“So what now?” R.T. asked from nearby.
“For tonight?” Bulldog said. “Just relax, and get some sleep. I go out on supply runs during the day, so you guys can come along if you like.”
“We’re in,” Jake said quickly.
From above the stack of DVDs he was examining, Jon looked up with a grin.
“Speak for yourself there, cowboy,” he said, which brought only a dirty look from Jake.
“The valiant charge of our noble warriors,” Brock added, and took a chair.
“Yeah, something like that,” Jake said.
Ash had slid onto one of the chairs, and she heaved a huge sigh of relief as she did so, then took out the phone which had been Dana’s to turn it on. The phone was starting up when Ash felt a presence, and heard steps, looking up to see the approach of Mark. She nodded at him as he came close, but then she felt her guard go up when his expression changed to one that told her he was about to become “smooth”.
“So what’s your story?” he asked.
“My story?” she asked right back, one of her eyebrows raising.
“Yeah,” he uttered, locking his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans. “A girl as beautiful as you? No way you’re in the army.”
“Hmm…” she said, noted that there had been no missed phone call, and so she turned the phone back off. “Yeah, well… I like men? So, you’re out of luck.”
He was not to be deterred, and so he smiled and had a quiet laugh, shaking his head slowly. It was then that he looked up as he heard the sound of boots, and he spied Mick as he stopped at the gun rack, placed his rifle and the UZI in it, and then turned to Ash. He noted the posture of Mark, and smirked knowingly, locking eyes with Ash for a moment.
“How’s it going?” he asked Mark. “I’m Mick. I didn’t get your name.”
There was almost a warning in his tone, and Mark gave a nod.
“I’m Mark, good to meet ya,” he said. He looked at Ash. “Check you later.”
As he walked off, she shook her head, and then looked up at Mick.
“You have the most amazing timing,” she said, which brought a smile to his face.
Jon let out a laugh, and held up a DVD case.
“Naked Zombie Bloodbath 2,” he said. “How about this one tonight?”
“Training film?” Mick asked.
“Yeah,” Jon answered. “Doubtful. Worse? There was a part one.”
Everyone seemed amused by the notion of it, but Bulldog had looked up after draining the last of his gin, and he noted a slice on the back of R.T.’s arm. Blood was dried along the back of his arm, and after studying it to make sure it was not a bite mark, he straightened on his chair as Jake was noting a marked up map taped to one wall.
“So are these marks on here,” Jake gestured toward the map. “Places you’ve cleaned out of those bastards?”
“Hardly,” Bulldog said, leaning back on his chair and downing even more of the gin. “I keep track of where I’ve looked for supplies, so I don’t wind up somewhere twice.”
“Probably a good idea,” Jake said. “Anything left out there?”
“A bit,” Bulldog acknowledged, and filled the cup with gin again. “Got a pretty good stash of booze and food, lots of odds and ends, but it can still get pretty boring in here.”
“Boring is better than dangerous,” Jake informed him, which made Bulldog raise an eyebrow before he looked across the room.
“Hey boy,” Bulldog called to get R.T.’s attention. “Your arm’s bleeding.”
R.T. turned the arm, and examined the wound, but only shrugged.
“No big deal,” he said.
“Looks kind of bad,” Brock observed.
“You got any first aid supplies?” Jake asked.
“I can do ya one better,” Bulldog said. “We got a lab with its own doctor.”
“More like a mad scientist,” Mark noted.
“Just… take these guys back to the lab to meet the doc,” Bulldog said, his attitude toward Mark fairly apparent. Mark nodded.
“Come on, everybody,” he said. “Time to go to crazy town.”
“Not me,” Brock said. “I think I’ll check the kitchen.”
Ash remained where she was as well, but watched as Mark led R.T. and the three pilots from the main room, into another corridor. She ran her fingers through her hair, and then looked over at Bulldog, who was pouring himself some more gin. She cleared her throat, and he looked up.
“Mr. Bulldog, is it?” she asked.
“Mister Bulldog,” he said. “Ain’t heard that one before.”
She smiled.
“Did you say something about a shower?” she asked.
“Go where they just went, and the bathrooms and showers are about halfway down, and you can’t miss ‘em,” Bulldog said. “Plenty of towels stacked in there already, and same goes for soap, shampoo- all that shit.”
She gave a nod, and got up from the chair, then headed to the doorway the others had passed through.
“You need someone to scrub your back?” Bulldog asked, and took another gulp of the gin. She looked back and gave a nervous smile.
“No, I got it,” she said. He gave a nod.
“The door locks,” he said. “That ought to keep Mark out.”
After a moment, she nodded, and her smile was less nervous.
“Thanks.”
She then departed the room.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN- THE LONG FIRST NIGHT
It was quiet and dark in the room that had been set up as a makeshift lab. There were numerous shelves and those were stacked with books, binders, papers, and various bits of lab and medical equipment; a supply run had obviously found its way to a pharmacy and a medical clinic. There were florescent lights on the ceiling, which were not on, but there were also various lamps about the place, and as the group entered, led by Mark, no one in the room was visible. Mark scanned the room, and then became more annoyed than worried at the lack of the mad doctor’s presence.
“Doc?” he called into the darkness. “Hey, doc!”
There was nothing in the darkness, but at once, the face of an older man, his features a bit sunken, and his eyes covered by dirty glasses, appeared over the shoulder of Mark. There was a slight scowl on his face as he appeared, which caused a flinch in the military men and R.T., but Mark shrunk from the approach of the man, and had quickly backed to where the others were.
“What do you want?” the older man demanded, stepping forward so that the others could see that he was indeed wearing a long, white, lab coat with various shades of bloodstains on it.
“Sorry, but I’m afraid we’re going to need you to act like a doctor that actually cares about people for a minute,” Mark sneered, which stiffened the face of the doctor.
“I’m busy!” he snapped.
“This guy’s hurt!” Mark countered, gesturing toward R.T.
Now, Doctor Norris Holcomb stopped, and his head craned around on his neck so that he took in the sight of the new arrivals. A smile appeared on his face, and he took a step toward them, peering at the one that Mark had indicated. Jon and Mick exchanged a glance, while Jake regarded the doctor, thinking to himself that it was quite the cast of characters within the place. Holcomb lowered his spectacles to the end of his nose.
“I was not aware we had new visitors,” he said, trying to see R.T.’s wound, whatever it was. “Are you… bitten?”
“Nah, just a scratch,” R.T. said, turning his arm to the doctor to reveal the bloody wound. Holcomb’s face wrinkled, and he started away from them.
“Then what do you need me for?” he grumbled. “Can’t you find a band aid, or even an old shirt?”
“Damn, doc!” Mark blurted. “If you’d look at the damn thing, you’d see it needs stitched up.”
Holcomb paused, still faced away from them, and sighed. Finally, he turned back to face them, and just stared for a moment. After the others were suitably uncomfortable, they watched as Holcomb reached above his head. There w
as a click, and a moment later, a bright light came on above the doctor, which Jake felt made him look even more creepy. Holcomb drug a chair under the light and motioned to it, looking at R.T.
“Come on over here, and I’ll get it stitched up,” he said. R.T. looked at the others, and then headed for the chair while Holcomb began to search for the items he needed to do the work. Mark looked over the others.
“What did I tell ya?” Mark asked. “Pretty scary in here.”
“Guess so,” Jake said, just before there was a scraping sound, and they all turned to see the entrance of another man.
He was pale, and looked like he was ill as he came closer, and there was another person behind him. She was young and beautiful, with long auburn hair that was braided, hanging down her back. His t-shirt looked somewhat soaked as he came ever nearer, and she helped guide him across the dimly lit room. They halted at once when they saw the new men, and Mark, noting her incredibly short shorts and mostly cut off checkered shirt she still wore, gave her a smile.
“I thought I heard some new voices,” the man said, shivering.
“Sorry,” Mark offered. “Thought you’d be sleeping.”
Holcomb, who was almost always annoyed, looked up from the stitching at the others. R.T. winced, and Holcomb turned his attention back to stitching the now-cleaned wound.
“What, and miss all the excitement?” the pale man uttered with a smile.
“For the rest of the night, we’ll try to keep the excitement on low,” Jake said, and extended a hand. “Jake Scott.”
The man extended his own right hand, and Jake reached out for it, but everyone noted- there was a bandage on the man’s upper right arm with a bit of blood soaked through it. Jake looked from the wound to the man’s eyes, while Holcomb had finished a third stitch on R.T. The man looked back at Jake apologetically, and lowered his hand.
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s a bite.”
There was a pause for a moment, until the man’s frail face lit up with a smile.
“Dawn and I got hitched about four days ago,” he said. “I think it was four days ago. Anyhow, we couldn’t find the best man, and there he come, in the middle of the ceremony, wandered right up the aisle, and took a chunk right out of my arm.”
“Sorry,” Jake offered.
“Don’t be,” the man said. “You didn’t do it. We didn’t even know he was one of ‘em until he had me by the arm. Son of a bitch never was much good.”
“Still,” Jon said. “I mean…”
“Yeah, I know,” the man said, rubbing a hand over his short dark hair. “Anyhow, I’m Ray, and this here’s my Dawn- my wife.”
He seemed exceptionally proud, but she looked around the others, and she seemed not only nervous to Jake, but sad.
“Ma’am,” he said to her, giving a nod.
“Well, this is all wonderful,” Holcomb said, turning away from the stitching again. “But do you suppose you could retire to the ballroom to continue?”
“Jeez, doc, you don’t have to be an asshole,” Mark grumbled.
“As you frequently remind me, I am,” he said. “Ray? Did you need something?”
“Oh yeah,” Ray said. “Could use something more for the pain.”
“Very well, have a seat, and once I sew up one of our new roommates, I’ll get something for you,” Holcomb said. Mark rolled his eyes, and led the others from the room, past Ray and Dawn, who were walking over toward a cot near Holcomb as he put in another stitch.
“Where’d you guys come from?” Ray asked R.T.
“Just out there running around,” R.T. answered. “You about done, doc?”
Holcomb had put in one more stitch, and finished off his work.
“There you go,” he said. “Try not to do anything heroic and tear them open.”
“Gonna get something to eat, then drink myself to sleep,” R.T. reported, getting off the chair. He regarded Ray and Dawn. “Nice to meet ya, I’m R.T.”
They acknowledged him, and then he wandered off and Holcomb turned to Ray with a smile. A somewhat sinister smile.
“Now, tell me what’s going on,” he said.
Ash had finished her shower, so very glad to have the feel of hot water on her, and to be able to get clean for the first time since before her last shift at the Fox Tail. Had it really been that long? She looked at herself in the mirror above the sinks, and gave herself a disgusted look at the sight of her wet, limp hair, tired face, and naked body. Still, she was clean, and that was a nice feeling. She wrapped herself up in some towels, and regarded her dirty clothes on the floor.
Never had she been so glad to have looked around the place’s restroom to find that in the days they had been there, a pile of either stored or stolen clothing had been stacked. No doubt, the other occupants of the place were glad to have been able to change out of clothes they may have been on the run while wearing. Not being picky, Ash quickly found that there were some sweat pants and a t-shirt that fit her, and she figured she could wash her own stuff later.
After gathering up her own clothing, and making sure she had thrown the towels where everyone else apparently was throwing towels, she unlocked the door, and stepped out into the corridor. No one else was visible, and so she went to the one place where she knew, the room where she had left Bulldog drinking gin. He was there, and talking to the others that had returned from the lab, and she wondered if she should go and just sit down.
Still, Bulldog had said there were numerous other rooms where people could sleep, and so she decided to let the men stay and talk, and she would get some sleep. Along the way, she encountered the man Brock, who had gone to look at the kitchen. He smiled pleasantly at the sight of her, and gave a slight bow.
“Well, looks like you wasted no time in getting clean,” he said.
“I… uhh, yeah,” she said.
“Well, if you’re interested, I just put together a little something to eat from some food they had in the refrigerator,” Brock told her. “Should be pretty tasty.”
“I’m not real hungry,” she admitted. “I think I just need some sleep.”
“Down that way,” he said, nodding his head backward. “You pick whatever room you want, and I’ll make sure the others don’t disturb you.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“It’s no problem at all,” he assured her, and walked on toward the main room where the others could be heard talking.
“I know you don’t like the others,” she said after him, which halted him, and he turned around. “But you know… they’re good guys.”
“Got to make my own peace with that, honey,” he said, and then left her. A moment later, she wandered away to find a room to sleep in, and he ducked into the main room to announce that he had made a sort of hash from some meat, potatoes, cheese, and other things that Bulldog had gathered in his supply runs.
She found a room that had a large, comfortable couch in it, and she regarded it for a moment, remembering that she’d slept in worse places, and on worse couches. She took out the phone as she flopped down onto the couch, setting her dirty clothing down on the floor in front of the couch. She turned on the phone, frustrated to see that there hadn’t been a call, and she laid on her side, finding herself praying that Dana was still alive, and safe.
The others had enjoyed Brock’s dinner thoroughly, and were sitting around the main room after they had eaten. They were in a bit better spirits as they spoke about the next day’s supply run, and what would become of them. All were glad to have been in such a secure facility, but eventually, the conversation turned to the obvious.
“Gotta say, though,” Jon had chimed in. “As nice as it is to keep those things out with a giant door, I don’t much like the idea of having one inside with us.”
“We have one in here?” Brock asked.
“Not just yet,” Bulldog said. “But poor Ray, he’s bit, and that don’t ever end good.”
“That doesn’t make him one of them,” Brock countered. “But that’s
pretty damn typical. You cowboys just can’t wait until you can get some bullets in something.”
“What?” Jake asked as his eyes narrowed on Brock.
“Oh, come on now, this has to be a pretty fantastic situation for you all,” Brock chided. “You can run all over and shoot people, and there ain’t a damn thing anyone can say. Pretty convenient.”
Jake smirked, and it was bitter.
“Convenient,” he said. “Yeah, it’s totally convenient to be running around out there, out of food and water, wondering if around the next corner there’s going to be an army of those people waiting to make you into dinner.”
“So you don’t regard them as people?” Brock asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Found my grandma at home when I stopped in Louisiana, boy,” Bulldog said. “Whatever she used to be, and damn it all, she was almost everything to me, she wasn’t no person anymore, so you must be joking.”
“I don’t joke much these days,” Brock snarled across a table at them. “Not since I watched my wife’s arms torn off, and had to listen to those screams before I got drug away.”
“That’s beyond horrible,” Jake said, “but we’ve all got horror stories, and I’m already sick of your fucking shit. You want to be mad at the world? You want to hate soldiers because you have some warped fucking belief that we’re all just a bunch of killers? That’s on you, pal.”
“Your kind left us in this mess,” Brock said, while R.T. had merely sat in a nearby chair, listening to the exchange, but realizing he was out-brained from every angle. Mark watched it with fascination, feeling his own disdain for the soldiers, but wondering what level Brock was willing to take the fight to.
“We made this mess?” Jon asked in amazement.
“For someone without a sense of humor, you’re funny as fuck, Brock,” Jake added. “But since you brought it up, I’ll fill you in on a few details. We go where we’re told to go, and we do what has to be done, and this ‘mess’, as you call it, is because of some giant fucking space rock that as it turns out, got blown up by a bunch of fucking terrorists.”
Escape from the Dead Page 14