Rise & Walk (Book 2): Pathogen

by Gregory Solis

  Holding his rifle at his hips he crouched down and looked out near the floor. Across the room a figure, lying prone, emerged from underneath a clothing rack. It clawed at the tiled surface, dragging itself along. Now, Tony began to hear its breathing, dry and low. Was it breathing hard with the effort? There was something very creepy in the way that it was crawling towards him without directing its face towards Tony. He aimed his rifle but still feared firing and possibly alerting any hungry ghouls on the street. The ghoul was twenty feet away and crawling slowly. Tony knew if he was careful, he could have time for an idea.

  Standing, he motioned to a very determined looking Nikki with his palm open to relax. He then grabbed a rolled up sleeping bag from the shelf above the duffle bags and shoved the barrel of his rifle inside the space in the center. Fearing a backfire, he shoved the rifle until it came out the other end, then slid it back carefully, covering the barrel a little but leaving enough space for the hot gases to release. He set the sleeping bag on the floor and used it to support the rifle. He lay on the floor and did his best to aim at the approaching corpse. As the creature closed the distance, Tony could see that it was in quite a state. The top of its head appeared matted with blood and he noticed a ring of gouged cuts around the crown. A hunting knife protruded from its spine, flopping from side to side as it struggled to reach Tony. Watching its pathetic approach moved Tony. His fear, while still present, gave way to a small portion of pity. Someone had done a number on this guy, the same people who now had a truck full of rifles and shotguns. These dead things needed to be put down but not made sport of.

  “Sorry man.” Tony whispered and fired. The sound from the center of the rolled up sleeping bag sounded more like the quiet cough of a well mannered theatre patron than a rifle shot. The small bullet bored solidly through the top of the tattered ghoul’s head, dropping it to the floor. Since his plan worked so well and for good measure, Tony fired once again.

  Tony stood letting the sleeping-bag slide to the ground and stepped carefully to the creature with his twenty-two at the ready. He surmised that the knife in its back must have damaged its spine rendering its legs useless, hence the crawling. He pushed at its shoulder with his boot, just enough to confirm a suspicion; the thing wore a nametag. The corpse was an employee of the store; a bloodstained bandaged area of his right arm appeared to cover a bite wound. But what really worried Tony was that the marks around the crown of its head went all the way around. Whoever stole a store full of weapons was sick enough to try and scalp a corpse.

  There might be worse things than the undead in town.

  Twenty-Four

  Veronica carefully opened the door to the bedroom and peeked inside. She was surprised to see Margaret sitting up in bed awake. Her posture was straight and proper; her hands were set flat on her lap on a folded over section of sheet, her gaze longingly aimed towards the window. Sunlight fell from the skylight above warming the room. The old woman turned her head and smiled at Veronica.

  “No need to pussy-foot, I’m awake.” Margaret smiled.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Oh, much better,” Margaret turned and scooted to sit on the edge of the bed, facing the balcony. “In fact, I feel better than I have in a long time. That meal was fantastic.”

  Veronica entered, still holding the small washcloth to her side and sat on the bed. Margaret smiled with some effort and then sighed.

  “You don’t have to attend me dear; go be with your friends.”

  “They’re in town getting a few things.” Veronica said.

  Margaret’s face went pale, “Oh, that’s right. I certainly hope they’re careful.”

  “They will be.” Veronica hoped aloud.

  “The lean, strapping fellow who found me… He went with them?”

  Veronica nodded. Margaret nodded with her.

  “He reminds me of my boy.”

  “You have a son?” Veronica asked and realized that Margaret was having trouble responding. After a moment, Margaret nodded.

  “He died in the Gulf.” She slowly rose to her feet. Veronica stood unsure of the old woman’s stability, ready to offer her an arm. Margaret proceeded out on to the balcony and looked over the town.

  “He’s buried over there, in the yard with my husband Al.” She pointed a bony finger to the church, “It’s nice that I can see them from here; comforting, I suppose.” Margaret shrugged.

  Veronica aimed the telescope on the balcony towards the church and attempted to bend down for a look. A sharp pain in her midsection bit at her. She straightened up quickly, reconsidered the effort and looked towards the bathroom.

  “Are you still hurt dear?”

  “I’m okay Ma’am I just need to change my dressing.”

  “Can I help?” the lady asked.

  “No, it’s not that bad. I can handle it.” Veronica said lingering for a moment to let the stinging subside. She looked at Whisper, in the direction of her apartments. There didn’t appear to be any more fires in the town. Her building was far away but she could see that it was intact. Veronica didn’t have a lot of material attachments in the world. Army brats moved around a lot and that transience always kept her from caring about the accumulation of things. Veronica’s treasures lay in her mind; in her ability to reason and recall knowledge. She had acquired many books in her years but those were replaceable. Even her father’s medals, something she valued because they were his, were only tokens of his actions and could be lost without much real regret. Her breathing quickened as she suddenly remembered the shoebox in her nightstand, the shoebox full of old irreplaceable photographs. Veronica’s photos were the only images that she had of her deceased parents; of a mother that she never knew. She suddenly realized how important those images were and that she must be sure to safeguard them as soon as possible. She had every image committed to memory, but the idea that she might lose them brought a different kind of fear.

  As Veronica’s gaze lingered towards her apartments, she was surprised by Margaret’s hand on her shoulder.

  “Shit!” cursed the old woman. Veronica turned and saw the object of Margaret’s distress.

  A stiff figure stood in front of the outer gate. Veronica wanted to believe that it was a living person seeking refuge but knew from the unsteady way that it reached an arm up through the bars that it was one of the undead.

  “Is that one of those things?” Margaret trembled.

  “It’s on the other side of the gate ma’am. It can’t hurt us.” Veronica said. She knew they were safe but thought that she should go down there and take care of it before more show up. It wouldn’t be wise to let their numbers build or worse, lose track of it and have to worry about where it might end up.

  “He doesn’t look dead. Sick, but not dead.” Margaret said.

  “Not from here.” Veronica said.

  “What about the soul?” The old woman asked. Veronica looked at her unsure.

  “I don’t understand?” Veronica said.

  “Are their souls trapped in there, to walk around hurting people?” Margaret whispered. Veronica considered the question.

  “No. I don’t think there is anything like that left.” Veronica said, “Who they were, is not what they are now; it’s just disease.” Veronica’s words didn’t seem to bring any solace.

  “Why is this happening? Why are they acting like this?” The old woman fretted, her eyes fixed on the gate.

  “I don’t know ma’am. I’ve seen them up close but only for a short time.” Veronica said, “Someone’s going to have to study the phenomenon and make some observations, run tests and come up with some theories.” Veronica observed the creature from her perch.

  “Are you sure that gate will keep him away?” McCormack asked. Veronica squinted.

  “Yes, we could walk right up to it and be perfectly safe.” Veronica said.

  *****

  Tony set three packages of Walkie-talkies on the counter. He removed his combat knife from his harness and handed it to
Nikki.

  “Careful.” He said and made a cutting motion with an imaginary knife, “Remember, always cut away from your body.”

  He smiled and turned back towards the front of the store. They had what they needed for his plan. Time now for one last look to see if there was anything else they could use. The weightlifting shelves held some expensive vitamin supplements that he knew would be good to combat physical stress. He opened up the sleeping-bag that served as his makeshift silencer and used it as a huge sack which he filled with supplements, vitamins, and protein bars.

  A distant rumble came from outside the broken windows. Tony dropped the sleeping bag and moved around a display shelf to peer out into the street. He pulled the Colt from his equipment belt and flicked the safety off. If the hillbillies were back to get the rest of the ammo, he would need something a lot more powerful than a twenty-two to fend them off. As the sound approached, he quickly considered his options, escape or confrontation. He wasn’t prepared to get into a gun fight with other living people. He had just got used to the idea of putting down the walking dead, but the living was another story not to mention that they would fire back. There was also Nikki to think of; he couldn’t risk putting her in danger. Tony dashed back to his sack, scooped it over his shoulder like Old St. Nick, and made for the perceived safety of the counter.

  “We gotta go!” he urged.

  They ran behind the swinging doors; Nikki clutching the hand radios to her chest.

  “Throw those in here, and grab the batteries.” Tony whispered as he handed her the bag. He stayed at the door, peering through the window with the Colt at the ready. He saw nothing but began to hear the rumble approach from another direction. It was coming from the rear door. He had let them circle his position. Damn it! He thought, Mason wouldn’t have let this happen. Who ever was coming was in the back ally and would see the Bronco, cutting off their escape. The lock securing the door was drilled out but it would still take a screwdriver to open; buying them some time.

  “Too late.” Tony said wondering how many threats were beyond the door. “Take the shotgun and hide, over there,” he pointed hurriedly for Nikki, “in the dark.”

  Tony took the loaded twenty-two and moved into the shadows. He laid the rifle on a shelf and lined it up on the door. No one was going to be intimidated by the firecracker like pop of a twenty-two, but he wanted it ready should the need arise. He thought it best to open with the Colt and fall back to the rifle if he must. The idea of shooting a living person, even someone twisted enough to try and scalp a walking corpse, made him sick to his stomach. Mason was the violent one, not Tony. Jack used to say that when the shit went down, Tony would have to be ready. With enemies just beyond the door, Tony still, in his heart, didn’t want to have to hurt, possibly kill another living being. He steadied the Colt with both hands and tried to steady his nerves. The rumbling stopped as the vehicle turned off.

  Tony looked to where Nikki had taken cover; he couldn’t see her in the shadows. He regretted bringing her. He pushed the sickness in his gut away with the knowledge that he had to defend her. The obscene possibilities of Nikki falling into the hands of a bunch of damn Hillbillies flashed in his head. No way! He thought and took determined aim on the door. He thumbed the hammer of the Colt back and felt his hesitation evaporate. He realized with a odd sense of calm, that he could kill to protect her.

  The handle of the door clicked and twisted. Tony squinted, preparing for the bright light that would come with the opening of the door. Aim at the silhouettes, aim at the shapes.

  There was a quiet knock. Tony straightened up. He approached the door with his pistol at the ready and another soft knock was heard. He waved in Nikki’s direction to steady her and took a position next to the door. He tapped twice on the metal surface with his pistol. The tap was answered with another two taps.

  “Hey. Open the door.” It was Jack Mason’s voice.

  Tony turned the deadbolt and let him in.

  “What are you doing?” asked Tony, squinting against the sunlight.

  “I need a new pair of gloves.” He said smiling and quickly closed the door, “What’s going on?”

  Nikki exited the shadows with a harried look and placed the shotgun back in the cart.

  *****

  “Are you sure it was them?” Billy asked Gabe stretching as far as he dared over the rear corner of the bowling alley roof for a better look.

  “It was Jack’s truck all right, I saw him come from that mountain road and drive around for a while. I lost it over there for a few minutes but it ended up going right where that yellow Bronco went.”

  Billy considered the distance. Jack’s truck had parked about five blocks away.

  “We gotta let them know we’re here.” Billy said.

  Twenty-Five

  Nikki stood at the sales counter trying to load batteries into a Walkie-Talkie. She had inserted one upside down and in removing it; the spring launched it across the room. She was still breathing hard from Mason’s arrival. For a moment there, she thought she might never get to see her parents again. It was the uncertainty that was wearing on her, the speed at which everything had happened, and was still happening, causing her hands to fumble. Just moments ago, she was ready to start shooting her shotgun at anything that came through the door. The way Tony reacted, the urgency in his whispers, the directness of his actions, had told her everything she needed to know. She was going to follow his lead if he started shooting. The situation almost brought her to a place where she would have to kill someone again. Lance’s death still nagged at her and it was only the distraction of their ever growing predicament that kept her from dwelling on her actions. In the murky afterglow of Jack’s arrival, she was having trouble shaking off the adrenalin. Nikki took a breath and tried to focus.

  She paused for a moment and looked at the boys. Tony and Jack were on the sales floor standing over the body of the ghoul that Tony had killed. She couldn’t hear what they were discussing but she did notice that they were talking as if nothing had happened between them earlier. Jack was listening as Tony briefed him as a soldier might inform his commander. Tony looked to her quickly and continued his report. She wondered how often he did that; checking on her. It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed. Was it because he felt he had to watch her? No, he was just that kind of guy; a man who holds open a door for a stranger, or, helps an old woman with her groceries, or even teaches girls to shoot dead cannibals. Jack on the other hand; she didn’t know what to think of him. Nikki was sure that she didn’t want them either of them seeing her hands shake. She had things to do and this was no time to freak out. She had to learn from these two men, learn how to be more like them; to be more like Veronica, and do what had to be done to survive.

  She took a new battery from the open package and forced herself to slowly put it in the correct way. Closing the battery cover, she turned on the radio. She motioned to Tony, who came trotting over without delay.

  “Got it working?” He asked.

  “I guess so, how do you work it?” She asked.

  Tony took the radio and pressed down on the talk button.

  “Homebase, this is Sassy-pants do you read me?” He smiled at Nikki while talking. There was no response. He tried again but with no results. He checked a setting on the unit and nodded.

  “Sassy-pants?” Nikki inquired.

  “Yep, that’s your call sign. From the Latin, Pantalones de Sassy; it’s very prestigious.” He checked the radio again and looked around the building, then to Jack. He pointed to the radio, shook his head, and then pointed to the ceiling. Nikki saw Mason respond with a nod, point to his eyes, than then to the showroom. She wondered where these boys learned their special sign language or if they just made it up as they went. She had no idea what Tony said, but was reasonably certain that Jack wanted to have a look around. Tony moved behind the counter and offered her his hand. She took it and followed him to the storeroom and the wooden ladder on the wall.

  ***
**

  Margaret shook her head adamant that Veronica had taken leave of her senses.

  “Just leave it alone. You said so yourself that he can’t get near us.” The old woman insisted.

  “This may be the only chance I have to safely observe one this closely.” Veronica answered while rifling through the clothing hanging in Lance’s closet, “That gate is perfect to allow me a view with maximum security.”

  Margaret could feel her heart beginning to tighten. She didn’t know why this beautiful, sweet young lady would want to get anywhere near one of those things. She sat down to try and catch her shuddering breath. She only had one tablet of medicine left, after that; she didn’t have the slightest idea of what she would do. She tried to calm down.