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Should have known better than ask a reporter to tell me their story , Trish thinks. He’s going to go on all day. “Can you get to the important part?”
“Oh yeah, yeah,” McMurray says. “Yeah, I was like, ‘I don’t see anybody around and I’ll feel a lot better with a full tank of gas.’ Tony snorted at that. He was like, ‘Ha! I’ll feel better when I’m tanked up on some hard stuff.’ I watched him line us up and start descending. I thought maybe we were coming in a little quick, but with his usual skill he guided us in until we were hovering about a foot off the pad. He said, ‘I need you to check things out a bit before I shut her down, Chuck. I’m gonna take her back up and see how many of those things we attracted while you investigate.’ I remember wanting to tell him to forget it and lets just look for another place, but I didn’t argue. I said, ‘Sure thing, Tony.’ But I didn’t waste time. I just opened the door and jumped out and landed okay. I found myself right next to the cruiser. The driver’s door was still open. I looked inside. Shotgun laying on the passenger seat and blood smeared and pooled on the driver’s side. The keys were in the ignition. Just for the hell of it, I tried the ignition. The engine turned over and the gas gauge read half full. I turned it off, pocketed the keys and took the shotgun. Didn’t know much about guns, but I’ve seen people pump the slide, or whatever it’s called. I tried it and nothing came out. Empty, I guess. I took it anyway. Better to have something than nothing and maybe I’d find some shells.”
McMurray pauses, raises a hand to his head. “Got a headache and I need a smoke bad. You think there’s any left in the store there?”
Trish shakes her head. “Don’t know. Do you need to take a break? The story can wait.” Can definitely wait.
McMurray gives her a sharp look. “You want to know about the helicopter, don’t you?”
She feels her face get hot. “The thought crossed my mind…”
“Assuming it’s functional, where would you want to go? I think Doomsday has come and there isn’t anywhere to go.”
“Good question. I don’t really know what to do but stay with this group. So, is the copter still available or not?”
McMurray looks away. His hands do a dance on his two shirt pockets, feeling for cigarettes that aren’t there. “Look, let’s go find some smokes and something to eat. What do you say?”
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S HE LOOKS AT BRONTE’S BROAD SHOULDERS and is glad for his confidence. It may be as real as her willingness to give up her hate, but as long as he hides his doubt, she will feel safer. He steps out, gun in hand and looks both ways. Motions with his left hand for she and Daric to follow. He follows the building around to the right, away from the front entrance. She steps out, only having to push Daric a little to keep up.
They round the first corner and see the truck. It’s parked up too close to the building to open the passenger door. Bronte crouches and sidles up near the front tire. So far, none of the zombies wandering the parking lot seem to have noticed them. She runs with Daric to the driver’s door and pulls the keys from her pants pocket—but the key ring snags on something, threads maybe? She yanks and it comes free.
Daric screams. “Something’s got me! Something’s got me!” Janicea looks and sees Daric frantically trying to pull his leg free of the grip of somebody under the truck. Suddenly whoever is under there, crawls out by pulling on Daric’s leg. It’s another boy, about Daric’s age. She feels paralyzed. Fire blooms somewhere to her left, probably a fire bomb from Tracks up on the roof. Daric is still screaming and she realizes that the other kid is a zombie. Bronte yells something.
Her gun is in her waistband. Open the door or pull the gun? I’m panicking again! Daric falls backward and the kid pulls himself up along his body, grunting and groaning. Somehow, Janicea manages to pull the gun. Only three shots—that’s all they gave me. “Get off him!” she shouts and kicks the kid in the gut. The boy rolls over and starts to stand. She shoves the pistol in his face and he bites at it just as she pulls the trigger. The gun jumps in her hand and she sees a sudden crimson mist mask the gaping, snapping mouth. The small body falls backward and slides down against the truck’s side leaving a slug’s trail of blood on the dirty white frame.
Someone is screaming. She hears gunshots. “Janice, grab Daric and get in the truck!” is something that finally gets through, and she bends
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down to lift the boy by his shoulders to his feet. He immediately clings to her. Now, the keys. Hands shaking, she still manages to unlock the door in just two tries. More gunfire. Bronte is breathing heavily nearby. She opens the door, lifts and shoves Daric into the cab and follows right behind him. Bronte is right behind her, climbing in and slamming the door closed. “Where are the keys?!” he shouts.
She hands them to him. One look out the windows is all she needs to see a mass of people approaching from all directions. Daric is whimpering. Bronte turns the ignition. The engine backfires, catches, and Bronte gives it some gas. The engine roars, but the people keep coming. “Where is Tracks?” Bronte wants to know. “He should be jumping into the bed. We’ve got to get out of here!”
The horrible, dead faces close in, pressing up against the truck, pounding and slapping, trying to claw their way in. Something bursts nearby, about ten feet to the left, and four or five of the shambling people go up in flames. She looks to the right just in time to see a bottle, trailing flame and smoke explode among another group of people.
Then, the whole truck rocks as something heavy lands in the truck bed and a mangled hoarse voice shouts, “Go! Go Bronte!”
Bronte doesn’t bother to look, just pushes his foot on the gas pedal to the floor. A succession of wide-eyed, snarling faces bounce up and over the windshield or fall beneath the truck’s spinning tires. Something about the noises reminds her of branches scratching and snapping as they claw across metal—And someone won’t stop screaming.
The truck hits the curb, briefly goes airborne, then lands with the hood facing the bridge and with Bronte still standing on the gas. The short steep rise approaches rapidly and then the truck climbs it effortlessly. Her stomach rises up and every muscle in her body appears to clench as they crest the top and go over…
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S HAUNNA IS LONG GONE, when a guy in a lab coat and holding a clipboard motions for Graham to enter the kitchen area. “Strip down, and no fucking comments,” says a voice from Graham’s left, practically in his ear. He turns, looks into the eyes of a bored, beefy army sergeant with a pocked face. The guy is holding a semi-automatic pistol of some kind, probably a .45. He thinks he recognizes the shape from his Army Reserve days.
“You got three seconds to start stripping,” says the soldier. “One… two…”
Graham pulls his collarless blue t-shirt off, noticing some blood stains for the first time. As he pulls off his loafer-type shoes, the other guy, the one in the coat starts asking questions. He has a short, buzzed haircut and speaks with a light Carolina accent.
“What’s your name and profession if any?”
“Graham, taxi driver.”
The pen pauses, wavering above a blank box labeled ‘First.’ Graham notices the guy’s hand has a slight tremor. “Is that you first or last name?”
Graham shrugs. “First name is Chandler.”
“What the hell kind of name is that?” asks the sergeant. “Sounds like a fucking Limey.”
“Okay Mister Graham, have you been bitten? If you lie, I will find out, trust me.”
Graham rolls his eyes. “No bites, just a bump on the head from falling down.”
“Scratches, open wounds, sores or a rash?”
“No, but I’m allergic to oak pollen.”
The sergeant butts in. “Just answer the questions smart ass, or I’ll have to—”
“No sores, no bites, rashes or scratches, sir!”
The doctor looks him over, has him lift his arms. The pen makes a slight scratching noise on the paper. “Any fever or dizziness?”
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“No sir, although I have a slight headache due to missing my high blood pressure pill today.”
“Okay, get dressed and you are free to go. Stay in the Pier approach area and away from the boat basin. If you exit the safe area I’ve defined, you are subject to another inspection or possibly being shot without warning. Do you understand me?”
Graham pulls his pants on, then sits down on a folding chair to put on his socks and shoes. “Yes sir. Any place to get something to eat and drink?”
The guy nods yes. “At the base of the Pier, you’ll find a Mess Tent.”
“Thanks,” he says and nods to the doctor. He pulls his shirt back over his head grimacing for a moment over the dried blood stain. Is it mine? He can feel the sergeant still looking at him.
“You got some size to you and some fat, but I may be able to use you later,” the soldier says. He doesn’t appear to notice the brief flash of anger that colors Graham’s cheeks and brings a glare to his face. “Come by here later if you got the guts. I need more guys for the perimeter.”
“Sure sergeant, I’ll do that,” Graham hears himself answer.
I’M OFFICIALLY A CAVEMAN. The thought runs through his head, though he tries hard to ignore it and put it aside. Strange to see smoke from obvious fires and to just stand by and do nothing. There are several, most within a mile or two. One looks huge judging by the smoke and visible flame south of them across 22nd Avenue somewhere.
“What’s wrong? Why do you need keys…?” she asks.
“For the truck Kathy. We can drive through almost anything with this truck.” Mills grabs a hand bar and pulls himself up into the partial cab. Looks at the driver’s seat and checks the ignition, just in case.
“Any idea where the keys could be?
“One of my partners must have them.”
“They’re dead…” she trails off, unable to finish.
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“Yeah, and walking around, I’m sure. Somewhere in Sears, unless they migrated somewhere else.”
“So, I bet your considering something stupid.”
He forces a grin. “Think of how brave I must be to even consider it.”
“There’s a thin line between brave and stupid in my book, mister. And another thing, haven’t we had enough of this place? Let’s just get out of here.”
“What we need is bats, good old-fashioned baseball bats,” Mills says, mostly to himself.
“What for?” asks Sam. The big brawny teen stops beside the truck and looks up at Mills. He has his bat in hand, and is offering it to him. The girl, Natalie stands a few feet away with Kathy.
“Well, if you’ll excuse me ladies, they make good bludgeoning weapons. You don’t have to worry about it sticking in your opponent.”
Sam smiles. “Why didn’t you ask sooner? I have four or five more bats in my trunk. I have hitting practice tomorrow and…”
There is silence.
“Nothing will ever be the same again, will it?” asks Natalie in a small voice. A hot gust of wind blows across the parking lot, carrying a few red-hot cinders and ash.
“Things look pretty bleak right now,” says Mills, “but hang in there. We have each other.”
“And we’ve got bats,” says Sam, but no one laughs.
Kathy speaks up. “Adam wants to go back in, back into Sears. We don’t have the keys to the truck.”
“That’s insane,” says Natalie with a bit of a snarl to her voice.
“He’s right,” says Sam. “Without the truck, we may not be able to get through the streets. One of those creatures could knock us right off a motorcycle if they got lucky. I’d rather have the truck.”
“But where will we go anyway?” asks Natalie.
Mills picks up a clipboard inside the cab. “There’s a list here of safe places to evacuate to. St. Pete General Hospital is one, and then there’s Azaelea Middle School and the Science Center.”
“St. Pete General is kinda far,” says Natalie, “but the Science Center and Azaelea are just down the street.”
“Well, I say we pick up some food and drinks and then we find a place to hide,” says Kathy. “Can you picture a bunch of screaming panicked people in those shelters? Those places will be full of people with no plan, waiting for someone to come save them. What we need is a safe house, not a bunch of—”
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“That’s a little harsh Kathy,” says Mills interrupting her, “but probably true.” He pauses a moment, rubbing at the area beneath the tear in the back of his bunker suit. “Why don’t we see if we can find the keys—I’ll go alone. And after that we find a grocery store, then we’ll go to… the firehouse! It’ll be ideal! Why didn’t I think of this before?”
Mills feels Kathy step a bit closer to him. Without making a show of it, she takes his hand. He is a little surprised, but more happy than anything at this development. When he looks up, he can’t tell if Sam or Natalie noticed.
“Yeah, that makes sense, I guess,” says Sam. “All except the part about you going alone. As a group we have an advantage, but alone, anything can happen.”
Can’t argue with that, no matter how much I want to. “In that case, Sam, why don’t you and Natalie go get the bats. We’ll be right with you.”
“One more thing, sir,” Sam says, already turning away.
“Yes sir?”
“I think that two of us should stay in the car while the other two investigate. If we need to make a quick getaway we can. And also, I don’t think we should waste much time on this. I think ten to fifteen minutes is all the people who go inside get. If you can’t find them by then, then get out. We can find something else to use, I’m sure.”
“Good idea. How do we choose who goes and who stays, though?”
“Here’s an idea. If it bothers either of you, let me know. Let’s start working together as teams. Kathy and I will go in this time, mostly because I’ve killed a bunch of these things now.” Mills pauses, gives Kathy a serious look. “Anyway, we’ll get used to working with someone.”
Kathy gives him a wink. “All the way,” she whispers and squeezes his hand.
“Okay,” says Natalie. “Whatever exit you come out of, head for this side, the north side. If you have to leave by another, then make your way to this side as quick as you can. We’ll find a vantage point where we can see both the north and east exits, and then we will wait for you with the car.”
“Great, then let’s get those bats.”
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WHEN THEY, HE AND DETECTIVE DUANE PITTS turn to go back to the vehicles, Talaski notices something. Good ‘ol Duane has an earpiece in his right ear, and a microphone clipped to his collar. The mayor and Hadley heard everything. How do I warn Keller and get us out of this? If they have a direct link with Ramos, how hard will it be to pick him off at the same time? And what about these island guards—Will they really wait for the mayor to fire first?
It is one of the harder things he’s ever done. Every nerve is screaming at him: Run! The bayou is so close. Just a short sprint and a dive get him out of the picture, for a few minutes anyway. It’s either that or make a break for the houses. The sticking part is alerting Keller. He advances another two or three feet before inspiration strikes. Use our cell phones! He knows Keller has one, as does he.
“Stop right there, Pitts!” says Talaski.
“What the hell for, Ski? The mayor’s about to open fire on—” “Oh, yeah, Duane? How does he know? You sneaky piece of shit!”
One flaw, if Talaski has one, is his temper. For good reason certain people call him The Angry One. Right now he is about to flare up and go berserk. He can feel the tension in his shoulders and neck.
An engine revs and Talaski looks up to see Ramos’ Humvee barreling at him and Pitts. Some other soldier is up in the cupola with the machine gun, and it looks to be pointed right at him. There is a flash of fire and suddenly the street erupts around Talaski with flying chunks of asphalt. He breaks to his right, away from Pitts, and p
eripherally sees him fall or drop to the ground. No time to see if he’s been shot. His booted feet reach the grass of the yard of the nearest mansion. He can hear other weapons firing and the Humvee passes right by him, while its gunner blazes away at the men on the bridge.
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