Containment_A Zombie Novel

by B. A. Hippsley

  “Seems to me your bar’s due for an inspection real soon, Barney boy? Fire regulations, noise pollution; all that kinda thing can be a royal pain in the ass. It’s so easy these days for a guy to lose his licence. You agree?”

  Branigan lowered his eyes and moved aside, allowing Eastman access to building.

  “Now you boys go about your lawful business, ‘cause I gonna have a chat with your boss. I don’t want any interruptions.”

  Eastman pushed the door open with his foot and went inside. A single striplight illuminated the rows of neatly stacked boxes that filled the deceptively large structure. Although the light was poor, it was enough for him to make out Peter Firth, standing with a clipboard, with his back to the door. Eastman walked a few short feet and then abruptly stopped.

  “I’m kinda busy right now Sheriff. Mind calling back later? Unless of course, it’s a social call?”

  “My Granddaddy always said never mix business with pleasure. So I reckon this isn’t a social call.”

  Eastman was finding it hard to keep up his professional attitude. His behaviour hid the fact that he wanted to take this bum apart at the seams. He stepped up to face the other man. Firth waved a bundle of receipts at Eastman. “I got legal purchase ledgers for all this stuff.” He swung his arms, indicating the rows of boxes.

  “What is it today, everyone’s an accountant? Look I got a deal for you.”

  “Ah, now why didn’t you just say that before? I can give you a good discount...”

  “Not that kinda deal. You hear what happened at Wal-Mart this morning?”

  “Can’t say as I did.”

  “Lot of people turned up and then things got ugly when they found half the stuff they needed had gone…” Eastman tapped the nearest box to him with his stick, “…this stuff, in fact.”

  “And I’m to blame for that?”

  “At a time like this, if people can’t get what they want, they gonna panic.”

  “Sure, and then they gonna come to me, cause I got what they want.”

  “At hell knows what price tag, that it?”

  “I’m a businessman. This is a business venture.”

  Eastman clenched his fists at his sides. There was no reasoning with the man.

  “I call it making a quick buck off your neighbour’s back.”

  “Free enterprise. Ain’t you heard? It’s the American way.”

  “This is the deal and it’s the best you gonna get. You got two hours to take all this... stuff, back to Benny Arnold. Then you get every penny back; just call it a refund.”

  “And why would I want to do that?”

  “Well maybe, cause it’s the right thing to do. Or maybe because if you don’t then I’ll bust your sorry ass and confiscate everything. Then you don’t get a cent, Mr Firth.”

  Eastman watched Firth’s reaction as he changed from red to purple. He doubted his Grandfather’s philosophy about no business with pleasure, because right now Eastman was enjoying every single moment.

  “You can’t do that! It’s all legal. I already told you.”

  Eastman walked over to Firth, placing his face inches away from Firth’s. “You'd be surprised just what I can do. Two hours, that’s all you got.”

  “Arrest me! For what?”

  “I’m sure I can come up with something in the next twenty eight days that’ll cover it. You want to see if I can? You’ll have enough time to reflect with that crazy nut in the next cell.”

  “You got nothing on me Eastman, nothing!”

  “Two hours.”

  Eastman shot Firth a scowl, turned on his heels and left the room.

  Of course there was always the possibility that Firth would find another location in the time but Eastman was a man of his word. The ball was in Firth’s court now; it was up to him. Besides, it might be enjoyable if Firth decided to do just that and a faint smile crept onto his face as he got into his patrol car.

  ****

  The cool evening breeze drifted through the door as Sam Cortez walked into the general store. Tom Price and Rudy Goldsmith stood with Oscar Majors, discussing the events of the press conference not more than an hour ago.

  “I find it sort of hard to believe that Brad Eastman could have killed Erin and Zoë like that.”

  Tom Price shook his head, sadly. “It’s like it’s not real.”

  “Real enough though.” Majors stopped to serve Cortez. “What I don’t get is why the need to shoot them? I mean what about cuffs, that kinda thing?”

  As Majors handed Cortez his change, Cortez grasped the shopkeeper’s hand.

  “Oscar, Erin Burke darn near bit her husband’s head off then she took a chunk outta Zoë. Any one of us could have been next. I was ready to put an axe though Erin’s head myself. Thank God them boys showed up when they did.”

  He looked at Tom Price. “That real enough for you Tom?”

  “Hey sorry man.” It was the best Majors could offer up, averting his eyes. Cortez stared at the trio, ruefully shaking his head; they watched in silence as he left the store. The ringing of the shop doorbell sounded like a starting pistol and the men resumed talking.

  “Geez, some people.” Majors shut his till with a self satisfied look on his face.

  “I heard it took them hours to clean the blood up.”

  “I said I was sorry. Hell, Rudy I don’t know what else I can say.”

  Price grinned at them. “Say Rudy, how’d it go up there today?”

  “The truth is we spent half the day chasing our tails.” Goldsmith winced. “And I got blisters on my blisters to prove it boys.”

  “Yep, it was like that yesterday,” mused Majors. “We covered miles of nothing.”

  “I think folks gotta start looking to their own affairs,” Goldsmith cautioned. “Any news on Nancy Jorgan yet?”

  “Will Yardman said she’d been dragged out of the house; the place is in a hell of a mess.”

  Majors shot his eyes skywards in desperation and let out a loud sigh. “Then Tom, it gotta be true.”

  “Reckon they gonna go up again tomorrow?”

  Majors looked at the other two. “I can’t take time for another search. Besides like Rudy said, we gotta start looking to ourselves.”

  “Right now, all Rudy wants is some cream for his feet. Give me some of that stuff you sold Pal Yantos, yesterday.”

  Majors looked thoughtfully at the foot care section, sucked his lips and selected a small blue box. Triumphantly he passed the box to Goldsmith.

  “Try this. It’s as good as anything you’ll get from the pharmacy.”

  Goldsmith fished in his wallet for some money then noted the price on the box.

  “Hold up there, three dollars fifty? This was two dollars yesterday, I saw the box.”

  Majors shrugged his shoulders.

  “Yeah I know, call it ‘a change in economical status’ buddy,” he gave a mischievous smile and held out his open palm.

  ****

  For the second time that day Luke was doing all the work while Zach sat back in ‘the beast’ giving orders. But hadn’t it always been like that anyways? Since the old man had taken off and left them, Zach had done all the thinking and the sorting out. Hell, it was easier that way, too much thinking hurt the brain. Luke had tried doing things for himself, like the time he’d almost joined the army.

  Luke had waited until Zach was out, then he’d caught the Greyhound to the army place barracks and sat the test. The sergeant guy was real nice to him; he even said that Luke had some of the personal details kinda right, like his name and address, even his telephone number. But the guy had said he’d failed the test. They wanted someone with a better H.Q. or I.Q. – some kinda military thing. Anyways, it never come to nothing because after the White House and the Nimitz going down, they went and dropped the bomb and the war came to an end. Maybe it was best to leave Zach do the thinking after all.

  He made his way down the winding track towards the Woodridges’ farm; the full moon bathed the area like an
oversized flashlight. He could make out the house and outbuildings nestled between the woods and the hills. The farm stretched out for over two hundred acres and grew some of the best produce in the county.

  He was still a little way off, so Luke decided it was a good time to go over some of the things Zach had set him. He needed to find if there was anybody in the house before Zach could hotwire the four-by-four. It was unlikely that either Mike or Susan Woodridge would be impressed at finding one of the Clayton brothers on their property in the dead of night. After several uneventful minutes he decided the place was empty and climbed over the heavy metal gate.

  He made his way towards the four-by-four; as he drew near he noted the brand new plates. This had to be one of the best finds they’d ever made; the truck was worth at least thirty, maybe forty grand. After a paint job and new plates, it would be ready in a few hours. He could barely resist the temptation to touch the shiny blue babe. But Zach would tear him apart if he set the car alarm off.

  He was only a few yards from the house. As the full moon lit up the ground between the shelter of the vehicle and the house, his heart beat faster. He could feel the sweat under his arms begin to soak through his shirt. Woodridge owned a combat pump action shotgun, a monster that could drop a bear. And here he was on the guy’s land, about to steal his car. Damn Zach! Was this worth it? Yeah, sure it was, now get on with it. It wasn’t too late to turn back. Even now he could still do it. Oh yeah, great plan. Forwards and backwards: that would sure confuse them. Idiot!

  He was inches away from the back door; his heart was pounding so fast, he hardly registered the buzz of flies from the open top window. What was that stink? Quit whining, just knock on the damn door and get outa here. He knocked on the dark timber door and called out uneasily, his voice little more than a whisper. Then before he could stop himself, his hand was on the door handle. He pushed the door and it swung open. That’s not in the plan, dummy. Don’t go in!

  He called again, pushing the door open wider. Something was blocking the door, so he pushed harder; to his surprise an arm flopped down from behind the door. Moonlight flooded into the room through the large window. A body was lying a few feet away in the space between the kitchen worktops and table. Luke’s limbs went cold and he began to shake.

  Without warning the door wrenched backwards and Mike Woodridge filled the doorway. Only it wasn’t Mike Woodridge anymore. The lower section of his jaw had been torn away, exposing his gums and teeth and three fingers from the left hand were missing. Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of his appearance was the large kitchen knife sticking out of his chest.

  His senses reeling, Luke stumbled backward and fell to the ground, striking his head hard. He shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears, but when he tried to get up; his legs went from under him. Woodridge let out a godless howl and lurched towards him. Luke scuttled backwards, like a frantic four-legged crab. He out-paced Woodridge and managed to get to his feet, trying to find his balance. Turning to check on his pursuer he staggered into the four-by-four and set the high-pitched alarm off. The combination of flashing lights and electronic screech was surely enough to wake the dead, he thought.

  At last he found the gate but he was too dazed to clamber over, so he desperately struggled to open the bolt. Just as he succeeded he felt grasping fingers clutch at his collar. He tore himself free and frantically made off through the gate.

  There it was: ‘The Beast’. Although his head still hurt he felt a lot better and managed to race the last few yards. He flung the front passenger door open and jumped in.

  “What the hell have you been up to you…?”

  Luke slammed the door shut.

  “They all dead!”

  “What?”

  “They all dead.”

  “Who you talking about, who’s dead?”

  “The whole family. All gone.”

  “Dead? God! What you done Luke?”

  Zach grabbed his brother’s shoulders and shook him violently. Luke pushed Zach away. “Nothing, I never done nothing! It was Mike Woodridge that must’ve done it.”

  Zach rubbed his fingers roughly over the side of his head then looked at his brother. “Luke, I want you to tell me what happened.”

  “I got to the farm and the door was open, I looked inside and saw the bodies. I reckon it was Susan and Mike Junior. Then Mike Woodridge come at me and...”

  Luke buried his face in his hands and started to whimper.

  “And what?”

  “Zach, he was all torn up, I mean he got a carving knife stuck in him, dude!”

  “Where’d he go?”

  “He chased me but I lost him.”

  Luke caught Zach’s arm, “We gotta tell the cops about this. Come on!”

  “Now I know you’re crazy.”

  “We gotta tell about this, they...”

  “How’d you reckon that’s gonna go little brother? Excuse me there, Mr Sheriff Sir, but we done found some dead bodies. Say what there, boys. Well looky here, the Clayton boys found some dead folks. Our damn feet wouldn’t touch the ground. We only gotta fart too loudly and Eastman’s looking for a jail key. We say squat.”

  “It ain’t right, them people just lying there like that. It ain’t right!”

  “I know but...”

  Mike Woodridge’s snarling face slammed up against the driver’s side window. Zach recoiled in horror at the grotesque face inches away from him. He started the engine just as the fiend opened the door. Zach sped forward with the unwanted hitchhiker still clinging on, until it lost its grip and bounced off into the trees.

  Chapter - Sixteen

  “Tony, he’s burning up. We gotta take him to the hospital.”

  “Look I know. We’ve been through all that. It just isn’t safe.”

  “Is that all you gonna say?”

  Bridget banged her hand on the counter and rounded on him. “For all we know, that boy’s dying up there!”

  “Think that ain’t crossed my mind? Of course I’d like to take him for treatment but...”

  “You think he’s got it. That’s it?”

  He looked at his wife, long and hard. “Sure he’s got all the symptoms; what if it’s just the flu? What if this is some kinda cover up? What if they just write him off?”

  “What if we’ve written him off?”

  He walked up to the French windows and looked out at the early morning sunshine, the grass still damp with dew, and then he turned to face Bridget.

  “Lenski said this thing could be... may be curable if she caught it early enough. If we got hold of some kinda medicine we could treat him ourselves.”

  “Where we gonna get something like that from and how the hell would we know how to use it?”

  “Peter can help us. I’ll ask him.”

  “He ain’t no doctor.” She rolled her eyes and tutted loudly. “How’s he to know?”

  “He’s got contacts. That’s how.”

  “Eastman made him take all that Wal-Mart stuff back and even if he still had some medicine we’d need someone who knew what to use.”

  “He got someone.”

  “Oh bull. We need a doctor or a nurse, your brother don’t know them kinda people.”

  “Yeah, he does.”

  He stared at her, his eyes serious and troubled, “and he can get whatever we need.”

  “How come? I don’t believe you. Who’d be dumb enough to get mixed up with him?”

  “He’s got someone on the inside at the hospital and that’s all you need to know.”

  “Don’t give me that ‘hush hush’ crap; you’re talking about my son. I damn well need to know! And you sure as hell are gonna tell me.”

  “I said no.” He paced over to the breakfast bar.

  “You expect me to go along with this, then spill or I damn will.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Right now, you’ve given me nothing ‘cept this crackpot trash. Make some sense!”

  “Okay, okay damn it!
It’s Judy Garcia, she owes him.”

  “No way! She ain’t gonna get involved with him.”

  “Her brother’s been working for us for months; the problem is he ain’t got a green card. Peter found out, so every now and again she gets the key to the drugs cabinet and hey what do you know, things go missing.”

  “I never knew she had a brother.”

  “Well you ain’t supposed to. Who the hell do you think’s been building that stone wall for us, eh?”

  “So you reckon they’d help us?”

  “He’s gotta help and she can’t say no, in fact she’ll tell us what to use and how to use it. I’ll go right now and find him.”

  “Tony, how long can we keep this up? I mean, somebody’s gonna find out.”

  “Look there’s no search today because of that bad weather Merka says is coming in.

  Conrad will be up and about in a few days. We’ll just say he’s come back, all done in.”

  She reached out and caught his hand. “Tony, do this right.”

  “I’ll fix it. Don’t worry, it’ll be all right.” He kissed her and left the house.

  ****

  Frank and his boys had resumed their search, only now the wind had picked up. He watched the tips of the tall pines bending. Looked as if Merka had been right after all; still, they had to get on with the job.

  Shortly after first light, Iris had made them a good breakfast and a packed lunch to get on with. Jedrey Bodien had called up to the farm and said the search was off on account of the bad weather; it was too dangerous for Eastman to risk anybody in the hills, except for volunteers. So far only Bodien had turned up. Frank and Kurt were searching one side of the riverbank; Bodien and Larry were searching along the other side.

  Frank yawned and stretched, he’d spent a restless night. He just couldn’t get Eastman’s remarks out of his head. He’d already pushed the notion of his wife being a monster from his mind. But that little seed had stuck with him and grown into gut-gnawing uncertainty, aided by what the man in the jail had said to Kurt up at Hinckle Point.

  “Hey Pa, what’s with all this wind up around here?”