by J. Thorn
The second they walked through—Dokes rushed from their cells and extended out their arms, groaning, making undead noises.
“Guess we got our answer,” Mack said.
“Sort of.” Immediately, Del turned toward the stairs and climbed to the next level.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting a closer look.”
“Don’t complain if you get bit.”
Del snickered. Bit? They couldn’t reach him. He stayed out of arm’s reach, for the most part.
The Dokes smelled badly. Like every possible body function and fluid gone bad.
The two-man cells contained only one prisoner. Del supposed at one time they contained two, but as the old saying went, survival of the fittest—it held true to the Dokes as well.
One was stronger and ended up eating the other. That was the case in every cell.
“Why do you suppose they don’t decompose faster?” Del yelled out.
“I don’t know,” Mack replied from below.
“This one’s arm is falling off. Still can reach out.” Del stepped closer to the cage, taunting and teasing the Doke. “Want me, huh? Hungry, huh?” He stepped to the cell, then back out as the Doke reached and snatched air. He did it several times until finally, the Doke extended his arm too far and it fell off. “Whoops, scratch what I said about his arm.”
“Del! Let’s go.”
“OK, OK. I’ve seen enough.”
Sure, it was a sick ritual, but Del enjoyed it. It was the only time he got a close-up look at the walking dead and could do it safely, without worry.
When Del and Mack first started hitting prisons, they thought about shooting all the Dokes. But that would take too long.
So they set explosives and blew up the facilities.
As they did with Lorain.
After leaving, they detonated the preset charges, sat back a distance, smoked a cigarette, and watched. Listening, if they could, to the faint and fading cries of the Damned.
++++
Mack had a knack for making coffee, the instant way, with boiled water and regular grinds. Alex just didn’t know exactly how he did it. He had showed her many times before, but she never was able to grasp the ritual.
She tried. The coffee was weak. A caramel-colored substance with a hint of flavor. What the flavor was, she didn’t know. Perhaps if she downed it, the caffeine would wake her.
But the caffeine didn’t give her the jolt—the slamming can on the counter did.
She raised her eyes to see a very-perturbed-looking Rick.
“What?” she asked.
“Look.” He pointed to the can.
“Nothing else?”
“Nothing that works for breakfast,” Rick said. “You know as well as I do, the boxed stuff isn’t lasting much longer.”
“Why does he do that?”
“Because he likes Spam and likes to irritate us. You know …” Rick shook his head. “I didn’t double check his shopping bag yesterday. You know why?”
“He made beef stew.”
“Exactly. His cover-up. For getting all Spam.” He huffed. “You have to tell him.”
“What? No. You tell him.”
“You have to.”
“Why?”
“You’re our fearless leader.”
Alex giggled in sarcasm. “I am so not the fearless leader. Mack is the fearless leader.”
“No, Mack is our fearless killer. You lead us.”
“Well I already told him about—”
At that moment the door opened, bringing in the laughing voices of Mack and Del.
Both Rick and Alex looked at them.
Mack peered at Del. “One of us did something wrong.”
Rick, irate, grabbed the can. “Oh, yeah. Del did. This.”
“I like Spam,” Del said.
“Me too,” added Mack.
“Hold it.” Alex made a ‘T’ with her hands. “Del, you promised.”
“I know. I got other stuff.”
“You did,” Alex said, “two cans of beef stew.”
Mack interjected, “I like Spam.”
“Mack,” Alex snapped. “Del. You’re even trying my patience. You like Spam, fine, get Spam, but get other stuff too.” Alex walked around the counter and grabbed a bag. “Come on, Rick.”
“What? Hey. Whoa. Why?” Rick asked.
“We’re going to get food.”
“Why do I have to go?” Rick stated, “I hate going.”
“Can I go?” Del asked.
Rick pointed. “Del should go. Del and Mack should go.”
“I don’t mind going,” Del said. “I like going out there.”
Alex looked at Mack. “Del’s operating on no sleep. Will that be OK?”
Mack nodded assuredly. “You guys will be fine. It’s daylight. The Dokes lay low.”
Alex nodded and walked to the door. “Fine. Come on, Del.”
“Yes.” Excitedly, Del followed. “Can we stop at the movie theater? I love watching the Dokes in there staring at the blank screen.”
Alex only looked at him and just walked out, leaving the door open.
“Guess that’s a no.” Del followed.
After the door closed, Mack walked into the kitchen. “You hungry?”
“Actually, yeah, I am,” Rick replied.
“Cool. I’ll cook.”
“What are you making?”
Down to the counter, Mack set the can and grinned. “Spam.”
++++
The grocery-store setting was the same in every city. Worse only when the store was small, that was why they geared to the large chains. Even with vandalism—there was still so much in stock—the pickings weren’t slim.
Alex liked going to the store with Del because he made it interesting. Not only narrating, but making small comments that made her chuckle.
He also had that small music player on his hip with the tiny external speaker.
Del paused, as he always did, before entering the store.
He put on the music player and perky elevator-style music played.
Being that the store was so quiet, it rang throughout.
Alex chuckled.
“That’s my jam,” he said.
“Every time.”
“It wouldn’t be a store without music.”
They stepped inside, and the store was dark. Some items were sprawled out, but for the most part it was intact.
Alex stopped at a huge water display. “How are we on water?”
“OK. We can pick some up on the way out.”
“Sounds good.”
“Cart? No cart?”
Alex grabbed a basket.
“Works,” Del said. “Seems clean in here.”
Alex aimed for an aisle. “We’d know better if Nicole had joined us.”
“Yeah, she has that weird ability to smell them.”
“How about you? You have the weird ability to see them when they’re behind you.” Alex grabbed an item.
“Like I have eyes in the back of my head.”
“You think … Do you think those are special gifts from God?”
Del laughed. “I don’t think there is a God.”
Clank.
They both stopped.
Alex shifted her eyes to Del. “Either you just pissed off God or …”
A groaning sound rang out.
“Doke.”
No sooner did Del say that, another groan preceded the Doke as he lunged onto the shelf and crouched there.
Del quickly grabbed his CRK, and as the Doke lunged, Del fired.
The spear hit him precisely, retracted, and the Doke fell.
Thump.
The sound carried and with that—came a huge grouping of groans.
They turned and a horde of Dokes appeared at the end of the aisle.
Like a well-choreographed movie, Alex dropped her basket and whipped open her coat at the same time as Del.
Both of them swung out their automatic weapon
.
Del ordered, “Fire!”
They did.
Hitting the Dokes with head shots, they dropped, exposing yet another wave.
It was a battle that didn’t last too long. The Dokes were easy targets, filing down a thin aisle that boxed them in.
Trapped in a tunnel.
The last Doke dropped. And both Alex and Del exhaled in relief.
Del heaved out a breath. “That was fun.” Suddenly his head cocked. “Alex. Behind you.”
Swiftly, Alex turned, CRK extended. Del was right. He was tall and right there.
“I’m not one of them,” he said.
Alex knew. His eyes were normal, so was his skin. He also spoke. Her extended hand lowered.
“But he is.”
Fast, the stranger snatched the CRK from her hand. Eyes still on Alex—not even looking—he extended it to his right just as a Doke leapt on the top of the shelves.
He fired.
The Doke fell.
“Dude.” Del stepped forward. “That was impressive. I’m Del.”
He shook Del’s hand, then turned to Alex.
Alex gripped his hand. “And you—” She stepped back, withdrew her hand with a quirky look, rolled her fingers and looked at them. After a moment, she cleared her throat. “Sorry. You are?”
“Raphael.” He smiled. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Alex gave a quirky look to Del regarding Raphael’s comment. Then she turned back to Raphael and changed her smile to pleasant when looking at him.
CHAPTER SIX
If there was one thing that the group did when they took over a house, apartment, or loft, it was show respect. They respected the previous owners and their belongings left behind.
That was why no one touched anything in the ‘art’ room. Obviously, with all the supplies, they knew the large one-bedroom loft once belonged to an artist.
Rick had deduced he was male. The items left around, the ‘hot babe’ poster in the closet, and beer, gave that up.
In one room, with a heck of a skylight, were easels with paintings. One was covered.
The respect rule kept them from looking too much. Although, Rick often said their memory would live on if someone knew about them.
Perhaps that was why, after breakfast, Rick made his way into the art room. Something drew him to that covered painting. The sun from the skylight was like a spotlight on it. Dust particles floating in the sun, a beacon calling out.
Rick admired the work in view, but he wanted to see what was under that canvas.
Against the rules or not, it pulled at him, and he pulled at the covering.
The image took his breath away.
Was the artist psychic or left behind?
Rick would never know.
The painting was one of a bedroom. Brass head- and footboards on an empty bed. But it wasn’t completely empty. There was clothing in the bed … and salt like particles. More so entrancing than the image of the Rapture, was the angel of the person—smiling—above the bed.
The Rapture.
Rick was well aware of what that was even before the news boasted it.
He had grown up in a Christian home. His mother, a stout Christian, always told him of the ‘life’ to follow if he didn’t want to be left behind. Rick never thought that was a bad thing if he was one of the 144,000 chosen to start anew.
Staring at the picture he chuckled as a memory of his life flashed. That bed reminded him of it.
He was visiting his father for the weekend. Usually, his dad, a painter, never worked on Sundays; but that particular Sunday, Rick’s father had to work. Not a big deal, usually Rick was home by two p.m. A little earlier wasn’t a problem. Almost thirteen, Rick told his father to go on to work and when he woke, he’d immediately go back to his mother’s. A mere eight blocks away.
That Sunday morning he woke up, was bored, and decided to go home.
It was particularly quiet on the street, and Rick didn’t recall if he even paid attention to anything in his walk other than his handheld game unit.
He arrived at his mother’s home; but she wasn’t home.
He found that odd, his mother was always home. He called out for her, nothing. He called her phone, no answer. He tried his father’s phone, he didn’t answer either.
It was when he saw his mother’s clothes on the bed that he freaked out.
“It’s the Rapture!” He ran outside and didn’t see a soul. Not that he checked, Rick was far too scared.
It wasn’t until he called 911 and spoke with an understanding dispatcher that he found out the Rapture hadn’t occurred—that perhaps if he just waited, his mother would arrive home.
She did. Two hours later. She didn’t rush home after church because he wasn’t supposed to be there.
For the longest time, Rick cringed in embarrassment thinking back on that. Now he just chuckled.
In fact, he was laughing out loud when Del startled him.
“What’s so funny?” Del asked, poking his head in the art room.
Rick jumped. “Sorry.”
“Dude, you aren’t supposed to be looking at people’s stuff,” Del said.
“I know. But I had to and I was laughing because this reminded me of a time in my life.”
“One night stand?”
“Huh?”
Del waved out his hand. “Never mind.” He withdrew from the room. A second later, he popped his head in again. “Forgot why I came to find you. We have a newcomer.”
No sooner did Del say that, he was gone, leaving Rick to wonder if it was all a big joke.
++++
Nicole called him ‘beautiful’, Del scoffed. “Hardly,” he blurted, but even he had to admit there was something striking about Raphael. He looked like a thin version of a dramatic professional wrestler. Tall and fit, long flowing black hair. What surprised Del the most was the fact that Raphael was so maintained. Where were the bite marks? Everyone had them. Somewhere on their body was a bite mark. Not him.
Also, the fact that Raphael dressed exactly like their group, bothered Del. He actually contemplated suggesting Raphael had been a stalker, but knew he’d be greeted with ridicule.
Mack was in the kitchen, arms folded, eyes peered to Raphael who was standing in the room being introduced to everyone else. Del walked in and dropped the grocery bags.
“Weird,” Del whispered.
“What do you mean?” Mack asked.
“Did Alex tell you this dude mentions he is finally glad to meet us?”
“No way.”
“Way.” Del nodded assuredly. “Then he keeps touching her hair.”
“You think he’s a freak.”
“Dude, we’re all freaks, but he may be a bigger one. I think the dude’s been without a woman for so long, we have to watch.”
Suddenly, Mack’s expression dropped, he took on a seriousness one and shifted his eyes outward.
“I also think …” Del paused when Mack cleared his throat and Raphael walked to them, “that it’s cool to have one other person.”
Raphael seemed too innocent, almost as if it were fake. “Is there anything I can help with?” he asked, as he stepped near the kitchen area.
Mack was the first to reply, “No we’re good.”
Del had to ask, “So like, guy, what did you mean, it was nice to finally meet us?”
Pleasantly he smiled, reassuringly, as if Del expected him to shake. “I saw you arrive yesterday. I’ve been looking for you. You hide well. The shots gave me direction last night.”
Mack nodded. “You’ll have that. Where were you headed?”
“Same place as you. I assume.”
With his answer, brought the presence of Alex and Nicole. Seemingly attracted to the newcomer as if he were a magnet. That bothered Del, and he didn’t know why.
“It all depends on which one of us you ask,” Nicole interjected with her comment.
Mack furthered her answer with an explanation, “Some of us are l
ooking for survivors and answers to what happened. Try to stay alive and busy. Maybe rid this country of these things. That’s really all we have to do is get rid of them.”
“Good plan,” Raphael said. “That’s what we’re to do.”
Del raised an eyebrow, inwardly giving a quirky look. Repeating the word we’re in his mind. His eyes shifted to Alex when she spoke.
“Some of us believe while doing that, we should be looking for the New Jerusalem,” Alex said.
Rick added, “Some of us think it’s God’s End, and we’re part of the chosen 144,000 who at some point are supposed to arrive at the NJ. I mean, dude, check it out. Did you ever read the description of the New Jerusalem? It’s a fortress.”
Fluttering her lips, Alex then said, “Like, pre-designed ages ago to be a Zombie holdout.”
Good God! Del screamed in his mind. Why were they bombarding this guy, it wasn’t as if he was only gonna stay for a day. Raphael nodded, and Del prepared to suggest a meal. He opened his mouth.
Raphael spoke, “That is what you search for? You believe.”
OK. Enough, Del thought and cleared his throat. “Some of us. But again, some of us don’t.”
“Your words are hard. Laced with anger,” Raphael said.
“Yeah, well, beside the fact that I’m hungry, I hear this every day. God this, God that.” Del waved out his hand. “I want Spam.” He moved toward the bags, and Raphael titled his head, stepping—sort of—in his way.
“So you are one who doesn’t believe?” Raphael asked.
Hands tossed outward in a ‘fine’ manner, Del delivered his words as such, “Nope. If the Bible is right, if there is this big special city for us, then what happened to the rest of the shit? And nowhere in my recollection did I read in the Bible about Zombies.”
Rick snapped in, “Thessalonians. Dude.”
“Thessalonians, dude,” Del mocked, and waved out his hand. “It doesn’t say Zombie. I don’t buy it. I did at first, when I was living with the padre at the church. I don’t anymore.”
“Can I ask what it was that shifted you?” Raphael asked.
“Shifted me?” Del snickered. “Sure. The so-called Rapture.”
Rick released a “Ha!” of a laugh. “Dude, like people disappeared. Just disappeared. Explain that.”