She had nearly dozed off, and her eyes were half closed when it suddenly entered her mind that she could hear music- Fur Elise! She quickly and recklessly fumbled in her pocket until she found the phone, and saw the I.D. “Shit Head”, and so she pressed the button to answer it, her mind racing as she did so.
“Dad!?” she said into the phone.
“Hey, slut, how you been?” her father’s voice came, sounding a bit too pleasant. She brushed off the insult.
“Is everything okay? Is Dana all right?”
“She’s fine, and still got that smart fuckin’ mouth, but Harper’s Grove got a little hot, so we had to move,” Welles said to her. “We ain’t settled nowhere yet, so I’ll call when we get somewhere, and hope these phones are still working.”
“Let me talk to Dana,” Ash pressed, not realizing Mark had come up the stairs.
“Sorry, but you’ll get to talk to your sis when you catch up with us,” Welles said. “Can’t keep on the phones too long right now.”
“But dad…”
“I said no!” he roared at her. “You just keep that phone with ya. That asshole brother of your mom’s still with you?”
“No…” Ash said mournfully.
“Aww… he get himself killed, did he?” Welles taunted her. “Good, fuckin’ prick.”
“He…”
“I gotta cut this short,” Welles said. “I’ll call you when we get somewhere.”
“Dad, wait,” she said. “Dad!”
But it was no use, and she knew he’d hung up. She let her shoulders sag in the chair as her first inclination was to hurl the phone against a nearby wall. But she needed the phone, and besides her only link to her father, it was her only link to pictures of the past. A happier past. She used a shoulder to rub away a tear.
“Well, that sucks,” Mark said, drawing near.
She ignored him.
“But don’t you worry,” he offered, and his hands found their way to her shoulders. In an instant, she had risen, spinning to shove him back against a file cabinet with hard eyes, glittering with rage.
“Don’t you ever touch me!” she snarled at him, and hurried away. It left him with his back against the file cabinet, but he smiled. His eyes had followed her, and he gave a nod.
“She wants me.”
From the small hill, they looked down through binoculars, and noted that Adler, jammed with cars and trucks, was at least intact and unburnt. Bulldog put in a wad of chewing tobacco, and Brock accepted his offer of the stuff as well. Jake lowered his binoculars and looked over the line of the others before regarding the town from afar.
“Well, only four hundred people, but there’s a lot of cars down there,” Jake observed.
“Can’t back out of every place, though,” Bulldog said, and Jake gave a nod.
“Wouldn’t be worthwhile if it was easy, huh?” Jake said, and grinned.
“Screw that,” Jon added. “Let’s hope it’s easy.”
“All right, down the hill,” Jake ordered. “Brock? If you would keep the engine running…”
“I’ll wait right here, and keep ready to go,” Brock promised, which got a nod from Jake.
The group started down the hill in silence, all of them checking and re-checking weapons as they went, and watching everywhere for signs of movement. Nothing seemed to be moving except for signs or awnings that had broken loose, and trash that occasionally shifted from here to there on the breeze. Only the light sounds of their boots on the pavement could be heard, and Mick had started to look around for places that may have had useful supplies.
He nudged Jake, and indicated a hardware store among the standard, small town row of two-story brick buildings. Jake nodded, and motioned for Mick and Bulldog to head to that, as the rest of them scanned for other useful places. They all slowed, and then stopped when they reached the actual town at the bottom of the hill, and Jake did a once-over of Adler to make sure they hadn’t been detected.
“Okay,” he said, nearly a whisper. “You two check that hardware store out, while R.T., Jon and I look for anything else of use.”
“Like what?” Jon asked, equally quiet.
“Gas, food, guns,” Jake answered.
They began to split up, with Bulldog and Mick crossing the main street to head toward the hardware store. As they drew near it, and Mick looked across to note that the other three were heading toward “PORTMAN’S FAMILY GROCERS”, they heard a sound, and both of them turned toward their left, noting that all they’d heard was the wind causing a tattered banner announcing “Hawg Wild Dayz” to hit the side of a truck. They exchanged a glance, and Bulldog put on his sunglasses.
The inside of the hardware store was fairly barren, and both men knew at once they would be hard pressed to find anything of value left behind. Cash blew around the inside of the place, and Bulldog reflected on the worthlessness of it. Mick motioned for Bulldog to follow him, and they started back out of the store. There was a thumping toward the back of the place, but although they regarded it, they hurried from the inside.
It was a quiet roadside where the red Ford Explorer was stopped, but still running as Welles turned to the others, just after having hung up on Ash. There was a smile on his face as he was regarded from the passenger side of the hood by Tank, and from the driver’s window as Clyde leaned on the open door. Missy and Dana had remained in the vehicle while Welles made the call.
“All right, the filthy little slut’s still on the hook,” Welles reported. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“Just don’t you forget what you promised, Welles,” Clyde said.
“Christ, Clyde,” Welles snarled. “I think the whole world knows you want to bone my older daughter. You remind me about it every fifteen minutes.”
“Deal’s a deal, motherfucker,” Clyde growled back. “I help you nab the smart one, and I get to have the slutty one.”
“God damn, you’re a pig,” Missy said from inside the truck, which brought a middle finger from Clyde, and a laugh from Tank. They all headed to get back to the truck, and on the road. Welles went to the window where Dana sat, her arms folded across her chest.
“Don’t you worry, punkin,” Welles said. “You’re gonna be with your sister again real soon, as long as she keeps your phone with her.”
“Sounds like a real family reunion,” Dana said flatly, not looking at her father.
“Something like that,” Welles acknowledged.
“But with Mister Scary waiting for Ash,” Dana added.
“Clyde’s harmless,” Welles contended, which brought a roll of the eyes from Missy, and finally Dana’s eyes to Welles.
“Unless you’re female,” Dana countered.
“Well, we all had to make some deals with the devil in all this shit,” Welles said with a shrug, smiling at his daughter as if to indicate to her there was nothing she could do about any of it.
“Not me,” Dana said.
“No?” Welles asked.
“No way,” Dana said coldly. “If I’d made a deal with the devil? Mom would have had that gun.”
Now, Welles scowled.
“Sit back, and put your seat belt on, I’d hate for you to have an accident, sweetie,” Welles said, and headed back to the driver’s seat as Tank slid in next to a grinning Missy.
Back in Adler, the other three had emerged from the grocery store, and Jake shook his head, while Jon made a slashing motion across his throat. Mick gave a nod, and both pairs continued up the main street to look for any shops that may have had things of use inside. None of the group, as they continued on, noting that the town’s gun store had been thoroughly burnt from the inside, noticed a single, gray hand caked with dark stains rise up from inside one of the many cars.
It was then that Bulldog slung his rifle, and took his sunglasses off, which caused Mick to ready himself until he spied what Bulldog was doing. The brawny marine had hurried forward as the three across the street were checking out an electronics store. Mick could see that what
Bulldog had spied that had excited him was a long belt of ammo, laying on the ground. He joined Bulldog, keeping an eye out as Bulldog pulled on it. To Bulldog’s surprise, and joy, the ammo was far too heavy to pull, and so he followed it into the doorway of a beauty salon.
There, he broke into a toothy smile, ignoring the gory mess that had been some man in hunting camo, eaten to nearly nothing. What caused such joy was that near the mess that had been made in his death lay a weapon, and Bulldog knew it only too well as he drug it to his hands using the ammo belt. It was an M249 SAW, a light machine gun, and he hefted the thing and turned to Mick, who also smiled at the sight of it. Mick then nodded back to the ground, and Bulldog turned.
None of them was aware that the zombie in the car had crawled into the open, and its motions had stirred others, and still others, and that they were milling along the main street. Brock had not seen them, as he had gone to check some of the nearby vehicles, scoring bottles of water, clothing, lighters, a can of gas, and other items.
Bulldog and Mick had guessed correctly that the dead man, and likely some of his friends, had set up for a last stand, and left behind was not only the SAW which Bulldog was checking over, but three more canisters of ammunition for it. They had just gathered the cans of ammo when a sound drew their attention. Looking toward the back door of the salon, there were half a dozen of the ghoulish things, which began to groan and wail as they came into the back of the salon. Bulldog readied the SAW, but Mick pushed it down and shook his head.
They fell back from the salon to the street, but were disheartened to see that already, dozens of the things were closing in. The better news was that Jake, Jon, and R.T. were heading at them, and had obviously noted the approach of the things. Mick took up a position by a red car, and unleashed a hail of bullets as Jake approached, and noted the SAW.
“Nice,” he said. “But I’d say our secret’s out!”
“Time to get!” R.T. agreed, just as Jon leveled one of the closest of the zombies with his shotgun.
“Can’t wade through them,” Jake said. “We’ll have to circle around and get back to the truck.”
He fired off a burst at the ones in the salon, downing only two of them, but the group had begun to fall back, and R.T. called out to Mick. Turning back, Mick gave a nod and then continued back with the others. A horribly mutilated figure lurched from between two cars, but was slammed into by R.T.’s shoulder, which sent it backward against one of the cars. It tumbled to the ground, still snarling just as Mick stepped over it, firing a single shot that silenced it.
“We’ve got to get out of here!” Jon said.
“There!” Jake called to them. “Those woods, we’ll cut through there and back up the hill!”
Brock had heard the gunfire, and he took the G3 from the truck, staring with worry down at the town. Seeing some of the ghouls heading toward the town, and hearing the report of a pistol from between the rows of brick buildings, he tried to see if he could spot any of the living. Instead, he then saw that a few of the creatures were making their way up the hill at him. Working quickly, since there were only three, he decided to keep his position less known, and he set out for them with the tire iron.
The others had left the town’s business area, crashing quickly into and through a stand of woods near the edge of town. A ghoul had staggered into the midst of them, but was on the ground once Jon had kicked its legs out from under it. R.T. was quick to smash a boot down on the head of it, and they left it behind as more were giving chase. They had just gotten mostly clear of the things when they came to a ridge that fell away to a flowing creek.
“No time, gotta cross it,” Jake said, looking back to see the intrusion into the woods of many dark shapes.
They began to drop over the ridge, their boots sliding through the dirt and rocks until they had splashed into the water. They could see that the bank on the far side was flatter, and ran back into the woods, but splashing to their left caught their attention, and the group looked to see at least a dozen lurching figures, staggering through the knee deep water at them. R.T. brought up his rifle, but Jake pushed it down.
“No more shooting, let’s just get the fuck out of here,” Jake said.
R.T. had no sooner nodded to Jake, when Jon had looked back to the top of the ridge.
“Oh… shit.”
The zombies were atop the ridge, and began to tumble down toward the creek, and into the water. The men wasted no more time, and ran with all speed across the creek toward the other trees. The zombies continued to pour over the ridge, falling into the water as some were recovering, trying to stagger back to their feet. The men were gone before any could give their slow chase, but driven as they were, they followed anyway.
The group had ascended a hill, unmolested by their enemy, and all out of breath as they paused. Jake looked them over, and his eyes fell last on Jon, who wore a smile despite the danger and close calls.
“Population four hundred-some my white ass,” Jake growled.
“It’s not… that bad,” Bulldog panted, and hefted the gun. “We did get this.”
“Better get back to the truck,” Jake said with a nod. “Brock had to hear all that shooting. Let’s hope he hasn’t left.”
“He ain’t goin’ nowhere,” R.T. assured them.
They said no more, but set out at a jog to reach the top of the hill, and make their way through the thinning trees to the road. As they emerged, they saw no more of the zombies, until they scanned to find Brock had just killed one with the tire iron. R.T. looked in horror to see that another was closing in on Brock, who hadn’t seen it.
“BROCK!” R.T. shouted, which spun Brock about, and almost face to face with the ghoul, which opened its gnarled, blood-stained mouth. Its eyes widened as its hands grasped him, and it leaned toward him. But just as the thing that had been a man in a three piece suit was trying to get a bite of Brock, there was a roar, and the left side of its head splattered away. With a groan, it fell away from Brock, who stepped back from it, then looked over.
The smoke still poured from the barrel of Jake’s pistol, until it was lowered, and Brock stared at Jake. Hearing the sounds of more of the creatures approaching- slow, though they were- the group gathered up at the truck, and Brock gave a nod.
“I suppose I owe you for that,” he offered.
“Dinner’s on you,” Jake said flatly. “But for now, we need to get out of here.”
The group of them scrambled into the cab and bed of the truck as more of the zombies were emerging from the cars on the hill. The tires screeched as the truck was put in gear, and then did a wide turn to head back toward the place where they could remain safe, and regroup, and rest. The truck rumbled down the road with all speed, leaving behind the wailing sound of the zombies.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN- A GOOD NEWS, BAD NEWS, WORSE NEWS THING
The return of the truck had not gone unnoticed, and as the group of men walked back into the facility after making sure all outside was secured, they were greeted by Mark, who looked over the meager amount of supplies they were returning with. He had noted the large addition to the weapons, but still, looked disappointed as the others were brushing past him.
“You’re all back, so that’s a good thing,” he said.
Jake stopped.
“Do you do anything useful, kid?” he asked.
“Sometimes,” Mark answered.
“Great,” Jake said. “Maybe this could be one of those times, because it would be real useful if you went away. I’m not in the mood.”
Mark did not respond, but watched as Jake was the last one down the stairs. He then started after them, and down in the main room, he made sure Jake had gone off with Mick before tapping Bulldog on the back. The big Marine, stowing the SAW in the gun rack, turned back.
“Now you wanna pick on me?” Bulldog asked.
“Nah, just wondering if something bad happened out there,” Mark admitted. “That Jake guy seemed pissed at me, and I didn’t even do anything.”
“I don’t think he likes it that you won’t come with,” Bulldog said.
“I don’t know anything about guns or that kind of shit,” Mark said.
“And we came up pretty empty today,” Bulldog added. “Now you just-”
“I think you should all come with me,” Holcomb said, interrupting them as he approached. “I’ve found something, on the radio.”
Jon’s attention turned to Holcomb as well, and Brock exchanged a glance with R.T. The entire group of them headed off with Holcomb.
Mick and Jake were putting away what little had been found in one of the rooms, stacking things on shelves. Neither had spoken much since going into the room, but as Jake set the last of the things Brock had found onto a shelf, a turned around to look at Mick, and leaned back against the wall. Mick knew his brother’s moods, and gave a shake of his head.
“I know that look,” Mick said. “Something’s up.”
“Today was pretty useless,” Jake said. “What if every place we go is like that?”
“Then, I guess we’ll adapt,” Mick said. “We can grow and hunt for food, if that becomes necessary.”
“Yeah, but damn it,” Jake said. “You ever imagine it turning out like this? Life, I mean.”
“No.”
“And what do you think of our new crew?” Jake asked.
“Hard to not like Bulldog,” Mick said. “The big stupid one seems to like us, but Brock doesn’t think much of us, obviously.”
“He sure can cook, though,” Jake observed. “And that Dawn is sure easy on the eyes. The rest? I don’t know.”
“Ain’t hung around the doc or that Ray guy much, but Mark I can do without,” Mick added.
“Yeah, I mean, there’s guys who suck, but at least they try,” Jake observed. “But it’s another thing to suck because you’ve decided you’re going to suck.”
Almost on cue, Mark appeared in the doorway to the room, and he looked worried as he stopped, taking in the sight of the brothers. They had turned to look at him, and Jake’s eyes immediately regarded the obvious emotion on Mark’s face. Mick had stepped toward him, and Mark seemed out of breath.
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