by Meyer, Tim
Sam waved the rest on, and they followed his direction. Together, they approached the convenience store. Standing outside the normally-automated door, Sam squinted, peering into the fairly well-lit establishment. The place looked relatively clean. In most cases, the places they raided had already been ransacked, stripped of popular amenities. Essentials were long gone, probably taken on the first day of the apocalypse. But this place, this GasCon store, was intact. Not a single bag of chips appeared to be displaced. The tobacco products behind the counter were fully stocked. The soda case was packed to capacity.
What the hell...
Sam, with Tina's help, forced the front door open.
The stench immediately hit them like a kick to the groin. Something rotten tainted the air. Shondra covered her nose, while Tina turned her head, refusing to set one foot inside. Sam did his best to ignore it, powering through the awful odor. Mouth buried his nose in his forearm, groaning.
Sam nodded to the rest of the group, inviting them inside. He waved his weapon in the air. The others reached for their own, held it out in front them, ready to fire.
Like last time...
He knew what the smell was as soon as it penetrated his nostrils. A body. Maybe a week old. Maybe more. Sam made his way around the counter, expecting to see the clerk or a young gas station attendant laying there, stomach ripped open, innards tossed across the floor like spaghetti splatter. That wasn't the case, and it turned out that the area behind the counter was mostly spotless. In fact, a bottle of disinfectant and a roll of paper towels sat where Sam had expected to find the body.
Tina cleared her throat softly, grabbing Sam's attention. Her eyebrows arched while waiting for an update.
Sam shook his head, then pointed to the back of the store.
He followed the group, everyone holding their guns out front, fingers caressing the trigger. There was another accident on the horizon, Sam could feel it. All it took was one moment, one gentle tug on the trigger. One poor decision. Then, it would be quadrant three all over again. His nerves swam, heart raced. His bladder felt heavy. He hated these feelings, wishing they would all go away.
“Psst,” Sam whispered.
The group turned.
“No one fires,” he said. “We don't want a repeat—”
Something moved in the back room. It sounded like a chair, something scraping across the floor. To Sam, it sounded like a pallet being dragged against concrete.
“Fuck that, man,” Mouth said, raising his gun, aiming it at the door. “If some crazy cannibal asshole comes out of that door, I'm blowing his fucking face off.”
“Mouth!” Sam said, in a low, hushed tone. “Do not fire unless I say so.”
Sam bustled to the front of the group. He approached the door cautiously, holding his hand up, telling his crew to hold their fire. He had no military experience, but saw this sort of thing in the movies a few hundred times. The door had a small window in it, but the room was too dark to see inside. Sam tried the door handle, but the bastard was locked. Taking one step back, Sam tried something else he had seen only in cinematic features. With all his might, he kicked the door, aiming just left of the handle. The frame cracked, the jamb splintering in several directions. The door swung open, inviting in the light.
Sam didn't know which was worse—the smell that crashed against them like a tsunami, or the sight of the naked man covered in blood, hovering over a flesh-torn corpse. The group took one collective step away. Tina tripped over her own feet and fell to the floor. Shondra stared on, mouth agape, unable to produce a single word. Even Mouth was speechless.
Trying to speak and failing, Sam put his hand up, attempting to calm the menacing figure. The cannibal rose to his feet, growling rabidly. Bloody chunks of flesh were nestled in the man's long hair. Blood blanketed his body like a newborn baby. Scarlet droplets fell from his chin, pooling on the floor below. Sam checked the body—it had been there for about a week, he guessed. It was badly torn and full of deep lacerations, but it seemed the cannibal was concentrating on the neck. Huge gouges were visible around the throat area.
“What... the... fuck...” Shondra finally uttered. She couldn't find the strength to raise her gun at the threatening figure.
The bloody man walked toward them, crouching, ready to lunge.
Gunshots—two of them—came in rapid succession. A fragment of the man's skull separated from the rest of his cranium, splashing against the wall, leaving behind flowery crimson stains. Sam turned and saw smoke rising from Mouth's pistol.
“Motherfucker,” Mouth said. “He was going to eat us. Sick fuck was going to eat us. I had to Sam, I had to—”
“It's okay,” Sam said, trying to calm him. “It's fine. Put the gun down.”
Mouth lowered his weapon and closed his eyes. “Never shot anyone before,” he said.
Sam stepped away from them, ducking inside the back room.
“Sam!” Tina shouted. “Be careful.”
Sam ignored her, surveying the area. It was a small room that harbored a few skids of freight. Stacks of soda bottles and potato chips stood in small towers. A walk-in freezer had been constructed on the other end of the room and something told Sam to go over there and open it. Reluctantly, he followed that something, drifting over to the giant ice box. The lever was already unlocked, and Sam knew that someone—most likely their dead friend—had been in there recently. Swinging open the door, Sam hoped he would only find deli meats, maybe some food they could bring back to the rest of the group. But with the way things had gone, that wasn't likely the only thing that awaited him.
Sam forced himself to look away when the door opened fully. Three naked icicles hung before him. Their blue flesh was too much for him. He couldn't tell if the smell was coming from them or their thawed friend on the floor.
“What is it?” Tina asked, hanging in the stockroom's doorway.
Sam shook his head, shutting the freezer. “Nothing.”
“Doesn't look like nothing.”
“It doesn't matter. We're too late.”
“Sam, what the hell is going on here?”
Sam shrugged. “Hell if I know.” Avoiding what lay on the floor before him, Sam headed back to the doorway. “But we should probably take what we can and get the hell out of here.”
In the distance, they heard someone screaming. A girl. A young girl.
Becky?
It couldn't be. Impossible. She was back at the store, probably making out with Chris Atkins in the broom closet. The thought of his oldest being violated by that punk made Sam want to vomit, but at least she was safe. There's no way it was her.
Dana?
God no...
“Sam?” Tina asked. “Did you hear that? It sounded like a woman.”
“Let's go,” Sam said, rushing out of the stockroom and sprinting through the convenience store as if he were being chased by invisible monsters.
-8-
“I heard gunshots,” Brian said, as his friends emerged from the convenience store. “Everyone alright?”
“Fine,” Sam replied. “We heard screams.”
“Yeah. Came from over there.” Brian pointed beyond the store where a small strip mall stood. “Sounded like a young girl.”
Sam fought nasty images away from his mind—his daughters being eaten alive by merciless savages. “We should go check it out.”
“What for?” Brian asked. “The barrels are full. We should leave.”
“Someone might be hurt.”
Looking to Tina for backup, Sam marched forward.
“Goddammit,” Tina said, following him. “You sure like risking your neck for strangers, don't you, Sam?”
Checking his gun to make sure there were enough bullets, Sam ignored her. He hoped he wouldn't have to use any. There had been so much blood spilled already.
Moving across the parking lot, Sam glanced over his shoulder, realizing the whole crew was following. He didn't expect to see Mouth and figured the guy would probably want to
sit this one out, considering what had just happened. His color was off, and if Sam didn't know any better, he'd say the man was on the verge of sickness. Even Noah, who normally kept an eye on everything and rarely participated in the exploration portion of their nightly exercise, was in tow. He was still without a weapon, and Sam figured that was for the best. In fact, he contemplated taking everyone's gun except for maybe Tina, who had actually proven herself an excellent shot. Everyone else's aim was sketchy, although he was more worried about taking friendly fire.
The group stood before a nail salon, a pizzeria, a furniture store, and a small grocery. They listened, waiting to hear the woman's cries once again.
“May—” Mouth started to say, but Sam held his hand up and stopped him.
Whimpering. Somewhere close. Definitely coming from within one of the stores.
Sam stepped toward the pizzeria, his gun held out in front of him. “Is someone in there?” he asked loudly. “My name is Sam Wright. We're here to help. If you're hurt please say something.”
Silence. Sam approached the tinted windows. Pressing his ear against the glass, he concentrated on what might be inside, pushing away visions of his daughters being roasted rotisserie-style. His mind fabricated all sorts of heinous outcomes, most of which turned his stomach sideways, causing bile to creep into his throat.
Whispers. Coming from within. He couldn't make what was being said, only that there were two of them. A third voice was finally heard, a soft, yet audible cry for help.
Pointing to Tina, Sam directed her toward the front door. He waved Shondra over with his free hand, the other gripped tightly around his pistol. Quietly, he told Noah and Mouth to grab the cars.
“I think it would be better if I stay—” Mouth tried protesting.
“Go get the fucking car,” Sam breathed.
Sam grabbed Brian by the shoulder while the two men doubled back toward the gas station. He positioned him in front of the door, somewhat strategically.
“No one fires, unless I do,” Sam said. “Got it?”
They nodded.
Sam closed his eyes, then charged the door, knocking into it with his shoulder. Flying open, the door slammed against the wall. Sam and his team moved into the dimly-lit establishment quickly, like a seasoned SWAT team. They pointed their weapons at the whisperers, several masked men armed with various weapons. One of them held a wooden club with nails driven into the head, perfect for bludgeoning enemies to death. Another wielded a makeshift crossbow. The third held what looked like a rusty sword, but Sam couldn't tell from across the room. On the counter next to the cash register, a young girl (older than Dana, younger than Becky) lay, moaning with a gag in her mouth. Tears streamed from her eyes. She flailed around, but the man with the rusty blade stopped her by resting the sharp edge across her neck. He held it there until she composed herself. Slowly, she ceased her little fit, and continued sobbing.
“Let the girl go,” Sam said, pointing the weapon at Mr. Sword.
“What if I don't?” he asked.
“Then you're going to have an extra hole in your head.”
Tina smirked. Brian shook his head.
“Good one, bro,” Mr. Sword replied. “You're very funny.”
“Did you hear me?” Sam asked. “I said let the girl go.”
“Where did you people come from?” Mr. Sword, asked, ignoring Sam's request. “You from around here?”
Does this guy want to get shot?
“Hey, asshole. Are you fucking deaf or something?” Brian asked. “Step away from the girl. Now.”
“I'm just trying to make small talk. There's no need to be rude.”
“Yeah, bro. We're all in this together,” Bow-and-Arrow said.
Sam wiped a layer of sweat off his brow. Biting his tongue, he gently squeezed the pistol's trigger. He wanted to give it a hard pull, but the image of what happened last time flashed across mind.
That little boy. That poor little boy.
“Were you going to eat this girl?” Sam asked, taking small steps forward. “Just like the bodies at the gas station?”
“Did you see our friend Randy there?” Mr. Sword asked. “Haven't seen him in over an hour.”
“Randy got himself shot,” Shondra said.
“Well, is he okay?” Bow-and-Arrow asked. “I mean, you guys didn't kill him, did you?”
Sam looked to Shondra, then to Tina. Brian gave his boss a look, one that begged to let him pull the trigger. Sam shook his head subtly.
“He was eating someone,” Sam said. “He was drinking some guy's blood.”
“Well, yeah,” Mr. Sword said. “How else is he supposed to stay alive?”
“Jesus Christ,” Tina said, holding her stomach.
“I think there's a huge misunderstanding happening here,” Bow-and-Arrow said. “If you'll let us explain—”
“Explain?” Tina asked. “How do you explain this!” She pointed to the girl on the counter. “This is madness.”
“This is survival,” Mr. Sword said.
“Let me do it, Sam,” Brian muttered, leaning into Sam's ear.
“Not yet,” Sam whispered back.
“What are you two talking about?” Bow-and-Arrow asked. “What's with the whispering?”
“Come on, bro. We're all in this together,” Mr. Sword said. “We're practically, like, brothers.”
“I'm going to give you to the count of three,” Sam said. “If that blade isn't far away from that girl's neck, I'm shooting.” He squinted. “There's three of you and four of us.”
“Man can count,” Bow-and-Arrow said.
“And we have guns. I think we can all agree on who will walk out of here alive.”
“That's just the thing, hoss,” Bow-and-Arrow said, “we can't really die.”
Sam laughed. “One...”
“You think that's funny?”
“Two...”
“Bro, you don't even know who you're dealing—”
“Three!”
All four guns banged at once. The three masked cannibals hit the floor. The young girl rolled off the counter, onto the floor. Sam rushed forward, using the tables to hide from the psychopath's line of vision. Outside, Noah and Mouth turned on their high beams, providing them plenty of light to see where they were going. Sam watched an arrow zip over his head, embedding itself in the far wall. Continuing on, Sam focused on the teenage girl. Once he was close, he nodded to Brian, who provided him with cover.
Tina fired the last of her round blindly, then exited the pizzeria and headed for the car. Shondra followed suit, shooting at the shadows and hitting absolutely nothing. She ducked out once the gun did nothing but click. Sam scooped the girl into his arms, and ran like hell towards the exit. Brian pumped the rest of his bullets into the dark area behind the counter. One of the shots sounded like it hit flesh and bone, a considerable amount of high-pitched screaming being the only clue. After the last bullet left its chamber, Brian scrambled out of the door, holding it open for Sam and the girl cradled in his arms.
Another arrow came speeding at them, colliding with the glass door just as Brian slammed it shut.
“Are you okay?” Sam asked the girl. “Can you tell me your name?”
The girl opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Her eyelashes fluttered as her mind tried clinging to the fading light. Sam tapped her cheek, but nothing helped. She felt weightless in his arms. Within seconds, her limbs went limp.
“Shit,” Sam muttered.
From the Jeep, Tina waved him on. Mouth was in the driver's seat, his right foot pumping the gas pedal, causing the engine to roar. He told Sam to hurry the fuck up.
When Sam finally reached the Jeep, Tina helped the girl into the back. He glanced over at Brian, who was just about inside the car.
“Home?” Brian asked.
“Yeah,” Sam said, “we're losing the dark—”
Something sharp pierced his ankle, smashing into his bone with sheer force. For a second, his entire leg went
numb. Then the numbness quickly faded and pain rushed in. He glanced down and saw an arrow jutting out of his leg. He lost his balance and fell to one knee. A second glance showed Sam that the arrow had gone through his calf, sticking out the other side.
“Holy shit!” Tina shouted, after Shondra helped the young girl into the empty seat between them. “Sam!”
He reached up, taking hold of Tina's hand. Sam looked toward the front door. Shut. Just the way they left it. Another arrow whizzed by his head, so close he felt air gently brush his hair aside. It landed in the Jeep's door. Looking up, he spotted the shooter on the roof, already reloading another arrow.
Tina yanked him to his feet. Limping, he made his way around to the other side of the Jeep, opened the door, and hopped inside. Gunshots boomed. Sam's heart leaped. He thought someone was firing on them, but then realized it was only Mouth providing cover fire. Once Sam was settled, he tapped Mouth's shoulder. The large man stomped on the gas pedal, the tires screeching as the car launched forward.
They didn't get far before something loud popped, and the Jeep rocked.
“Fuck!” Mouth shouted.
Sam looked down, saw blood spurting out of his ankle. “Holy shit.” Suddenly, the world grew fuzzy. His head felt empty. Knots filled his stomach, squirming through his intestines. He placed his hands over the entrance and exit wounds, but that did nothing to stop the scarlet flow. Blood exploded through his fingers, pooling on the floor mats below. “Oh... Christ.”
“Is it bad?” Tina asked him. “Sam?”
He barely heard her. Shondra said something, asking Mouth why the Jeep was slowing, but Sam barely heard that, too. The world around him began to fade. Sounds muted. Vision blurred. The last thing he remembered before waking was Tina telling him that everything was going to be all right.
-9-
The fires that had consumed the school grounds petered out. The world was quiet once again, void of agonizing screams. The terror was over. During those tumultuous hours he had read the book three times from start to finish. There was so much wisdom contained within those pages he couldn't believe he had absorbed it all. This was a lesson worth reading, a lesson worth teaching.