Keep Your Crowbar Handy

by SP Durnin

  Jake and Laurel both looked at her with matching quizzical expressions.

  "That came out way different than it sounded in my head. I'm gonna keep working on the Hummer. And that was no better. Shutting up now." Kat headed for the armored vehicle, humming to herself and doing little dance steps.

  Watching as she moved away, Jake mumbled, "You know, sometimes I wonder about her. And sometimes I'm sure."

  "You have no idea," Laurel replied. "Really. Remember, I lived with her?"

  "She's right though." He looked down at the thermal scope in his hands. "My head knows you don't need me watching out for you constantly, but my heart has a different opinion."

  She stepped forward to cup Jake's face in her hands. "I know you want to keep me safe; don't you think I want to do the same for you?"

  Jake shut his eyes and reached up to stroke her fingers. "Swear you'll be careful," he pressed.

  "As careful as I can be." Her lopsided grin he loved so much came out.

  Then, they began preparations for war.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jake looked down at the waste treatment plant through his binoculars.

  It hadn't been difficult to locate where the raiders had taken their friends. The signal from Allen's tracker remained stationary and clear as they slowly worked their way southwest to the town of Mulberry. The pinging of Rae's hand-held unit allowed them to target the waste facility by midday, after which they wound through a residential neighborhood to park on Willnean Drive. It was taking them longer to assess the location than it had to find it. There hadn't been many of the dead walking the roads on the drive down either. In fact, their absence had struck Jake as a little strange. That said something about what people could get used to in stressful situations.

  They'd taken a somewhat direct route to their current location, cutting miles to the south around the edge of the township to keep as much distance between them and the nearby suburbs of Cincinnati as possible. Though nearly ten miles from the outskirts, Jake knew full well there had to be an enormous number of the dead roaming the Cincinnati streets. It stood to reason the higher the living population was pre-outbreak for a given area, the higher the concentration of maggot-heads they were sure to encounter.

  Once his party had gleaned their friends' location, they ensured the zombies gravitated to the car lot two miles distant by starting ten of the cars. Finding the keys to do so had been fairly easy, seeing how they'd been hanging in the dealership's filing cabinet, right behind the reception desk. Foster had suggested jamming a couple chair legs from the office between driver's seats and the steering wheels to keep the vehicles horns blowing, thereby drawing a greater number in from the surrounding area. He argued the more that shuffled their way to the car lot, the fewer they'd have to possibly deal with later. Jake vetoed the idea, however, only because with the lack of man-made sounds, it was entirely possible the raiders might be able to hear all the car horns as well.

  After his group vacated the dealership, easily hundreds of zombies came from all around. Grandmothers still in their nursing-home bathrobes, men and women in all manner of decay wearing hospital gowns, children still dressed in pajamas. Those freaked him out. The knowledge that the once-innocent five and six-year-old horrors would attempt to take great chunks out of his flesh if he gave them half a chance, not only sent a chill up his spine. It pissed him off.

  The writer was truly coming to hate said feces-scented, puss-bags and wished he had a way to wipe every one of the things off the face of the earth so they couldn't walk about in death.

  Hey, that's kind of catchy, Jake thought as they twisted their way through the housing development. The walking de…

  "I see a couple ways to get in right offhand, but nothin' quiet." Foster gazed through the scope of his Longarm. "There's a trio of sentries up by the main gate and another walkin' back near the settling ponds. That one won't be a problem, but we'd have to take out the three in front at the same time or they could raise the alarm."

  The facility below was fairly secure against intrusion. There was a ten foot wall encircling the grounds, for what reason Jake was unable to fathom. The only thing to steal from the place was, quite literally, shit. A trio of pumping control stations faced each of the ponds, but after examination with George's FLIR they had been proven empty. The primary and only occupied building was a three story, cinder block job, with heavy steel doors and no ground floor windows.

  "These jackasses don't have the first clue." Foster laughed with amusement. "Look at the idiot in the hall on the second floor. He's leaning back in a chair and hasn't moved a muscle the whole time I've been watching. I guarantee he's asleep."

  "Do you see the others?" Elle asked.

  The fixer pointed to the second floor. "That's got to be our people, up there. Four heat signatures, adjoining rooms, and Mr. Snoozy in the hall. The other five are downstairs getting plastered. They keep passing what look like bottles around."

  "Wanna bet the four stooges outside didn't lock the front door?" Elle said, watching the gate guards in the fading twilight. "Considering they all just keep walking in and out to take a dump?"

  "No bet," Jake replied. A low, bubbling moan came from the road behind them in the distance. "Someone got that?"

  "This one's mine." Laurel said. "You had the last one."

  "I'm still mad about that," Kat mumbled. "Can't believe the ugly butt-head dodged the first shot."

  "He didn't dodge it, he tripped."

  "Still made me miss," Kat insisted.

  "You can get the next one."

  "Ladies, it's getting closer," George called, not taking his gaze from the view below.

  Jake turned just in time to see Laurel put a bullet from her suppressed M4 through the creature's right eye. She calmly raised the weapon to her shoulder, sighted carefully just above the bridge of its nose and, with an easy squeeze of the trigger, sent a round forty yards through its grey skull. As the zombie slumped bonelessly to the surface of the dirt road, the redhead high-fived with her friend.

  "Thank you," Foster said sarcastically.

  Both girls stuck their tongues out at his back.

  The fixer gave Jake a disgusted look. "Just had to bring those two, didn't you?"

  "They'd have pouted if I hadn't."

  "You'll pay for that later," they said, in unison and smiled at each other.

  "So?" Elle asked. "How are we getting in?"

  Jake shook his head. "I have no idea."

  "We could blow the gate with one of the RPGs," the blonde sergeant suggested.

  "Yeah. I think we're trying to avoid that if at all possible. I mean, there are only five of us and ten of them." Kat crossed her legs and leaned against the Humvee as she watched their rear. A dozen zombies had shown up since they'd begun their watch almost five hours ago, even though they'd been as quiet as possible. The noise made by the Hummer on their way into the housing development caused a few creatures to stagger in their general direction, despite the vehicles the survivors used to draw them away, two miles to the west. They needed to get inside, rescue their friends (without getting killed), then bug out before the area started swarming with the dead.

  Jake sighed. "I'm open to suggestions here people."

  As they considered the problem, Kat had time to absently drop another zombie coming up the road with her silenced pistol. "Today, guys?" she said. "I'd rather not have my ass bitten off by some creepy-smart ghoul while we stand around out here."

  "Whoa! Hold it!" Elle gave the pretty Asian a nervous look. "Smart-ghoul? No one said anything about smart ones! Somebody forget to mention that?"

  Laurel waved dismissively. "Relax, she's just bored. We haven't encountered any zombies that possess more brainpower than a turnip."

  "Doesn't mean there aren't any," Kat replied loftily.

  Elle gave Laurel a hesitant look. "So... we don't actually know if they exist or not?"

  "I seriously doubt it," the redhead reassured her.

 
"It could happen you know," Kat pressed. "Physical deterioration works differently amongst living people, why not dead ones too?"

  "Now you're just being silly"

  Kat stuck her tongue out at her friend.

  "That's mature," Laurel said.

  "Ladies?" Jake could feel a migraine coming on.

  "I'm just saying we shouldn't discount the possibility," Kat pouted

  "Alright, but wouldn't we have run into one by now?"

  Elle was looking back and forth between Laurel and the Asian as they debated the issue, still wearing a leery expression.

  "Maybe we have," Kat insisted. "It's not like we try to talk with any of them before George turns them into Jell-O with the Mimi. We could've smooshed dozens of them for all we know."

  "Can we please not borrow trouble? Talking about things like that has a tendency to make them happen." Laurel asked.

  "That's ridiculous," Elle said.

  "Yes. But it's true all the same," the redhead sniffed.

  Foster had been looking intently at Kat since her ass comment. "Now that's a hell of an idea."

  The indigo-haired, ninja-girl shot another creature that noticed them from four houses over through the temple. "George, I think you're great and all, but I'm not really into guys with so much hair coming out of their ears."

  "It keeps 'em warm," the fixer replied, "and I wasn't talking about doin' the bed-sheet Lambada. How did you people survive the day of the outbreak? I swear, sometimes I think everybody in this group but me has fart-beans for brains."

  "Care to enlighten us?" Jake asked, powering down the thermal scope.

  Foster shouldered his sniper rifle and turned to Jake wearing a scary expression. "Think them guys down there have been on many dates in the last few months?"

  Jake looked at him quickly. "Chief, that's a terrible idea."

  George shrugged. "We got nothin' else, right?"

  Frowning deeply, Jake didn't reply right away. After a minute or two he finally sighed and said, "No, you're right. Damn it. It's probably our best shot."

  Kat looked back and forth between him and the grinning fixer.

  "I'm really not going to like this idea, am I?" she asked.

  Jake shook his head, looking extremely displeased, while George's face broke into a vicious smile.

  * * *

  The guards in front of the plant were shocked when a pair of hotties stumbled by the gate.

  "Holy God look at that!" One exclaimed.

  Kat and Elle looked like the answer to a lonely man's prayer. Laurel's blue-haired friend leaned on the blonde sergeant, one arm across her shoulders, faking a convincing limp. Kat had doffed her cut off tank top, keeping only her purple bra, leather biker pants, and boots. The minimalist outfit showed off her firm, flat stomach and a lot of skin.

  Elle had—after taking a combat knife to her black, fatigue pants—created a fairly flattering, if slightly ragged, pair of shorts. She'd removed her tactical vest and outer cover, keeping only her form-fitting t-shirt, web belt, and jungle boots. She'd listened to Kat's advice and took her hair out of the utilitarian bun she usually wore, shaking it out into a blonde mane that softened her strong-boned face appealingly. Jake had been very careful not to show any appreciation for her toned legs when Elle finished her wardrobe modifications.

  "Damn. We're gonna have to change it to the Barbie Triplets," Foster had marveled. "Shame the ground-pounders never had a Girls of calendar. Nice gams, Blondie."

  Elle had smiled, blown the fixer a kiss, and given him the finger, letting him know he was number one in her book.

  "I was thinking more along the lines of an 80s, hair-metal, video girl," Jake replied, and instantly knew it was a mistake. He noticed both Kat and Laurel giving Elle a pair of speculative (and slightly hostile) gazes. "Leo's eyes are going to bug out of his head if you let him see you like that."

  A thoughtful look crossed her face, followed by a calculating grin. "I'll have to remember to toss my hair around a lot in front of him when we get back to the airport. That always seems to turn older men into drooling idiots, so it should work on Leo too."

  The writer and George had shared a wry look, while the women laughed.

  The disguise, such as it was, worked just as well on the guards.

  "Artie, get the gate!" The second guard ordered, eyes wide and following the girls' shapely posteriors as they moved west along the road.

  The third fumbled with the lock and asked, "Shouldn't we get the others?"

  "Screw them! Do you wanna end up waiting your turn like we had to do with the other ones?" The first guard snapped, sliding through the opening. "We all saw how well that turned out, didn't we?"

  "Hell no!" Artie replied, following the others hurriedly through the gate. "Dibs on the Asian."

  They trotted after the girls, closing the distance quickly due to the "Asian's" limp. The pair heard the tromp of boots on the pavement and turned awkwardly to stare at the guards, as they approached. The men slowed their pace twenty yards away and strode confidently up to the pair, stopping just shy of arm's reach.

  "And where did the two of you come from?" The first one asked. He was a burly, scraggly haired man, with a nose that had been broken far too many times. He looked Elle up and down, eyes traveling the length of her tanned legs.

  "We were headed north and our Land Rover died," the blonde replied. "We had some friends with us, b-but those things got them last night. We hid in the Quickie Mart down the road all day until they went away again."

  "I'm Donna," Kat said, with an obvious wince, "and this is Gwen. Are you guys alone? Do know anyplace safe?"

  "Nowhere's really safe anymore, honey," Broken-nose said. "At least no place I've seen in almost three months."

  Elle took on a frightened expression. "But Donna can't keep going much longer! She fell down the hill when we ran off the freeway and Jeff had our only gun."

  "We could try one of the houses down the street," Kat suggested, looking like she was close to tears as she bit her lip. "Maybe there's still some food in one of them. We could hide until tomorrow night, maybe find some water and stuff. I might be able to walk better by then."

  "Oh, you ladies don't have to worry about nothin' like that. We're holed up in the treatment plant here." Broken-nose jerked a thumb at the wall to his right. "You can come with us. We've got plenty of supplies and none of those things can climb the wall, so you won't have to worry about trying to find a place to wait out the day."

  Kat's eyes went wide and innocent. "Really?"

  "I don't know," Elle said, glancing at Laurel's friend. She thought Kat was laying it on pretty thick. Then again, the trio of morons was all but panting with anticipation at the thought of getting the two of them inside the plant's walls, so she couldn't really fault Kat for a convincing performance. "How can we be sure you're alright?"

  "Hey, we're nice guys. Here, we'll help you get your friend inside, alright?" He waved to Artie, who moved to take the indigo-haired woman's arm from over Elle's shoulders. "It's kinda dangerous out here in the open you know? Those things are around. Not as many as in the city, but still enough to be trouble."

  Elle faked looking around worriedly as Kat leaned on Artie. She moved to take Broken-nose's arm in hers and gave him a grateful smile. The skinny, shaven-headed man held Kat up, one hand around her back, entirely too close to the lower edge of her left boob for her comfort, and looked down at her cleavage as they took a step towards the gate.

  "Ow!" She said and crouched towards her left foot. Artie went to one knee beside her as she bent down and grabbed her knee, just above the top of her biker-style boots.

  "Damn it, Artie, get her moving." Broken-nose said, pulling Elle away towards the entrance. "We have to hurry or t… Gulk!"

  The last was forced from the man's mouth involuntarily, as Elle punched him squarely in the throat. His eyes went wide as her blow crushed his trachea, closing off his airway and he released her arm, hands rising up to claw at his neck. She
followed up by grabbing the back of his head with one hand and smashing her other elbow into his nose.

  As Elle ruined her man's night, Kat drew Jake's eight inch Field Fighter knife from the top of her left boot and stabbed Artie smoothly through the chest. The fixed blade passed easily between his ribs, slicing open one lung on the way through to puncture and still the raider's heart forever. He was dead before his brain registered the glint of the knife's edge. She jerked it free and shoved his slumping form away.

  Elle had just finished driving her raider's broken nose into his brain, when the third man finally recovered from his surprise at their vicious attacks, and raised his carbine in Kat's direction. There was no way she'd be able reach him before he could unload on Laurel's friend. He was at the edge of the road, ten yards towards the entrance, and well out of reach. Elle watched the guard flick the safety off and…

  A shadow rose from the ditch behind him. Before the man could squeeze off his first round, a sludge covered hand yanked the muzzle of his weapon away from Kat and another took a crushing grip on his throat. Whatever the thing was, its strength was incredible. The raider couldn't budge the foul-smelling fingers from around his neck and he panicked, realizing he was about five seconds from death. He tried to pull away, only to lose his grip on the Styer semi-auto he'd carried and watch it arc over the dark figure's shoulder as it was tossed away.

  The guard punched at the thing, thinking to throw it off balance and maybe get a lungful of air. That plan flopped miserably. The shadowy muck-man blocked his clumsy swings and hit him in the gut with a hooking punch, stealing his breath. The raider couldn't even cry out for the guard at the rear of the plant, as his diaphragm knotted painfully and he dry heaved. As he bent over, the awful shape took his jaw in one hand, the back of his skull in the other, and forcefully spun his head almost one-hundred and eighty degrees to the rear. The move broke his neck, severing his spinal column, and the man dropped to the ground like a two-hundred pound sack of shit.