The Zombie Plagues (Book 2)

by Sweet, Dell

  Daryl opened the trunk of the Toyota and picked up the blue duffel bag, he tossed it to Ben and Ben caught it deftly. Ben stared at him until Daryl broke the stare.

  "If you want it any time you can have it," Ben said softly.

  Daryl's eyes cut back up. "What's that supposed to mean, white boy?" His hand plunged into his jacket pocket.

  "Words to an old song," Ben said and smiled. The smile didn't extend to his eyes. His eyes said, 'If you want a piece of me you can have it.' Daryl looked away again.

  Ben set the bag down and ran the zipper. He pulled a few bricks out, counted and then looked back at Daryl who refused to meet his gaze. His eyes kept sliding way.

  "A little short," Ben said.

  "My ass," Daryl said.

  "It is going to be your ass," Ben agreed quietly. "There are two and two missing. See this mark?" He turned one of the bricks over to show a mark in the shape of a star. "I know that mark. That mark tells me a lot: Where it came from, which clan made it, and what it is: Pure heroin. I mean pure. Hasn't been touched. From Torres, deep Mexico." He turned the other brick upside down. A double circle with a triangle was stamped on the wrapper. "Also pure, this time cocaine: Almonte's crew, Ecuador. I know this stuff, like I said. And I know what should be here. Two and two missing. Cough it up." His gun magically appeared in his hand.

  "Hey, man," Danny said. "I think we need to calm down. Why you wanna kill someone right off the bat, man, huh?"

  "Where is it?" Ben asked. He set the duffel bag into the trunk, and switched the gun to his shooting hand. "I don't necessarily want to kill anyone, but I will. I have no problem with that." He lifted the gun and aimed it at Daryl’s head.

  "Hey," Daryl started.

  "Drop the mother fuckin' gun," a new voice yelled out. "Don't think about changing positions... I mean all of you fucks: All of you; starting with you, wise guy. Bring that gun down." The man who owned the voice stepped up behind him and pressed the barrel of a gun to Ben's neck. Ben's hand dropped and the man took the gun from him. "On the ground out flat, hands behind your head," the man told him.

  The cop took Ben's gun and dropped it into the blue duffel bag. He took Ed's gun, then Daryl's, and Danny's last. He checked the cars, found the other 9 mm in the glove box. He took Ed's bundle of cash when he searched him, whistling as he did. He dropped the cash and the three cheap, black 9 mm guns into the blue duffel bag, which he set into the open trunk of the Ford. He holstered his own weapon and flipped the safety off the small Chinese gun Daryl had been carrying; he stepped back and tripped over the curb. The gun went flying and all hell broke loose.

  Ben jumped up and caught Ed's elbow dragging him backwards fast. Daryl and Danny grabbed the brown suitcase, threw it onto the back seat of the Toyota and jumped inside.

  Ben had retrieved his spare gun, a 22 caliber, and was fishing for his silenced 9 mm from his inside jacket pocket. He had been about to make his own move when the cop made the mistake of tripping, playing right into Ben's game plan.

  The cop found his feet, got his own gun back into his hands and then ran for the woods. Ben got his other gun from his jacket, passed the 22 to Ed, and palmed the 9 mm himself. They both duck walked around to the front of the Ford, got to the door, levered it open and got in. Ed crawled across to the passenger's seat while Ben jumped into the driver's seat. A shot came from behind them, staring the rear window and passing through the fleshy part of Ben's shoulder. Ed leaned out the window and opened up on Daryl who was leaning out of the driver's side of the Toyota trying for another shot. He apparently had no idea how to use the gun. He ducked downward into the car when Ed fired back.

  "Ed, you gotta drive. You gotta drive, Ed" Ben said. He held his shoulder as he slid across the seat and they switched places. Ed was nervous, but he got the car going. He started to turn around to see where he was going, but another shot starred the glass and he simply floored the Ford and dropped it into reverse.

  The Ford leapt backwards, smashed into the rear quarter panel of the Toyota and pushed past it. The Toyota skipped across the gravel as the Ford screeched past it, spun around, and came to a stop pointing outward. Ed floored it and started out of the turnout.

  Daryl had the Toyota started a second later. "We got to get them, Danny. We got to get them or were dead, man. We got to." He spun the wheel hard left on the Toyota, jammed the gas pedal to the floorboard and slewed around, clipping the stone wall and then screaming out onto the blacktop; chasing after the Ford.

  Ben managed to get his cell phone out of his pocket and punched in a number.

  "I'm coming to you," he said... “No... Like a dream... A bad fuckin' dream... I've been shot... Not bad, but be ready for me." He clicked off the phone and shoved it into his pocket. "I'm gonna tell you where to turn. Don't sweat it. This was part of the plan, except being shot and it was supposed to be just the cop, not those two dip shits. Now it'll probably be both... I can shoot: If I have to take them out I will... You understand, Ed, you got me? You drive. Turn when I tell you, we'll be fine. Drive hard, but don't lose them. They stole from us, we have to get that back, plus the cop was probably parked farther away. We have to give him time to reach his car and follow us."

  Ed nodded.

  "Good... He took a deep breath. The pain was heavy in his shoulder: Maybe a fractured bone, maybe worse; maybe just the freshness of the wound. “Okay, turn left at the bottom of the hill. First left, that will get us on our way." Ben told him.

  Up the Hill Again

  The Cop

  He made it back to the car and nearly passed out. He couldn't open the door. The door was stuck, and then he remembered he had locked it. He reached into his pocket for his keys but the pocket was empty. He searched his other pocket, his coat, but there were no keys.

  He yelled. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" He slammed his fists into the top of the car over and over again. He finally turned around, leaned back against the car and then slid to the ground.

  He stayed that way for a while; he had no idea how long. Finally, the rage passed and he got back to his feet and walked off down the hill in search of the keys.

  Thankfully, most of the lookout was well lit. Still, he didn't find the keys until he was at the absolute end of his journey. They were on the ground amid some scuffed up earth, just about a foot past the curbing he had tripped over.

  He pocketed the keys just as the sound of distance sirens came to him and looking out over the city he saw the red lights pulsing in the valley below the park. He sighed and began to run once again.

  Lott Road

  Nikki

  She ran to the car, a little spooked to be out here on her own in the pitch black of the early morning. She got the car started, pulled out of its hiding place, and headed for the next road over that paralleled Lott road. There was a four by four trail that cut across to a mud bog; the trail also joined the two roads. She made the parallel road, which was really nothing more than another old logging trail, this one in only slightly better shape because it was used to reach the river where it ran nearby. An unofficial party spot for most of the teenagers that lived around here: This early on a Friday morning it was deserted. She parked the car, locked it and headed off through the trees at a run.

  The Cop

  He raced for the entrance on the back side of the park, hoping he would make it before one of the police cars came up that way.

  He was nearly halfway to the bottom when he realized it was probably stupid to go down and chance getting caught: Wherever they had gone to he didn't know. He stopped, did a fast K turn, took the bubble out from under his seat and plugged it in: He started back up the hill.

  When he got back to the turnout there were already four cars there, and another one came up from where he had come just as he was parking.

  Lott Road

  Nikki

  She waited. She heard them coming before they actually got there and it worried her.

  She pulled the 9 mm out of her waist band. Flicked off the safety a
nd slipped back into the trees. There was only the one trailer down this far where Ben planned to dump the car, Jingo's trailer and it looked like he was up: That wasn't part of the plan either.

  She thought about taking him out of the equation right then, before he could become a problem. She was nearly to the door to do just that when the lights splashed across her as the cars made the turn about a quarter mile away and headed toward them. She heard gunshots and hoped they were coming from Ben and no one else. If this was going down close to right, Ben's car would be the first car, but she couldn't be sure. Everything else had gotten screwed up, not gone according to plan, so there was no real reason to expect that this part of it hadn't also been screwed up.

  It was her job to get the cop set up. To get Ben away; posing as April Evans to get the cop set up had been her own idea. She didn't belong here, that was how she ended up with the problem with April Evans in the first place. April Evans, on the other hand, lived here. No one would find her being here out of place. She had spent last night in her trailer. All she had to do was plant the shit that Ben had given her in the cop's car. She had it in a small duffel bag along with her own things, then catch up to Ben later.

  She was supposed to call him once she was away. An easy job, it had seemed, and Ben had planned it out. But now it was all going down and she wasn't so sure she could do what she was supposed to do.

  And it really wasn't according to plan. It was supposed to be three cars and she could see there were only two cars. Either the two delivery guys we're missing or the cop was. She had no way of knowing, and no more time to think about it. She stepped out into the backyard of the trailer so Ben would see her.

  One Week Earlier

  Rochester

  Nikki

  Nikki's eyes opened slowly. It was early. So early that the light seeping around the edges of the drapes was the orange sodium vapor light of the city street lights outside, dawn was not yet here. She slipped quietly from the bed and the warmth of Ben's body and made her way to the bathroom, the wood floors cold against her bare feet.

  She made her way into the bathroom without a light and then nearly tripped over something on the floor. She cursed quietly, toed the door shut and then flipped on the light.

  Ben's robe: He liked, for some reason known only to him, to hang it on a hook on the back of the door. Fine, except the hook was missing the end and the robe often slipped off onto the floor and lay there waiting to trip her up in the middle of the night when she least expected it. She scooped it up and returned it to the hook and that was when she saw the scrap of paper on the floor.

  She stared at it a long time. Things that were written on scraps of paper, to her limited experience, were always bad things. She could not think of a single good thing that could come from picking that scrap of paper up and doing anything other than returning it to the robe pocket it had fallen out of. Not a single thing. She picked it up and unfolded it: Smoothed it out against her palm.

  The handwriting was Ben's. No doubt about that. There was little written, but what was written caused her heart to go cold instantly.

  Call Jilly.

  Jilly: You could not mistake that name for a man's name. It was a woman's name. No number. And that implied that he knew the number well enough that he didn't need to write it down. Nothing else, just the reminder to call her; why, Nikki asked herself, did Ben need to call Jilly? Ben said they shared everything. Nothing was hidden. She had certainly hidden nothing from him. So why had she never heard this woman's name before she had found this scrap of paper with it written on it.

  She reached over, turned the light back off, and sat down on the toilet lid thinking. She sat for nearly twenty minutes before she remembered why she had gotten up in the first place. She stood, raised the lid, remembered the slip of paper, now no more than a crumpled ball, wet with her sweat and opened her hand allowing it to roll off her palm into the water. She lowered her pajama bottoms and sat down once more.

  When she made her way back to the bedroom she was subdued, but the anger at being betrayed was building inside of her. She made her way back under the sheets, but she did not snuggle into Ben's warmth where she had been. Instead, she lay awake waiting for the sunrise. Wondering exactly who Jilly was and what she had that she didn't.

  Friday Morning

  Lott road

  Ben Neo

  "The girl... See the girl, Ed? Head for the girl. That's where we're going," Ben yelled. He leaned out the back window, took as careful an aim as he could, and fired eight rounds of his clip into the driver's side windshield of the Toyota. He turned back quickly. "I'm sorry, Ed," he said, but Ed didn't hear him. Ben placed the gun close to the back of his head and fired the last two shots. He levered his door handle and waited for the car to jump the ditch.

  The Ford came back down with a hard jolt, nearly tearing the door handle out of Ben's grasp: He pushed the door and rolled out across the blackness of the yard. Off to his side he heard the car hit a tree. He made his feet, his shoulder screaming in pain now, and spun around looking for the girl, he found her and limped to her. He had done something to the ankle, either kicking the door open or when he jumped, hopefully it was only turned. They limped off as fast as he could move. Her supporting him on one side as they made their way through the woods to where she had parked the car.

  "Your head is bleeding badly, Ben, very badly," Nikki said.

  He felt his head, but it didn't seem too serious. "Head wounds bleed heavily. It's what they do... It'll be okay," he told her. “Gotta check the shoulder when we get to the car it's worse than the ankle.”

  They reached the car and she unlocked the trunk and pulled out a small medical kit Ben had insisted upon. She took some gauze, pads and white tape, fixing up his head and one knee, while he stripped off his clothes and patched up his shoulder. The shoulder, she saw, was not as bad as his head, only a flesh wound. The head was gashed open. He redressed quickly in clean clothes. She pushed a hat onto his head carefully, angling it low to hide the bandaging and handed him a wallet. He flipped it opened and smiled.

  "You have to go, baby. You have to," she said.

  He kissed her and she pulled away. "Go," she said.

  "I don't want you to stay," he said. “The cop... The cop didn't follow...”

  "But he might: Can't change the plan now; besides we have to know what happens to keep them from looking for you... We have to if we're ever going to be able to breathe easy, baby." She kissed him again. "Go, if the cop shows up I'll get the shit into his car."

  He looked at her once more, threw all the old stuff into the back of the car in a plastic bag that he would dispose of later, and started the car. “Make sure you get the pot out of the Toyota... Leave here and go right there and get that.”

  She shook her head. “What's so special about that?”

  Ben laughed. “I'll tell you later. You better go. Just don't forget to get that... Leave everything else.”

  She nodded. "You and me?" she asked as she kissed him.

  "You and me," he agreed. He tried to hold her eyes, but they slid away.

  Nikki

  Nikki turned and ran back through the woods. She had been gone too long. Everything was swimming around in her head.

  In the last few days before she had left she had decided a few things. First, Ben was a killer. She knew that. It was how he made a living. It wouldn't be hard for him to kill her, she supposed. She knew that sounded unreasonable, probably was wildly unreasonable to anyone else, but she couldn't get it out of her head, and who lived with a man with those capabilities anyway? She did. What if they were over and Jilly was now in the picture? And suppose he needed her gone because she knew too much: Way too much. What would he do? Tell her it was over and show her the door? She didn't believe it. What she did believe, what had gotten into her head, was that he would take her somewhere and kill her. She would never know it was coming. It was what he did, and he was good at it.

  The second thing she decide
d was to take the suitcase of money for herself. She didn't have it all planned out as well as Ben would have. He was a good planner. He drilled that into her head, plan, plan, and plan! But she had done a pretty good job nonetheless. She would go back, get the money out of Ben's car, and she would take it right back to April Evans trailer. Hide in plain site for a day or two until everything calmed down. Then she would buy a bus ticket for California: One way. No one, Ben included, would ever find her. She had April Evans ID. She had made herself up so that she looked just like her. It wasn't a long drawn out plan, but it was solid. It was solid and it would work. Fuck Ben Neo and Jilly Whoever-the-fuck-she-was.

  She concentrated on running. There was a path that led through the woods that helped, but even with that she had to slow down as she got closer to keep the noise down. She finally reached the edge of the woods, settled herself just inside the tree line, and watched as Billy Jingo took everything that she had decided to take for herself. She had come very close to shooting him and then she had heard the sirens coming in the distance.

  The cop still had not shown up, but she didn't have any intention of trying to plant the drugs and money on him anyway. The way she felt about Ben she couldn't have cared less if his former boss came after him. In fact it would suit her plans better. Keep anyone from looking for her.

  The money was in the purse she carried, the drugs she had thrown into the woods two days before in a fit of anger: Even after she had calmed down she had not gone back to retrieve them. Let someone find them in a week or a year or never, she didn't care.

  She thought for a second longer as the sirens grew louder. Billy Jingo was now back outside his trailer, sitting on the front steps as though nothing at all had just happened: Oblivious to her presence just a few hundred feet away in the tree line. She took a deep breath and then threw her gun deep into the woods: She made her way quickly, back to the trail that would take her back down the road to April Evans trailer.

  Thompson Park

  The Cop

  He had been about to leave when one of the uniforms told him that dispatch had said to have him call. They were giving the call to him since he was on the scene and it looked like the problem may have left the park and culminated in some shooting and a car crash out on Lott road.