The Ugly Beginning - 01

by T. W. Brown

  Well, nothing could be done for that now. He scooped up his prizes: five guns. He had no idea what any of them were, they could worry about that later. A case of bolts for the crossbow was the last item he grabbed before running to his car.

  Throwing everything into the front seat of his Ford Escort wagon—well, actually the title was still in his mom’s name and he owed four more payments—he took one more look around. Across the street, in one of those coin-eating, do-it-yourself car washes, a lone figure stood under the fluorescent lighting in the middle of bay five.

  Kevin climbed into the car and grabbed one of the swords. He turned the car around and stopped in the exit drive to the pawn shop. He flipped on his high beams and turned the car at an angle that lit up whoever, or whatever, this person was.

  The head jerked around to face him, followed awkwardly by the body. It was what had once been a young woman. Her long, blonde hair was matted with something dark that Kevin figured was most certainly blood. She had a big, dark stain on her right side around the shoulder area. That side of her shirt was torn leaving an exposed breast.

  “Nasty,” Kevin breathed.

  He climbed out of the car as the blonde zombie came stumbling across the four-lane road. He easily reached the raised strip that acted as a divider with its shrubs and young trees spaced out perfectly. The closer she got to where he waited, the stronger the gag-inducing stench became. Nothing he’d ever experienced in his life—up to that point—could compare.

  Hands reached out, and even in the darkness he could see the mouth open. The zombie made a rattling sound that was like a sigh mixed with a high-pitched growl. Kevin timed his swing, bringing the sword down on the top of the skull. He had considered decapitating the zombie, but remembered a scene from Day of the Dead, when a zombie’s head lay in that dark tunnel, eyes darting back and forth. The sword crashed through the skull. Another thing left out in the movies was just how much his hands stung from the impact, or vibration, or whatever.

  The pain was enough to make him let go of the pommel. The body hit the ground, knocking the sword loose with a clatter as it skittered a few feet away on the road. Shaking the pins and needles from his hands, Kevin scooped up the weapon, wiped it across the back of the zombie at his feet and headed for the car.

  ***

  Mike and Cary hauled the last loads to the El Camino. Most of the back end was loaded with camping gear: tent, stove, lanterns, sleeping bags, Jack Daniels. A few moments later, the blue, plastic tarp was secured with twine and bungee cords. They left nothing to chance, grabbing shovels, an axe, a pick, and splitting maul.

  They discussed the possibility of doing the whole “Mall Scenario,” but felt there were some definite drawbacks. First, it would be a few days before society degraded to the point where commandeering a shopping mall would go unnoticed. Second, if zombies gathered, it would be like a siege. Eventually they would need to move, and that never ended well in the movies. Also, there was the rot factor. They had smelled just one of those things, and it was worse than the smell of that tannery they had gone to during a field trip in fifth grade. Large numbers of those things could only be worse. Plus, the food in the malls would eventually go bad if it didn’t just plain run out.

  For the past ten minutes, they had been debating Cary’s plan. It was inspired by the book he had just finished. So far, Mike could not find any real holes in the logic.

  “So this father and his son just keep walking?” Mike asked.

  “Yeah, that’s the whole story.”

  “But why did they leave that underground bunker?”

  “Fear. Habit. Who can be sure? But we have it way better. The world isn’t just some wasteland,” Cary explained.

  “So we snatch up a bunch of seeds and start a farm?”

  “Mostly. I mean, we’ll need to fortify a defense. But, if we get out there far enough, it will work.”

  “You realize that mountains make lousy locations for farms,” Mike said.

  “I’m not talking the peaks of the Rockies. I’m just saying a place away from most population centers. The reason to be on top of some sort of hill is so we can see what’s coming.”

  “Well,” Mike tugged on the tarp, ensuring it was held fast, “I’m pretty convinced. I bet Darrin will go for it. But Kevin…”

  “You think he wants to play Road Warrior?” Cary laughed.

  “Dude, he’s always going to those survivalist camps. Reading that crazy militia crap about how to live off the grid. Right now he’s probably trying to figure out how to build a still that converts urine to gasoline.”

  The two locked stares for a moment, then burst out laughing. They climbed into the cab of the El Camino still chuckling. Mike turned the key and the CD player came alive a second later. A guttural guitar carried on the night air turning quite a few heads. None of the heads’ owners could tell you that they were hearing the song Stranglehold. They simply were able to decide that noise meant the source would satisfy their primal desire.

  To feed.

  ***

  Just as the sun was rising for what would, on the surface, be a bright, clear, warm and sunny day, the group all stood on the highest hill of Trashmore Park surveying the surroundings. Sirens and gunfire came from every direction. Cars raced by on the nearby expressway. Plumes of dark smoke rose in various locales. It seemed as if events were unfolding rapidly.

  The EBS loop on all the radio stations was warning folks to stay indoors and not allow anyone inside. The current response was that the event currently happening was a virus or disease. Maybe it was. But not like anything the folks in charge would allow themselves to acknowledge.

  The sonic roar of a flight of F-16s screamed overhead. In the big picture, they were just one small element of the total chaos. Who would think a global civilization could be dis-mantled so quickly by something that should have been just as quickly containable.

  “We need to get out of the city,” Cary said to nobody in particular.

  “Before the martial law crap is called for,” Kevin added.

  They nodded as a group and headed for their cars. Each had a CB radio tuned to channel four. Single file, they wound their way to the Virginia Beach Expressway and headed west. Their ultimate destination was South Dakota. Kevin had given everybody a route map he printed up on his computer. There were waypoints in case anyone got separated. Outside of Hampton was a Walmart Superstore. Open or not, it would be their first stop. There was a U-Haul rental across the street. It was decided that, again, open or not, they would be acquiring a truck for Cary. He and Mike would handle that while Darrin and Kevin would ‘go shopping.’

  ***

  As they exited the freeway, each felt a surge of adrenaline. The area was more deserted than they could have hoped for. Not a car passed them as they drove down Davis Boulevard. Both parking lots were more or less empty; the exceptions being a couple of lone zombies amidst the stray shopping carts in the Walmart lot. Mike and Cary peeled off, and Darrin led Kevin into the open concrete expanse in front of the store.

  Cary had his door open before the El Camino came to a complete stop. A tool bag in hand, he ran to the glass entry door of the main office.

  Empty.

  Opening the bag, he produced a glass-cutter. Where’d Kevin come up with this crap? It was as if he had spent his life preparing for some sort of apocalypse. Cary attached a suction cup fitted with a handle and cut a large square out of the bottom of the door. No sense busting glass and making a bunch of noise that might attract attention.

  A few minutes later, he was in the reception area. Climbing over the counter, he looked at the wall of keys on hooks. Mike came up to the door, slightly out of breath, “One over by a few of the trucks and a couple heading this way from down the street.”

  “Okay. What truck am I grabbing?”

  “C-26,” Mike said.

  Cary scanned the board, found the key he was looking for, and rushed to meet up with Mike in the parking lot. As they threaded the
ir way to the truck, the smell of death teased their nostrils on the gentle morning breeze.

  Jumping in the cab, Cary settled in, turned the ignition. A full tank! So far, so good. Mike was already sprinting back towards the El Camino. He was running in the street to avoid the possibility of something lunging out from between the rows of trucks. Meanwhile, Cary shifted into gear and edged up and over the concrete ridge that surrounded a poorly kept flower bed. The two headed for the front entry to Walmart where they would meet up with Darrin and Kevin.

  ***

  With shopping carts brimming, the two ran down aisles scooping things from shelves into the big, blue, plastic baskets. Once a cart was full, they would push it to the entry foyer, grab another, and rush back into the heart of the store. Each had a list with a marked map.

  Blankets. Camping gear. Non-perishable food. One cart alone had been filled with an assortment of beef jerky. At some point, Kevin chopped through a door with an axe from the Home and Garden Department.

  “There’s more stuff than we could possibly find room for.” Darrin was breathing heavy, unused to any sort of extended physical exertion.

  “Don’t have much time left anyways.” Kevin came to a halt with a flatbed push-cart designed to carry large purchase items like refrigerators or big-screen televisions.

  “Why not?”

  “Alarm systems,” Kevin said as he waved his arms in the air like they were all around and in plain sight.

  “What?”

  “Sure. Didn’t you see those panels with the flashing lights?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t worry too much,” Kevin shrugged.

  “We are stealing a truck load of stuff, an alarm has been going off for who knows how long, and I shouldn’t worry?”

  “Cops are plenty busy, if any are still even on the job. Remember Katrina?”

  “The hurricane?”

  “Yeah. Most of the local police force hauled ass. They’d decided that staring down a big-ass storm wasn’t in the job description.”

  “You think a lot have bailed this soon?” Darrin asked.

  “Some. More will follow. It should be a few hours before anybody gets around to martial law. By then, we are on the move and way the hell outta town.”

  Darrin mulled this over as he ran for another cart. The reasoning all seemed sound. By the time he arrived at the doors, the truck was backing up with the cargo bay door already open. Kevin was attacking the outer doors with a sledgehammer. He had already broken open the first set that led to the giant sally-port entance that all these stores felt were necessary.

  Once everything was loaded into the U-Haul (it sure looked like a lot less in that big, open space) the group headed out. The entrance to Walmart looked like an ugly, jagged, gaping maw. Already, a couple of zombies were wandering in.

  4

  Radio Traffic

  The miles ticked away. Thalia was up on the seat beside me. Occasionally, she would whimper. Having been the young-est in my family, and never having experienced the joy of fatherhood firsthand, I had very little idea how to care for this child. I mean, I know some basic stuff; I think.

  A few cars shared the road with me; none even glanced my direction. After a half an hour on the road, my radio had come back to life. From the sound, the dispatch office came under attack. Somehow, the mic was keyed open. I switched it off when Thalia began to stir. That would not be a good thing to wake up to. As far as the regular radio, that message loop continued to run. Either things were slowly getting back to normal, or everything was completely out of control.

  I slowed down for a sign up ahead. A glance at my gas gauge decided things for me. I mean, I had enough gas to press on, but I was coming back to more populated areas, and if things were still crazy, a big city was the last place to fill up.

  Chehalis. Hmm. I’ve probably driven past this dot on the map a thousand times. Suddenly, it loomed much more ominously. I picked up the gun, and then set it back down. I had come to grips with shooting that girl in a way. She was bitten. She’d turn soon. I saved her the slow, painful transformation. Plus, I did think maybe she was already turned.

  Liar.

  Funny how your conscience can kick in.

  As the truck slowed, Thalia sat up and rubbed her eyes. She looked around and her face spoke volumes, that deep hope that it had been a nightmare. We all have those; nowadays, more often than not.

  “I must use the potty.”

  Her voice held that same resignation I had just seen on her face. She scooted over to the passenger window before I had a chance to speak. She had forgotten. The window was darkened with the blood of the zombie I had crushed between the rocks and the truck. To her credit, she didn’t scream. She simply moved back up against me.

  I came to a stop at the top of the off-ramp. A left turn would take us over the freeway. A gas station was perched on either side, but the one farthest from me had a big country store attached. I saw no movement in either direction. I turned left, coming to a stop in the middle of the overpass.

  “Wait here.”

  I climbed out to get a good look around. Not a single car in sight. I think that was the creepiest part. I took a deep breath. Nothing. Well, that didn’t mean any of those things weren’t near, just none close enough to smell. I took the time to walk all the way around the truck and get a look at the damage. The sky was overcast, but there was enough pre-dawn light to get a good eyeful.

  Well, there was no way I would let Thalia see the passenger side of the truck. It was covered in dark stains. In some places there were clumps of who-knows-what dried in with the blood. I climbed back in the truck and drove to the gas station with the weather-beaten country store. Maybe I’d find something better to eat than the bags of junk food.

  Keeping alert for any movement, I pulled up to the single island of pumps. I wasn’t about to shut off the engine. Climbing out, I did a full three-sixty.

  Nothing.

  Equally disquieting was the complete lack of movement from inside the store. The lights were on. I just didn’t want to pull another snatch and run. Thalia broke my concentration, tugging on the sleeve of my shirt.

  “Can I go to the potty?” she asked.

  “Okay, but we need to make some rules first.” I knelt in front of the little girl, taking a risk by not having an open field of vision. “You hold my hand till we get to the bathroom. Then, I go in first and make sure it’s empty. You keep a lookout and scream if you see anybody.”

  “Scream like last night?”

  “Uh...yeah.”

  Whatever gets the point across I guess. So, leaving the driver’s door open, I made my way to the entrance of the market. I still hadn’t seen any movement, but I wanted to stay legal as long as possible.

  I pulled the door, expecting it to be locked. It swung out! I was greeted with a cold blast of air conditioning. What did not greet us was the clerk...or that smell. One other thing happened that caught both of us off guard, made me jump, and made Thalia let out a little squeal. A bell rang as the door opened wider. So much for being stealthy.

  “Hello?”

  No answer.

  We walked in the rest of the way and let the door close with a pneumatic hiss. A cooler just inside the door had a sign in bold black scrawl:

  FRESH BAIT!!!

  Another chest-style freezer right next to the one with the bait had a selection of ice creams. I noticed Thalia eyeballing the selection. What could it hurt?

  “Go ahead and pick one.” It may be a while before she enjoyed such a simple luxury again.

  She found what she wanted—some multi-colored Rocket Pop—handed it to me, and grabbed my hand. She led me to the sign that read: women.

  “Okay, just like I said. Keep an eye on the door in the front of the store where outside is. Hold this door open while I look to make sure it’s empty.”

  I held the gun up like I’d seen folks do in the cop shows. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the handle and yan
ked the door open. A quick look, and I was relieved to see no windows and only one stall. This could be easy. I stayed close to the wall and came at the stall door from the side. Gun extended, I tapped the door with my foot.

  Locked.

  That’s when I heard a noise; kinda like a whimper, but barely audible. Did zombies whimper? No, I was pretty sure they did not.

  “Hello?”

  A noise like somebody gasping after holding their breath for a long time sounded, followed by a scramble of feet hitting the floor and the latch moving. I took a step back with the gun leveled at what I figured to be close to head level as the stall door opened.

  “Thank God!” A young girl in her teens burst out, then froze when she saw the gun. Her eyes went wide when she saw the barrel pointed at her face. I quickly lowered my arm, backing towards the door where Thalia stood...looking in instead of out at the parking lot! I came out quickly and took a step towards the front of the store so I could get a look outside. Still nothing.

  “Go ahead and use the bathroom, sweetie.” I patted Thalia on the head.

  The teenager came out cautiously, glancing at me, the gun, Thalia, the door. It was as if her eyes couldn’t decide where to go.

  “Mister?”

  I glanced back from the parking lot. I really had no idea how to handle the situation at this point. What do I say? I’m here to rescue you? Can I get a fill-up on pump two?