The man was off his rocker. The only thing those creatures had in common with Lester were two legs and two arms. They were monsters that needed to be put down. He looked up at the man, met his bloodshot stare and took a breath. What he wouldn’t give for some hard alcohol right about now. He wouldn’t mind philosophizing the day away about what constituted a person. Sure wasn’t a soul, because Les was lacking in that department. When he died, he figured everything would just go black. If there was really a heaven or a hell, he was not ready to talk about or count his sins.
“I don’t think God or anyone is going to care for much longer.” He looked away, content to spend the rest of the day high as a fucking kite. The man didn’t seem to take the hint, though. He just stared at Lester like he was waiting on an answer.
“What?” Lester asked after a few minutes.
“My place ain’t far from here. A couple of us hid out for a few days. We had a bunch of guns. Beer, like I tole ya. We even had a few girls that wanted to stay, not what you’d call ready for prime time, but they was good enough company.”
“Where are you from, Auburn?”
“Auburn? Ah hell, son. I’m from Texas. Only moved out here because I was sick to death of the heat. Know how hot it gets in El Paso? Pretty fucking hot. ‘Bout the only thing you can do is lay around all day, try and stay out of the sun. Ya’ll got some heat up here, but it ain’t nothing. Now. Imagine you’re a bug, right? A little black beetle, let’s say. Know how long you’d last in the Texas sun? ‘Bout that long!” He laughed and snapped his fingers in front of Lester’s face.
Les blinked his eyes and grinned. He couldn’t help but like this bear of a guy.
“Why me?” Lester wondered out loud.
“‘Cause you got the goods. At least that’s what I figure you were about to smoke. Am I right?”
“The goods?”
“Damn, son, you should become a drug dealer with that poker face. Bet you could fool a cop into looking the other way for a few seconds while you chawed down a few grams of weed.”
Shayne
Shayne dozed. He tried to sleep, but it was too hot, too uncomfortable. So he settled for dozing on and off when could. It didn’t help that the city seemed to be reaching a crescendo of violence. Gunshots, screams, yells for help or a loved one, and groans. Car horns should be beeping, and tires should be squealing to a halt at the short light in front of the building, but there wasn’t even the occasional fire truck or police siren. They were silent and missed.
A couple of days ago, the wailing of sirens was prevalent as the authorities raced from one scene of horror to the next. Reports were odd, filled with bullshit as far as Shayne was concerned. No one died and came back to life; it was ridiculous.
But Joey and Ed had come back from lunch that first day and talked to a group from the human resources department. They had been attacked right outside the building. Ed used to go by Edward, but Shayne thought that sparkling vampire stuff got him to change his name. He probably got sick and tired of being asked how his team was doing.
They stood in the foyer, Ed shaking, his hand holding a brown bag of food. The bottom was darker than the top from grease seeping out of whatever artery-clogger he’d picked today. The bag trembled in his grip. He was a big guy, but he seemed timid, almost too nice, which led some to question his relationship with Joey.
Joey, on the other hand, liked to talk quite loudly about his exploits with the ladies. If the two of them were sneaking off to be together, then it made perfect sense to Shayne. Not that he cared either way. They could be dressing up like circus-clown trannies and buggering each other for all he cared.
But not today. They weren’t cool cats now. They were scared shitless. Joey nearly missed the seat as he tried to sit down in the break room. A tiny round table was the only seat that was free. It was the middle of the day, but everyone was gathered here to see the craziness on TV, even though the signal kept cutting out. Just like the damn Internet.
A few people had left, called it a day. Gone home sick. Shayne should have been one of them, but he had a project to finish, and the last thing he wanted was that toad Pete breathing down his neck.
Everyone gathered in the break room as Ed told his tale. He was still taking gasping breaths like he had run a marathon, even as he took out some pale red dipping sauce for his fries. They hung limply, cold and congealed, but he shoveled them in just the same. A few swallows of soda from a cup dripping with perspiration, and he looked prepared to tell his tale. A piece of wilted lettuce hung out of his burger like a creature that had given up the will to live.
Joey was a mess. He stared at his food but wouldn’t eat. After a few minutes, he slid his chair back and left the room. By the way he held his hand over his stomach, Shayne was pretty sure he was going to the bathroom to toss whatever was in his gut. He returned a few minutes later, and someone gave him back his seat.
“It was nice out. You know? It was warm, and the guy at Golden’s had our food ready faster than usual.” He stared into space and then shook his head after a moment.
“It’s cool, man, just take a breath.” That was Pete, who had a worried look plastered on his face.
“We were about to leave when Joey heard something outside. It sounded like a small riot. I thought it was just noisy kids, you know.”
“Yeah, ‘swhat I thought too. Kids,” Joey said under his breath.
Ed gulped more soda and continued.
“So I went to the door. Joey had it open, and this guy covered in blood ran by. The thing, I mean guy, was all messed up.”
Ed pounded his chest and let out an Olympic-size burp. “The thing! The thing!” Ed giggled to himself. What the hell was wrong with these two?
“I don’t mean he had some juice spilled on him. His face, shirt, pants, hell, even his hair were covered in fresh fucking blood! And he snarled like an animal. I thought it was some crazy homeless guy at first.”
“Fucking homeless,” Joey muttered and shook his head.
“Joey was curious, I guess. He stepped outside and nearly got knocked over. I was like ‘What the fuck?’ Another guy ran toward us, then stopped like he’d run into something.” Ed smacked one hand into the other.
“Fucking crazy guy.” Joey shook his head.
“Yeah. The guy was insane! His eyes were bright red, and he drooled. Well, Joey’d had enough of that shit, so he slammed the door shut.”
“Fuckin-A!” Joey nodded. A huge tuft of black hair fell over his face, so he snapped his head back in lieu of using his hand to brush it out of his eyes.
“The guy on the other side went even crazier. Fucking bonkers! He beat against the door so hard I thought the whole thing was gonna cave in. He was screaming, but not in words. I didn’t really know what to do. I just backed away, hoping he’d move on.” Ed looked at his friend, who still panted across the table from him. Joey shook a few fries out of the bag and shoved three or four in his mouth at once.
“Vugging bongers.”
“So the guy attacks the door, and it goes down.”
“Hmph,” Joey said around a mouthful of fries.
“Yeah. Anyway, I guess the owner’d had enough. He had this bat, a silver one, aluminum, I guess. He held it over his head and was yelling that he was going to beat the piss-crap out of the guy!” Ed threw a few mock punches at the air.
“Was fucked up.” Joey took a drink and then wiped his fingers on his shirt. He left a trail of salt across his designer tee.
“Crazy, man, never seen anything like it,” Ed continued. “The guy howled like a dog or something. Then he ran full-bore at us. The owner guy swung so hard, you’d think he was aiming for the 300 section of Safeco Field.”
“Home fucking run, baby.”
“It hit the guy low, in the gut. Should have put him down for good, a swing like that. He’d be pissing and crapping blood for a week. But he just sort of folded over the bat and fell to his side. Man, his eyes were just livid!”
“Fu
gging livid,” Joey said through a fresh mouthful of fries.
“I don’t know how, but the guy came off the ground. It was like something out of a movie. The bat hit the ground, and so did the owner, because Red-Eyes wasn’t in the mood to mess around. He tore into the guy, what was his name?”
“Andy? Andrew?”
“Was?” Pete interrupted.
“Yeah, man. Was, as in past tense. ‘Cept now he’s probably walking around like the other zombies.”
“Dude was fucked up,” Joey said.
“Wait. Who was walking around, Red-Eyes or the shop owner?” Pete asked.
Shayne was glad he wasn’t the only one having trouble keeping up.
“Both, I guess.” Ed shook his head.
“Yep,” Joey added.
Zombies? Did he really just say zombies?
“Red-Eyes took Andrew to the ground and went at him like a rabid dog. I wanted to get in there, grab the bat and smack the shit out of the guy.”
“Don’t blame yourself, dude.” Joey added helpfully.
“Nah. We should have done something. It was so fucked up. So royally fucked the fuck up. First Andy, er, Andrew screamed, and then blood flew. FLEW!” He slammed his hand on the tabletop so hard, it rattled like one leg was loose.
“Know who does that shit? Fucking zombies.” Joey nodded and slurped his soda.
“We ran, then. We just hauled ass back here as fast as we could,” Ed finished. He looked down at the table. Saw the greasy end of the brown bag, and put his hand to his mouth as if he were about to throw up.
He scanned the people gathered in the room. He was pale, the blood completely drained from his face.
“My turn!” Then he ran past them and headed straight for the bathroom. He almost made it before a geyser of puke blew.
Just a few days ago, it had been an amazing story. Now it was the way of life on the streets below.
Shayne struggled to his feet and wandered over to a window. Kara had given up arguing with Pete and was standing in front of the open portal. She glanced back at him as he shambled up beside her. Her face was blank, like she had never seen him before.
“They’re on the way, you know,” she said and stared down at the street some seventy feet below.
“Who?” he asked. He watched a pair of the dead lope across the road and rip into a bag of discarded trash. It was bright yellow and had something that looked like a biohazard sticker on the side. Those things began popping up at the start, and there was some speculation as to what they contained. Zach from the cash department swore he had seen men in white suits stuffing body parts in them, but no one bought that.
“My brother’s in the National Guard. He’s on his way to rescue us with a couple of other soldiers,” she said.
Shayne felt a sudden surge of hope. Could it be true? Would they have a medical kit and some kind of pain relief? He was already shaking, and it wasn’t from the news. Withdrawal symptoms ate at him mercilessly. His skin crawled, and he wanted to throw up. But he stared down into Kara’s blue orbs and forced the bile back down. She really was an attractive woman. Too bad she was such a bitch.
But that wasn’t going to stop him from making Kara his new best friend. If they were indeed going to be rescued, he wanted to be in with the woman who had a relative with a machine gun. And hopefully access to a medic with painkillers.
Shayne, Shayne, man of pain, hope one of those things doesn’t eat my throbbing brain.
“Why do you put up with Pete? He is so mean to you. You should report him or something.”
“Peter? Oh, he’s okay. Once upon a time, we had a thing.”
“You and Pete?” he asked in shock.
“It was a long time ago. We hooked up after a work party. It didn’t last. We tried to act like a couple for a week or two, but we are too different. He likes to remind me at any chance he gets that we did stuff together.”
“Hmm.”
“You know we’ll get out of here, right?” She turned to look up at him.
Any attraction he might have felt toward her was suddenly gone. All he could picture now was Kara lying under that toad.
“We’ll get out of here. One way or another. Or maybe we’ll just die in this room. All of us sniffing the same air, eating the same nothing, drinking the same … nothing,” he muttered. A lance of pain shot up his left arm, across his back, up his neck and straight into his brain. Then for three or four staggering heartbeats, he felt nothing but a pulsing throb that battered his poor head.
“I told you, my brother is on the way; he’s bringing a bunch of military friends.”
“Won’t matter. We’re all going to die screaming. I wish I was dead now. God, my head hurts.”
“See, Shayne, that’s why no one likes you. You’re too weird. And look at your hair. Do you even wash it more than once a week?” Kara’s words held real venom. On some level, Shayne was sure they were delivered with anger at their situation. On another level, they showed him exactly what she was like in real life. Not in work life, where everyone had to be politically correct and trade words and platitudes designed to never offend.
“Have you looked at your bird nest?” he asked and stared at the mess that hung around her face.
Pete was back, and he didn’t look happy with Shayne.
“What’s wrong?” Pete puffed up his chest.
“Nothing. I’m going back to my desk,” Shayne replied. He took one step and nearly stumbled, stepping on his boss’s foot as he tried to brush past. Pete went livid and pushed Shayne.
Shayne wasn’t ready, and he went sprawling. His legs collapsed as his center of balance shifted. His palm slammed into the floor first. There was some light carpeting, but it wasn’t enough to cushion the fall. His hip struck next, sending a bolt of agony up his side.
“You asshole!” Pete screamed.
Blind agony. His eyes went out of focus as the world crashed in. Where before, he’d had pain in nearly every muscle and joint, now he withered under an assault that was just about as bad as he had ever felt. He hurt so much that even his eyeballs felt like hot pokers in their sockets.
Then rage came over him and, before he could think, before he could reason, his foot lashed out as hard as he could kick it. Had he made contact with Pete’s leg, he was sure it would have snapped. Instead, he missed and swiped Kara instead. The tip of his foot brushed her calf, and she jumped back with a shriek.
“Look what you’ve done! Get up and apologize to Kara,” Pete shouted.
Shayne didn’t bother; he just pulled himself across the floor to his desk. The shouts come louder and louder, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to put his head down and escape. It didn’t feel great, but it was better than sitting here, waiting for something to happen.
“Get back over here and apologize. I’ll fire your ass if you don’t,” Pete screamed.
A few others came into the room to check on the loud voices.
“Go ahead and fire me, you stupid fucking asshole. We don’t have power; we can’t even get out of the building. So go ahead, toad. Go ahead and fire me.”
“What did you call me?” Pete stalked the few feet toward Shayne.
Shayne’s mouth had gotten away from him, but there was nothing for it now. Pete had had it coming for a long time. He was a jerk, and he was especially mean to Shayne, even though he had a waiver with human resources for things like lifting or working for more than two hours without getting out of his chair for a break.
Pete called it laziness. Shayne called it living day to day.
“I called you a toad, so just hop your ass back to your office and lick something. I also called you an asshole. I’m sure that’s a familiar one. Fuck off, Pete.”
Pete’s face was red. He reached Shayne’s chair and grabbed for him. Shayne smacked his hand aside, but Pete was a big guy. He grabbed Shayne by the collar like they were in some movie with Pete playing the bully.
Shayne stared up at Pete, who had murder in his eyes, and for
the first time, he realized what a mistake he had made.
“Let me go!”
“Or what? What are you gonna do?” Pete screamed coffee breath into his face. Shayne wondered where the hell the toad had gotten coffee, but he didn’t have time to ask, because Pete drew back and then shoved Shayne away.
Shayne hit his chair and went off balance. Then his hip hit the edge of his desk, and the next thing he knew, he was on the ground. The pain built in a crescendo that peaked like a tsunami. Then he was pulled away by the wave, and he passed out.
Mike
I wandered near the entrance to the stadium and nodded at the men on guard duty. Some were in uniforms. Others were like me, just regular guys pressed into service. They had an assortment of guns, some like mine, while others had handguns and a few had shotguns. Grinder would get a kick out of that. His weapon of choice had been a Mossberg pump action. I became an unwilling expert on the weapon when Grinder would not shut the hell up about it.
A week ago, I couldn’t have told you what a shotgun or assault rifle looked like, much less how to fire one. After one day and night, I could unsling the gun, bring it to my shoulder and fire off a round in seconds. Changing magazines was just as easy. Killing, sadly, was also just as easy.
The entrance was a massive affair that towered over the stadium. Seats formed the entryway, a funnel for the fans to make their way into the football-shaped interior. I had watched many games here, but only on television. The local team, the Seattle Seahawks, was very good most years, but I was never one for crowds once I became single. Had Rita and I stuck it out, I’m sure she would have talked me into taking her to at least one game.
I wandered to the head of the entrance and stared down at the steps. Shots came from various parts of the city and, at times, sounded like popcorn. How many people were screaming in horror, fleeing in panic?
I walked into the closed-off parking lot, which had become a haven for the armed men and women. I passed among them, nodding when others looked at me. Did they see something in me that was reflected in themselves? Perhaps they were just like me, scared, wanting to help but waiting for directions. I just wanted to find a place to hide and dream of the life I should have had with Erin. The life we set out to make just a few days ago. But I could never go back there. I’d lost my son to a careless driver. I’d lost my wife to pills and booze, and I’d lost Erin to screaming monsters.
Among the Dead Book 2 (Among the Living) Page 6