“What was that for?” I asked Branden.
He shrugged. “We should leave him.”
I groaned. “I don’t think we should just leave him. At least not when he’s unconscious. He was, just like we are, trying to find a way to survive. For all we know, it wasn’t his idea, and most likely it’s not like he pops a boner every time he kills. It was just a series of bad circumstances.” Branden didn’t have much to say at that, so I continued, “When Taylor is up and kicking again, we will know the truth. I think we should tie Will up and take him with us.”
Branden groaned disdainfully, which gave me the impression that he did not approve of the idea in the slightest. I was even more surprised when he stamped his foot in revolt. I wondered if I was about to witness a full-grown man throw a temper tantrum like a toddler being denied video game privileges. He then turned around and left the restaurant.
At first I thought that the bastard had left me. I figured he just jumped ship on me, but I still wasn’t going to leave Will in his current state. If we left him there, he could become a problem later on if he found us and decided to try his hand at revenge. I would have stayed the night there if I had to. But within a few minutes, Branden returned with one of the shopping carts that had been on the road. We united Will’s hands and tied him up, and then threw him rather roughly into the cart. It’s ironic that the guy who bound our friend was, in return, bound.
We made a single round through the building and the surrounding area and took everything of value, including the metal baseball bat, the rifle that I was shot with (which turned out to be of .22 LR caliber), and the battle-axe. Not a bad haul by any standards. We placed all of these in the shopping cart on top of Will, who barely fit inside in the first place. Right before we left, I gave Taylor a few light slaps to try to bring him to some level of consciousness; I couldn’t carry him with my arm in its state.
Luckily, he did awaken enough to put most of his weight around my shoulders. Taylor and I hobbled out of the store while Branden pushed the shopping cart behind us. We had no choice but to leave the bodies of those we dispatched. On the return trip, Taylor occasionally mumbled. But most of what he said was unrecognizable other than a few words here and there. With two injured people in our care, we had no choice but to hold off on our search for medical supplies for Joey. Walking back to the Warehouse, with Branden having to avoid curbs, seemed to take forever.
When we reached the Warehouse, the first thing we did was secure Will to one of the shelving racks inside the cage. Next we checked on Joey. He didn’t appear to be faring well; blisters had erupted from his blotches of skin that had recently turned blue. Branden and I left the three injured men for a moment to go into the refrigerated area and bring back food for all of us. But on our way there, something caught our eyes.
On the floor, right in the path we always walk, an apple lay out of place. And so we added another thing to our to-do list: find the person that has been taking food and protect the food a little better. Considering we had found Joey still sleeping when we returned with Will and Taylor, we knew it couldn’t have been him. Branden and I hadn’t eaten any apples since we had gotten there, so we simply couldn’t come up with an answer that didn’t involve a stranger getting into the Warehouse.
The conversation then proceeded to change topics to another issue that needed discussion: our plan. The way things have been progressing, and the unspoken goal between Branden and I, is that all arrows point to staying in the Warehouse. While it would obviously be nice to have access to the food that is stored here, it could get it us into trouble.
The clever people in the world realize that the food they buy in stores comes from warehouses, and if they look around, they will find one. Stores in nearly all situations, be it by robbery or legitimate purchase, will run out of food first. Well, the supply chain stopped moving two weeks ago. Most stores are probably down to one tin can an aisle by now, and people have to keep eating. So, they’ll start looking around in other places they wouldn’t normally. Places like warehouses, which means uninvited people are going to show up again, and most likely they will become serious threats to our lives.
The second part of this problem is that we don’t have any way to keep this building secure from the people that would do us harm to get food. We lack weapons, the people to hold them, and the necessary defenses like a roadblock or barbed wire along the top of the fences outside. Branden and I can probably only hold down the fort for a while.
In the middle of our conversation just outside the cage, a woman walked into sight. Both Branden and I recognized her as the nurse who used to work here, Lisa. She’s probably in her late 40s. Long brown hair, and based on little comments and what everyone at work always used to think, she’s a hippie. Speculatively. When we asked her what she was doing, she gave us this whole big speech that I honestly can’t remember.
But, in a nutshell, I can assuredly tell you this: she has been in the building the whole time we were. She had holed up in her office, and when she said that, Branden and I looked at each other, realizing we were fools. Instead of going outside to find a first aid kit, we could have just broken down the Nurse’s office door. But that also means that we wouldn’t have come across Taylor. Then again, I wouldn’t have been shot. The apple on the ground earlier was from her, and the reason her door was locked was that she was inside. Turns out she’s been sneaking about in here for the last four days. At least that’s what she said. Branden doesn’t trust her to her word.
Now that I think about it, she never did say what actually brought her to the building. Probably the same reason as us: nowhere else to go. But maybe Branden is justified in his sense of distrust with Lisa. She did just seem to randomly appear. But there is also a reason behind trying to befriend her: she is a nurse. We can all help one another out. Branden and I will try to keep the riff-raff and dead out, and she’ll patch us up. Hopefully it’s that simple.
After our conversations, she proceeded to tend to Joey. She said that she’s been with him for the last hour, which is good that she saw someone in pain and immediately helped. I asked her if afterwards she would be willing to help me clean up my own wound. She sanitized both the entry and exit holes and re-bandaged my arm. I know Branden is skeptical of her, but when I think of keeping her near, the pros outweigh the cons.
Branden’s been eyeing the battle-axe. I caught him looking at it and swinging it about like a little kid. He told me that he likes the shotgun, but a large bruise has formed on his shoulder and on his bicep; he hasn’t been holding it right. I tried to give him pointers again, but his mind was set. While he plans on continuing to carry the shotgun, he only wants to use it when absolutely necessary. It does make sense that he would want to reduce the use of ammunition and become a little quieter, so I didn’t give him any grief.
We spent the rest of the day in the Warehouse trying to find ways to barricade doors and windows. We didn’t really want to risk another step outside.
Days Four and Five
I didn’t feel like writing yesterday, so I will briefly recap it now. Throughout yesterday and today, both Taylor and Joey have shown signs of improvement. Will is still tied up in the cage, of course, until Taylor comes around. Will doesn’t speak much to us, nor do we to him. He looks miserable, though. I suppose that could be expected when he has spent these last two days just sitting against the racking in the cage.
We bring him food and escort him to the restrooms and check up on him regularly. I suppose you could say he is a prisoner. I can’t help but wonder if he is worried that we will subject him to zombies and try our own hand at turning him in to the hospital. I honestly hope that he is frightened and thinks that we will. While I would not let that happen to anyone, it would be ironic for him.
Lisa remains helpful, taking care of my arm, thankfully. I want to ask her more about what happened to bring her here, but I am afraid to ask. She looks distant most of the time, like her mind wanders. I feel that she, like everyone
else, has lost someone. But it just feels awkward not knowing what exactly happened to her.
One thing we did accomplish today is that we got a couple new guns. Branden had brought up going to the nearby sporting shop, so we decided to make a quick trip there and back. The shelves and displays had been cleared of ammunition and firearms and the cabinet that we found our new guns in was difficult to get in to. They were in a glassless locking display case composed of a metallic grate, much like chicken wire. The contents of the case had been hidden away behind newspapers taped inside; this was the giveaway that something may be inside.
We decided to take the risk and shoot the lock out. This choice ended up damaging the display case’s most valuable content: an AR-15. Even though we were saddened by the loss, we still walked away with two other guns. The handgun that we retrieved from the case is unfortunately known as the “cheapest handgun in America,” and you can imagine what that entails. The second firearm is a Circuit Judge. Now this little shotgun is a neat one. It has a 5-shot cylinder and can shoot .410 shot shells or .45 LC rounds. It is a very multipurpose gun.
However, there were little signs all over the store that suggested someone was living there, at least at some point. Food wrappers, cans, and someone even set up one of the reloading benches. There was too much evidence to deny that someone lived or lives in there. Not to mention that our new guns still had locks on the triggers. Someone that has the key to get into the case has to have the key to the trigger guards. We still ended up taking the guns, even though we weren’t sure that we’d be able to remove the locks. As justification, Branden said, “Well if the guns are stored in here, whoever owns them doesn’t need them,” and I’m a follower, not a leader.
Branden and I, back in the Warehouse, went to feed Will and check up on Lisa and the injured. It was Branden’s turn to bring food to the prisoner, so I was the first to check on Lisa. Taylor was conscious. This pleased me to an extent you may not understand. I was so bloody happy to hear him talk. I asked him a few quick questions and he seemed completely coherent. I’m not sure how Taylor hasn’t lost his mind to the infection, but I’m goddamn happy about it.
Taylor was pretty shocked to see me, and honestly it felt good to get that joyous of a reaction. But alas, we had things to discuss, so I only spent a short amount of time in light conversation before I got started on business. I asked him if he could walk and said that I wanted to talk with him somewhere alone. He said he was physically capable of doing so, but if he moved too fast, he felt lightheaded. I helped him from the bed and we stepped out of the office, away from Lisa.
We stepped into the break room alone, and I said, “Taylor, I need you to tell me what happened to you in the most detailed way you can. There are some…” I stopped for a moment to think of a word. “…issues that need to be solved.”
Sighing, Taylor looked down at his feet for a moment. He collected his thoughts, and spoke his story. “I remember I was with my dad. Something happened to him; I want to say he fell from my apartment deck.” He groaned in frustration. “I don’t understand why I can’t remember.”
“It’s all right, man. Just take your time,” I told him.
“Well, I was walking to either the hospital or the police station in Waterloo, and then all I remember is waking up in some empty room.” He looked off in the distance, then back at me. “I was tied up, and I was trying to look out an open door, out into this hallway, and there was a friggin’ zombie like right there. I tried to shuffle back into the corner of the room, but the zombie got to me. It tore into me.” Taylor looked down and fiddled with his bandages. “Just when I was about to give up trying to get away from it, a group of masked guys walked into the room and shot the thing off me.” His breathing had grown heavy.
“They bandaged the bites up, and left me in there for at least a day, it felt, only checking up on me a few times. I’d hear commotion behind the walls and occasional talking, but I never could make anything out. I never moved from that one spot. Within a few hours of that, I’d hear running down in the hall, and a door or two would open and slam shut again in the hallway.” Taylor started weeping.
“Hey, it’s all right. You’re outta there, Taylor. I’m here, Branden Nuemann is here, and you’re safe,” I said, consoling Taylor as best as I could. Taylor sniffled and nodded as his hands slid up and down the wounds on his arms.
He looked away for a moment and took a deep breath. Wiping the moisture from his face, he exhaled and spoke again. “Sometimes I would hear harsh breathing, and within five minutes, another zombie would waltz through the door to the room I was in and find me. Every time this happened, it was the same thing, or the same sequence of events. I don’t even know how many times…”
With just that portion of the story, my suspicions were confirmed. Will had been subjecting him to the dead more than once. I wanted Will to pay. He subjected one of my best friends to the most gruesome kind of torture imaginable. I wanted him to feel what Taylor did.
Taylor continued his story, describing how he was blindfolded and moved, presumably to the restaurant where we found him. Throughout the last half of our conversation, my mind was distant. Different thoughts and feelings formed into words and sentences as I formulated a plan.
“Taylor, can you do me a favor?” I asked.
“Possibly? Depends on what it is,” Taylor replied.
“Could you stay out of the parts cage or the Mechanics’ room ‘til I say otherwise?”
One of Taylor’s eyebrows rose. “Sure, I guess. Why?”
“I’ll explain later, but Branden is up in the fridge if you want to go talk with him for a bit. I’ll catch up with you in a while.”
Taylor was confused, but I was on a mission. I left Taylor in the break room and began walking for the cage. I took my rifle from my shoulder as I entered the cage serving as a metal prison and sat down in front of Will with the gun across my lap.
“You eat already?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Will said.
I was nervous, but ready, and said, “Good. I have one question for you.”
He looked at me with a bored and tired expression and did not say anything.
“Now’s your chance to come clean, Will.”
He looked confused. “Come clean?”
I nodded. “Before I kill you.”
Will sat up straight with wide eyes. “I’ve been tied up in here for two days! I already told you about the hospital, what else could you want?”
“Let me remind you of what you did: You subjected a man to merciless torture.” I stood up, walked close enough to Will that I loomed over him, and held my rifle in a ready position. “And that man happened to be my friend.”
“So why don’t you just kill me?” Will exclaimed.
“Oh, I’m going to blow a tunnel through your skull, Will. Don’t worry about that,” I said as I pointed the muzzle toward him. “What did you do it for? Was it really for food? Part of me doubts that even that is the truth.”
“No, I told you about the hospital. It’s the truth!”
“Uh-huh.” I pulled the bolt of my gun back to double check that I had a round loaded.
“Fuck you, man! Just get it over with!” A tear escaped the corner of his eye.
“Not a problem,” I said and pressed the gun against his forehead.
Will shut his eyes as I wrapped my finger around the trigger.
“I’m fucking sorry,” he said.
I lowered my gun. As much as I wanted him dead, I just couldn’t end his life myself. I turned and left the cage.
Just outside, I heard Will say, “It wasn’t my idea, guy.”
Branden and Taylor were talking in the equipment room. I asked Taylor if he wanted to see Will. Confused, he asked me who Will was, so I proceeded to explain to Taylor how we’d found him and about Will. Taylor of course agreed to meet the man, and he made his way to the cage, leaving Branden and I alone to talk.
“I don’t know what the fuck to do with him,”
I told Branden.
“Should have left him like I said!”
“Not an option, Branden. Can’t just leave someone to die like that.”
“What’s going on with you, Chester?” Branden asked.
“Nothing?”
“Come on, you’re drooping your head for fuck’s sake. Never seen you do that.”
I sighed. “I went to the cage to interrogate Will. I wanted him to pop or confess, so I threatened to kill him. I didn’t do it, but that doesn’t change the fact that the further I got into it, the more I just wanted to kill him.”
Branden raised his eyebrows. “That’s something.”
“I know. It’s just… he could have killed Taylor. Or somebody else! Yeah, the guy was trying to get something to eat, but fuck.”
“Now I see what’s up with you,” Branden said.
“Eh, shut up.” I stood in thought for a moment. “He said it wasn’t his idea to torture Taylor.”
The Book of a Few Page 6