Marcus opens the door of one of them, poking his gun inside and scanning the small room. A mattress is on the floor with sleeping bags on top, and pictures even hang on the walls, making it look like a little hobbit home. Shelves are filled with trinkets and clothes neatly folded, and I try to refrain from smiling, but after everything I’ve lived through, it’s nice to see people making the best of things. Making homes for themselves.
We move onto the next one, pushing the door open and seeing a more masculine room. The place stinks of sweat and dirt and I grimace at the mess. Pigs wouldn’t live in this shithole. The next couple of homes are also empty, and much tidier than that one, but we still haven’t seen or heard anyone else.
We group in the middle, and I can tell the guys are getting antsy.
“We should say something,” I whisper. “They’re probably watching us right now, scared of what we might do. Maybe if we let them know we just need supplies and then we’ll be on our way, they’ll come out.”
Danny is eyeing up one of the little homes, greed on his face as he dives into some of the candy stockpiled there. “Who says we should leave?” he says between mouthfuls. “I say we stay here.” He shrugs and grabs a candy bar, unwrapping it and stuffing the whole thing in his mouth at once.
“We have to go back. The others need these supplies,” I bite out, irritated.
“Don’t be a total asshole, Danny.” Marcus sighs heavily.
“We don’t have to do squat that he says,” Danny sneers. “But I am getting pissed off at the thought of being watched.” He looks around us. Our eyes have adjusted to the dark, but it helps when Andrew lights some of the candles.
“All right, wherever you are, come out,” Marcus shouts. He scans the area with his gun raised, and the others do the same. Marcus tuts and aims his gun at one of the little homes. “You have until the count of five to come out before I blow holes in this thing. One, two, three—”
“We’re coming,” a male voice calls out.
People slowly start coming out from various hiding spots around the building, melting out of the shadows—men, women, children; all in all around ten people come out, looking frightened, arms raised, two children clinging to their mother’s skirt.
“We don’t want any trouble,” a younger man says. He probably once worked here, by the way he’s dressed. “Take whatever you want.” He looks nervous but in control, and he gets points for that alone.
“We don’t want any trouble either. We need supplies; we have hungry people to feed,” I say, lowering my weapon.
I look at Marcus and Andrew. Marcus is stony faced and Andrew seems like a machine with no emotion. Thankfully Danny lowers his weapon to match mine. And one by one, the people lower their hands.
“Sure, sure, we can help you with whatever you need. There’s more than enough here for everyone,” the young man says, offering a small smile. “Michael and I will help you load up whatever supplies you need,” he adds helpfully.
I look at Marcus, who’s still quietly watching everyone, and I feel like I’m on the edge of an abyss, waiting to fall off the end. Like he’s plotting right now whether to kill them all or not. I hold my gun firm and hold my breath, ready to shoot him if he so much as twitches his weapon at these innocent people, but he seems to come to the decision on his own and puts his gun away.
“We have a vehicle out front. We need as much food as you can supply us with,” Marcus says.
Andrew lowers his weapon, but he doesn’t look happy about it. I wonder how the hell this loose cannon got a job as a guard in a prison.
“Where are you from?” a blonde woman asks. I know she’s armed by the way she’s holding herself, and I smile but don’t let on. Hell, perhaps they’re all armed to the teeth—who cares, as long as everything stays peaceful this can be over and done with relatively quickly.
“We’re from Highslow Prison, just north of here. We have a lot of people in there, both prisoners and guards, who need feeding,” Marcus says. “Though we couldn’t care less whether the prisoners get fed.” He looks at me. “They can rot for all we care, but we have to keep things going for now, for when things get back under control.” He sneers.
The mother with two children steps forward. “Do you think things will?” she asks hopefully, a sad desperation in her face. “Get back to normal?”
Marcus shrugs, Danny shrugs, and I look away. I think we’re all doubtful of things going back to normal now. It’s been months now, and we haven’t heard anything from anyone about what’s going on. Radios are still silent, televisions are still blank, and the phones are empty of any dial tone.
Andrew is the one to break the silence that has fallen between our two groups. “Well come on, then, we’re starving. Let’s get something to eat.”
*
After eating a meal of canned potatoes and beans cooked on camping stoves, we start to gather supplies. The place is stocked with everything, and we tell them we’ll have to come back at some point for more food and supplies. For now, though, we fill large carts with as many nonperishables as possible: canned food, dried food, and cases of beer. We take bottled water, too, but the beer is what everyone is mostly looking forward to. The prison is well-stocked with first - aid supplies in the medic’s wing, so we leave that alone, but we do take some DVDs and books to keep us entertained.
It’s time to leave, and as we roll the heavy carts to the door we’re met by a small group of zombies that have grouped out front. They’re pushing and shoving at each other to get in, but Marcus’s shovel handle is holding them for now.
The blonde from earlier steps up front. “Wait here.” She climbs a tall ladder next to the door, and when she reaches the top, she opens up a small window and leans out. A couple of seconds go by and she begins firing into the crowd of dead. One by one they fall, some stepping back to see what the noise is, others continuing their onslaught on the glass doors regardless of their fallen brethren.
“So what, we just stand here holding our dicks while this chick shoots hell out of those fuckers?” Andrew yells.
“No point getting our hands dirty.” Danny shrugs.
Danny is right, but I can see Andrew’s point too. In five minutes the area directly outside the door is clear enough for us to open it up and step outside. The smell of the rotting dead is vile and hangs in the air like boiled cabbage; stale and sweaty. I help drag the bodies out of the way so we can push the carts out to the van, all of us shooting a couple more of the zombies on our way, and quickly load the things inside.
I shake hands with the blonde, offering up a quick smile and a thank you to her, but get a blank stare in return. It doesn’t help that Andrew is leering at her and has been since he saw her. Fear trickles down my spine for these people, the women in particular. If someone like Andrew is turning into such a dangerous person so quickly, what chance does an average person have of not turning against their own kind?
We say our goodbyes and they head back inside the Wal-Mart, a couple of them lingering around to rebuild their blockade. I want to apologize for that, but we didn’t really have much choice in the matter. I climb inside, followed by Danny, worry building in me at the looks they exchange with each other as I do. The time is coming.
I check my weapon several times, making sure my ammo is secure in my pockets, and count down the seconds and then the minutes, timing my exit. I look up at Danny and see him watching me. He doesn’t look as sure of himself as he did on the way out—almost like he’s not convinced anymore that I’m such a bad guy—but I know it’s too late for that. Andrew is gone and Marcus is on his way.
“You think we have enough food to last for a while?” I ask, looking at him, watching both his hands.
He shrugs. “I guess so, but we know where to get more now,” he says, looking away.
I watch his fingers twitch on his weapon, and as I count the ten-mile mark in my head, I dive up and smash the butt of my gun into his temple. He falls to the floor and I dive on top, holding
a hand over his mouth as I hit him again to knock him unconscious. When he’s out cold, I tear open some of the boxes and fill my backpack with some of the energy bars. I strap his Remington to my back and take his Glock and ammo, too, filling my backpack with it all. The cage door is unlocked, so I open the back doors to the van and prepare to jump out.
We’re coming out of a small residential area, and I see a dry riverbed to the west and decide to head that way—away from town and possible infestations of the dead. I count to three, and as the van turns a corner I jump out, rolling to the left and keeping down until the van straightens up and I can’t be seen.
Then I run.
Ten.
My legs rush through the overgrown foliage until I meet the tree line and I dart under the cover of the leaves. I check behind me to make sure they aren’t following, but don’t see anything. If my counting was right, I’m still around ten miles out from the prison—plenty of directions I can go from here. I catch my breath and grab one of the bottles of water from my backpack and take a long drink, my ears perking up when I hear a scream.
I stop swallowing and listen until I hear it again. I put the bottle away quickly and jog in the direction of the scream, sliding down an embankment until I stumble upon an old storm drain with a small wooden fence collapsed and pulled to one side. The scream sounds again from inside, and I curse but run in regardless. It’s hard to work out where the screaming is coming from in such a small space, since it echoes around each and every tunnel. I do notice on my endless twists and turns through the pipes that someone has been living down here.
“Please, no—please!” a woman cries out, and I pick up my pace.
I arrive at a clearing deep in the tunnels and find a woman holding back two zombies with a large metal trash can lid. There are three more on their way to her, so I take out my Glock and aim, taking down the nearest zombie and making her scream even louder.
The other two turn to give me angry, pasty-faced snarls and begin their slow shamble toward me. My ears are still ringing from the earlier shot, but even so I take aim and shoot the zombie closest to her as she pushes it back with the lid again. I don’t get a kill shot this time, but I do hear the distinctive bang-thwack like a bullet hitting wet mud, and it takes off part of its face. I shoot again, taking off the back portion of its skull. Clearly it affects some sort of brain control as it stumbles long enough for the woman to get away from it and run down another tunnel and away from the zombies.
Unfortunately that leaves me to deal with them, and now four zombies head in my direction. I take aim and squeeze the trigger, taking them out one after another , quickly now that I don’t have to worry about hitting her. My ears are ringing, making it hard to hear anything other than the siren going off in my head. A hand touches my shoulder, making me jump and turn to come face to face with another zombie. The thing is too close for me to aim at it with my gun, and it grabs at the front of my clothes, its face millimeters from mine. I punch it in the stomach, my fist breaking through rotting flesh and sinking inside its gut, and I hear the slop of entrails as they fall to the floor. I try to back up, but its fingers score my skin as they dig in, and we stumble backwards as one until the thing is on top of me.
I grab its head between my hands to keep its snapping teeth away from my face, the breath of death washing over me and making me want to throw up. I squeeze either side of its skull as hard as I can, feeling the bones move, but the damn thing isn’t quite rotten enough for me to crush yet. However, its skin begins to slide away from the bone, much like over-ripened fruit, and its jaws move closer to me again.
The strength these things have always surprises me, but when you don’t feel any pain, there’s nothing holding you back, I guess. I kick out at it, trying to shake the thing from my body, and as I stare up into its cold dead eyes, I try to finally make peace with my soul. This is it: this is the end. I grind my teeth, still holding the zombie back, but I know I can’t do this for much longer.
Its eyes bug out of its skull and the body sags. My arms take the brunt of its weight as I quickly shift the thing off me and to the side. I let it go and jump up, surprised to see the woman I had saved earlier standing there with a fireman’s axe in her hands. We stare at each other and then back down to the still twitching body. I find my gun on the floor, pick it up, and put a bullet between its eyes. Ain’t no coming back for this fucker.
“Are you okay?” I turn to look at the woman, who only nods at me. Her blue eyes stare back widely, creating a thunderstorm of emotions. Baby blues. I swallow hard and close my eyes, taking a deep shuddering breath.
Opening my eyes back up, I go into survival mode, checking her over for bite marks. She’s shaking as I check her over, but lets me without flinching.
“You’re okay,” I say, though whether it offers her any comfort I don’t know, but she finds her voice eventually.
“Thank you,” she says with a trembling chin.
I shrug like it was no big deal, even though we both know it was. “Do you know if there are any more down here?” I ask instead.
“I don’t know,” she whimpers and edges closer to me. Likely the thought of more of those things down here putting the fear of hell into her.
“Lemme check it out,” I say. She nods and follows closely behind me as I head off to check and clear all the other tunnels. I have a feeling that they go on for miles, but either herself or someone else before her has closed off a lot of them, forcing dead-ends for the most part, or tunnels which wind back on themselves. There’s an area she’s made into a bed, with a little shelf with pictures upon it, and a small collection of food.
We find more of the dead stumbling around, and I take them out quickly, my gut clenching when I have to shoot a child zombie with pigtails; but I grit my teeth and get the job done, finally securing the area for the woman.
I pick up my backpack and slide it onto my shoulders, reload my gun, and prepare to leave. Her hand reaches out and touches my arm.
“Don’t leave.” She squeezes her eyes closed and when she opens them back up, her blue eyes twinkle with unshed tears. “Please don’t leave me.” Her chin trembles again.
“I can’t stay here.” I gesture around the drains, and I think she takes offence to the idea that I’m turning my nose up at her home. “Not here.” I point around us again with a small smile. “I mean in this town.” I don’t know whether to trust my instinct and tell her where I’m from, but decide I have nothing to lose in the end. “I’m from the prison, and I’m being chased.”
She gasps, and her hand falls from my arm as she takes a step back. I grimace. I hate that look on her pretty face; it reminds me of Amy’s when I was sentenced. I choke on my pain and turn to leave.
“Where are you going to go?” she asks quietly.
“I have no idea, but I can’t chance them finding me,” I say with a shake of my head. “They’ll kill me, and I’m not ready to die today.” I walk toward the exit. The tunnels all blend into one giant rat maze, but I follow the light and eventually stumble back outside. I readjust my pack and am about to pull the wooden self-made door back in place for her when I see her coming toward me. In the dark she is a silhouette, but her eyes catch the glare of the sun as it shines in and catches her face, the blue twinkling at me like diamonds.
I frown. “What?” It comes out gruffer than I meant and she looks offended again. “Sorry,” I huff.
“I want to come with you,” she says quietly.
“No, it’s too dangerous. Go back inside.”
“It’s dangerous everywhere. I would have died back there if it wasn’t for you, and I’m not ready to die either.” She looks at me sincerely, and her eyes are a torment on my soul. “I don’t want to know what you did either. I don’t care. There’s something about you.” She studies my face. “I just know that I can trust you.” Her hand reaches up to stroke my rough cheek. She’s a beautiful woman, no doubt. She reminds me a lot of Amy, which in turn reminds me of Ben. I think of t
he last time I held him: his little fingers curled around my thumb, his gurgle of appreciation, or hello, who knows what it was. But that day he knew that I would always love him and I would always protect him. My heart splinters. I didn’t, though, did I? He died because of me.
I look at the woman again and hold out my hand. “My name’s JD.”
She takes it and offers me a small smile. “I’m Josie.”
“Well, Josie, you’ll be safe with me. Neither of us are going to die today.” I say it firmly so she knows that there’s no room for mistake in what I’m saying. “So long as I live, I’ll protect you.”
She smiles and throws her arms around my neck, whispering a thank you into my ear. I flinch at first and then hug her back, not realizing until this moment how much I’ve missed and craved physical contact with someone. The feeling of being wanted and needed burns inside me. The smell of her skin next to mine—it ignites something in me, and I promise her and myself that I won’t let anything happen to her. I couldn’t protect Amy or Ben, but I’ll protect this woman until my dying breath.
She laughs and tells me she isn’t some feeble woman, but I already knew that. She’s managed this long, out here on her own, and I think we both know that I need this as much as she does.
We begin to walk, following the dry riverbed for some way as we talk, finding out about each other. She doesn’t ask what I was in prison for, and I don’t tell her. With her, Josie, my slate is wiped clean and I get to start anew. This woman saved me as much as I saved her. And I think she knows it too.
To continue the journey, here’s the first chapter of Odium for you to enjoy . . .
ODIUM:
The Dead Saga.
One.
Odium Origins (Book 1): A Dead Saga Novella Page 13