Time of Death 01: Induction

by Shana Festa

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  Chapter 13

  Apocalyptic Picnic

  I called a meeting of the minds. Lieutenant Dan, Jake, and a group of soldiers gathered around Adam and me under the shade of one of the little trees in the lot. I never quite understood the appeal of planting trees in the middle of parking lots. They seemed out of place. A card table was erected under the tree, on it was a map of the city and a short wave radio set up to communicate with the soldiers when they were outside the wall.

  "All I’m saying is that we need to either put someone in charge of manning the pharmacy at all times, or we need to lock it up better. Once word gets out—and trust me, word will get out—we can’t have it plant the seed that it’s an option. We don’t know everyone well enough to know how they cope with fear and stress."

  Jake moved closer and took my hand as I relayed the events of Sandra's demise.

  "I agree, but I can’t dedicate an able body to guard the candy store. I need all hands on deck to keep out the riff-raff. Puri, take Samson and see what you can do to secure the pharmacy." The two soldiers broke from the group at the lieutenant’s command. "We have bigger fish to fry at the moment. This store has a lot in the way of sustaining life, but it’s lacking one major component. Fuel. We rely on those generators to power the perimeter lights. Without that light we’re sitting ducks with no way to see what threats are incoming before they’re on us."

  Lieutenant Dan pointed to a spot on the map. In between the "You are here" circle drawn in red marker and the spot he pointed to, various red X’s marked the places the search and rescue teams had already been through.

  "There’s a fuel truck abandoned here on College Parkway. Delta team radioed it in yesterday from their run. Now, I don’t know how badly infested the area is, or if there’s even any fuel in it, but it seems like our best option. Tomorrow, Echo team will venture to this location. Half will go east to continue looking for survivors and half will clear to the truck and recon the area. If salvageable, those men will return with that much needed fuel. If not, then we’ll need to start thinking about how to secure the compound without the generators. We’ve cleared the path up to about a klick away from the truck."

  I knew we relied on the generators to maintain the barricade. Without the lights, we were vulnerable, and the parking lot would be lost. While the store was secure, losing the lot meant losing the ability to leave, trapping us in behind the walls of our home until someone came for us or we ran out of food.

  The sound of rifles cracking had become the staple of sound for the inhabitants of the Target. It used to be that the gunshots caused anxiety and fear. Now any long pauses between bursts had that effect. The cache of ammo boxes that lined the wall, just inside the main doors, were starting to dwindle. Running out seemed inevitable.

  The group discussed backup locations should the compound become unsafe. It was decided that we would head for the Lighthouse four miles from our current location. If the lighthouse was a no-go, we would navigate our way to Cape Harbour in hopes of commandeering our own fleet of houseboats. According to the lieutenant, both options had their pros and cons.

  The lighthouse provided us a bird’s eye view of the surrounding area, but should the fence come down, it would limit our ability to move freely and make continued trips out. The houseboat would provide safety from all directions once we undocked. However, it took us away from land and any damage to the boats would leave us stranded.

  It was only our seventh day at the compound. I estimated we had eliminated more than a thousand undead that had threatened to breech the barricade. A thousand down, only one hundred, forty-nine thousand to go, I thought.

  There had been much speculation about the zombies’ origin and capabilities, but the truth was no one had any concrete answers. It became clear early on that the infection did something to heighten their senses. Often times we could see them sniffing the air and then start walking in our direction as if our scent gave us away. The slightest noise had them on the alert, and they always knew which way the food was.

  Heading back into the store to start making lunch, I noticed Jake and Lieutenant Dan huddled over the map in what looked like a heated exchange. I gave Jake a questioning glance when he looked up, but he waved me away and waved his hand to convey nothing was wrong. Not really satisfied with the hand gesture, I considered replying with one of my own. But if I was being honest, it had already been a craptastic day and I didn’t really want to add to it.

  The store’s increasing stench of unwashed bodies and outhouse hit me as I walked through the doors. Poor ventilation and lack of proper bathroom facilities were violating my senses and calling forth my gag reflex. An outdoor shower had been constructed by the edge of the seawall. Hoses were rigged to a showerhead and a man-made pump system allowed the residents to take a ghetto sea-water shower. While the water from the canal was endless, the manpower to use the pump was in short supply. A schedule had been created to allow each member of the compound one shower a week, and soldiers twice that number to wash off the stains of battle.

  The toilet situation, on the other hand, proved more difficult. The first few days found us shortsighted and the toilets became a cesspool. The toilets would flush on gravity alone, so every morning we would drag sea water in five gallon buckets up to the bathrooms. The saying, "If it’s yellow, let it mellow. If it’s brown, flush it down," soon became our motto. Each nonmilitary person, save for the children, was assigned to bathroom duty. In theory, the sea water was great.

  What we failed to realize was the mess it would make as we filled the toilets with water to force flush. This chore quickly became the most hated. It was pretty much guaranteed to leave the unlucky cleaner with feces and urine splashed up their legs and all over the floor. Within a day the bathroom had begun to smell so bad that most male residents took to urinating off the seawall. I even caught one of the kids taking a dump on the back lawn at one point.

  The Florida heat did nothing to aid the foul odors. One of the battery-powered thermometers showed the temperature inside the store at eighty-seven degrees. With no windows to open for a cross-breeze, the sun baked down on the building. I had pulled bathroom duty that morning. Talk about adding insult to injury? I had just finished cleaning the mess left by Sandra. Luckily, it would also be my turn for the shower that afternoon. So at least I could clean whatever foulness and germs had hitched a ride on me.

  We didn’t need to worry about food; the shelves were stocked. We had no access to fresh foods or protein, however, so we gained little sustaining energy and nutrients from our meals. Potable water would become our biggest issue should we need to hide in the store for an extended length of time. We counted enough bottled and jugged water to last us two months. Ten cases had been stored in the helicopter along with boxes of canned food. The medical equipment had been removed to make room for this food. Should something happen, the aircraft could carry ten souls to safety. Our number of residents was currently seventy-six. Twelve new refugees had joined us, but in the process, we had lost fifteen soldiers in the field. This loss impacted our safety and there had been rumblings from the men that the risk outweighed the benefit. I felt for the loss of those men, but surely the benefit was in the twelve rescued souls.

  I passed Finn and Noelle in the newborn section of the store as I made my way to the showers. Finn was holding tiny outfits in the air for Noelle’s approval, and they both wore huge smiles. They were making the best of our circumstances, and focusing on the baby allowed them the means to block out all the bad stuff. I smiled and gave them a little finger wave as I went by, pointing to the onesie I liked best. The one-piece read "My mom’s hotter than your mom," and featured a goofy dog from a popular comic strip. Finn looked victorious; it must have been his choice as well.

  Jake was waiting for me when I got out of the shower. He wore a coy grin and told me to follow him up to the roof for a surprise. Daphne was right on our heels. She barely left my side anymore, choosing to stand insi
de the shower area and get rained on so she didn’t lose sight of me.

  Once on the roof, I saw that candles surrounded a picnic area, transforming the utilitarian setting into a calming retreat with their soft glow. An air mattress covered with a plush comforter and big square pillows sprawled beside a wicker basket, and champagne flutes filled with something bubbly lay on top.

  Jake handed me a glass and we walked over to the short roof wall and looked out on the town. The bubbles tickled my nose as I took a sip of the five-dollar gourmet champagne a la Target. I was overwhelmed by the romantic gesture, and we stood there with my head on his shoulder and his arms around me.

  The sky had started turning the pinks and purples of dusk. Fires burned in the distance and black smoke billowed up to the sky. Far off noises captivated me. "That sounds like gunfire. Is it possible that we aren’t alone? Could there be more people struggling to survive out there?"

  "I don’t know, Em. It sounds like there’s more of us out there. They could be doing better than us, or could need our help." He cupped my face. I expected him to lean in and kiss me, but instead he just stared into my eyes. "And that’s why I need to go out with the men tomorrow. I need to see for myself. I can’t sit idle behind these walls anymore. I’m going stir crazy."

  The glass slipped from my hand and shattered on the rooftop. "No. Absolutely not. I forbid it. Jake Rossi, you will not leave me here alone to go off on some fool’s errand that will get you killed." The proverbial walls were closing in on me, and I was overcome with raw fear. The tears that I had held at bay for days filled my eyes, and I grabbed him by the shirt. "Don’t go. I don’t have it in me to keep going if you don’t come back." I flung my arms around him and held him with everything I had. I sobbed in his arms, repeating, "No," over and over until my throat was hoarse.

  He just held me close, not saying anything until I had cried myself out. "Baby, I love you so much. Way too much to ever let anything happen to me. I promise you, nothing will stop me from getting back to you."

  No amount of begging would change his mind. I know this because I resorted to begging as the sun went down. After awhile we just snuggled and discussed the ‘what-ifs’. What if we became separated, where would we meet? Where would we go?

  "Which one is Plan B again?" I asked, knowing full well it was the lighthouse.

  He rolled his eyes at my question. "Plan B is the lighthouse, Plan C is Cape Harbour. I got it, Em. It’s locked away in the vault," he said, tapping his forehead.

  There was nothing left but to accept his decision, as much as I hated it.

  We took full advantage of the rest of the evening. Peering up at the sky, Jake tried to point out the constellations. The next day’s events were tugging at the back of my mind, making it hard to concentrate. We made love under the stars, for what I prayed wouldn’t be our last time, and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

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  Chapter 14

  This is my Rifle

  The sound of an engine rumbling to life woke me the next morning. Daphne was sleeping in the crevice of my armpit and I opened my eyes to see her beady little eyes staring at me from where her head lay on my chest. I smiled as I took in her total cuteness, and she sprang to her feet as I stretched. Rolling over I found Jake’s side of the air mattress empty. For just a moment I thought maybe he had gotten up to take a trip to the canal and pee in the water. The facade was shattered when I heard the barricade gate screech along the pavement.

  Frantically, I looked around the roof for any sign that Jake was still here. Finding no sign of him, I ran to the edge of the wall and peered down to the leaving convoy. I screamed his name, desperate to find him tucked away safely behind the wall, but instead saw him perched atop the last of the exiting Humvees manning the 50-caliber machine gun. I turned to run down the stairs to stop him and tripped over Daphne. She let out a yelp of pain as I fell and landed on my chest, skinning my knees and knocking the wind out of myself in the process.

  Sure that my C cups were now inverted from the impact, I threw open the door and bounded down the stairs as I gasped to get my breath back. I didn’t care that I was probably giving the residents of the compound heart attacks as I tore through the building. I had tunnel vision and Jake was my only concern. I hit the front door as the last of the convoy made it through the gate and it swung shut behind them.

  Crossing the parking lot, my body slammed against the gate and I pulled on it like a caged monkey. I yelled for him again and again, pleading words spilling out of my mouth like diarrhea. Jake turned back to me, and I could just make out his words as he mouthed I love you before the vehicle turned off the street and out of my view.

  I was crazed with the panic of losing him. Adam grabbed me from behind and halted my efforts to open the gate and chase Jake as he went into battle. He held me from behind and offered comforting words that fell on deaf ears as I kicked to free myself and get to my husband.

  The residents of our quaint haven piled out the front door to see what all the racket was about. I plowed my way through them and ran back up to the roof, Adam right behind me, and Daphne barking, hot on our tails. The roof’s wall halted my momentum and I searched the streets for the trucks. The sound of gunshots to my left snapped my head in that direction and I could just make out the top of the transport truck as it moved slowly down a side street. My eyes stayed on the truck until it was gone from my line of site. Even then, I stared out to the empty streets before me in hopes I would catch sight of it again.

  I winced in pain as I dropped to my knees. Adam’s gaze followed mine as I took in the damage my fall had done. The scrapes on my legs were bleeding and Adam stopped me as I started to wipe the blood away with one of the pillows.

  "Stop, it will get infected. I’ll be right back."

  He returned with a package of gauze and a tube of antibiotic ointment. My fear began bubbling into anger as he treated my knees. I could feel my heart pounding and my cheeks getting hot as I thought of how Jake had slunk away without waking me. No doubt his motives were to eliminate the inevitable fight that would have ensued.

  By the time Adam was done treating my scrapes, all traces of Jake had faded away. I could no longer hear the sounds of the convoy’s battle as it made its way to the fuel truck across town. The fires raging in the distance from the night before were nothing but smoldering ash. The smoke sat in the sky like an impending storm. I was so mad at Jake for sneaking away, but a part of me understood his reasons. If I had my way, I would have tied him down and forced him to stay. I hated that he went, but understood and even admired his decision a little.

  "Teach me how to shoot," I blurted out to Adam. The words were out before I even realized I was saying them. They were as much a surprise to me as they were to him.

  "Are you sure that’s what you want?"

  I considered his question, knowing that his time spent with the soldiers since arriving to Target had included substantial weapons training. "I think so. I can’t sit around idle today doing chores while Jake’s out there risking his life. My adrenaline is pumping, so it’s as good a day as any."

  He unslung his rifle and began explaining all the components.

  I found the gun rather sexy. Sleek, black metal, it was a bad-ass weapon. Adam taught me how to use the scope to line up a shot, how to engage the magazine, where to grip, and finally the best way to hold it. With the stock of the gun set into my shoulder, I raised the rifle and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. I pulled again, nothing.

  "What am I doing wrong?"

  "While that may be a loaded question, you may notice that thing called a magazine missing. Guns don’t shoot on fairy dust alone. It helps to have bullets in them."

  "Ass."

  "Not the first time I’ve been called that."

  The levity was short lived as Jake’s face appeared in my head.

  "Patience, young grasshopper. Take your finger off the trigger and put it here." He placed my finger on the trigger guard. "Never keep
your finger on the trigger. The trigger guard is meant to prevent accidental discharge. The last thing you want to do is misfire. You can’t take those back."

  We moved down to the parking lot where Adam showed me the proper procedure for loading the magazine and loading a cartridge. I’d never win any gun trivia, or be able to fix a jam that they always show at the worst times in the movies, but I felt confident I could point and shoot. I made my way to the edge of the barricade and lined up a Bogey. It felt cooler to call them that instead of zombies. As I exhaled, I pulled the trigger. The muzzle shot up in the air and the bullets whizzed by two feet above its head. The laughing of the men behind me didn’t go unnoticed, and my cheeks burned from embarrassment. I yelled, "Do over" over my shoulder and scanned the area for the grossest zombie.

  I peered through the scope and lined up the cross-hairs on the perfect target. When I say perfect, I mean it. Just a few hundred yards from the barricade I found the walking corpse of Vinny’s ex-girlfriend Lena. Seriously, what are the odds? Her bloated and festering body had seen better days. She walked upright, but with a stiff step and drag motion. Her left foot was missing entirely and ended in torn shreds of flesh that dangled each time she lifted the limb for another step.

  Daphne sat next to me and let out a low growl at the approaching form. The humorous thing about a seven-pound dog is that they sound like a strangled cat when they growl. We exchanged an evil grin. Okay, so maybe my face had the evil grin and she was just looking back at me with dog-face. It sounds better if we both had the evil grin though.