“Okay, then,” Talaski replied, “we’ll hold our breath and run. Everyone ready?”
Keller took a deep breath, and for a moment considered how easily they worked together. He glanced over at Talaski, saw him wink, and realized he was almost certainly thinking along the same lines.
“Let’s go,” Talaski said.
They took off at close to a dead sprint through the back room doors and into the warehouse room beyond them. The smell assaulted them immediately. The three flashlights revealed more corpses, wall racks full of merchandise, and palletized items. They slowed to avoid slipping in the pool of bleach, and Keller got a good look at several of the corpses. He was shocked to see that little maintenance guy, Blake, lying dead nearby.
Talaski took them past more pallets, a big hulking machine of some sort, then he was at the back door. All of them were choking now, but not for long. The door swung open, revealing a short concrete landing and a railed ramp leading down; to the right were two wells for semi-trailers to unload into the store. There were several more corpses there, which Keller steered carefully around.
Once they all were clear of the door, they stood breathing deeply. Amy wrapped her left arm around him, leaned against his side, and clicked her flashlight off. He turned and kissed her. When he saw her eyes widen in surprise, he said, “You needed that.”
She smiled, and wiggled her body closer to his. “What now?” she asked.
“We could circle back around. Maybe all the zombies are in the store, now,” Keller answered.
“I don’t like that idea,” Talaski said. “We’ve lost the truck, and it’s time to find new transportation.”
“Well,” Amy said, “we better agree on a plan soon.”
42. Johnny
Their boat was tied off to a massive wooden dock, and a handful of people were crossing from this boat to the pier after they stepped out and onto the deck. About forty feet away, a few people in the quasi-naval uniforms of the cruise ship were handing out makeshift weapons to certain people as they lined up. Not everyone received a weapon, and Johnny thought there were not enough to go around. He also noticed that only the people in uniform had guns— pistols in holsters at their waists. Everyone else was being given baseball bats, axes, and shovels.
No one gave Johnny or his friends weapons. In their group, though, an older biker-type guy with a big build and a short, husky kid with long sideburns both got bats.
Those who received their weapons were being formed up into four groups, each group with a crewman or two. They were then sent in different directions out toward rows of warehouses. A crewman directed Johnny and Marcel into the last group. Gretchen was part of their group. She still had a sidearm with a military style combat harness, complete with a large sheathed knife.
She smiled at Johnny when she saw him but didn’t comment. The smile wasn’t friendly. Johnny always thought it strange how people could do that— smile and not mean it. The only good thing was that she was at least out in the open about her feelings.
“Okay,” Gretchen said, “if you got a weapon, you’re a guard. If you didn’t, you’re either loading or unloading. Understood?”
A lot of people nodded.
“Good. Now remember, keep close together so we can protect you. Any of you wander off without asking me, you’re on your own. We need to work together, and we’ll all get back on the boat, and get out of here. Last thing, if I tell you something, I expect you to do it. Don’t fuck with me, or I’ll shoot you myself.”
Johnny had no doubt she meant what she said.
Gretchen looked at each one of them in turn. “Let’s see, who is going to be our point man? Any volunteers?” When no one answered, she laughed briefly. “I knew you all were all gutless wonders. “How about you?” she asked, making eye contact with Johnny. “Our very own fallen angel can guide us through Hell. Head for that big warehouse over there with the eight painted on it.”
Marcel started to protest, but Johnny put his hand on the other man’s arm and shook his head. Johnny smiled at Gretchen. No sense arguing with someone holding a gun. He started walking toward the distant warehouse. It was about two blocks away with a big semi in front of it.
Marcel and Anna were right on his heels, and everyone else fell in behind, more or less in a group. The two men with bats were to either side, and Gretchen took the rear.
Johnny thought about the various reasons they could be here. He wondered also how much stuff they were supposed to bring back with them. There wasn’t much free space on the ride here. Whatever they were after wasn’t big or bulky. What they were looking for was most likely small and would need a lot of people looking to find it quickly.
He could hear Marcel and Anna whispering behind him as they walked, but he couldn’t tell what they said.
“Be alert people, so we all get back in one piece,” Gretchen said.
Johnny could see one group gathered in front of the nearest warehouse. One of the men was hacking into a small door beside the larger loading bay doors. Another one was sitting on a forklift. Someone shouted, and the guy with the axe stood to the side. The guy on the forklift elevated the forks and drove them against the door. The forklift slewed sideways to the left, and part of the door collapsed. He backed and drove forward again. What remained of the door fell inwards.
Not long after, that whole group began to file into the building, and Johnny’s attention returned to their assigned building. It was much like the other warehouses, a big steel structure without windows, two-stories in height with two immense roll-up doors. It looked old. The paint was fading, and rust-streaks were on the closed loading doors. A lot of trash blew around
Sweat formed at Johnny’s temples and upper lip. The humidity was bad. He imagined what it would be like in that warehouse. With about a block to go, he would find out soon. The forklift’s engine sounded closer, and Johnny turned. Apparently the guy driving it was coming over to help them. As a group, Johnny and the others stepped to the side so the forklift could pass. The guy drove by at almost twenty miles an hour. Johnny recognized the driver’s sour face. Huff.
43. Clive
They waited in near-total darkness with only the red emergency light for several minutes before either of them spoke further. Clive even finished eating. Neither of them could see the other, let alone their food or drink.
“You’re remarkably calm,” Candace said at last.
Clive grunted. “No point getting worked up. A lot depends on what we decide to do next.”
“And what do you suggest we do?”
Clive took a deep breath. He’d been considering their options since they escaped, and the only one that gave them much of a chance, or made any sense, was leaving the bunker. “We could stay here, or leave. It gets more complicated after that.”
“I’m afraid to do either,” Candace whispered.
“Me too,” he answered. “No sense denying it. There are no guarantees of safety no matter what we do.”
“Is there some kind of radio room around here? We could call for help. My family is at the Greenhouse Bunker.”
Clive nodded. The Greenhouse Bunker was a more rustic, less-finished shelter about twenty miles away that was to have been an alternative to the bunker they were in now: Clockworks Haven. He knew her family consisted of her eighty-year old mother and two adult children. She’d been through a messy divorce earlier in the year when her husband got caught cheating with underage hookers. Clive was pretty sure that the ex-husband hadn’t made it to the safety of the Greenhouse Bunker.
“Think you’re up for a trip through the dark to get to the radio room?” he asked. “I’m talking about the one up top, outside in the hotel.”
He felt her fingers touch his arm but couldn’t see her face. She kept them there until he took her small hand in his own.
“I can be brave,” she answered, “as long as you’re with me.”
“Okay, then, shall we go?” She squeezed his hand. “Sure, and I’m glad we are
we’re getting out of here. I just hope none of those things are up there.”
“Only one way to find out,” he replied and helped her to her feet. “Let’s take the stairs.”
She didn’t object, trailing along slightly behind him as he approached the emergency door.
“I wonder if the alarm will sound?” he said, but didn’t expect her to know the answer.
“Only one way to find out,” she replied with a giggle.
Clive laughed briefly, partly due to her joke, but also at the absurdity of their situation. He would never have guessed that one day he’d be alone in the dark with the speaker of the house making jokes while the world ended around them.
He pushed the bar, and the alarm sounded. Lights flashed, and the noise was deafening.
There was no trace of a smile on either of their faces as they dashed together, hand-in-hand, up the shallow steps.
44. Booth
“Hang on, Booth, we’ll be done in a moment,” Hicks said as he pushed a four-wheeled cart over to the fuel tanks. Lassiter was holding the flashlight and stood off to the side near a massive section of shelves mounted on the hangar’s back wall.
Booth heard them, but what they said didn’t register.
Several hundred of the dead were crossing the field toward the helicopter. The two pilots were talking with the colonel. Both looked upset, and one gesticulated wildly in the direction of the approaching horde. Were they about to leave the first lady and her child alone? Leave all of them?
Both pilots climbed into their seats. The co-pilot, Lot, turned and extended his arm back out of the cockpit. Booth spotted a gun in his hand. The colonel raised his submachine gun and Lot shot him several times. As the colonel collapsed, the engine noise increased and the rotor speed picked up.
“They’re bugging out!” Booth shouted, and ran a few steps. He wasn’t anywhere near close enough. There were only moments left to do anything and no one to stop them. The helicopter took off at about a thirty degree angle, sending debris flying. Booth knelt on one knee with his rifle raised. He waited.
He guessed the helicopter was about a hundred yards away and a hundred feet up when he started firing single, aimed shots. He fired four times before he saw evidence that he was hitting it, then a trail of haze began to spew smoke and flame. It accomplished nothing really. Still, when the helicopter’s engine began to seize up and it started auto-rotating back to the ground, he felt that he’d avenged the colonel and punished the pilots. It looked as though they were going to be forced to land not far from the horde. Certainly not in a safe spot.
Hicks and Lassiter joined him as he stood up.
“Let’s go, quickly! We need to get the first lady out of here. Those dead fucks are getting close!”
Neither of the men argued or had anything to say. Both simply followed him to the other hangar where he’d seen her go in.
45. Talaski
Talaski descended the loading ramp with his shotgun leading the way. Amy and Keller followed with the shopping cart. They walked around several dead bodies. A cloud of flies stirred as they passed, and a rotten stench rose around them. Keller eased the cart down the slope from the door and onto a large concrete pad, where various flatbed carts were stored when not in use. There were also several tall stacks of empty pallets, a couple of large green dumpsters, and a forklift.
“No vehicles here,” Amy said.
“We aren’t having any luck,” Keller agreed.
Talaski looked around. Directly behind the store was a ten-foot concrete wall. They probably could scale it, but would have to leave the cart. He crossed that idea off their list of options. To the right, the store stretched for a couple hundred feet, and then the road turned a corner that would lead them back to the front. To the left was a long chain of smaller stores, each with a dumpster. He could see at least two cars in that direction, along with several more shopping carts. It would take a lot longer to get back to the front of the store if they went that way.
“I say we follow behind the store,” Keller said. “It won’t take as long, and if we have to, we just scale the wall and leave the cart.”
Talaski nodded. “Let’s do that, and maybe Mills will be waiting when we get there.”
Talaski once again took the lead, followed by Amy and Keller with the cart.
“Feels like a cattle chute,” Keller remarked.
Talaski thought it was an apt comparison. He wished they’d had time to eat something. He was feeling weak and thirsty, but knew that it was more important to keep moving. It looked like they had a good group here. No random elements. He still wasn’t convinced that there was any point trying to survive, but as long as Keller had hope, he wouldn’t give up.
They passed more bodies, gray-skinned, stinking piles of rotting flesh that were finished with this game.
More dead people, something Talaski saw several times a week. He was merely an observer now. The only real emotion he felt with intensity anymore was rage. There was a certain peace that came with the death of desire and hope. He pushed the thought away. Self diagnosis wasn’t going to change his situation or his life outlook.
Keller held hands with Amy while they pushed the cart.
Keller was easier to understand, at least if you knew him. Talaski would hesitate to use the term desperate to describe his friend, but privately it was what he thought. Until recently, Keller had been too self-effacing, too nice as they say. Most women weren’t going to respect that. Talaski knew from experience that they wanted someone with confidence and that many wanted to be dominated. Keller was just getting used to that concept. His confidence was on the upswing, and he definitely felt better about himself.
Talaski had no such expectation for himself. He was sure that Keller had his back, but other than a certain paralegal, he wasn’t interested in anyone. He felt bad that he hadn’t found a way to check on her. The only way would be to go by her house and see.
He was more than a little surprised to find that he actually cared and wanted to know whether she was okay.
Talaski peered around the corner, pausing only a moment before proceeding. Keller steered the cart around a large pothole. Talaski glanced behind them once more before rounding the corner himself. There still wasn’t anyone behind them.
A large, overturned cardboard box leaned against the grocery store’s wall, not far ahead. Pieces of concrete block were stacked around it, along with other debris, with the apparent intent of creating a hideaway. It had to be the work of a transient. Assuming anyone was in there.
Keller and Amy stepped it up. It seemed crazy to him. Why weren’t they being more careful? Maybe both of them were tired. He knew they all, himself included, needed sleep. It might even be better to walk around the cardboard fort.
He was about to speak up, when Keller beat him to it.
“Go around it, Amy,” Keller instructed. “Let’s not look for trouble. Just walk around.”
Amy nodded. She looked a little worn, and her blonde hair was sweaty and tangled. There was no doubt about her sexual appeal, even if she was tired. It seemed too natural to be calculated, but Talaski didn’t underestimate women. What if there is a kid in there?
Why couldn’t he shut it off? Observe and evaluate. Serve and protect. So many catch phrases that were all part of him, apparently forever.
“Anyone in there?” he asked, raising his voice and using an authoritative edge.
For the span of a heartbeat or two, nothing happened, then a hand and arm appeared from under the box, filthy fingernails, dried blood on the arm, then the box turned over. It looked like a guy who could be anywhere from fifty to seventy or so. His face was bright red, and his eyes unfocused. He looked around, and jumped when he saw them standing there looking at him.
“Don’t hurt me! I’m not panhandling. Just needed to get some sleep.”
Talaski was already past him. Amy and Keller had stopped, considering what he said.
“Just keep going,” Talaski said. “Every
one, keep going.”
Amy and Keller stared at the old man, but neither hesitated to follow Talaski’s lead.
“Why aren’t we talking to him?” Amy asked.
Talaski frowned. “Do I need to give a reason? Are you really asking me that?”
Neither of them answered, and a moment later, they resumed pushing the cart.
Behind them, the guy asked, “Anybody got a cigarette?”
46. Jacobs
They left the motorcycle two blocks away and looped around to the house behind the Alamo house. At the moment, they were both crouched behind a large bush beside the property’s garage.
“We should wait for dark to scout this place,” Jacobs said, “but we really can’t wait. I want you to stay right here, and keep out of sight, Kyle. If I’m not back inside an hour, then I want you to go back to the others, on foot if you have to, and keep them away from this place. Don’t engage in a war. Just get out of the city. Do you understand?”
The younger man’s face was flushed and smeared with dirt. “Yes,” he answered, looking a little edgy. “Be careful, okay?”
Ten feet away was the back wall of the Alamo. Up close it was a white-washed, six foot high, concrete block wall complete with flaking paint and the black flecked stain of fungus. Weeds and grass grew high in a flowerbed that wrapped around.
Nothing moved. No birds sang nearby, although there was the background metallic buzz of cicadas, rising and falling. A brown lizard scaled the wall. Something rustled through the thick leaves layering the ground behind them near the garage door.
With his rifle slung and pistol in hand, Jacobs lifted himself to his feet and quietly edged up to the wall. He hoisted himself up and over and dropped to the ground on the other side. He squatted on a well-trimmed swatch of lawn, and paused only long enough to look around. Directly ahead of him was the three-story house. It wasn’t pretty by any stretch of the imagination. Painted white, with beige trim at the windows and roof eaves, likely built in the fifties. It was sort of a wedding cake design, with the bottom floor being large, and the next two stories becoming gradually smaller. The windows were spaced evenly, each about ten feet apart, complete with safety shutters running the perimeter of the entire circle-shaped bottom floor. The windows looked old but well made, and he could see himself reflected in the mirrored tint of the nearest one. Two stairs led to a screened back door slightly to his left.
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