The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Buried Instincts

by Henson, Lynn

  He pushed a table aside letting Lisa move through the barricade allowing them to get out of the small cafe and into the hotel. He pulled a chair free from the barricade and offered it to her. She sat down in it. “Now what?” she asked meekly.

  “Now we give you a chance to calm down,” he said looking around for any more surprises.

  “I didn’t know it was so bad,” she admitted, “We’d heard stories of an epidemic, but I couldn’t imagine what those people have become.” She wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry about the way I acted. My brain... it just shut down. I’ve never acted that way before.”

  “It’s ok. We’re still in one piece. Just take a moment to think about our situation and try to accept it. If you panic again... just... just try not to panic again. Ok?”

  She took a breath and nodded.

  twenty-six

  Blake looked uncertainly down the dark mall like hallway and then turned to Lisa who was looking much improved. “I don’t suppose you brought a flashlight or something?” he asked her.

  She gave him a look that said, “That’s not totally obvious?”

  “Ok. Just thought I’d ask. I didn’t want to run around in the dark and then have you pull out a flashlight. I had a couple, but all my stuff is in Bree’s car,” he told her. “Come on, we should find a map.”

  They proceeded cautiously away from the cafe and moved deeper into the casino hotel. A giant figure loomed in the darkness causing Blake’s blood to run cold, freezing him in place. He watched carefully for movement. Lisa paused as well, and looked at him whispering, “What’s wrong?”

  He pointed ahead, “I think I see someone.”

  She looked where he was pointing and moved forward. “Hey!” he whispered urgently, “Be careful!”

  She relaxed and turned back to face him, “It’s just a statue. Relax.” He moved cautiously forward and saw that she was right. It was a Roman god and goddess, or maybe just a partially naked man and woman placed in the center of the room on top of a fountain. He steeled himself and continued to walk through the large space looking for a directory. It didn’t take long to realize that he was standing in the lobby. The area to the right of the cafe they’d come from was the front desk, taking up a large area along the wall. “No one’s here,” he observed, “Guess we won’t be able to check in.” Lisa didn’t say anything so Blake moved past the desk and thought he saw some light up ahead.

  “I think I see light,” Lisa reported.

  “I see it too,” he confirmed, “Let’s go look, but try not to make any noise.”

  They hugged the left wall and tried to walk quietly towards the lit area. As far as he could tell, they were still alone when they arrived at the gaming area. The lights weren’t the normal lights that Blake would expect for the gaming area as he was sure the casino managers would want everything to be brightly lit so they could make sure there was no cheating. The lighting placed more emphasis on illuminating the walkways. Maybe like what the flight attendants say will happen when a plane crashes and you have to use the emergency exits to get out. “This might be emergency lighting?” he speculated. She shrugged and said, “Better than running around in the dark.” The area was disturbingly empty and silent, tables sat empty and slot machines were dark and powerless. Even when not that busy, there should’ve been a bored looking dealer standing at the table trying to beckon you over to try your luck. As it stood now, the place felt alien. Perhaps it was the size of it, meant to accommodate so many people but to be so empty that caused it to feel like that.

  “That way,” Lisa said, pointing in a seemingly random direction.

  “How do you figure?” he asked skeptically.

  She pointed up toward the ceiling where he saw a sign that was not lit but could still be read. “Um. Oh yeah,” he agreed. He followed after Lisa as she moved in the direction that seemed to promise a buffet.

  They had left the gaming area behind them and were moving forward quietly when they heard noise up ahead. They flattened themselves against the wall they’d been following and held their breath as they listened. It sounded like a leak, there was this wet quality to it, but it wasn’t consistent, like a tap that had been left on, but more random than that. Blake crept forward, surprised that he was doing so at all. Lisa followed after him, but judging from the light whining she was letting slip, she wasn’t thrilled about it. The sound was coming from up ahead and to their left from a restaurant with a large number 9 that adorned a fish tank. The sound was growing louder as they crept forward, and when Blake stopped at the corner of the fish tank and looked through it he saw a person on her knees, bent over someone else. Lisa nudged past him a little and looked as well. She covered her mouth with her hand and Blake could feel her tensing up. He couldn’t see what she was doing to the other person that lay on the floor exactly, but he’d bet it wasn’t anything a normal human would do. Should we just sneak past while it’s occupied? The woman abruptly stopped eating and stood up. They watched as she got up like nothing had happened and started walking deeper into the restaurant. A few seconds later, the person on the ground stirred and got to his feet, his entrails dangling from a bloody hole in his stomach. He also walked deeper into the restaurant, following after the one that had been dining on him. “That’s messed up,” Lisa whispered to him. “What are we doing here? We should go back.”

  “We can’t go back. Your car is damaged and probably surrounded by those things. We have to move forward and either find Bree or her sister. Or if we can’t, then we have to find a car we can use,” he pointed out.

  “What? Like, steal a car? You know how to do that?” she replied, horrified.

  “There’s infected cannibalistic mutants running around and you’re worried about grand theft auto?”

  “Smart ass,” she observed.

  “Just trying to keep our perspective.”

  She did look a little more relaxed than a few seconds ago so he decided to cross over to the other side of the walkway that was as far from that restaurant as possible and press on in search of the buffet. Lisa followed quickly after him.

  After a nervous walk down the dimly lit hallway, they arrived at the entrance to the buffet. Similar to the cafe, tables and chairs had been pulled from the dining area to create a loose barricade. It was the sort that rowdy kids might do to their parent’s sofa when they wanted to build a fort. This one was managing to hold about a dozen of the infected at bay. Lisa grabbed him by the arm when she saw them and stopped walking. “We can’t get in. There’s too many of them.”

  “I think their presence and that barricade means there are people in there. We should figure something out,” he rationalized. They kept their distance, trying to keep out of sight and were thinking about what to do when there was a loud gunshot and one of the zombies sprayed some wet and chunky matter from the back of his head and crumpled to the floor. They froze in place and watched as another gunshot rang out and another of the infected at the barricade fell to the ground. After about a minute of deliberate gunfire, all of the infected at the barricade were lying on the ground, lifeless.

  There was silence and then a murmur of voices. After that, there was some shuffling of furniture and they could make out several figures working on the barricade. “Should we let them know we’re here?” Lisa whispered.

  “Um... I don’t know,” Blake admitted.

  “Hi! Excuse me? Don’t shoot! We’re people!” Lisa yelled as she partially emerged from where they were crouched.

  “Stay where you are! Don’t move! Hands where I can see them!” a male voice ordered.

  Lisa acquiesced and came out a little bit more, holding her hands up in the air. She kicked Blake in the foot as she stood up.

  “What the hell?” he whispered to her.

  “Come out! I don’t want to meet these people by myself,” she whispered back. “There’s two of us!” she yelled to the people, “Don’t shoot, we’re unarmed!”

  Put on the spot, Blake slowly edged out into view with
his hands up as well. Well, at least now I can see what’s going on. There were about thirty or so people adjusting the barricade, half of which seemed to be different degrees of senior citizens, and a handful of Asian tourists, another handful of Latino tourists, and a white guy in a beat-up gray suit. This white guy must’ve been the shooter as he had his pistol leveled at Lisa and Blake. Something about his posture, his manner of dress, his douchey looking mustache, the way he parted his brown hair, his five o’clock shadow, and his ratty tie they all screamed “asshole”.

  The white guy squinted in their direction then gestured over at them. “Alfredo! Go over there and pat them down.” A heavy-set Latino man with a droopy mustache and thinning hair set the table he was holding down and walked slowly over to them. He started with Blake and looked apologetically at him as he patted his pants pockets. After that, he immediately moved on to Lisa where he was more thorough, going down each pants leg and going over as much of her upper body as he dared. Lisa seemed like she was about to say something when he nodded quickly and returned back to the barricade and resumed repositioning his table. “Alright, get back here,” the white guy commanded. “Names?” he demanded when they stood in front of him.

  “I’m Lisa,” she replied. “Blake,” he said after her.

  “Ok. Great,” he said, uninterested, “I’m Detective Oswald. Just stay with the group and do what I say and everything will be fine. If you’re hungry, there’s tons of food back there. Stay behind the barricade until we get back.” With that, he and about five of the men walked out towards where Lisa and Blake came from. The pair crossed through the buffet reception area and the twenty odd people that remained behind finished reassembling the barricade and made their way back into the dining area.

  The dining area was surprisingly well maintained. There were perhaps upwards of sixty people back here, more old people, but also several women and children. The kids were playing with each other, and if they were aware of the chaos outside, it didn’t show on their bright faces. Their mothers and the older, less mobile elderly people watched the children at their play. Among these matronly sentinels was a wheelchair-bound man with a wisp of white hair on top of his liver-spotted head and a red and white plaid blanket covering his legs. A tube ran from his nose to his oxygen tank behind him. He was either watching the kids play or he was staring off into space, Blake couldn’t tell. Some people were eating what looked to be simple meals together at their tables. Others occupied themselves by reading newspapers or paperback novels. The kitchen area was still staffed as a couple of people wearing white chef’s uniforms continued their work of putting together meals. The atmosphere kind of felt like an airport. There was this strong feeling of resolute waiting. Waiting for rescue? Or waiting for the world to be restored to order? Or perhaps just waiting for someone to tell them what to do next?

  Seeing nothing immediately hostile, Blake walked up to one of the food stations where a reasonably jolly looking fat man wearing a white apron, white chef’s shirt with two rows of buttons, and a chef’s hat stood wiping a countertop. “Hi! Can I get something to eat?” he asked trying to sound upbeat. The chef gave him a grin and began to assemble a plate for him. “So what’s the story here?” Blake asked while the chef was scooping various foods onto a plate.

  The chef shrugged a little while continuing to plate the food. “Management advised people to stay put once it looked like there was going to be an epidemic. I called my wife and kids and had them come here. Just waiting for the all clear now.” He handed Blake the plate. “I think I made the right call staying here. Plenty of food. There’s still power. That detective guy is running the show. I don’t mind that.”

  “I just saw him gun down like twelve people,” Blake pointed out.

  “If that’s what it takes to keep my family safe,” he shrugged, “I’m glad he can make the tough calls.” He handed Blake a set of silverware wrapped around a cloth napkin. “Enjoy. Clean up after yourself, ok? This isn’t exactly normal operations. Drink station is over there just behind those doors,” he said gesturing in a direction.

  “Thanks.” Blake accepted the plate gratefully and found an empty table. Lisa joined him after a moment, sitting down and looking at him. “What?” he said around a mouthful of noodles.

  “How can you be eating at a time like this?” she demanded to know.

  “I don’t think there’s much else to do around here,” he shrugged and bit into a cheese enchilada. “Besides, I haven’t eaten anything like this in a while. I might as well enjoy it. Where’d you disappear to anyway?”

  “Bathroom,” she explained.

  “Don’t you want to eat?” he asked.

  “I’m too nervous to eat. Maybe later,” she replied.

  He bit into a delicious mini steak and egg morsel, relishing the taste of both proteins. “You sure you can’t eat? This is way better than gas station food.”

  “Shut up about the food. What about Kim or her sister?”

  “You would know better. I don’t really know what Kim looks like. If you’re not hungry, maybe you should go look around?”

  “Yeah, ok,” she agreed. She got up and started walked off in a direction. Blake concentrated on eating and after five minutes had completed polished off what was on his plate. He dumped his fork along with the unused knife and spoon on top of his plate and stood up, picking up his dirty dishes. After a moment’s deliberation, he decided to find a beverage. He pushed through the double doors and located the drink station easily as it was just on the other side. There was a girl standing at the drink station, filling her glass with something. She seemed young, had her black hair bound up in a hairnet and a stained apron covered her jeans and a frilly lavender shirt. She filled a plastic cup halfway and took a sip. She caught sight of Blake in her peripheral vision and stepped away to allow him to get a drink. “Gracias,” he thanked her and pulled a cup from the top of the stack and filled it with a cola.

  “Gracias?” the girl said, sounding indignant. “Do I look Mexican to you?”

  “Uh... I don’t know, I just assumed...”

  “Assumed that because I work in a kitchen I must be some kind of illegal immigrant?” she finished for him.

  “No! I didn’t really get a good look at-”

  “So you just dismissed me because you thought I was some migrant worker? That’s pretty racist of you.”

  “Now wait a minute-”

  “I’ve heard enough,” she said dismissively and stormed out of the kitchen.

  “What the hell was that all about?” he asked the soda machine. He went deeper into the kitchen and found an industrial dishwasher with a rack in front of it half loaded with plates and silverware. He placed his stuff into the sink and his cloth napkin into a bin that was full of soiled napkins. He gave his plate a good hosing down and added it to the tray. He turned and saw that the chef that had given him his plate of food was watching him and holding a two-year-old boy in his arms. The chef gave him a small wave and then as the boy was looking at him as well, he took the boy’s hand and helped him to wave too. The boy shyly turned around and buried his face in his father’s shoulder. The chef grinned and walked off, comforting the boy. Blake sighed and chugged his soda. He added the empty cup to the tray and walked back out to the dining area.

  When he got back out he noticed there was some commotion and people were packing their things up. He found Lisa and went to her side. “What’s happening?”

  “That detective guy came back with the others and they’re going to take everyone to some hotel rooms for the night,” she told him.

  “Wow, ok. I guess I wouldn’t mind getting some sleep,” he admitted and they went over to join the other people who were lining up at the cashier booth. They headed out away from the buffet and behind them, the detective’s “deputies” as Blake had started to think of them, were quickly reassembling the barricade. They hadn’t walked far when they turned into an unassuming side hallway which wasn’t themed like the public area of t
he casino. The group made its way up the emergency stairs to the next floor and emerged in a dimly lit hallway full of hotel rooms. “Don’t be picky! Just take the first available room and shut the door!” Oswald yelled down the hallway. For the most part, people obeyed this command and picked out a room, then quickly entered and closed the door behind them. As Blake was about to follow Lisa down the hallway, Oswald put a hand on his shoulder. “Not you. Can you take first watch?” he asked Blake.

  “Um... what do I have to do?” he asked uncertainly.

  “Easy. You just walk around here and if someone with that disease shows up you wake me up,” he answered, sounding annoyed.

  “Alright,” he agreed, but Oswald had already turned around without waiting for an answer and walked into a room. His door closed seconds later.

  Great. He looked around and there was one other guy, one of the deputies who had propped himself up against the wall, one of his shoes flat against it and his arm crossed in front of his chest. His head was tilted down onto his chest and his eyes seemed closed. All the guy needed to complete this picture was a sombrero. He can’t be asleep already, the watch just started. He walked up to him, “Excuse me?”

  “Que?” the guy answered without opening his eyes.

  “How long is the first watch?”

  “Habla Espanol?”

  “Uh... no... no Spanish.”

  The guy opened one eye and gave him a bored look. Then he closed the eye and resumed wall sleeping.

  “Um... how, uh, many... hours?”

  “Que?”

  “Hours! Until stop work.”