by SP Durnin
"Me?"
"Ya managed to get Red there in the middle of the shit storm." Foster gestured at Laurel. "With hardly any resources, 'cept a couple a' guns and a piece of shit Jeep. Ya handled yerself pretty damn good for a civi with those five, puss-sacks next door, too. Guts and brains, O'Connor. That's what makes a leader." He raised his hand. "I'm with Jake. So let's vote people. Show 'a hands. All for heading west?"
To Jake's horror, almost everyone's hand went up, echoing Foster's opinion.
"Fuckin'-a, you're leading. The girls and I would be dead if not for you," Maggie said, with nods from Karen and Heather who was leaning back in the circle of Allen's arms.
"You know I'm in." His friend gave him two thumbs up.
Gertrude sighed. "Well. I suppose I can still move faster than those creatures outside. Maybe we could find one of those Segway contraptions?"
Nichole freaked out. "Are you people crazy? Travel two-thousand plus miles, with all those things out there? What kind of suicidal plan is that? Why don't we just stay here? Get supplies from the stores?"
"Damnit, haven't you been listening?" Jake asked. "If we try for the Rockies we've got a chance. If we stay here, we are going to die!"
"And we're supposed to take your word on that?" Nichole sneered. "An apartment sup and a hack journalist? What? You didn't get enough of getting people killed overseas, so you need to up the body count? Maybe…"
The blonde's voice cut off as Kat struck her sharply across the mouth with a resounding open-handed slap. The force of the blow propelled Nichole back a few steps where she stood holding her cheek, staring at the blue-haired Asian in shock.
"You know what? I think I speak for everyone here when I say, we've all had enough of your shit." Kat gave her a look of utter disgust. "Now, if you have anything useful to contribute to our situation? Feel free to do so. However, if I hear one...just one more snide, abusive comment come out of your mouth? I will kick your nasty twat up around your ears."
"You hit me when I wasn't looking!"
Kat squared off with her from five yards away. "Okay. Come on, then. You can watch the next one coming."
Nichole glared daggers, still holding her slowly reddening cheek. "You know what? Fuck you! Fuck all of you!"
"Think you might have gone a bit too far?" Mike asked and Jake could see the cogs in his slimy, little brain turning. Barron stepped closer to the stripper, putting his hand on her lower back. None of the others believed he was trying to be supportive or comforting for a moment. The blonde gave him a grateful look, however, as he steered her towards the stairs and up to the door leading to the machine shop above.
After the pair shut the door behind them, Jake smiled at Kat. "I appreciate the sentiment. Really, I do. I've never actually seen you pissed off before."
"You still haven't," she replied, voice full of bounce and energy. "I just figured a good smack from me was more preferable than my best friend shanking the stupid bitch."
All heads turned to Laurel, who calmly looked around wearing an innocent expression. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
They all broke into helpless laughter, which allowed the redhead to discreetly place the screwdriver she'd been holding against the inside of her forearm back on the worktable.
The group started planning and assigning responsibilities right there. They were going to have forty-five days to get in the best physical shape they could, so Maggie wrote up a cardio, strength training regime for them to follow. Gertrude was her only worry. No matter what, the tough, old woman's sprinting days were over.
Jake and Foster began to put them through basic weapons training with both sidearms and assault rifles. One wall of the motor pool was covered with weaponry. Silenced pistols, riot shotguns, suppressed MP5s, the works. There were enough tactical vests to equip them all twice over, so all the spares went into one of the massive vehicle's storage compartments. Because you just never knew.
Laurel and Gertrude went through their food stores, supplementing cases of MRE's with protein mixes George kept on hand (because most of the units used them as meal replacements in a pinch), and eight cans of freeze dried fruits. Even with Foster's knowledge of the whereabouts of numerous caches, again, it couldn't hurt.
They filled the storage bins in the front and the rear of the Screamin' Mimi with ammunition for their weapons. George said it would be a good idea for one reason. If the rear units were damaged—not that he believed that could happen—the front could be used as a temporary vehicle/shelter until a feasible replacement could be found.
They cleaned weapons. A lot of weapons. Each of them would carry a primary (suppressed MP5s, M4s or AR15s), along with silenced Beretta M9s or Glocks as backup sidearms. Both took 9mm which negated the need to evaluate what types of ammunition they might need, or how much of each to take. A few of the riot shotguns and other assorted engines of destruction were packed away in the Mimi, including various types of grenades which worried Jake to no end. George assured him they were safe. "Unless," as the fixer put it, "some dipshit pulled the pin."
Kat and, surprisingly, Leo began teaching them swordplay and the use of sharp pointy things. Young Salazar was quite good with a blade. Easily a match for Jake, he could hold his own against Laurel, but Kat still far outshone them all. She was deadly with her grandfather's katana in her hands, and could slice faster than most people were able to follow visually. The group began with Foster's bamboo, kendo swords, then she moved them on to the real thing. Granted, no one—except for Kat or Leo—would attempt any serious fighting with a blade, but at least none of them were utterly clueless now.
Mike and Nichole didn't take part in any of their preparations. In fact, neither of them associated with the group, even in passing, which suited most of them just fine. The pair kept to their rooms and only came around the others at meals, during which they ate quickly before sequestering themselves away again. Neither rose before noon, and were up virtually all night watching horrible B-movies from George's DVD collection, drinking heavily, and generally acting like asses.
Things came to a head when they tried to force Karen into their bed.
Jake had gone up for a post-workout shower and found Leo on hands and knees, blood dripping from a split at the corner of his mouth. The young fencer was obviously in pain as Jake helped him stand, but his eyes were full of nothing but anger and worry.
"They took her!" he slurred.
"What?" Jake wondered if Leo'd hit his head on the way down. "They who?"
"Them! Nichole and Mike!" He shook the cobwebs from his head and pushing off the wall. "I was coming up to get my dirty clothes, you know, to do laundry? Well, Karen and Mike and Nichole were up here in the hallway. They were acting all weird. They kept touching her. They were talking low and stuff, trying to get her go into Nichole's room. Karen started to yell and Nichole put her hand over her mouth, then they started pulling her inside!"
"What?" The writer demanded.
Leo looked ashamed. "I ran at them, you know? I thought maybe they'd stop if they saw somebody up here. But Mike turned around when I got close and clocked me! It was just a minute ago! Please you gotta help!"
Jake's eyes widened and he raced for Nichole's door, Leo following more slowly on unsteady legs. He grabbed the knob and tried to force it open. "Shit! Locked. Watch out!" Jake took a step back and kicked the door hard enough to send it back against the interior wall, shattering the side of the frame that held its bolt in place.
He blew into the room with Leo still in tow, to find the three of them struggling on the bed. Nichole, clad only in a pair of cut-off shorts she'd made from her jeans, knelt ensconced firmly between Karen's frenzied legs. The blonde had already pulled the girl's shirt away and held one of her arms down as she worked the front clasp of her bra loose. Mike had her other arm pinned and held a syringe in one hand. He'd been about to inject her with its contents, but fumbled it in surprise when Jake smashed his way into the room.
Nichole seemed unaw
are of their presence as she bent and ran her tongue over Karen's stomach. The girl tried to yell out through the gaffer's tape the pair had used across her mouth to keep her quiet. She squirmed and bucked on the sheets attempting to free herself, but Nichole had the leverage and kept her down easily. Then the blonde ran a free hand down the length of Karen's torso until she reached her hips, flicked open the snap on the waistline of her pants, and began unzipping her fly. Karen's back arched and she screamed against the tape.
Her cry sent flames up behind Jake's shocked eyes. He dove at Barron and the two of them sailed over the opposite edge of the bed. The enraged man smashed his elbow into Mike's face as they hit the floor, dazing him, and then sent a short punch under his jaw, putting the shit-head out cold. As Barron slumped into a knuckle-induced nap, Jake turned to deal with Nichole. He found Leo already had the problem well in hand.
While Jake pummeled Mike, the teenager had taken a double handful of Nichole's bleach-blonde hair, dragged her off Karen, and was using it to yank her around the room. The stripper screeched, attempting to get her feet under her as he backed round and around, but just couldn't keep up with him. The corded muscles in the young man's wrists gave him an especially strong grip and he was really ticked besides, so all bets were off. He still couldn't hit a girl, so he settled for playing tug-o-war with her hair, keeping her busy until help arrived.
Karen, however, didn't have any problems hitting a girl. She jumped off the bed, waited until Leo dragged Nichole by again, cocked her fist way back and punched the other woman squarely in the face. Leo let go of Nichole's hair and she fell unconscious to the floor in a boneless heap.
Jake yelled down the hall for someone to help and tied Mike's shirtless elbows together with his own belt. If Barron had the misfortune to wake up before he finished securing him, Jake swore he'd break the bastard's arms. Then toss him off the roof. He applied duct tape around Mike's wrists and hands then, in a moment of pure vindictiveness, knotted his shoelaces together. Tightly.
As Jake worked, the two teens stared down at Nichole. Leo tried mightily not to look at Karen's bare breasts. Her shirt was in ruins beside the bed, so he stripped his own off and handed it to her. He made sure to keep his eyes averted while she pulled it on. When Karen settled the shirt, she noticed the red spots on its front and her eyes went to Leo's face. His cheek and lip was already beginning to swell darkly and blood had leaked down his chin from the split in his lip.
"Sorry." He looked down at his shoes and shifted uncomfortably from foot-to-foot.
Karen's face became confused. "About the shirt?"
Leo shook his head. "I tried to stop them, but I wasn't strong enough. I just... sorry."
The girl's eyes teared up and she started to shake. Leo looked up just in time to catch her as she threw herself forward, wrapped her arms around his skinny ribs, and began sobbing into his chest. He looked helplessly at Jake and put his hands against Karen's shoulder blades to hold her awkwardly.
"Why don't you two go downstairs?"
Leo nodded and gently steered Karen towards the door. As they left the room, Jake could hear the sounds of running footsteps coming up the hallway. Foster, Allen, and Maggie bolted into the room where he stood seething over the horizontal pair.
After a few moments, George broke the silence.
"What the fuck?"
* * *
The dead were hungry.
It wasn't a biological need, but a constant mental urge. One of the few they had.
The creatures were driven to seek out and consume flesh, type unimportant. Something in their makeup drove them to feed endlessly, well past the point of complete engorgement. Some had stuffed themselves, literally, to the point that the rotted meat they'd consumed was forcing its way from their anus, their navels... In some extreme cases, even their sex organs.
Luckily, however, it seemed Homo sapiens were the only animals in the food chain that would reanimate after death. Thoughts of zombie Doberman Pinschers were prominent in some survivor's minds, though (thanks to Holly-weird). Moronic animal rights activists, during the initial week of the outbreak, had continued their crusade to save those poor, helpless animals made prisoners for man's amusement. What they hadn't considered, was what would happen to said animals once they were freed. Some were eaten outright. Others died from their wounds after escaping their mindless attackers. Many more starved to death, due to lack of wild edibles or by being deprived of medication. Some of the predators made it to the safety of the suburbs, through the rural neighborhoods, and finally into the wilds beyond.
Silverback gorillas and Bengal Tigers had never been native to North America before...
Chapter Twelve
"What the fuck?!?"
The comment was drawn from Mike Barron's lips by the liberal application of smelling salts and a pitcher of ice water in the face. The mechanic stepped back and set the empty pitcher on the bar while Maggie took a penlight to Mike's eyes, checking his pupil dilation. She had begun working on him five minutes prior and had not been gentle. They had seen the track marks on his arms and the stupid hieroglyph tattoo. She kept his head still by gripping a handful of his ridiculously long hair until she was satisfied he wasn't bleeding from his brain. Then she roughly released her hold and began repacking the med kit Foster had provided her.
Mike and Nichole were restrained in a pair of chairs normally used at the dining table. Fittingly enough with duct tape. Jake, with help from Allen and Maggie, had lugged the pair down from the room where they'd assaulted Karen. Foster had immediately begun searching—read: tearing apart—the room, looking for Barron's stash and he planned to do the same to the stripper's. He'd been livid when he'd seen the syringe, and Jake had found it necessary to talk pretty damn fast to keep the old warrior from capping the sleeping perverts right there. After the two were carted downstairs, Maggie suggested using handcuffs to secure them.
Jake insisted on the duct tape.
He and Allen had used so much that the seated pair resembled slightly bloody mummies. Silver ones anyway. He also had Maggie put a shirt on Nichole before they'd started applying the tape, even though the EMT had been all for leaving the unconscious woman half-naked.
"Maybe we'll get lucky and it'll rip her nipples off," she said viciously. "Does anybody here really have a problem with that?"
Jake had other plans. He didn't like it, but there was no other solution. Their group didn't have any real long-term way to keep them confined. So, as the others gathered, he steeled himself to add one more log onto the bonfire waiting for him in Hell.
"Well, they're awake." Maggie crossed her arms as she leaned against the faux-wood table. "They've both taken something. Probably cocaine, judging from the dilation of their pupils."
He nodded in acknowledgment. "Alright...do either of you have anything to say for yourselves?"
Nichole just glared at him, but Mike tried to play dumb.
"You've lost it, O'Connor! Tying people up? What the hell, man? You can't do this, man! You have any idea how much…"
Jake slapped him hard across the face. The sound of the blow was loud enough that Foster heard it as he tromped down the stairs into the room. He carried a MOLLE pack along with a large Ziploc bag, and his face was as harsh as Jake had ever seen it.
"Look at this shit!" George opened the pack, revealing a pair of 45s and a snub-nose 38. There were also a few boxes of ammo, a dozen MREs, a large kitchen knife, a flashlight, a roll of toilet paper, and a quartet of water bottles inside.
"Found all that stuff in Blondie's closet. This however, was in his room. Shithead there stuffed it under his mattress for Christ sake." He tossed the Ziploc to Maggie for her to identify its contents. It held a smaller bag the size of a softball and was full of white powder, around three hundred large, blue capsules, and three small glass vials, one of which was only half full.
"Definitely cocaine." Maggie prodded the smaller bag with her fingers. "Those pills sure as hell look like Rohypnol. It's o
ne of the current date rape drugs and this is... Mother fucker!"
She pulled out the half-empty vial. "This is morphine! Is this what you were trying to shoot her up with?!?"
Barron looked away sullenly.
The writer slapped him again. "Answer her question."
"Jake…" Laurel began, but swallowed her comment as he motioned for silence.
"Hey, she's eighteen! It's not like…"
Jake slapped him harder this time, knocking Mike back in the chair. "Answer. The. Question."
"Yes!" Barron spit out some blood from where his teeth cut the inside of his cheek.
Jake passed the syringe he'd retrieved to Maggie. She checked the contents and glared at the duct-taped club hound.
"You stupid asshole!" Maggie moved towards him, syringe gripped point down like a dagger. "A dose this high would be fatal!"
Foster interposed himself between the enraged EMT and Barron. She blinked and moved back, relinquishing the syringe.
"So. Assault, attempted rape, attempted manslaughter. You're a real piece of work." Jake was boiling inside as he looked over to where Leo still held Karen protectively on the couch. She was still shaking, eyes bloodshot from crying, and had paled when Maggie confirmed her near-brush with lethal injection. "What do you think we should do with you?"
You're not going to do shit!" Nichole raged, struggling in her chair. "You don't have the right to…"
Karen came up off the couch, screaming as she ran at the blonde. Foster and Maggie intercepted her, holding the girl back as she clawed and kicked away, just short of Nichole's chair.
"The right? The right?" Karen yelled, causing the stripper to shy away. "What right did you have to do that to me, you bitch? You'd better hope for a bullet in the brain, because if these people don't kill you, I will!"