The Hunt Chronicles (Volume 1): Awakening

by J. D. Demers

  He wasn’t looking so hot. I noticed he was changing magazines slower than normal, and was staggering around clumsily, almost like one of the zombies. Somehow, though, almost every shot still found its target.

  The smell was god-awful in this confined area. There must have been at least a hundred in here, crowding and pressing on each other. The front ones were sloppily trying to climb over the bar, and the back ones were fighting for their chance to get a fresh meal.

  “Come on!” I shouted to Fish over the loud moans of the dead. I grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him through the kitchen and dish pit while he changed another magazine.

  The zombies at the back door had managed to knock out the small glass window, but it was too little to fit more than an arm through. The door was still holding, too, and I noticed it opened outward. That was a bonus. Unfortunately, there was not an actual door on the doorway leading into the storeroom.

  I guided Fish to a spot on the floor near the ladder. He seemed close to passing out.

  “Stay awake!” I ordered. Funny, usually he was the one ordering me around.

  I knew what I wanted to do. It probably wouldn’t be long until they managed to breach our defenses back at the bar.

  I took a large metal rack and pushed it over in front of the doorway that led back into the dish area. Boxes full of paper products and foam containers spilled over the floor. It only partially covered the doorway, and I knew they would eventually be able to climb over the half-assed blockade.

  I went back over to Fish. He seemed drunk. I took the cloth he had been wiping the blood up with and tied it tightly around his head. Blood squeezed out of the knot, like wringing out a wet sponge.

  “You’ve lost a lot of blood, man. Just hold on a few more minutes.” I looked up the ladder and saw a padlock on the latch. Fish carried a small pair of bolt cutters in his pack. I quickly dug through it and removed them.

  Climbing up the ladder in full battle rattle sucked. It wasn’t just because my gear was heavy, though that didn’t help either, but halfway up turned into a three by three tunnel. It was a tight area to work in.

  I then heard a rushing sound, as if the zombies were satisfied about something. The moaning quickly became louder and I could hear them bumping into things as they made their way through the kitchen.

  I was able to cut the lock off, and threw it to the ground. Opening up the top hatch released a wave of fresh air.

  I made my way back down to the floor, tossed the bolt cutters to the side and started to heave Fish up. He may have been shorter than I was, but the bastard was heavy. He croaked and groaned as I got him to his feet and leaned him against the ladder.

  “Hey!” I shouted at him. “Get on the roof! Climb!”

  He wasn’t paying attention. I finally got to do something I had wanted to do since I met him. I slapped him as hard as I could. His head snapped back, and his eyes started to open. I reared back, and swung again, but his free hand came up and grabbed my arm. Pain, anger, and determination all flushed over his face.

  “You first… Supply,” he croaked, “I… got your… six.”

  I ignored him and spun him around. “Sorry Fish, age before beauty,” I jested.

  He grudgingly complied, but of course, not without comment. “Too bad… for you,” he squeaked out between breaths as he climbed, “I’m older… and… better looking.”

  “You really must have hit your head pretty hard. We’ll have to-” the face of a zombie coming around the doorway shut me up. The meat around its eye socket had been torn off, and I got a good look at the purple and black veins spider-webbing across the whites of its eye.

  Bringing up my AR, I fired and hit the zombie in the neck. It stumbled back a step, then proceeded to claw its way over the shelving unit. I fired two more times, one shot to the face, the other to the forehead. It slumped over but another zombie was instantly there to take its place. In seconds a dozen zombies were in sight, all trying to push their way past the blockade.

  I fired until my magazine was empty and six of the zombies lay motionless behind the rack. Others were peppered with gunshot wounds, leaking black ooze. It didn’t matter how many I put down, they were pressing in on the shelf, moving it back.

  I looked up, and saw Fish was stumbling over the lip of the hatch on the roof. I let my AR hang freely on its sling and started to climb.

  About halfway up, I saw the first zombie make its way to the ladder, clawing up in my direction. It grabbed onto my boot and started to pull me down. The bastard was strong. Its teeth were gnashing, making horrible clicking sounds and spitting black goo off of them with every chomp. I saw others coming up close behind.

  I unfastened my Glock, and put the oil filter an inch from the creature’s head. One squeeze of the trigger and it fell motionless into its friends, which pushed them out of the way. I struggled the rest of the way up the ladder, not wanting to let go of my gun or put it away.

  Finally, I reached the top and rolled over the edge. Fish was lying there with his eyes closed. He was silent but still breathing. I peered back down the ladder, half scared they would be climbing up after us. They were still on the ground level, though one was hanging from a rung on the ladder.

  I wasn’t sure if they were going to be able to get up here, but I figured standing over them and taunting them wouldn’t help the situation. I shut the door and turned the latch. There was no locking mechanism, but these things didn’t seem to turn doorknobs, so it really didn’t matter.

  I knelt down next to Fish. His breathing was light, but steady. I removed the small first aid kit from the back of my vest and retrieved some gauze and antiseptic cream. Taking off the rag on his head, I could see the rip across his forehead. I cleaned it with water from my canteen, and saw it was about three inches long, but not really that severe. He would need stitches, I was sure. I guess it just looked bad because of all the blood. Head wounds bleed, someone once told me. I found out they were right. I wasn’t sure if he was dazed because of the loss of blood or a concussion, but either way, he was pretty much out of the fight then.

  After I bandaged him up, I dragged him over to one of the air conditioning units and leaned him against it. I needed to keep the wound above his heart. I remembered that much from first aid training. I thought he would be okay, though. There wasn’t a lot of swelling around the wound and I guessed it was just bad friction when he connected with the steering wheel.

  I decided to look around. I changed the magazine in my AR, noting that I only had five full ones left, and made my way toward the front of the building. The top of the roof, where the air conditioning units were, was flat and surrounded by three walls. The back side just dropped off over their walk-in refrigeration unit. It sort of reminded me of a McDonald’s rooftop. I made my way to the edge, and listened to the ever growing rumble of moans below.

  Hundreds, if not thousands surrounded the restaurant. There were tall ones, fat ones, kids, women and more. My heart sank. I had no idea how we were going to get out of this. We probably had about four or five hours of daylight left before their numbers would grow. The misty rain wasn’t getting stronger either. Not to mention the fact it was a fifteen foot drop down and the restaurant was undoubtedly full of zombies.

  “Maybe it will be a sunny day tomorrow,” I said aloud. Of course, no one was listening. I wished Boomer was there. That reminded me. Fish still had his radio on him. I grabbed it and called Judy.

  She seemed upset when I told her we would probably be stuck till morning. I told her it would be fine and just to stay quiet and let Boomer stand guard. She agreed, and I told her I didn’t want our battery to die, so I would contact her later. Telling her how dire our situation was would not have helped or made it better. It’s not like she was going to jump in her SUV and come to the rescue.

  I was scared. It was then that I had to make a crucial decision. Even if we waited till morning, the building would most definitely still be filled with the dead, not to mention the ones taki
ng to the shade around us. There was a lot of vegetation surrounding the parking lot, and I figured the ones that didn’t find shade by the building would just be a couple of dozen feet away in the woods.

  Fish’s truck was stuck, and would probably require some time to get it moving again. Even if he was at full strength, it was a near impossible task to get out of there safely. That’s not even considering that a scab could take notice of the overactive zombies and pursue us. I was sure they could turn a doorknob or easily find a way onto the roof.

  I looked at Fish. He was still breathing evenly. I switched the radio frequency to the one I saw him give DJ.

  “DJ, this is Christian. Come in please.” I said into the transmitter.

  I sat there for few minutes, waiting for a response. Nothing.

  I repeated the message every twenty minutes or so with our dilemma and location. I was happy it was a different channel than what Judy was on. She didn’t need to know how bad things really were.

  Fish would wake up here and there, and I would feed him some water and some crackers that I always carried on me.

  The sun finally showed itself after a couple of hours. It didn’t matter much now, it wouldn’t be long before it went down and we were stuck here for the night. Even if DJ and his people got our message, it would be suicide to come here after dark.

  I peered over the edge of the building and saw the mass of zombies packed in tight, thirty deep around the building. They were all still trying to get in.

  A bang caught my attention. After the second one, I was able to pinpoint it. It was coming from the roof access hatch. A pit formed in my stomach as I realized that zombies could climb. It took them awhile, but at least one of them was able to make its way up to the top, hold itself in place, and try to bash its way out.

  My shoulders slumped. I felt defeated. Up to this point, I was kind of proud of myself. I took charge for once. I had the plan that would keep us alive, but now it seemed like I had failed. Zombies were persistent sons of bitches. It wouldn’t stop until the latch broke and the door opened.

  Then I heard something else. It was a buzzing sound, like an engine off in the distance. At first, it was hard to hear over the consistent moaning of the zombies below, but it was getting louder. Then the radio chirped.

  “Fish, this is DJ, over,” it rang. I can’t tell you how high my heart jumped. I just knew I could feel it pulsating in my throat. I ran over to my friend, who was still passed out near the air conditioning unit.

  “This is Christian,” I said back. “Fish is hurt and passed out.”

  The sound was getting louder and I could tell now that it was coming from the west near the old Kmart. Two vehicles were driving through the parking lot of the Kmart, rounding the edge of the strip mall and coming into view.

  I saw a large Ford F350 followed by a 3500 Dodge Ram. Both of the trucks were modified. Attached to the hoods were large pieces of plywood brought to point that gave the fronts an almost boat-like appearance. Each truck was high enough off the ground so that it was hard for anyone, particularly zombies, to reach into the back. Even still, the beds of the trucks were lined with sheets of metal, adding an additional foot or so to the sides.

  “Say ‘over’ when you’re done transmitting, Supply,” Fish said, slowly trying to stand up. “I know they at least taught you pogues that much in the rear.” Meaning, I was in a non-combat unit. You know, where all of the ‘pogues’ were while the real men were on the front lines.

  I couldn’t help but grin. I was so happy to see him getting to his feet that I almost forgot that we had a rescue party on their way to save us. The radio squawked again.

  “We’re approaching Wagon Wheel Pizza. Where’s the best place to pick you two up? Over.”

  Fish snatched the radio from me as he stumbled to the back of the roof, glaring at the access hatch as he passed it.

  “We could jump off the back of the building, if you can get some of these Zulus out of the way. Over,” Fish said.

  “Roger that. Have a hand-tossed special waiting for us. Over,” D.J. replied.

  “Sure thing. Anchovies and all. Over and out,” Fish returned. He turned to me. “Make sure we have everything.”

  I nodded, and gathered all the medical supplies I had laid out to bandage him up. We made our way to the edge, and jumped down to the roof of the walk-in refrigerator unit. The zombies’ hands could almost reach us, and the smell was even worse close up.

  The F350 rounded the corner. It didn’t speed through the horde of zombies, but just slowly moved forward. The front contraption they had fixed on it was parting the zombies like an ocean liner through the waves, although some fell over and were victim to the large truck’s tires. Each truck had a man in the back, using shovels to push or beat any of the zombies that were getting too close to climbing into the vehicles. Jared was in the first one, and helped Fish and I leap into the bed.

  Chapter 13

  Firehouse

  April 8th Twilight

  I thanked Jared once we settled in the back of the truck. DJ yelled back through the sliding window and told us to hold on. We drove down the road and turned south, taking back streets through an urban area. Zombies could be seen in yards and near houses, slowly getting up and heading in our direction in a feeble attempt to follow us.

  Jared told us we were heading to a safe house. It was some place they cleared just in case they got caught in this part of town after dark or when it was overcast. Thankfully, Fish didn’t pass out again. Probably because we were jolted back and forth as DJ drove wildly to avoid the zombies in the streets.

  We finally made it to the back of what appeared to be a newly constructed fire station. We drove up to the large garage doors in the back. Jared leaped out of the bed of the truck, as did the occupant in the back of the second truck. I recognized the other man. It was Chad, or Convict, as Fish called him. They moved to one of the two retractable doors and lifted it just enough for the trucks to drive in, then lowered it after we drove passed it.

  The inside of the building was devoid of any of the fire engines that usually took up occupancy. I figured most had been out taking care of emergencies when everything went to hell. There were not any windows, which was good, I thought. Zombies and scabs would probably just pass us by as long as we kept the noise and light level to a minimum.

  Jared came over and lowered the back gate of the truck, and then helped Fish and me get out. I could hear DJ on a radio as he stayed in the driver’s seat. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but I could hear his gruff voice well enough. Whomever he was talking to, they didn’t seem too happy with the situation.

  “We stay in this bay.” Jared told me. “We don’t like to separate in here. There are a few mattresses on the other side of the garage. If you take your friend over there, Daniel can take a look at him. He’s an EMT.” He was referring to the man who was getting out of the passenger side of the other truck.

  Daniel was tall, somewhat chunky with dark hair, and appeared to be around my age. He wore thin rimmed glasses that rested on a jovial face.

  The driver of the other truck was a young girl named Jenna. She too was about my age, tall, big-boned and pretty, though she could have used a nice long shower. Both her accent and demeanor screamed redneck. The way she carried her shotgun and the revolver on her hip told me she knew how to take care of herself. I thought that perhaps she could give Jared some lessons on how to use his gun.

  Chad grabbed some gear out of the back of the other truck. He seemed pissed about something, but I couldn’t care less why. He still had on his filthy white tank top and gave us regular dirty looks, like we did him wrong in some way. He was taking electric lanterns out of Jenna’s truck and placing them around the garage. The low light gave an ominous feeling to the garage.

  Daniel, the medic, went right to work on Fish. He laid him on one of the mattresses and propped him up on a couple of pillows. Fish grumbled a bit, saying he was fine, but let the medic do his job
. He grabbed an IV bag and started to insert the catheter when Chad spoke up.

  “So, we’re not only going to risk our lives for these assholes, but now we have to waste our drugs on them too?” Chad shook his head in disgust.

  I wanted to say to something in response, but these guys had just saved our lives. I didn’t think raising tensions would be the best thing at that moment. To be honest, I was also a little intimidated. Chad had definitely been in prison, and I really didn’t think it was a good time to get my ass kicked by a hardened criminal. Daniel, however, was not intimidated.

  “Can you please go be a prick on the other side of the station?” the EMT said evenly, and without turning to look at Chad, he inserted the needle into Fish’s arm. “You’re polluting my air. Besides, this is a saline bag, not drugs. I would think, out of all people, you would know the difference.”

  “I told you I wasn’t a fuckin’ crack head,” Chad responded angrily while taking a few steps closer to Daniel. “Keep talkin’ shit and-.”

  “Hey man,” Jared interrupted, nervously intercepting Chad. “Back off.” Jared didn’t seem like a tough guy, and was clearly uneasy as he approached him.

  “What are you going to do, pussy?” Chad taunted as he got in Jared’s face.

  I saw Fish, who was still dazed, put his hand on his .45. Luckily, though, DJ quickly defused the situation.

  “Back it up, Chad, or you’re going to be eating your teeth,” DJ ordered. He didn’t seem very happy and I think Chad was just making him angrier. Whatever conversation the big guy had on the radio in his truck had clearly gotten under his skin.

  Chad hesitated, almost as if he was trying to save face, but slowly backed away from Jared. He swore under his breath as we walked towards the other side of the garage.

  I let out a breath and turned to look at Fish. His eyes were glazed, but his hand was still on his gun.

  “Is he going to be okay?” I asked Daniel as he took out stitching supplies.