Wicked Series: Wicked [Novel]

by John Macallen Davis

  “Fuck it,” Murphy added. Pulling a can of spaghetti and a water out; staring at the group for a very long moment. “I don't plan on being led to my death by an oxygen delivery man and a convict anyway.”

  “Anybody else?” Derick asked.

  “You coming, Rudy?” A.K. asked.

  They could certainly use another man with a trained gun hand.

  “I'm good,” the pilot replied. “Can't see myself with a man who'd stand there and watch another man die.”

  “Have it your way,” A.K. said. “And you and me,” he pointed to Carlos. “Yea, we ain't finished just yet, convict.”

  “Bye now.” Carlos said.

  And just like that, A.K. and Murphy walked away. Their fate was as unclear as the rest of the group's, but their plans were far different. They'd no intention of chasing fool's gold in Charlotte, only to be overrun by the better part of a million wicked.

  At least not today.

  Chapter 4

  “What is it?” Derick asked.

  He lay in the tall grass beside Rudy, who looked through a small pair of field binoculars. The type that folded and slipped into your pocket.

  Bass Pro Shops. At least that's what the sign read.

  “That pretty store filled with survival gear is the place we need to be. Unless it's been looted, we can survive a long time down there.”

  “Can we get down to it?” Derick asked.

  “I dunno. I see at least twenty rots, maybe more. Not to mention the fact that this place is on the edge of Concord, meaning there are probably thousands more nearby that we can't see from this angle. My unit got used to calling them rots. Is that cool with you?”

  “By all means.” Derick replied.

  He honestly didn't know or care. Zombies had always been the same as vampires who fell in love with high school girls, in his opinion. Fiction. Though he gave the wicked a bit more credit. At least their concept was cool. Something about vampires already being dead and dealing with thoughts of suicide had always struck him as ridiculousness. Of course, every high school girl and lonely wife on the planet had scooped it up anyway. Figures.

  Yet here he was, being hunted by the very creatures he'd always believed were fictional. Derick silently vowed that if any vampires dressed like high school dropouts showed their face – they would be the first to die!

  “There are broken windows on both levels of the building, meaning it's been picked through at least once. It could be emptied out, there's no way of telling unless we can get down to it somehow and look around.”

  “As a soldier-”

  “Yea,” Rudy said. “As a soldier, I would send a few capable men down and grab what I could. Hopefully, it can be done without any of the dead spotting us.”

  “If they do?”

  “Then we'll only lose a few people. We have to assume that there are lots more of these things nearby.”

  ** **

  “So that's it,” Derick said. Briefing the rest of the group of their situation. “Right over the hill is a Bass Pro Shops store. That's great news if it hasn't been picked clean already and if it isn't completely full of stiff bodies.”

  “That's a lot of ifs.” Carlos warned.

  To his experience, ifs either got you locked up under questionable circumstances or they got you killed behind bars.

  “Yea.” Derick admitted.

  “We need to split up,” Rudy said. “I know it's not a popular decision, but if we all go down there and get overrun... our survival ends today. I think that three of us go down and three of us stay put. I can lead the team down – I know my way in and out of things pretty well. At least as well as a Navy man can. I'll need to take Lamar with me.”

  “Me?” Lamar began to protest.

  “Yea,” Rudy replied. “You know as much as I do about the things we'll need in order to survive. We can't just go in with a shopping cart and start browsing around. It'll need to be a quick once over, so I can use your expertise.”

  “All I do is read comic books.”

  Carlos began laughing at the irony.

  “We'll need a third. Someone who isn't afraid to get dirty. But it's volunteer only, I won't force anyone.” Rudy said.

  You're forcing me. Lamar thought.

  “I'll do it.” Pam volunteered.

  “What?”

  Derick had no intentions of letting a woman he cared so strongly for, rush off into the stomachs of zombies.

  “I can do this.” she replied.

  “OK,” Rudy said. “I'll work with you on how to hold the revolver a little bit. You kind of remind me of that deputy on television with the one bullet in his pocket. He always rattled his revolver around. We need to fix that. You'll be the group's lookout. We'll do the carrying, but you watch our backs.”

  “I can do that.”

  “I don't like the plan.” Derick said. Hoping to influence Pam somehow. The thought of losing her really affected him.

  “It's a good plan,” Carlos said. “The dead could just as easily overrun us up here. You and I can hold our ground and watch over Lisa. If they flood us, we'll get down to the Bass Pro as fast as we can.”

  “There's always a waterfall in these stores,” Rudy said. “I used to take my nephew to 'em all the time. If we get separated or if you haven't seen us in two days, we all do everything in our power to meet up at that waterfall.”

  “I like it,” Carlos said. “What I don't like is the idea of Murphy and A.K. lurking around out there somewhere. They're don't strike me as valedictorians or anything, but even they can't be stupid enough to think they can make it far with a can of beans and a bottle of water. They could be following us now.”

  “If they show back up – shoot 'em.” Rudy said.

  “Shoot them?” Lisa asked.

  “People with a strong survive mentality are just as dangerous as the wicked themselves.” Rudy said. Trying to convince her of the fact.

  Lisa wasn't thrilled about the idea of shooting another living person, but she understood. She wanted to survive long enough for the military to come to their rescue and whisk her away – back to a life where she ran a branch of the national banking chain.

  “OK. Give me an hour to work with Pam on using a pistol. Lamar, it wouldn't hurt to make a list of the things we might need.” Rudy said.

  “You mean write it down?” Lamar asked. “Why do I need to do that? I've got a list right here in my he-”.

  Suddenly, he realized that it was a backup plan. In the event that the starving zombies got to him first.

  Pulling a small notebook into a lap, the former tech expert grumbled under his breath. He didn't mind dying. He just didn't want to die today.

  ** **

  A.K. held out his hand for a moment. Finally giving the OK.

  Murphy sprinted as fast as his old legs would carry him. He looked eerily similar to the infected rushing to a meal of flesh. He was bony, his legs caved and were rather bowed. But the infected didn't curse under their breath when running.

  “Fuck.” the old man said – winded.

  “Just try and keep up,” A.K. said. “That convenience store is less than a block away now. It won't be long.”

  “Looks like it's been hit already.”

  “Well, it is the end of the world. Come on!”

  Sprinting fast, A.K. suddenly stopped and slid behind red SUV. Skinning his upper leg against the hard asphalt. He clenched his teeth in pain for a moment. Then, holding a hand up firm, he warned the old man against following him.

  Several men with assault rifles stood outside of the convenience store. Their weapons looked like U.S. Military, but they certainly weren't soldiers. A handful of other men brought boxes outside and stacked them. Then, one of the armed men used a handheld radio.

  After waiting behind the red SUV for almost ten minutes solid, a rugged pickup truck zoomed up the front of the store. Then, men loaded down its truck bed and just as quickly as it had pulled up the store, the truck hauled ass.

 
“Shit.” A.K. said.

  He then waved his friend to his spot behind the SUV.

  Hurry up, you old bastard.

  ** **

  “You've gotta admit. This is a bit much.” Rudy said.

  “How's that?” Lamar asked.

  The group slowly made their way down a grassy hill which led to what had once been an outdoor superstore. Scanning the area around them for any type of movement. They saw nothing but tall grass blowing quietly.

  “It's the zombie apocalypse and we find a Bass Pro Shops.”

  “And?” Lamar continued to wonder.

  “It'd be about like a starving man finding a table of food, complete with silver flatware. Don't you think?”

  “This store has been here for the better part of a decade,” Pam said. “I can remember when they built it. The entire town of Taylorsville thought it was a huge deal. Folks were driving from all around during the grand opening.”

  “But we're not in Taylorsville.” Rudy said.

  “No,” she smiled. “But that's how life in a small town works. You don't have many opportunities to get excited about something. So when something big happens, even in the next town over – you're not from a small town, huh?”

  “No,” Rudy said. “The suburbs of Detroit.”

  He gave her a look of understanding, though it would have been impossible for anyone from an urban setting to understand the workings of a small town.

  “OK listen,” Rudy began. They approached the huge set of automatic glass doors which had been pried open by someone or something. “I'll go first. Lamar, you stay right behind me. We literally have no idea what we're walking into. Pam-”

  He could see that her attention was elsewhere; looking above them at the other group of survivors that had stayed behind.

  “Pam?”

  “Yea.” she said quickly, refocusing her attention on the conversation.

  “I need you to stay a few feet behind us. Keep an eye on the upper level of the store and watch our backs. If you're too close, you won't be able to watch out well enough. Don't get too far behind, though. If something happens, I want to be able to help you.”

  “Got it.” Pam said.

  She tightened her grip on the handle of her revolver. Especially now that she actually knew how to hold it. Lamar clinched a pipe in both hands, while a sack hung across his back. Meanwhile, Rudy dreaded going into the outdoor superstore as much as the others did. He just refused to show it. Pulling his 9mm from its holster, he began leading them inside.

  ** **

  “It's been looted dry.” A.K. said.

  Murphy leaned against what would have been the cashier's counter. A.K. was right. Everything had been taken; from the cash in the register to the food on the store's shelves. The convenience store had certainly been looted more than once.

  “The slush machine works.” a voice called out.

  It came from the back of the store and A.K. was quick to point his rifle into its direction. Doing what he could to see through the shadowy black that engulfed the rear of the building. There were plenty of windows in the front, facing the double set of gasoline pumps. But the back was close in for the most part.

  “Who's there?” A.K. asked.

  “Relax. If I was going to kill you I could have done it when you first tucked in behind the red SUV out front.”

  “I'm not relaxing until I see a face, and your hands up high.” A.K. said. Aiming his compact military rifle to the rear of the store.

  “If I show my face...you'll shoot me.” the voice replied.

  “How you figure?”

  “Because I'm infected.” the voice admitted.

  The word infected brought nerves to both A.K. and Murphy. While A.K.'s hands began gripping his military rifle a bit tighter, the old man pulled a steel pipe up and ready like a baseball player decades past retiring. It had been originally salvaged from Lamar's electronics truck and Murphy suspected that it helped form the bracket of a satellite dish. Or in this case, bash brains in.

  “See,” the voice said. “I mention I'm infected and you both tense up.”

  “What do you expect us to do?” Murphy asked. “Goddam wicked running around everywhere eating folks.”

  “Give me the benefit of the doubt,” the voice replied. “I'm infected, but I'm not one of them. Do you hear of those things offering up a conversation?”

  Both A.K. and Murphy slowly nodded.

  “Tuck in behind the counter where you're safe and then lay your weapons on the top of the counter. Then I'll come out. Just watch the body back there.”

  “Body?” A.K. asked.

  “I didn't kill him, if that's what you're wondering. The poor guy was dead when I got here. Gunshot wound. I'd guess it was during the initial loot of this store.”

  “OK,” A.K. said. “But if you step out and come at us in any way...I will gun you down. You understand?”

  “Fair enough.”

  Neither of them liked the idea, but standing behind the counter was the safest spot in the store. Except for the dead cashier, who lay right where the voice told them to look. A.K. and Murphy could see the parking lot. They could also see nearly to the back of the convenience store, which gave them plenty of time to grab a rifle and shoot, should the need arise.

  Slowly, a figure began to appear. Walking from the rear of the store.

  “Don't shoot.” the figure said with hands up high.

  Moments later, Murphy grabbed for the rifle and A.K. did what he could to stop the old man from following through with it.

  “I said don't shoot!” the figure yelled.

  “You said you ain't one of 'em,” Murphy growled. Finally wrestling his steel pipe away from A.K., who'd secured the gun. “You look just like 'em!”

  “I told you I was infected.” the stranger said.

  “Then how come you're not out there chewing people's faces off like the rest of the infected?” A.K. asked.

  He was ready to pull his rifle to the ready at any time. But he wanted answers first and he'd have them.

  “When this shit first broke out, I was at work. I was bitten shortly after and for a day or so, I thought I was dying.”

  “Then?”

  “You're looking at it,” the man said. “The color left my skin making me even whiter and my pupils are dilated bigger than a pair of bull testicles, man. The light outside...I can't stand it. It's so dark in the back of this store because I busted the light out myself.”

  “But why are you talking; why are you not trying to eat us?” A.K. asked.

  “I don't know,” the stranger admitted. “Trust me – I'm hungry. I've been living off of potato chips and cans of spaghetti for the last couple of days but thinking about eating another person makes me want to vomit. Best I can figure, the infection only worked on me to a set point and then said to hell with it. It just didn't take. These freaks outside don't seem that interested in eating me, either. I guess they can smell the infection on me.”

  “You're not making a whole lot of sense. Infection only taking half its toll-” A.K. began to hoist his rifle to the ready.

  “And a zombie apocalypse makes sense?” the stranger pleaded. “Man, I told you. I'm not one of them, I'm one of you. My name's Tommy Higginson. I work in a warehouse three blocks away making foam containers. We call it the docks.”

  “You're kidding me?” A.K. asked.

  “No. I mean it's not the best job, but it's honest work.”

  Gun or no gun, who was this guy to judge?

  “You're Tommy...and you used to work on the docks?”

  “Am I missing something?” Murphy asked.

  “It's way past your prime, old man.” A.K. said fast.

  Well, fuck you too then. Murphy thought.

  Tommy looked on with dilated eyes. Clueless.

  “It's a song.”

  Still, Tommy remained in the dark. Literally, as he stood just feet from the direct sunlight which poured through the front of the store.

&nb
sp; “Married to a woman named Gina by any chance?”

  “Single,” Tommy replied. “I mean there's this neighbor. Sarah, I think. She's hot enough to date but I never got around to asking. I'm paying on a truck that I lost during all of this shit. The dealership isn't going to be too happy about that. I don't know, man. I'm just a normal guy. I used to eat out far too often and rush around and clean my apartment when I thought company was coming over. Otherwise, it looked like shit.”

  “Unbelievable.” A.K. said.

  “You mean underachiever. That's what my parents called it, anyway.”

  “So you have no desire to eat us?” Murphy asked.

  “Look man, I already told you. Reach behind the counter and see if you can find some paper. I'll draw you a picture if it helps. I'm no cannibal, hell I don't even like fish. The infection just stopped halfway on me and left me looking half-dead.”

  Lowering his rifle, A.K. nodded.

  “OK,” the former prison guard said. “I need to know everything you know. You need to tell us everything you've seen from the time this shit broke out up until Murphy and I walked into the store.”

  “Say the slush machine is working?” Murphy asked.

  “Yea,” Tommy replied. “I've been unplugging it when people show up with guns. Otherwise, it stays on. Looters came through and took all of the bottled drinks. Who does that? Who takes all of the sodas and leaves the slush machine? Fucking animals.”

  The man looked dead. He had stringy black hair and eyes that you'd typically find staggering out of an optometrist's office. But he also had a sense of humor. That wasn't typical of the zombies they'd see thus far, earning him a bit of trust with A.K. and Murphy.

  “I'm going in.” Murphy grinned.

  He staggered to the machine like a thirsting orphan and wrestled with the plug for a moment. Suddenly, it lit up. And Murphy wasted no time placing his head under its spout and pulling a lever. Frozen blue goodness bled into his welcoming mouth.