A second later, she burst into tears and leaned back against her car. Rosemary comforted her as she sobbed, trying to remain calm for her granddaughter, but failing miserably as she, too, began to cry.
Finally, Haven inhaled deeply to steady her breathing, glaring at the maniac before her for a few moments. She turned to face her rescuer, wiping her eyes and regaining her composure.
“Thank you for what you did,” she said hoarsely.
The stranger wore a Boston Red Sox baseball cap that barely concealed a pair of kind green eyes. He extended his hand.
“Rick Heaten,” he smiled sadly. “Glad I could be of service.”
Rosemary hugged him in earnest. “I can’t thank you enough, young man,” she exclaimed, a tear rolling down her face. He hugged her back.
“How did you…” Haven stammered. “How did you find us?”
He turned somber. “I was passing through on one of my routine stops to unload cargo. That’s my truck over there,” he explained, pointing to the far corner of the back of the store. The word “Wal-Mart” was emblazoned on the side of the white truck. “I had been unloading supplies into the stockroom when those idiots decided to start opening fire on innocent people. I hid in the cab of my truck, afraid that if I started the engine, it would attract too much attention. I didn’t know how many of them there were, and I didn’t want to risk having a parade of them chasing me down the highway.”
He paused, glancing at the bloody end of his crowbar and wiping it on the grass. “So I was keeping watch from the little window of the sleeper cab, clutching a crowbar, when I saw these two over here snooping around on the loading deck.” He shuddered briefly. “I guess they didn’t see this woman shamble over to them, looking just as bad as they did.”
Rick stopped, staring a hole into the ground beneath them. Haven could tell that whatever happened next wasn’t something he cared to recount. Still, her desire to know how their rescuer had found them got the best of her.
“What happened next?” she prodded gently.
“Well… I don’t know if you really want to hear—”
“It’s fine. You can tell us. Please continue,” Haven chimed in.
Rick sighed and continued. “At first, they got all excited when they saw her, not in a friendly way either. These two are obviously serious threats to society, and I don’t know how they aren’t locked up. Guess the cops have bigger fish to fry right now. Anyways, our friend here was trying to feel her up, like he did with you, and… well, she just bit him.”
“Huh,” Haven interjected absentmindedly. “I should have tried that.”
Rick continued, “No, be glad you didn’t. The worst was yet to come. That woman… she took a nice chunk out of his palm. His companion started laughing at him, this crazy, hysterical laugh that still gives me goose bumps when I think about it,” he muttered. “The one who got bitten looked pretty upset. He took a knife out of his jacket. The other guy saw what he was doing, and the two of them pushed her to the ground. She didn’t really seem fazed, just kept thrashing against them, snapping her teeth, trying to get them again.” Rick sighed and looked at them sadly. “I don’t want to say what came next. I closed my eyes after that.”
Haven’s face paled, imagining what might have happened to them had Rick not shown up when he did.
“When I dared to look again, I saw him cutting her throat, but she wouldn’t die. He kept cutting and digging until I saw her head fall back, severed from the spine. Jaws kept moving as it rolled away. It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
He rubbed his eyes, trying to erase the horrific images.
“The two of them just walked away. I was pretty disturbed at that point, but like I said, didn’t want to start up the truck and risk being chased by marauders or have these two lunatics try to get in. I stayed low until I heard several vehicles leave the parking lot, tires screeching, gunshots marking their grand exit. I figured it was the guys from the store and realized I needed to get the heck out of dodge.”
He looked at them gravely. “I climbed into the driver’s seat and was just about to turn the key in the ignition when I happened to see you both run out of the stockroom. I noticed you were alone, and I wanted to help, but I also had to think about myself.” He stopped and tilted his head towards the men on the ground. “That is, until I saw them creep out of the shadows and follow you. I knew I couldn’t let them do to you what they did to that poor woman.”
“Thank God you did. Where were you coming from?” Rosemary asked. “Is it like this everywhere?”
“I came from Savannah, sent up to restock stores that were quickly being depleted of supplies. And, yes,” Rick added, “it’s pretty bad.”
Haven crossed her arms, staring daggers at the prone forms of her attackers. She shivered and looked back to Rick. “How bad?”
Rick took off his hat and ran a gloved hand through mid-length brown hair. He shook his head, stress lining his features. “Bad enough that you ladies need to get out of here. Find a quiet, safe place to hole up away from the towns and cities. People are going crazy, and this is just the beginning of it. As you’ve seen, there’s no law enforcement to keep them in check anymore. They’re just losing their minds, looting and raping, taking whatever isn’t theirs and killing anyone who tries to stop them. It doesn’t take long for everything to go to hell when it all hits the fan.” He gestured back to his truck. “My truck almost got swamped when I went through a town a few hours back. I thought that these... people... were trying to get my supplies, but I don’t know… It seemed like they were more intent on getting me. They didn’t even bother going to the back of the truck. They just surrounded the cab, banging on the doors and windows.” He swallowed hard. “I…I had to run over some of them. I could hear their bones crunch as the tires rolled over their bodies. I didn’t even hear them scream.”
Rosemary touched his arm to comfort him. He blinked and looked her in the eyes. “It’s worse in other places. You’re lucky that you live in a smaller town and not some huge metropolis like Atlanta. They didn’t even have time to react. They just woke up to this. No warning, no explanation.”
All three pondered the developments for a moment. Haven’s face brightened. “You said you have a cargo truck. While you’re here, would you mind selling us some of your supplies?” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a crumpled twenty dollar bill, extending it to him. “I’ve got twenty bucks cash. How much will that get me?”
Rick waved it away. “I don’t want your money. You can take whatever fits into that little car of yours. Besides, I’m getting out of here anyways. Bring your car around the back. I’ve got plenty of supplies. Was only able to load a few boxes into the store before chaos broke out in there.” He started to walk back to his truck.
Haven grinned, flipping her keys in her hand. “You don’t have to walk back. Hop in. You just saved our lives. I’m willing to go out on a limb here and trust you.”
They piled into the car and drove to the rear of the store.
None of them noticed one of the men, the one Rosemary had shot in the chest, slowly rise to its feet, its movements sporadic and jerky as it stumbled after them, a low groan emanating from its throat.
By the time the newly undead man reached the stockroom, all that was left of the trio was a cloud of dust and the burning smell of exhaust. Sniffing the air hungrily, the fresh zombie turned back to the parking lot. Its feet dragged at an awkward speed, a half-hop, half-shuffle, until it finally reached its former comrade in crime. Moaning loudly, it bent down, seized the man’s limp arm firmly in its grasp, and began to feed on the first festering, pus-filled wound that the female zombie had inflicted.
***
Faith was huddled around the television, nervously chewing on her fingernails when Haven and Rosemary burst through the door. She jumped to her feet in alarm.
“Oh, thank God!” Faith breathed, her shoulders relaxing when she realized it was them. “I’ve been so worr
ied!”
Rosemary kissed her heartily on the cheek, embracing her longer than usual.
“We’re getting Brett. Now. As soon as we have him, we need to find a safe place to stay for a while,” Rosemary said. Haven could sense the anxiety in her tone and knew that she didn’t want to fill Faith in on what had happened.
Haven tightened her jaw as she watched the mayhem on the screen. “Has humanity lost its mind?”
Rosemary continued, “If we don’t get him now, there might not be another opportunity.”
Faith held a tomahawk limply at her side. “I’m going with you guys. I feel so useless here. It’s the least I can do.”
“Absolutely not,” Haven answered. “You’re nineteen. You’d have a heart attack at the first sight of trouble.”
When Faith pouted, Haven rolled her eyes. “You can’t even stand to kill a spider. You always make me catch them and take them outside. Stay here and help Grandma.”
“Haven, I don’t want you going by yourself, especially after today,” Rosemary objected, shaking her head resolutely.
“Grandma, please stay home with Faith. I’d feel much better if both of you were here to watch out for each other. I just have to get to the school and find Brett. I’ll take all the back roads and return in a jiffy.” Haven shifted her gaze to Faith and said sternly, “Faith, protect Grandma at all costs. I’m counting on you.”
Faith nodded.
“I’m serious,” Haven told her. She leaned in to her sister. “Grandma is the best thing that ever happened to us, and we need to make sure to take care of her like she’s taken care of us.”
“I know. You can count on me,” she promised.
Back in her room, Haven closed the door and slumped to the floor, holding her head in her hands. She had come so close to being violated in the worst way possible. She had never felt so vulnerable before.
She wasn’t the type of girl who tended to feel helpless and had always been confident in her ability to defend herself. Since the day she finally punched Cade Foster, she’d never shirked at the need to stand up to others.
But today, Haven was scared. What she had seen in the past few days on the news had been confirmed by the chaos she and her grandmother had witnessed first-hand at Wal-Mart.
It was terrifying, the ominous feeling that her country would never be the same again. This wasn’t just a recession. It wasn’t even rioting. This was much, much more.
In spite of her fear, she knew that she had to take charge then and there and not let them see any chinks in her armor. Her grandmother was a strong woman, but at her age, there was only so much she could do. Haven was extremely concerned that the violence creeping towards them would be too much for her aging heart. Her sister was fragile by nature, and although it was clear that she was mustering up as much courage as she could to support Haven, she tended to rely on her older sister’s judgment and strength. Haven knew that to some degree, her family looked to her to come up with a solution, to protect them all. So while she was accustomed to shouldering various burdens and responsibilities after their parents’ deaths to ensure that her siblings had as close to a normal upbringing as possible, she wholeheartedly anticipated her brother’s return so that they would have another able-bodied person amongst their ranks.
And she desperately missed Houston, with every ounce of her being. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. Again, she tried in vain to dial Houston’s number and got the same automated message that she’d been hearing all day. Why wasn’t the stupid call going through? She imagined a myriad horrible scenarios where Houston was injured and alone, unable to reach his phone.
She wanted nothing more than to have his arms around her, his calm voice telling her everything would be okay. That all of the nightmares and atrocities they’d seen were merely grotesque figments of their imagination…
Chapter 12:
Houston slammed his fist against the desk as he unsuccessfully called Haven’s cell phone for the twentieth time that day. He paced the floor of his small apartment like a caged animal. He hadn’t heard from his parents in a couple of days, and that combined with losing contact with Haven was weighing on him heavily.
He looked out the window of his fifth-story apartment and felt his heart sink. The city was going to hell in a hand basket. Thick plumes of smoke could be seen from the high-rises. Emergency vehicle sirens blared loudly. Every quarter hour or so, he heard the unmistakable sound of a collision nearby.
People were losing their minds.
His last day of work at the office had been two days ago. Houston had been prepared to go in that morning, but had received a call telling him to stay home.
Well, it had been two days now, and the news kept replaying the same stupid message: “Stay inside and lock your doors. Steer clear of the infected.”
He couldn’t stand to be locked up in his apartment any longer. He hadn’t been able to sleep much at all over the last two days. During his insomnia, he’d played and beaten “Call of Duty: Black Ops” with the terrifying Nazi zombies for almost eight hours straight the day before. He felt this game was particularly ironic and became that much more determined to beat every level. Every zombie he killed or barrier he built increased his confidence that he would be a formidable foe to them if he was in fact in the middle of a zombie pandemic.
A wail of pain echoed from downstairs.
His jaw tightened. He would drive himself crazy if he sat inside all day twiddling his thumbs and letting his mind run wild with what could happen to his loved ones.
He decided there and then what to do.
“Screw it,” he said to himself. He grabbed the backpack that he had prepared the night before filled with a few days’ supply of food and water, a couple changes of clothes, a small box of ammo, and his car keys.
Houston stepped back to the window and scanned the parking lot below until he saw his car. The black Pontiac Trans Am Firebird gleamed in the sunlight. Like Haven, he shared an intense love for his vehicle. He briefly smiled at the thought of Haven insisting, in jest of course, that her Cavalier could smoke his Trans Am. He played along with her just to be a good sport, although he knew that the little four cylinder was no match for the powerful V-8 engine of the sports car.
His smile quickly turned to a frown when he saw hooded figures near the Trans Am, bumping into it as they shambled around. There was no way that anyone was going to vandalize or steal his car while he was watching.
He walked over to the door and pushed the M1911 into the back of his jeans. He listened carefully before quietly unlocking the deadbolt and opening the door.
Within seconds, a horrible stench hit him. He covered his nose and closed the door behind him. Smears of blood coated the walls. Red streaks ran along the floor like someone had been dragged, disappearing into several apartments. Judging from the brightness of the blood, Houston guessed that the bloodbath had taken place recently.
An elevator was at the end of the hall. Houston shouldered his backpack and jogged towards it.
His footsteps grew louder as he increased his speed to the elevator. As he passed the apartments, he began to hear muffled grunts. The noise was immediately followed by intense pounding on the doors.
Houston pulled out the gun for safe measure as he ran, his stomach knotted in fear. However, the thought of his loved ones in imminent danger forced the feeling down, and he clenched his jaw and continued. He reached the elevator moments later and pressed the button for the first floor.
The elevator beeped peacefully as it passed each floor until it finally rested at the bottom of the complex. The doors opened to the lobby.
Houston gasped when he saw the destruction before him. How the complex had looked the evening that he came home from work two days ago compared to how it looked now was drastically different.
Blood was everywhere, from the shattered glass doors near the entrance to the reception desk to his right. Various human appendages and viscera were scattered ab
out the large room. The plush sofas in the corner were torn open, the stuffing laying in blood-soaked clumps around it. The mahogany coffee tables were overturned and slathered in blood and flesh. Several table legs were missing, presumably ripped off in a hurry to use as a bludgeon of some kind. Also, the flat-screen televisions were gone, as were the communal computers against the wall.
Oddly enough, he didn’t see any whole bodies.
He cautiously moved forward through the rubble, hoping to see some sign of life amidst the chaos.
An explosion a block away shook the building forcefully. Instantly, the lights went out. His heart pounded loudly in his chest. Houston was grateful that it was only early afternoon and not nightfall. Sunlight shone in from the large glass doors so that he could see what was going on around him.
Aside from the sirens and occasional screaming outside, the first floor was quiet.
Perfect, he thought as he crept to the doors leading to the parking lot. He peered around the corner, careful to avoid the jagged pieces of glass. Houston breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his car and no sign of the hooded figures.
Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of something move from the corner of his eye. Houston held out the M1911 in front of him and crouched down to the ground behind a large potted plant.
The same three men in hoodies he had seen before appeared beside the entrance.
Houston held his breath and eyed them from his hiding place behind the plant.
Through the leaves, he could only see their backs. Their shoulders slumped at awkward angles as they stumbled along at a painstakingly slow pace. Their hoodies were torn and soaked in blood. One of them seemed completely oblivious to the fact that half of his arm was gone. Another shambled forward at a particularly odd, uneven gait. Jagged white bones protruded from his shin through dirty jeans.
Houston had watched enough of the news to know that the trio had ceased to remain human and were now infected. No one could walk around so calmly in that kind of state.
The Good, the Dead, and the Lawless: The Undoing Page 14