“Eric,” he said to himself, “time to be a hero.”
He pulled as close to the building as possible and started running the walking corpses down. Each time he approached, they turned to walk toward him, making his job much easier. After three or four times around the lot, most of them were no longer walking. Eric ran the crawlers over several more times as the captives inside the building cheered. He positioned the car in front of a large glass window and rammed it, driving into the building all the way to the counter. He got out of the car and climbed over the counter, making his way to the kitchen. As he grabbed as many breasts and drumsticks as he could carry, a young man approached him.
“Man, we’ve been waiting for you guys all day! Where’s your backup?”
Grabbing a tub of macaroni and cheese, Eric turned to see several people looking at him, awaiting an answer.
“They’re right behind me. I’ve got starving people at the hospital that I have to get this food to, but help is on the way.”
A woman in the back came forward.
“How can anyone be starving already?”
Eric threw the tub into the cab of the car and got back in.
“And why did you break the window? There are still thousands of those things out there! What kind of cop are you?”
Eric said nothing as he slammed the door and locked it. People started to bang on the hood as he pulled back out of the store and into the parking lot. As he pulled away, he could see a mass of undead pouring out of the neighboring buildings, heading toward the restaurant.
“They would have gotten in anyway,” he told himself, while chomping on a drumstick, “eventually.”
He continued to drive toward the gun shop, quickly devouring the fried poultry. He had taken the bus there many times, mostly to impress anyone who would listen with his vast knowledge of firearms. He was able to fool a few unwary customers who had little experience with guns, but the experienced gun owner could usually see immediately that Eric had no clue what he was talking about. Even if his mother had allowed firearms in her home, Eric didn’t have the financial discipline to save up for a gun and his credit was shot, with more credit card debt than he could pay off in ten years. Of course, that might not matter anymore.
He saw the shop in the distance, but slowed when he saw the exit sign. Highway 127 exited about a quarter mile past the gun shop. He’d often dreamed of following it north, up toward Ithaca. It was a short drive in a vehicle, but a lifetime for an overweight man on a bicycle. Once, he had actually taken a bus to Ithaca, storing his bike on the rack, and had tried to peddle the several miles of dirt road from the bus stop to Cheri’s farm for a glimpse of her house. He couldn’t believe she had married a farmer but not even jealousy had been able to give Eric the motivation to keep going, and he had become exhausted and had turned back. He’d had to be satisfied with stalking her from the satellite photos he could bring up on his computer.
Now his fantasy was attainable. It was also possible that she was in trouble. Maybe this was his chance to redeem himself. He slowed as he approached the gun shop. It was obvious that he was not the first customer of the day, as the doors were open and debris was strewn about the front of the building, along with several corpses that had undoubtedly been used as target practice.
“Sorry, Jack,” he said aloud, as he sped up and took the entrance onto the highway.
~*~
“Eric, you copy?” The radio crackled with silence. “Eric, answer the radio.”
Eric had traveled only a few miles up 127 when he heard Jack’s voice crackle on the radio. He tried to ignore it at first, but Jack persisted.
“Yeah,” Eric replied with a little hesitation. “I’m here, Boss.”
“Where’s our ammo? We thought you’d be here by now.”
“Yeah, Boss, I just went by the shop and it’s been cleaned out. I’m heading out of town.”
“Eric,” Jack said like a parent chastising his kid, “we need that ammo. There’s more than one shop in town. Keep looking until you find some. This is extremely important.”
Eric was tired of Jack telling him what to do. This time he was on his own. No one could stop him. Not even Jack.
“No can do, Boss,” Eric said, defying his supervisor for the first time in his life. “Got some things I have to do.”
“Eric,” Jack said in the slow methodical voice that always intimidated Eric. “I don’t know how many rounds I have left, but if you don’t get us some ammo, I’m going to save one bullet, and I’m going to hunt you down and plant that bullet in your forehead. Then I’m going to drag your dead ass back and let everybody watch as the zombies tear every bit of flesh from your body.
Eric guessed he was bluffing, but if this thing did get resolved, Eric still needed a job, and he knew that Jack was one of the only people left in town that was willing to employ him.
“Losing your sense of humor, Boss?” Eric replied sheepishly. “I was just kidding.”
Eric cursed as he turned around at the next exit and headed back the way he had come. He hoped that he wouldn’t have to drive all over town to find what he needed.
Returning to the gun shop, Eric surveyed the scene. It was far enough from the city center that the walking dead were few. He parked in the lot next to the building for a few minutes to coax the zombies out of hiding. Three creatures approached the car, pressing their hungry faces against the window. When no more would be lured out, he proceeded to grind the three ghouls into the parking lot. Once they ceased to move, Eric exited the vehicle and slowly entered the shop, sword in hand. The place lay in ruins. The glass cabinets had been shattered and the guns stripped from the walls and display cases. Not a single rifle or pistol remained. Fortunately, the floor lay strewn with ammunition. He radioed Jack to make sure of the caliber needed and found more than he could carry.
As he hauled his second load to the parking lot, he heard a rumbling. A line of bikers filed into the parking lot. Eric froze as he watched the tattooed, bearded hoodlums dismount their bikes. The lead rider approached him and sized him up while Eric, still holding a box of .357 mag loads, started to shake.
“You a cop?” the biker demanded.
“No,” Eric insisted. “I ain’t no damn cop. I stole this.” He nodded in the direction of the car.
“You kill him?” the man asked, looking into Eric’s eyes.”
Eric wasn’t sure how to answer. He wanted to lie, but the way the man looked at him was like he was looking into his brain. “No,” he finally said.
“Good,” the biker responded. “My brother’s a cop.”
Eric felt a twinge of relief.
“I’m security for the hospital and we’re running out of ammo.”
“Security,” the biker scoffed, “now that I can believe. Boys, load up,” the biker ordered pointing to the gun shop. “Then we’re going to escort this rent-a-cop to the hospital.”
He turned to Eric and smiled, exposing a couple of missing teeth.
“There are a lot of these undead goons out there. You’re going to need help.”
Eric didn’t know the man’s intentions, but he was in no position to argue. A few minutes later they were on their way.
~*~
“Is he always this grumpy?” Autumn asked Keith.
“When Eric is involved, everybody is grumpy,” Keith explained to the girl. “Just wait ‘til you meet the guy and you’ll see what I mean.”
Keith was beginning to wonder if he should make the run to the gun store himself, but that would mean leaving his patients at the mercy of Marla, who had gotten through nursing school by sleeping with the right people. He vividly remembered her first day of work. She had held up a catheter and had asked what it was. It had gone downhill since then. As much as he hated to leave her in charge of the third floor patients, if Eric didn’t show up soon, Keith decided he’d have to do something.
Lindsey and Keith started down the hall as he explained what they would be doing. There were severa
l IVs to change and a few other things that he didn’t trust Marla to do.
While the others delivered the meds, Jack studied an emergency evacuation plan of the hospital that he had found in the nurses’ station. They needed a route to the cafeteria that would give them the most options for escape, in case they became overwhelmed by a large number of the undead.
~*~
About a half an hour after they’d left, Autumn returned, alone.
“Jack, where’s Keith?”
“He’s distributing meds down the south corridor,” Jack said without looking up.
“I take it Marla usually sits at the desk?” she continued.
“Yeah. Why?” Jack asked.
“She’s trying to make the old man in room 312 swallow a suppository.”
Jack started moving down the hallway, with Autumn in tow. “I hope he’s not cooperating.”
Autumn shrugged. “The guy’s like eighty years old and he looks like he’s in a coma or something.”
“Keith!” Jack yelled, running down the hall.
~*^*~
~12~
Lindsey turned out to be a quick learner. Keith knew that he would be able to count on her to help with the patients after watching her change an IV bag and then insert the meds as he’d shown her. They were on the third patient when he passed the room of one of Marla’s patients. Keith stopped when the woman called out to him, complaining about pain.
“Didn’t Marla give you your pain pill yet,” he asked.
“Well, yes, but that’s the problem,” the woman sputtered. “She didn’t give me the pill the normal way, she put it in my . . .”
“Keith!” He heard his name being called. “I’ll be right back,” he told the patient as he rushed out the door.
~*~
Eric arrived at the parking lot of the hospital, along with his newly found posse. He watched as his new friends dismounted their two wheeled horses and started to gather up. Eric noticed for the first time that they seemed to be a very diverse group, representing a range of ages and ethnic groups. The only thing that seemed to be missing was women.
Their attention of the group was directed away as one renegade started howling as he shot into the air. The leader calmly approached him and slapped the top of the man’s head with such force that Eric’s teeth hurt out of sympathy. The biker cringed and held his hand out in defense.
“What the hell are you doing?” the boss demanded.
“Sorry, man,” the biker apologized while still rubbing his head. They walked over to the rest of the group, which had formed a circle, and prayed.
Eric left his car, staring at the men in disbelief. When their devotional was finished, Eric approached the leader.
“You guys in some kind of cult or something?”
The man looked down at his jacket and pointed out the insignia, which Eric hadn’t noticed before.
Embroidered on the leather were a cross and the words, “God’s Grunts.”
Eric was embarrassed that he had been intimidated by a bunch of Jesus freaks.
Laughing out loud, he asked the leader, “What are you going to do, hit them with your Bibles?”
The man went nose to nose with Eric.
“I wouldn’t laugh at these guys if I were you. They know better than to kill someone that’s not already dead, but they’ve been known to backslide.”
Eric quickly wiped the smirk off his face as the other man turned to his fellow soldiers and raised a shotgun in the air.
“Let’s clean up, boys!”
The lot was cleared in a matter of minutes. They were a well-oiled machine, as almost every creature was dropped by no more than one shot. Two bikers donned surgical gloves and masks and dragged the bodies into a pile and doused them with gas. As they finished up, Eric could see black smoke billowing from the burning corpses behind him. Within a matter of minutes, they had cleared the parking lot and were heading for the emergency room door.
Eric smiled as he keyed his radio.
~*~
“What’s wrong?” Keith asked Jack and Autumn.
“Marla. She’s . . .” Autumn paused as she searched for the proper wording.
“What Autumn’s trying to say is that your bimbo nurse is trying to shove a log size suppository down the throat of an eighty-year-old man in critical condition in room 312,” Jack said.
Keith started down the hall at a run. “Well, that explains why we have an old woman in 303 with a giant Motrin up her . . .”
“Jack, you copy?”
Eric’s voice chimed over the radio, and Jack was actually glad to hear it.
“Where’s our ammo?” Jack asked.
The leader of the bikers saw Eric on the radio and started to walk in his direction.
“I got it, Boss,” Eric said. “My deputies are just cleaning up the parking lot.”
Jack sighed deeply. “What deputies? What kind of crap are you pulling now?”
“I deputized some bikers and they’re . . .”
The leader, hearing most of the conversation, grabbed the radio out of Eric’s hand.
Jack listened as Eric stopped talking and a gruff sounding voice took over.
“Dude,” the voice said into the radio, “we’re eliminating the threat in the parking lot. I’ve got a group of about thirty-five armed men who are securing the perimeter as we speak. What’s the situation inside?”
A couple seconds of silence followed then Jack spoke. He was a little apprehensive about the intentions of the bikers, but he figured that he was probably outgunned and had better go with it.
“I’m Jack Conner, head of security. We’ve cleared the second through fifth floors, but the first floor is overrun. Our plan was to raid the cafeteria once Eric resupplied us with ammo. We’ve got some sick and hungry people here on the higher floors.”
“Well, Jack, today’s your lucky day. My guys are about to clear the first floor and there’s a couple of us who were medics in ‘Nam. We’re a bit rusty but we can offer our services if you need us.”
“Sounds good,” Jack answered, “I’ll check with our head nurse.”
“What’s she look like?” the leader joked.
“Oh, I don’t think you would be interested, but you never know.”
The man handed Eric his radio back.
“Well, you gonna help?”
“Actually,” Eric explained, “I have someone that needs my help. I’d better go.”
He unloaded the ammo onto the ground. “Could you make sure Jack gets this?”
“Sure thing,” the biker answered. “I’ll pray for you, Dude.”
“Thanks,” Eric replied as he drove off. He hoped that Jack wouldn’t be mad when he found out he’d left, but at least he had the Bible thumpers to help him out.
~*~
With Lindsey’s help, Keith was able to save the patient in 312 and get the correct meds to the woman in 303. He sent Marla back to the desk and had both Autumn and Lindsey help him finish up with the third floor. They worked quickly and returned to the nurses’ station in less than an hour.
Jack saw the others approaching and he joined them.
“In my defense, some of those pills are very big,” Marla said to Keith, while shrugging her shoulders. “How was I supposed to know which was which?”
“Never mind,” he sighed, not having the energy at the moment to explain it.
The elevator bell chimed. Keith turned to Jack. “Did you disable the override?”
Jack, who was already aiming his pistol at the door, shook his head no. When the door opened, the sorry sight inside gave him no motivation to lower his firearm. Two bearded men in leather jackets and skull caps stepped out of the elevator. Both appeared to be in their sixties. One held a sawed-off shotgun and the other sported an AR-15.
“Is that a pistol in your hand or are you just happy to see me?”
The man moved his shotgun to his left hand and offered his right to Jack.
“You must be Jack. I’m Snake,
and I can’t tell you why they call me that, yet,” he said, smiling at Marla.
“Keith Corbin,” Keith said, shaking hands with both men. “How did you get the elevators working without a key?”
Snake pointed to his friend.
“Let’s just say my friend Wolf here, like most of my crew, had a bit of a shady past. But he’s trying to use his talents for good now, right buddy?”
Wolf smiled and held up a set of small screwdrivers and a paper clip. “This was one of my easier jobs.”
“So, what does it look on the first floor?” Jack asked, hoping to change the subject.
“My men are clearing it out as we speak,” Snake answered while handing them a couple of boxes of ammo that had been piled in the back of the elevator. “Man, I’ve gotta warn you, we can clear them out pretty easy, but there’ll be more coming; a lot more. The floor’s going to be pretty hard to keep secure as it is, with all the glass doors and windows. The dead seem to know where the people are, and they’re persistent.”
“You seem to know a lot about what’s going on,” Jack noted.
“Dude, I’ve just escaped from Hell’s furnace. Midtown is swarming with these things. A couple days ago we were working at the shelter and two of the guys from the streets came in with bite marks. When they started getting sick, we took them to the emergency room, not here but at Community Hospital, where they checked them out and sent them back to the shelter. Well, a little while later they went nutso. They started tearing people apart. We subdued them and took them back to the ER and they put them in the psych ward. We left the newly injured, at least the worst of them, at the hospital and a couple of hours later, some suits showed up. FBI, asking all sorts of questions. They knew. From what I hear, one of the hospitals north of here was hit hard enough that they had to close it. That was a week ago, though they’ve been telling people it was black mold in the walls, or some other BS.”
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