Wormwood Dawn (Episode VI)

by Crae, Edward

  The first stop was the grocery store, which they plundered for food without incident. Dan and Drew stocked up on what beer and wine was left, as well as canned foods, water, and other necessities—Lena had asked for a particular list of feminine hygiene products.

  After their successful plunder, they headed for the hardware store. There, Max found the electrical equipment needed to get the solar array going, and they stocked up on some ammo and other supplies. They even grabbed a long roll of drainage tile and a random selection of plumbing supplies to make life a little easier.

  “Hot showers,” Dan had said. “If we can get the well pump working.”

  The nearby clinic was a goldmine of medical supplies. Evidently, this particular clinic had everything it needed to avoid sending its patients to the hospital for testing. It had a radiology department, a lab, and its own pharmacy. Max had gathered everything that Travis had requested, along with some odds and ends that Cliff asked for. Again, it went off without a hitch. There didn't seem to be any infected in this area. Or, if there were, they weren’t interested.

  “What now?” Drew asked.

  “There’s a pharmacy up ahead,” he said. “There should be more antibiotics and party favors there. Plus, I’d like to take a look at some of the gun stores. The hardware store didn’t have much ammo left. We’re all using the same ammo for the most part. Either we get more of it, or go shopping for other rifles.”

  “There aren’t many 9mm rounds left,” Max said. “You guys use most of them in your handguns.”

  “Maybe you can find something more suited for you than that MP5,” Dan said. “That’s too fucking loud anyway.”

  Max held up his gun, shrugging.

  They piled back into the pickup, driving off much heavier than they had arrived. It was only a short drive to the pharmacy from there, and an even shorter drive into the town itself.

  “Let’s hope this place is stocked up, too,” Drew said as they pulled into the parking lot. “I bet this was the only pharmacy in town. All of the druggie fucks in town probably robbed it at the first sign of trouble.”

  Dan shook his head, grinning. “Druggie fucks,” he mumbled.

  The front door was smashed in, as was expected, and the shelves were nearly empty. Strangely enough, Dan thought he could smell the remnants of black powder, as if there had been a gunfight here recently. He cautioned the others with a hand as he stepped further inside, sniffing and listening for any signs of life. Though he didn’t hear anything, his heart was racing, and his skin crawled. Maybe it was the smell of gunfire, but he wasn’t sure.

  Something made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, though.

  “Careful,” he said, waving the others in.

  They all stood near the entrance, guns raised, and noses sniffing.

  “What’s that smell?” Max asked.

  “Gun powder,” Dan said. “Lots of it.”

  He continued forward, avoiding the piles and piles of worthless items on the floor. He could see the pharmacy counter in the back, and avoided everything else as he made his way there. Behind him, Drew and Max took various things off the shelves and pocketed them.

  “Max,” Dan whispered. “Do you have the list still?”

  Max nodded. “Got a lot of it at the clinic,” he said. “But there are a few more items we can only get here.”

  They reached the end of the aisle, where they stopped. Dan crouched, sniffing the air again. Whatever had gone down in this place, it had obviously happened near the pharmacy counter. He peered around the corner of the shelf, seeing nothing ahead. The counter was broken and partially shattered, but there was no movement or sound coming from behind it.

  Satisfied, he shouldered his rifle and stood.

  “It looks clear,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  As expected, the drugs were scattered on the floor. The entire pharmacy area was in disarray, obviously looted on several occasions, and even the drive up window was broken. The most curious thing, however, was the series of large holes in the tiled ceiling. To Dan, they looked like bullet holes; large caliber bullet holes.

  “Um… gentlemen,” Max said with a disturbing amount of fear in his voice.

  Dan turned to look in the direction that Max indicated. His heart jumped when he saw the remains of the creature that was sprawled and twisted among the remains of the counter. It was obviously a stalker; dead and mutilated with gunshots; again, large caliber gunshots.

  “Somebody killed the shit out of this thing,” Drew said.

  Dan searched the floor for bullet casings. There were only a few shotgun shells—12 gauge. But that was not what had killed the creature. The holes in the far wall told Dan that whoever had been using the shotgun had missed his or her target. The holes in the creature, though large, were not from a shotgun.

  “There must have been two people,” Dan said. “One with a shotgun who couldn’t aim worth a shit, and one with a large caliber handgun who was spot on.”

  “Did you watch a lot of CSI?” Drew joked.

  Dan snickered. “Who didn’t?”

  “That was one of my favorite shows,” Max said. “Very dramatized, yet incredibly accurate in its scientific methods. Judging by the hardness of this creature’s flesh, and the size of the bullet holes, I would wager a guess that the shooter in question was armed with some sort of magnum; two of them, probably.”

  Dan grinned. “So we’re either looking for Lara Croft, or some kind of Mexican bandit.”

  Max nodded with a smile. “Let’s hope for the former.”

  “Tittieeeeeees,” Drew said with a goofy, toothy grin.

  “Max, try to find all the antibiotics,” Dan said. “I wanna check this cooler over here.”

  He walked over to the knocked over refrigerated storage unit, bending down to examine its former contents.

  “Drug cooler,” Max said. “Some medications require refrigeration. Insulin, some antibiotics, other things.”

  Insulin, Dan thought. He looked over to Drew, whose face echoed his own thoughts. However, neither one of them said anything. Dan looked at each vial in turn, noting that only a few of them were insulin. They were clouded and probably spoiled. Who knows? He didn’t know shit about insulin. Maybe it was supposed to look that way.

  “Dan,” Max said from nearby. “There are some steroidal medications here. Though Travis didn’t specifically ask for any, I’m grabbing some just in case.”

  “Grab whatever you want,” Dan said, still thinking about the insulin.

  Drew walked out of the pharmacy area, heading toward the liquor section. “Funny,” Drew said as he walked down the aisle. “This pharmacy quit selling smokes, but they still sold alcohol.”

  Dan chuckled to himself. Hypocrites, he thought.

  “Though I would advise against any sort of mind-altering substance abuse,” Max said, “there are still quite a few varieties of opiate-based analgesics.”

  Dan stood, truly interested in grabbing some more pain killers, but not quite able to shake the odd feeling he got about the incident that had obviously occurred recently. Someone had been here, battled a stalker, killed it, took some meds, and ran. Whoever that someone was, they were packing some pretty serious heat. Either he was going nuts and imagining that Jake had survived and was nearby, or there was a potential human threat they were about to encounter.

  Mexican bandits, he thought. Putos.

  “Fuck,” he whispered.

  “Jackpot!” Drew called out, holding up a bottle of Old Grandad whiskey he had found. “My favorite. I bet Travis likes it too. It’s hillbilly milk, man. Stellar.”

  They left the pharmacy quietly, piling back into the pickup in their usual formation. They pulled up to the exit, and Dan stopped to assess their plan.

  “We have everything we need,” he said. “But we could go into town and check out the gun stores. Max is right; we need to find something else for him to use, or get more 9mm rounds.”

  “I want something new, too,
” Drew said. “I’m tired of this Glock. Maybe a .357 or something.”

  Dan chuckled and pulled out into the intersection, turning left onto the main drag. From what he remembered, the closest gun store was on Jefferson, just a block up and to the left. He drove slowly, keeping his eyes out for any movement on the sidewalks or the street. The light was getting dim, and the sun was casting its dying orange rays over everything.

  Despite the gloomy situation, it was quite beautiful.

  “I wonder how this town fared,” Drew said. “A place like this… you know everybody is packing.”

  “Probably,” Dan agreed. “A town with a population of a thousand that has three gun stores… hell yeah.”

  “It looks like there is an abundance of craft stores,” Max said.

  “This is a tourist town,” Dan explained. “Everything is aimed at souvenir-seeking tourists.”

  “I wonder if any of these stores sell candy,” Max said. “Not your average, everyday Klondike bars or Kit Kats, but good, old fashioned, homemade hard candy.”

  Dan smiled. He knew of at least two candy stores in town; one of them actually made their candy themselves. They even sold sugar free versions for the…

  …diabetics.

  Chapter Seven

  “Holy shit,” Jake said. “I would say I feel like a kid in a candy store, but that would be redundant.”

  Toni laughed as she walked along the bins of hard candy. She read all of the signs, impressed with the various flavors that were available. Not only were they diverse, but a majority of them were advertised as using natural oils for flavoring. Clove candy was what she wanted, and she found it.

  “All natural clove oil,” she said. She looked at Jake, who scrunched up his face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Clove candy?” he said. “Yuck.”

  She gave him that look again, shaking her head. “You just find whatever you want and keep your opinions to yourself.”

  Jake shrugged and hopped along happily, stuffing handfuls of sugar free in his pockets. She suspected he grabbed some regular candy, too, just in case. Either way, she was glad to see him smile. In the very short time since they had met, she had grown to like him a lot. He was like a little brother; a raunchy and mischievous little brother. Either way, she loved the big guy.

  He reminded her of her own brother, who was also a very large, jovial man that got on her nerves. She laughed to herself when she compared the two in her head. That both had that big, damn smile that was contagious, and that not-so-manly timbre to their voices. They were so much alike, she realized, it was no wonder why she had grown so fond of Jake. He had basically replaced her own brother.

  He was “comfort company”.

  “I’ve never even heard of some of this shit,” Jake said. “It’s all got labels, like I’m supposed to know what it is, but nope.”

  “Some of it’s probably foreign,” Toni said. “Or specific to southern Indiana and the South.”

  “Regional shit,” Jake said off handedly. “Riiiiight.”

  “You ever heard of Shooby-Doos?” she asked.

  Jake stopped, rolling his eyes up. “Nope,” he said.

  “Ghetto gum,” Toni said. “You don’t even unwrap it; you just shove the whole thing in your mouth.”

  “Eww,” Jake said. “You grew up in the ghetto?”

  “No,” she said. “But I went to middle school in the ghetto. Integration, you know?”

  “Yeah,” Jake said. “Putting kids from all over town in equally diverse schools. Nothin’ like forcing people to get along.”

  Toni chuckled. He had a point. “We got along just fine back then,” she said. “But yeah, maybe that was just because we were supposed to. We all did what we were told back then.”

  “I never did,” he said, stuffing his mouth with candy. “Fuchhh thhhat ffffittt.”

  Toni wagged a finger at him, and walked behind the counter to look at the herbs stored there. There were hundreds of large jars containing herbs of all types; most of it hippie crap and herbal teas. She ignored them after seeing there was nothing really useful, walking through the beaded door that led into the back.

  There on the floor, lying against the wall, was a corpse. It was a woman, bloated and rotting, wearing a dirty sundress. Her mouth and eyes were open, and her head was leaned to the side. Toni crouched down to examine her, seeing that she had been dead for quite a while. But, as she neared, the corpse began to moan.

  Toni backed away and drew her knife just as the corpse turned its face toward her. Though she shouldn’t have been surprised, or afraid, her heart began to race. The corpse attempted to stand, moaning and grunting with the effort. Toni stepped forward and plunged her knife into the top of its head, finishing it off for good. Its lifeless body fell face down on the floor, black, rotting blood leaking from its skull.

  Jake popped his head through the beaded curtain. “You alright?”

  Toni wiped her knife off on the sundress. “Yeah,” she said. “But we have to watch ourselves around the bodies we see. They’re not staying dead like they’re supposed to.”

  “Well,” Jake said. “Maybe they just don’t know that.”

  “Somebody should tell them,” Toni said, putting her knife back in its sheath.

  They returned to the storefront, and Toni looked out the front windows. The street was growing dark, and the shadows were beginning to take on that horrifying density that made it dangerous to continue on. It would be a good idea to rest for the night, she thought. They had everything they needed to survive until morning, when they could continue their search—for whatever it was they were searching.

  “Let’s chill out here until morning,” she said. “I think it’s pretty safe now.”

  “Good idea,” Jake said. “I always wanted to spend the night in a candy store.”

  There weren’t many guns left by the time Dan, Drew, and Max arrived. While Drew went searching for ammo and a new piece for Max, Dan went straight for the back counter where the rifles would have been displayed. There were a few shotguns left, along with a single semi-auto rifle.

  Dan reached up on the pegboard to retrieve it, examining the chamber and the stickers that adorned its tactical stock.

  “Ruger 10/22,” he read out loud.

  It was a beautiful rifle; stainless steel barrel, pistol grip, and a long picatinny rail across the top. It had no sights, as it was likely built for a scope, or maybe a red dot sight. Either one would work just fine. The rifle would be perfect for Toby. A .22LR had very little, if any, recoil, and would be sufficient for taking down any shuffler or shambler with a well-placed headshot.

  Over to his left was a display case with various accessories. He chose a good scope, a canted mount, and a red dot sight. He also grabbed an appropriate boresighter in order to get the scope sighted without having to waste too many bullets.

  Other than that rifle, there was little else of interest. In the other room, Max and Drew were checking out the handguns and ammo supply. Dan immediately spotted the .22LR ammo. There was plenty of it left, which was surprising. Before the shit hit the fan, most retailers were so backordered on the tiny bullets that they all had a purchase limit. Here on the shelf, however, there were six boxes of high-velocity rounds.

  “Whatcha got there, chief?” Drew asked.

  Dan held the rifle up to show him. “Ruger 10/22,” he said. “For Toby.”

  “Sweet,” Drew said, smiling. “That looks like a BX-25 mag in it. There are more of them at the front counter.”

  “Cool,” Dan said. “I’ll get them all. Do you see any .22LR handguns in there?”

  “Another Ruger right here,” Max said, pointing straight down into the glass case.

  Dan grabbed the six boxes of ammo, and took the handgun. He went back to the front room, leaving Max and Drew to continue their search. As Drew said, there were two double packs of BX-25 mags, all shrink wrapped for his enjoyment. He stuffed them into his pack and slung the rifle over his shoulder.
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br />   Toby’s gonna love this, he thought. And the kid would. With the high capacity magazine inserted, the Ruger would look badass. It would make Toby feel like he was armed to the teeth. When he got older he would definitely need something a bit larger. If he got older, that is.

  Dan shook his head in frustration as he realized what a shitty thing that was to think. Of course the kid would get older. He would make sure of it. It was his job, after all, being their elected leader. Everyone was his responsibility.

  “Dan,” Drew said from the other room.

  He turned and went back, seeing Drew standing at the top of a set of stairs. He joined him, looking down into the dimness that was only light by the flashlight in Drew’s hands.

  “I bet they keep all the stock down here,” Drew said.

  “Good point,” Dan said. “Stay here with Max. I have an idea of what I want.”

  Drew nodded and turned back to Max, who was “trying on” several different handguns. Dan descended, flicking on his own flashlight. The room at the bottom was lined with shelves, all of them full of weapons boxes. There was a single section devoted to AR-15 type rifles, and he headed straight for it.

  The box on top contained exactly what he was looking for; a .300 AAC Blackout. It was an AR-15 that was chambered for .300 caliber rounds. They were much larger than the standard .223/5.56 of the average AR, with a bit more ass to them, but with the same size cartridge. All of the equipment on his current M4A1 would be compatible, right down to the magazine.

  He grabbed the box, looking around one more time. There was little else of interest to him; mostly muzzleloaders, .17 HMRs, and an assortment of pointless accessories. One thing caught his attention, though. It was a suppressor, marked as being compatible for a Blackout barrel. Smiling, he grabbed it. There would time later on to assemble his new rifle.

  Max had chosen a .38 handgun. He examined it proudly as Drew selected some ammo and accessories for him. Dan held up his new toy, drawing a smile from Drew.