“I’m not letting you go out alone.”
“Troy!” Skylar said.
“I mean it.”
“I still give the orders. The answers is no. You are to stay here with Skylar. If I don’t come back, well, then you can give the orders.” Mason winked, deflating Troy before he could protest.
Troy exhaled long and loud. “I’ve known you too long to waste any more time. If you’re going to do this, get it over with.”
Skylar picked up the shotgun and began reloading. Troy helped Mason load the magazines.
“I wouldn’t spend all your time worrying about me. We still don’t know what’s going on in here. I’d stay close to the door, if I were you, until I get back. Reload your weapons and keep your ears open. Plus, I’m counting on you guys to let me back in.” Mason stood and unlocked the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, or I won’t be back at all.” The door opened spilling a ray of sunshine to the floor and closed with a metallic clank. It was time to roll the dice again.
* * *
“Where do you think we are? My knees hurt,” Barry said with a pained look on his face.
“I bet that duct there goes to the vents above the counter. I’m going to take a peek and see.” Rosella lifted a ceiling tile by the edge. The air that wafted up was considerably cooler, but brought with it a sickening stench of death. She suppressed a cough. “I don’t see anybody moving about. They’re either gone, dead, or still at the closet door. If we’re going to do it, let’s do it now.”
“It’s been awhile since the shooting stopped. I bet the help have boogied out of here. What are we going to do if we’re the only two left alive?”
“Frankly, Barry, I can’t take much more of this. I’m going for broke and taking this chance. I’m going to make it or die a quick death. I can’t wait this out any longer.”
Barry lowered his head and nodded. After a deep breath, he said, “Okay, then. I’ll help you down first.”
Rosella only had to drop a few feet down to the counter after lowering herself from the ceiling. She landed and immediately bent to one knee and scanned the area.
Barry dropped next to her. His eyes were as wide as saucers.
Outside, the shooting began again.
* * *
Mason hit the door running. Two zombies were almost on him when he lifted the shotgun and fired twice. He ran past them before they even hit the ground. Once he arrived at the line of cars, he leaped on the hood of a Lincoln, and then hopped on the roof. Metal crunched under his weight. The vantage point gave him a much better view of the area.
Zombies advanced steadily from all directions. He briefly estimated more than twenty. Fortunately, the concentration was away from the diner. He mowed down three of the closest and shot at two others a little farther away. Both of the last shots missed.
The diner’s doors opened, a large piece of glass crashed to the sidewalk. Rosella ran out first, with Barry close on her heels.
“Rosella!” Mason’s heart leapt with joy. Seeing her was beyond his wildest hope. He had been preparing himself for either the abyss of not knowing her fate, finding her dead, or worse, one of the walking dead. “Get over to the station! I got you covered.”
Neither of the two hesitated for a moment, stepping over twisted bodies and shattered heads.
A mangled body lifted an arm and tried to sit up just as Barry approached. He tried to jump over, but its hand hit his shoe, sending him face down on the road. The zombie turned over and attacked the back of his calves. Barry managed to kick himself free and sprinted away for safety.
Mason jumped from the roof back on the hood, squeezed off a few shots, hitting targets, and then jumped to the ground and followed behind Barry. Rosella was in the lead and almost to the station.
The three hit the door and banged on it with their fist.
“It’s Mason! Let us in!”
The lock clicked, and the doors opened. Troy and Skylar waited with weapons drawn to the side, ready to aid any way they could.
Rosella slid past and hurried out of the way for the rest to follow. She turned and hugged Barry when he popped through, and started crying.
“More are coming. Let’s get the desk by the door.” Mason locked the doors and ran to the desk. Troy and Sky helped him push it back into position.
With a sigh of relief, Mason’s shoulders slumped, and his arms hung limp at his side. Then, his head jerked up, and his eyes widened.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Troy asked.
“Stay here!” Mason raised his pistol close to his chest and bounded from the room down the hall.
Troy and Sky looked questioningly at each other and waited at the ready for their leader to return. Rosella continued to cry, clinging to Barry like he was a buoy in shark infested waters.
“Did you hear something? Where’s he going?” Skylar asked.
“I didn’t hear anything. I guess he’s playing Army Ranger on recon to make sure we’re safe. I’m getting enough of being second fiddle around here,” Troy said.
The plumbing in the walls rattled. A door squeaked open, and then an electronic humming sound preceded a soft thud.
Mason strolled from the hall while opening a pack of cigarettes.
“What was that all about?” Troy asked.
“I needed to take a dump. I’m a new man.” Mason lit the cigarette and took a deep draw. When he exhaled, it sounded like pure relief.
Rosella had pulled a tissue from her pocket and dried her swollen eyes. Her face looked haggard. She finally turned her gaze up to Mason and bit her lower lip.
“Are you two hurt?” Mason said.
Rosella shook her head.
“We’re okay. I tell you, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have this beautiful lady to save my ass. I’d still be locked up in that utility closest in the diner sweating my balls off.” Barry still had one hand on Rosella’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
“Rosella is one special lady,” Mason said.
Rosella managed a smile and tilted her head.
“Barry! What happened to your leg?” Skylar said. A trail of red slowly seeped from a cut.
He looked down, and then turned his head to either side behind him. “Huh? Oh hell, I didn’t know it got me. One of those freaks tripped me up when I ran over here. It ain’t nothing to worry about. I’ve cut myself much worse than that in the kitchen.”
“We’ll get you cleaned up. It’s looking kind of green around the cut. Sky, there’s a first aid kit in the bottom drawer of Ruth’s desk. I say we secure the building and hole up for a while. Mason and I will check things out. You three stay here,” Troy said.
“I said you could give the orders if I didn’t make it back.”
Troy went to protest, but Mason held a hand up, and gave him another wink, before reaching over and smashing the cigarette in Ruth’s ashtray. “Good plan. Let’s go. I’ve already checked out the bathroom.”
The two officers headed for the hall with weapons held ready. It had been quiet so far, which had Mason believing the station had been evacuated. He thought it a bit odd that everyone had left. The only risk of hiding out here would be the fires, and luckily, the fires were on the other side of the street a couple of blocks down. They had looked to be burning themselves out at last glance.
Skylar opened the desk drawer and pulled out the first aid kit. Barry stood by as she opened an alcohol wipe. “This may sting.” She gently cleaned the area and opened two more packs to finish.
“Does it hurt?” Rosella asked.
“A little. It started to burn before she even put the alcohol on it.”
“I can’t believe you just got scratched. The cut already has pus in it—hold on—there’s something in here.” She used tweezers to pull out a fingernail fragment. “It’s just a fingernail. That person must have been handling some nasty stuff to cause an infection like this. I sure hope this isn’t that flesh eating bacteria like I’ve been reading about.”
“Flesh
eating bacteria! What the hell is that?” Barry said.
“I don’t think it’s that. I read that comes from ponds and can be picked up in hospitals, too. You haven’t been around either of those lately, have you?” Rosella said.
“No . . . ”
“I think you shouldn’t worry about any of that now,” Rosella said, shaking her head at Skylar when Barry looked away. “We’ll be rescued soon and get a doctor to look at you.” She took his hand and patted it reassuringly.
“It’s clean now. I put some lidocaine to help deaden it and an antibiotic ointment for infection. I’ll change the Band-Aid every few hours and keep an eye on it. You’ll be fine. It’s just a scratch. I didn’t mean to get you worried.”
Barry craned his head over at the adhesive bandage and wrinkled his nose.
***
“Break room’s clean. What’s in the fridge?” Mason lowered his gun and filled a paper cup from the water cooler.
“Looks like we have some eggs, salad dressing, mustard, mayo, and a few bags with leftover lunches.”
“The drink and snack machines are full. Ruth has a bunch of change in her desk that we can use. If we have to, we’ll bust in and get what we need. I want to do that as a last resort. We own these machines, and I don’t want to have to pay for new ones.”
Something smacked against a door down the hall.
“Hear that?” Mason said.
“Sure did.” Troy closed the refrigerator door and followed behind the sheriff.
The pounding increased.
“My office door is closed, and it sounds like it’s coming from there.”
“It’s got to be one of those zombie things.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Your office door locks from the inside. If a normal person was in there, they would just turn the handle and come out. Those things are stupid. I don’t think it’s smart enough to let itself out. Let’s shoot it through the door.”
“No. I’ve been in situations like this before. Follow me.” Mason led them past two empty offices and the inventory room before stopping at the door.
“I want you to slowly turn the knob all the way, kick the door open, and get the hell out of my line of fire. Clear?”
“Got it.” Troy waited for Mason to position himself with his 9mm pointed ready to fire. He slid by the door and turned the knob.
The door jerked open. The knob slipped from Troy’s grasp.
“Ruth?” Mason gasped.
The twisted form of his secretary lunged past Troy and was almost upon him. He fired once to her head, blowing brains into his office, and across his desk.
She crashed into him, and he caught her in his arms. Her head rested against his chest as her legs went limp.
Mason cringed as he held her tightly. He rubbed the back of her white hair and gently pulled her into the next empty office.
Troy came up to his side, and placed a hand on Mason’s shoulder, as he folded Ruth’s arms over her chest.
“This is fucked up. Ruth didn’t deserve to die like this.” Mason abruptly stood and looked down at the smear of blood on his shirt. “In fact, none of the good people of Botte should’ve ended up this way. I swear, if I find out that Hart had anything to do with it, I’m going to kill him with my bare hands. I’ll make sure the gators take care of the evidence.”
“I’ll help.”
“Let’s go.” Mason and his deputy returned to the entrance area.
“We’ll get the others and check out the inventory. After that—Whoa! Hold on.” Mason raised both hands.
Skylar held a steady bead on them, as Barry pointed the shotgun.
“It’s okay. It’s over. The first floor is clear.”
“We heard a shot. What was it?” Skylar said. She and Barry lowered their weapons.
“It was . . . it was Ruth. They got to her somehow, or she turned into one. I don’t fucking know what’s going on for sure.” Mason looked to the floor, glassy-eyed.
“Mason has a plan. He was just about to tell me. Mason?”
“Huh? Yeah, let’s arm up and head upstairs. First, get the change out of Ruth’s desk, and let’s eat some snacks.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Skylar opened two drawers before she found four rolls of quarters. “Found it.”
The others went directly to the break room. Mason continued down the hall to his office. He avoided stepping in the patches of blood and brain and sat in his chair. “Come to Poppa,” he said under his breath. He opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, full enough for a few stiff swigs. An open packet of Fig Newtons lay next to the bottle. They were a little stale, but he ate them without much thought.
The bottle emptied far too quickly. He held the fifth up and shook it, letting the last drop fall to his tongue. It went into the waste basket with a crash. Look at me, he thought. I’m like some street bum begging for drops of alcohol to keep the pink elephants away.
Disgusted with himself, he rose from the chair. His gaze caught the pictures on the shelf. Mason’s son stared back at him. If I ever have a chance to become a real father, a real man, it has to start now.
Mason left and opened the door to the inventory room. Florescent lights flickered to life at the flick of the switch, showing shotguns on the wall neatly arranged in order. There were a few old flare guns next to a rack of bulletproof vests. The four spare handguns were in the designated drawer, and the ammo supply cabinet had not been raided.
Troy entered the room, the others followed, chewing on snacks and holding cold drink cans.
“It looks all here,” Troy said. “The others must have been out on patrol when this all went down.”
“Don’t forget about the others who are still here,” Mason said, fitting one of the shotguns with a tactical flashlight.
“What others?” Rosella asked.
“The ones that shoved Ruth’s desk by the front door, put her in my office, and didn’t have a key to get into this room and arm themselves. They either barricaded the place and left, or are upstairs. My guess is they’re upstairs.”
“Who do you think it is? If it’s any of our guys, then they would have seen us break in. They would have at least opened a window and called out if they couldn’t provide cover,” Troy said.
“Maybe they got bit and turned,” Skylar said.
“We’ll find out shortly.” Mason fitted a second shotgun with a flashlight. “Everybody gets a shotgun, plenty to go around, and plenty of shells, too.” He opened the gun drawer and pulled out a 9mm. “Barry, take this.”
The cook reached out and took the pistol, immediately pointing it at an empty spot on the wall, sideways. Gangsta style.
Mason groaned. “You’ve never really shot a hand gun before, have you?”
“No, but I did grow up shooting shotguns. Daddy never had handguns around the house.”
“Well, point it like you’re supposed to, and not like those idiots on TV, I swear.” Mason pulled out a .357 and tried to hand it to Rosella.
“I don’t like guns.”
“I don’t like dying.” Mason watched the momentary surprise on her face and realized how gruff he sounded. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. Rosella, this is a very serious situation. You have to at least be ready to try to protect yourself.”
“I’ve never shot a gun before in my life. I’m more likely to hurt myself, or someone else, than do any good.”
“It’s not as complicated as you think. This is a revolver. All you have to do is point and pull the trigger. The bullet hits what you are aiming for. Just don’t point it at yourself, or any of us, and you have nothing to fear.”
She reached up—hesitated—and then took it from him. “It’s heavy.”
“It needs to be a little heavy to help absorb the kick when you shoot it. You’ll do just fine. If the shit hits the fan, your heart will be beating so fast you won’t even feel it.”
Troy had filled Jay’s ammo bag and had one of the departments filled,
too. “I think we’re good to go. We can probably pick them off one by one from upstairs if we want.”
“Maybe. One thing at a time. Everyone grab a shotgun and fall in line. I’ll lead the way.” Mason wasted no time. He slung the shotgun from his shoulder and left the room. The others downed the remainder of theirs sodas and followed close behind.
The stairs led to two smaller rooms and one large conference room. Mason waited by the door at the top for the others to be in position. “Ready?” The others nodded. He tried the knob. It was locked from the inside.
Chapter 16
The Secret’s Out
“You have to let them in,” Joyce said, an unpleasant look plastered across her face as her eyes burned holes into Cotton.
“I can’t just let them in, Joyce. I don’t know if they’re safe.” Cotton stood with his hands pressed flat against the cool wood of the conference room door. He knew what was waiting for him on the other side. The shouts and gunshots coming from outside had captured all of their attention, and when Cotton rushed over to the window to look, he knew before seeing them that it was Mason. The tough sheriff always found a way, and here he was knocking on Cotton’s door. He had watched the entire break in, and it was quite dramatic. Cotton saw the two people run from the diner and join Mason, Troy, and a woman who Cotton assumed to be Skylar, Troy’s wife. He was only able to get a glimpse of her as she ran from the Bronco to the police station.
He had heard everything. The door being kick open and slammed shut. The muffled chatter. The lone shot that resulted from them finding Ruth, Cotton assumed. What Cotton didn’t know was if they were safe. Was the group outside the door infected with whatever went awry with the Army experiment? And if so, would they bring the infection to them? Cotton wasn’t taking any chances with that.
There was another underlying reason why Cotton didn’t want them inside. His last conversation with Mason had been a heated one, and with the collapse of the town, and corpses eating the living, Cotton feared facing the fiery-tempered Sheriff. He felt the anger and tension seeping in from the other side. Cotton’s heart raced—raced so hard he thought it might explode in his chest. A panic attack was on setting, and he needed to regain control over this standoff.
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