside him when he saw Abe and the British kid hurry out of the building. The kid seemed to be stumbling a bit, which could have been because he was carrying that extremely large hiking backpack.
"Eric, start from there and work right. Abe stay beside him," Kyle said, turning around before he could see Abe give him a frown.
The shooting lasted for less than two minutes. It was controlled and disciplined shooting. “Just like the range,” Kyle thought. The all-clear was yelled by Eric, who had climbed on to the top of his truck.
"Count off," Kyle said a little harshly, he was trying to make sure everyone was here, but he wasn't thinking that clearly and wanted to make sure. He was scared and trying not to show it, but his adrenalin had him jacked up. The group counted off, using trucks again, this time with Abe speaking up for truck five.
"Patrick, are you fueled up?" Kyle asked. They had been lucky that for some reason the power was still on in this area though it kept flickering on and off.
"Yep, so is everyone else, except for you."
"I'm almost full, so it's enough.
"Kyle, there are more of the gas containers inside, we can fill those up also," Abe said
"Good. James and Yolanda could you help him get those? Also, get any guns and ammo from the store that are still there. We might as well grab anything we can use," Kyle said. "Be quick. Me and Eric will watch for more of the diseased. They must have heard that little shoot out.”
"Are they monsters?" asked the young Brit as the others moved away, getting ready to leave.
"Not monsters, just people that have gotten an infection when they get bitten, as far as I know anyway."
"You didn't see any last night?" asked Eric. He was now standing on the top of his dog box now, which put him even higher.
"I was hiking wasn't I?" said the kid.
"How the hell do I know what you were doing kid? You were the one doing it," he said. Eric wondered if this kid was hit harder on the head than they first thought.
"I just said I was didn't I? replied the kid with aggravation. He was looking up at Eric and almost lost his balance again.
Eric looked down from the truck. "Boy, I don't know if you’re messing with me or not."
"I don't know what you mean mate? I'm not messing with you," the boy answered. He seemed so earnest that Eric just gave a huff and turned back around to keep watch.
Kyle had been listening and had to smile at the conversation. He had met a few British guys in the service and sometimes their version of English seemed quite different to southern English. He did enjoy listening to the usually happy Eric become more and more frustrated in the conversation.
"What's your name?" Eric interjected.
"Edmund, from Nottingham. I have been in the states for a few months just hiking around. Yesterday, I was staying with some folks that I met online when they were called off to work, so I just started hiking through some woods. I ended up at the store.”
"Sorry you had to go through that, not exactly southern hospitality," said Kyle with little humor. He was starting to feel a little antsy about staying in one place this long. He constantly looked around the perimeter of the store, as much as he could see. Nothing, but they were vulnerable out in the open. The morning was cool and noon was approaching. He had wanted to be already on the road by now, but nothing goes according to plan. "You're welcome to come with us for now and figure out what you want to do later."
"Happy to mate, I'm lucky you yanks came along," agreed Edmund shaking his head. Kyle thought the kid bounced back quite fast considering the ordeal he had just been through.
"What the hell?" demanded Eric, again looking down from his commanding perch. "Who you calling a yankee?"
Kyle again felt amusement at the conversation being played out, but he thought he would help his friend on this one. "He means Americans. I believe some of them still call us yanks."
"Ridiculous."
Abe walked to the road with James, Yolanda, and Eric. He had stopped by his truck to grab a pair of binoculars that he had liberated from the plant. Fringe benefit.
"Looks like there are a couple of cars blocking the road about a mile up," he said, handing the binoculars to James.
"Eric, can your truck push those out of the way?" Kyle asked. Eric took a look back at his truck, which was easily the biggest. He had a thick metal grill welded onto the front.
&nbs
p; "It can, but it's gonna destroy my winch," he said regretfully "What we need is a bigger truck to push through anything we come across"
"Like what?"
"Like an eighteen-wheeler," he stated. "And I know just where we can get one.
Chapter 18
The group backtracked half a mile and found themselves traveling down yet another dirt lane, this one with trees and overgrown vegetation so close as to reach out and grab the trucks as they passed. All light seemed to be held at bay by the wild greenery that surrounded them. Eric, with Edmund along, was leading the pack and soon broke through to what can only be liberally called, an uncared-for yard. Broken and crashed cars, like littered water bottles, were scattered around giving it the feel of a junkyard. An old timeworn house sat at the end of the yard, looking more like a set from a b- rated horror movie than a homebody’s home.
Kyle, wondering who, if anyone, would live out here, pulled his truck up next to Eric. He jumped out of the truck to the sound of Eric's dogs, who were yelping and growling, as if they caught the scent of their prey. Kyle watched as the rest of the vehicles parked behind the two already in place, then as their drivers emerged and walked to him. Kyle, becoming frustrated and nervous at the dogs’ howling, was about to tell Eric to shut them up, when from around the back came four infected who were almost upon them.
"Get in the trucks!" Kyle screamed, watching the first one try to descend on Eric, who, despite his muscular girth, moved like a fairy to the top of his dog box. Edmund, not having walked around the side of the truck to Eric's position, jumped back in the truck and slammed the door. Kyle, with Abe standing beside him, barked at his brother to move. Abe, following Eric's example leaped to the back of the truck bed, and then climbed on top of the cab. Kyle, making sure that that everyone had made safety, was about to get inside his truck when an infected caught the back of his shirt. Terror seized Kyle just as strongly as the zombie, he turned violently to hit the aggressor when a foot came crashing down to break the hold that was upon him. Kyle, not needing any more encouragement, threw himself over the side of the truck and mounted the roof beside his brother who had saved him.