Ranger Martin and the Zombie Apocalypse

by Jack Flacco

  As the pounding continued, Randy hurried from the guard station shutting the door behind. He knew now why he’d found himself in his cell all alone. Whoever put him there was not trying to keep him in. Whoever put him there was trying to keep others out in order to protect him. If he was right, he’ll find provisions close by, beyond his former cell number five. And they couldn’t come soon enough. The pangs forced Randy to crouch and wrap his arms around his stomach. If he didn’t find food fast, he might as well curl into a corner and die an emaciated death.

  On the right from the door, Randy slipped into cell number three. He tossed the two beds and pillows, and found nothing. He did the same for cell number four. But when he reached cell number five, he hesitated before entering. This is where he’d started. What if the door locked behind him? What if it was all a trap to see what he would do? What if…? He shook his head and went in. First, he attacked the pillow, examining every inch with both hands. Then he pitched the mattress to the floor and patted it down. Empty. He sat for a moment, head bowed and arms around his knees. As he lifted his eyes, an object under the bed caught his attention. He crawled to it. When he saw it was a snack bar, he jumped it as a fox would a fleeing rabbit. Tearing the wrapping with his teeth, he ingested the small meal without effort. Someone was trying to protect him.

  The pounding became louder and more frequent. Having regained his energy, Randy hid the letter opener in his back pocket, hopped to his feet and made his way to the next cellblock, a right turn from his former cell. Separated by another door, nothing changed. Same dank empty cells, same stench of rotting flesh. At least the pounding faded as he moved away from the area. And like all the other doors Randy encountered, except for the one in the guard station, the final door at the end of the corridor stood unlocked. He took a chance and snuck into the next room. An infirmary greeted him filled with empty beds. On the left side, the beds had no linen. On the right, some of the linen had large green spots in the center. In addition, green liquid trickled from the needle of one of the bags connected to a gurney.

  Randy didn’t have time to take any of it in. A chilling moan drifted into his ears. A glass mirror threw his reflection from the far wall on the left, opposite the beds with the green liquids. The mirror spanned the length of the entire wall. Randy’s eyes darted from one side of the mirror to the other. Another moan, louder in intensity disturbed the silence again. It seemed to have come from the other side of the mirror. Randy’s heart raced. He had to get out. Now!

  It was too late. A force beyond Randy’s imagination smashed through the mirror from the other side and landed solid between beds. The ravenous carnivore had Randy’s body parts slated as its next meal. Randy gulped. He’d never seen anything like it. The creature had tissue hanging from its face. The eyes were pale and the skin a pasty green. Its clothes in rags. Thinking it wouldn’t attack if he didn’t move, Randy stood still, shaking. He slowly drew the letter opener from his back pocket. But Randy was wrong. From fifteen feet, the rotting corpse began its dash toward him.

  Without flinching, Randy spun a one-eighty and sprinted to the nearest door. The walking cadaver had speed to its pace and caught Randy by the shirt, pulling him in its clutches. With the letter opener still in hand, Randy plunged it into the beast’s neck thinking it would have stopped it as it would have stopped a human. It had no effect. The creature took the mistake as a sign of weakness and wrapped itself around Randy’s arms, holding him in an attempt to bite a chunk of flesh from his neck. In a single thrust, Randy threw himself and the monster on the infirmary floor, crashing it into a pile of bedpans and scale. This jostled the eater’s grip long enough for Randy to free his hand, remove the letter opener from the beast’s neck, and spike the instrument into the zombie’s ear. Turquoise guck oozed on the floor while the thing hollered in anguish, before it gave up its soul.

  Randy crawled away backward screaming at the mess. The bed behind stopped him from going further. He panted hard and gawked at the dead corpse. The body lay there, not moving. He had no clue what it was. He only knew one thing: it tried to kill or eat him.

  Safe for now, he thought. But one last twitch from the dead body sent Randy hurling his head against the bedpost. He slid sideway to the floor, unconscious.

  Chapter 4

  “Alpha-One-Two, come in.” The faint radio signal originated from the Mojave Desert, off the shoulder of I-15. “Alpha-One-Two, do you copy?” The transmission repeated with urgency. Ranger’s rusty pickup sped by. When the dust settled, a walkie-talkie appeared in a dead soldier’s hand. “Alpha-One-Two, are you there?” There was no dead soldier. A cold grip kept the walkie-talkie in the possession of the half-consumed, severed arm.

  With the fuel gauge pointing to almost full, Ranger drank from a pop can he’d taken hours earlier from a vending machine at Peggy’s Gas Station. Jon tossed in his sleep between Ranger and Matty who stared out into the distance. The sun’s golden rays peaked over the horizon.

  “How long have you kids been out in the desert?” Ranger set the can in a cup holder protruding from the dash and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

  “Been a while.” Matty kept her gaze on the sunrise.

  “What does a while mean?”

  “Not long.”

  He peered at her from the corner of his eye then turned his attention back on the road. “Not much for words, are you?”

  “Look,” Matty shot him a stare as if she wanted to throw him out of the truck, “can you just drive? I want to get out of this hellhole as much as you.”

  A smile appeared on Ranger’s face. “Hmm.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Did you know half of the world’s population of Virginia big-eared bats makes Hellhole their home?”

  “What?” Matty cringed asking the question.

  “Hellhole. It’s the deepest cave in eastern West Virginia. About 9,000 Virginia big-eared bats live there.”

  “Yeah, you said that. So?”

  “Look around you.” He nodded from left to right at the view outside the truck. “Do you see any bats?”

  Matty shook her head, mumbled, “Smartass,” and went back to gazing out her window. A faint movement crawled on her lips and brought the corners upward.

  Of course Ranger got a kick from knowing he could brighten Matty’s day with his knowledge of chiropterology. But when she covered her mouth with her hand, he knew he had her. “See, you liked that.”

  “I did not!”

  “You sure did! I saw you smile. And a girl who smiles is a girl who’s happy.”

  “You’re totally wrong.”

  “Maybe. But now you know we’re not in Hellhole.”

  Matty rolled her eyes and smacked her lap. “All right, so maybe I did smile once.”

  Ranger’s bellowing laugh escaped deep from within his diaphragm.

  “Where are we?” Jon wiped his eyes with the back of his hands.

  “Not in Hellhole.” Matty answered.

  The pickup pushed forward on the desert highway and made its way past abandoned cars, trucks and vans. Most of them scorched to rubble. No sign of creatures anywhere. Matty studied the broken traffic along the sides of the road. She caught a glimpse of a charred Cedar City police cruiser to her left. On the right, they passed a white Miller’s Foods transport truck. Suddenly, Matty shot Ranger a stare. Words floated between them in silence. He had the same idea.

  The truck braked in the middle of the cluttered roadway. After coming to a full stop, Matty popped out of the passenger seat and adjusted her ponytail. No matter what she did with her red hair, it always seemed tousled. Not waiting for anyone else, she checked the ammo in her gun as she began her march to the transport truck. Jon soon followed.

  “Get back in that truck.” Matty ordered.

  “I want to come.”

  “Get back in the truck, if you know what’s good for you.”

  “Fine.” Jon slammed the door, crossed his arms and shook in his seat.

  “Don�
��t worry, I’ll look after her.” Ranger shut the door, holstered his shotgun and grabbed the ax from the back of the pickup. He soon gained and matched Matty’s determined pace. They arrived at the rear of the abandoned vehicle together.

  “Great, it’s locked.” Matty aimed her gun at the truck’s door mechanism.

  “Wait!” Ranger pushed her gun into the air, preventing her from firing. “Never use a gun to do an ax’s job. If anything was alive around here, they’d come straight for us.”

  Ranger’s ax crushed the lock without trouble. When he slid the door open upward, the undead slayer’s eyes brightened. A multitude of boxes lined the inside of the truck in neat rows. The labels on the boxes indicated their contents: tuna, turkey and ham cans. There was enough food to feed them for years.

  Ranger and Matty stood frozen with blank expressions on their face.

  * * *

  Randy awoke moaning and massaging the back of his head. He sat upright against the bedpost he’d smacked his skull against. He rubbed his eyelids with his thumbs and wondered how long he was unconscious. The last thing he remembered, a creature had come after him with death in its eyes. That sudden realization propelled him to his feet. The creature still lay dead with Randy’s letter opener jammed into its ear. For a moment he studied the corpse but soon his attention turned to the opening in the wall. Behind the broken mirror the dead creature had crashed through, an empty observatory waited for Randy to explore. He ignored it. Instead he checked for other exits from the infirmary. There were none.

  The edge of the opening reached his chest. Shards of mirror prevented him from scaling it without getting gored. He pressed a bed to the opening, hopped it, and used a blanket to cover the edge, crumpling the shards. Once he felt safe, he crawled in. The observatory overlooked the infirmary. He couldn’t imagine what went on during the time the jail was functional. Had he been part of experiments he knew nothing about? His instincts remained intact. He searched and recovered a pencil and a flask from the trash next to a small table. He buried the pencil in his back pocket and smashed the bottom of the flask on the table, creating a serrated weapon.

  Confident he had the tools to escape his own personal hell, Randy strode forward through a glass-covered walkway connecting the observatory with another building. He reflected on the morning’s sunlight penetrating the windows. No matter how hard he tried, his memory failed him. How did he wind up in jail? Who left him the snack bar? Where is everyone? What was that thing that tried to eat him alive? Nothing made sense to him. He’s heard of cannibals, but never thought they existed, let alone attempt to kill him.

  When he arrived at the end of the walkway, he came across a sally port—a secured means of scrutinizing prisoners as they left from one cellblock to another. It didn’t faze Randy since it appeared the device no longer worked. Both primary and secondary doors remained open. Caution filled his step as he passed through the doors and slipped into the room adjacent to the sally port. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Books covered the walls. Hardwood oak floors stretched from end to end under his feet. And a telephone rested on an old-style mahogany desk located at the opposite end of the room from another door.

  Randy scrambled to the phone, seized it and dialed for help. He hurriedly tapped the hook for a signal but none existed. His body dropped into a hunch. He kept going and calmly placed the broken serrated flask he carried as a weapon on the desk, came around the other side, sat in the leather chair and rifled through the drawers for anything that would reveal what happened to him. All the drawers came up empty save one, the bottom drawer. He couldn’t open it. At this point, nothing he’d tried worked. The drawer became his mission. A smirk grew on his face.

  He tugged it but it did not open.

  He kicked it but it did not open.

  He pounded it, smashed it, hammered it with his fists, but it did not open.

  Randy sunk into the comfort of his chair, exhaled a gradual pocket of air from his lungs and traced the contours of the armrests with his fingers. His foot lightly tapped the inside of the desk. The tapping must have triggered something in him to throw the chair behind his legs and stroll to the rear of the desk. He bent and gently caressed the backing then shot upright and kicked it once, putting a massive hole where the locked drawer rested. His decided hands ripped apart the backing, throwing splinters all over the hardwood. A final blow to the locked bottom drawer sent the contents flying to the floor on the other side. He went to it.

  All he found were purchase orders, invoices and access forms. Nothing there that provided answers. But he didn’t give up. Routing around the bottom of the broken, empty desk with his blind hand, he pulled out a file folder. He gulped, dropped his back to the side of the desk and sat cross-legged, the folder rested on his lap. Could this be what he was looking for? Did he want to know the truth? Go ahead. Open it. Open it.

  His slender fingers flipped into the folder. It contained one single sheet of paper. On the page had written the following:

  To whom it may concern,

  If you are reading this then I’m already dead and may God keep my soul from harm’s way.

  We saw them coming from a distance. At first, we didn’t know who they were, but when they attacked the guard towers, the guards took refuge in the walls where we thought we were safe. They next took control of the jail walls, some of the guards who had first escaped the first wave gave up their souls. Once the walls fell, the prisoners had control of the entire facility. It didn’t matter to them. They went after the prisoners. One-by-one, the prisoners too gave up their souls.

  Only a handful remained before they came for us. The only chance we have is of the boy who was sent to us from Juvenile Detention. Somehow, he is not affected by their change. He was sent here to remain safe until a time when we could understand how to stop them. I provided him with as much nourishment as I could but I think it might be too late. I sedated him today to preserve him as much as possible. The drugs should have slowed his heartbeat and breathing thereby preventing the body’s natural functions from eliminating.

  The last bit of food we had left ran out yesterday. I left a snack bar in his cell for when the prisoner, or should I say, our savior, awakens.

  The boy’s name is Randall Samuel Morrow, fifteen years old and can be found in Cellblock G, Cell 5.

  I am deeply sorry I couldn’t do more. If I am no longer alive in soul, then you’ll know I gave my life for the boy.

  Warden Nathanael Edwin Davis

  The letter slipped from Randy’s hands with the cold realization he needed to stay alive, if not for himself, for anyone else who may have survived. Something in him kept him from changing into one of the eaters. What prevented his change?

  * * *

  From within the Miller’s Foods transport truck along I-15, Ranger, Matty and Jon had feasted enough for a week. Rubbing her tummy with her slender hand, Matty sat heavy from her meal. The ax stood upright against the inside wall next to her. Empty cans lay strewn on the floor. Jon sat close by, polishing off the turkey. Ranger let off a deep burp as he played with a golf club he’d found earlier in the rear of the trailer.

  “Aw, that was a good one! Hold on, hold on.” Jon said, propped straight while adjusting his position. “Buuuuurp!”

  Although not as deep as Ranger’s, it still made an impression on Matty. “That is revolting! You guys are so gross!”

  Ranger straightened his posture, swallowed air and belched louder than his last. A devilish grin bounced across his face as he threw Matty a playful glance. Jon followed suit, giving off another discharge louder than his last, prompting Ranger to laugh, and Jon to join in at the same time.

  Matty shook her head. But then she too had something to say. “Burp.” It was a tiny one in comparison to the boys’ standards, yet still noticeable. Shock filled her face, and her hands fell covering her mouth.

  Ranger and Jon’s eyes widened. They gazed at one another with serious faces. Matty’s eyes darted in all directions, and th
e back of her neck turned a bright red. Smiles tickled the boys’ faces until they burst laughing harder than ever. She was one of them now.

  “Aw, man! That was so awesome!” Jon chuckled through his words.

  “The look on your face, Matty, priceless.” Ranger wiped his mouth clean. He closed his eyes, and eased his head on the wall of the trailer while sighing. One of the corners of his mouth rose from thinking of the burping episode. But it dissolved as fast as it’d appeared into a curious frown. Silence chilled the air. His eyes opened, slow and purposeful. He gazed at the kids’ pale expressions. They stared to one spot, iced-over. He knew those faces, he had seen them before, and he will continue seeing them as long as the changed roam the earth.

  His focus fell on the trailer’s opening, on three of the undead rocking from side-to-side. Only their heads and shoulders were visible. Grabbing the golf club he found earlier along the side of the trailer, he rose with one intention: play golf.

  “Stay behind me and don’t move.” Ranger said in a calm voice, not wanting the kids to get in the way. He stepped back with the club, and ran the length of the trailer, winding his shot as he went. The sound of his feet on the hallow floor sounded like thumps against a massive door. At the end of the trailer, his first swing struck one of the monsters clean through the skull, blasting avocado brain chunks on to the pavement below. The pieces sizzled in the afternoon sun.

  One gone.