Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (Book 3): Mitigation Book 3) (7 page)

The creatures’ tortured chorus was anything but music to all of their ears. The horrible hymn the beasts moaned was enough to curdle milk and wilt flowers. Emma looked at Neil for some sign of what to do. Lacking any firm directive from him, she raised her firearm. Neil stopped her before she could to shoot.

“No! Wait! We don’t know if there are more in the area or not. A single gunshot could attract all of them for miles the way sound travels around here.”

Emma asked doubtfully, “You suggesting we just leave them in there?”

“No. Remember Jerry’s suspicion about their moans working like homing signals for other zekes? We gotta deal with ‘em but I think we need to be more...discreet.”

By then, the old man was on his feet and had gotten closer to Neil and Emma. He looked over his shoulder to the rear of one of the parked cars and called, “Ricky. You come on out now.”

From behind the metallic blue tail of a Honda Accord appeared a teenager still very much in the early years of adolescence. He couldn’t have been older than sixteen and was likely not that old yet. He was holding a small caliber rifle not very different than that which Neil carried. He lowered his head to his right and then swept it back to his left to adjust the long bangs on his forehead.

Emma said, her humor shaping her words like a sculptor’s hands manipulates clay, “This is “your man”? Jesus, is he even old enough to have a driver’s license?”

Nodding to the boy and pointing at the monsters still reaching through the empty window pane, the man said, “He’s old enough to pull a trigger and that was what was important; not his age.”

Neil’s eyes were glued to the phantom arms which were clawing hungrily at the air. He said, “Let’s stay focused here. I guess we need to open the door.”

“Yeah?” Emma said without moving her feet. “And how exactly is that going to happen? Maybe we should just shoot them and be done with it.”

Neil shook his head and said doubtfully, “What if we draw more to us? Maybe we should—”

Emma wasn’t waiting any longer as she saw the shiny metal and plastic souvenir display rack start to bend and break, letting the arms reach a little further. “Fuck this!” She pulled the trigger on her gun. The bullet obviously hit one of them since a pair of arms disappeared after she shot.

Neil growled, “Emma! For Christ’s sake!”

Emma pumped another round into the firing chamber. “Someone had to do something and I sure as hell wasn’t going to go up there to open the door. Stop whining and help out a little, will ya?”

Neil pivoted around so that he could see more clearly into the window opening. There were at least three of them inside and one of them was most certainly a child...or a former child anyway. The one Emma shot was back up and just returning to its post.

Neil realized the shooting may not be the best course of action but he couldn’t argue with its efficiency or its range. Following Emma’s lead, he got his shotgun back into his hands, found a fairly static target, and shot. It was that easy and that quick. In just seconds, the moaning coming from within had stopped, as had any signs of movement.

Almost ignoring the man and the boy named Ricky with him, Emma and Neil mounted the stairs and were standing to either side of the front door. The door was locked from the inside and refused to even budge when Emma tried to force it open with her shoulder. Neil stood back, sizing up the door. It looked like a standard front door for any house. It probably had a solid deadbolt in a semi-solid door frame. If they were lucky, the deadbolt would have required an absent key to engage and wouldn’t pose any real obstacle. There would likely be other items placed against the door as additional insurance, Neil surmised.

He ran all of this through his head as he stormed, shoulder first, into the door just above the handle. When the door flung itself open much easier than he had anticipated, he fell in a heap of aching and bruised muscles and limbs. He landed just inches from the lifeless jaw of one of the dispatched zombies lying in the little shop, the rancid foulness that was once its breath still escaping from its dark mouth.

Emma followed him in closely, wincing as Neil thudded to a stop. Not the most graceful of actions. Seeing him there on the floor amidst the carnage, Emma said, “Aren’t you glad we went with my plan instead? Think what Meghan would’ve done to me if I hadn’t come back with you. Look at you. You woulda landed right at their feet. Talk about servin’ yourself up to—”

“Okay, okay, enough. Jesus. I almost pissed myself and you’re not helping.”

“Just sayin’.”

There had been three of the undead in the building. Neil figured they were a mother, father, and a child. One had been bitten before they’d successfully fled Anchorage. They stopped here when whoever it was who’d been bitten got too sick to travel. The rest of the story was there on the floor in front of them.

Neil looked into the parking lot, remembering there had been more than one car out there. There were three cars in front of the building. Three cars... He started to back toward the open door slowly, bumping Emma in that direction as he went.

Emma could see his alarm but asked, “What’s going on, Neil?”

His eyes wide and alert, Neil answered, “Too many cars and not enough drivers.”

“What?”

As he started to reply, they could both hear the scratching and thumping of fists against walls and a door.

Emma said, “Bathroom I bet.”

“Yeah. Do we leave it in there or roll the dice again?”

“You’re the one who’s in charge here. You’re supposed to have all the answers. Why you askin’ me?”

Neil bit back the string of profanity that threatened to break at any moment. Instead he looked up at the old man who was now standing in the open doorway behind them.

“You folks do this before or something?” the man asked.

Emma and Neil looked at him with both answers and questions in their eyes. The man then said as a way of explanation, “You just seem...I don’t know...good at it, is all. No disrespect intended.”

Neil suggested, “Maybe we could at least go back outside to talk.”

“Sure. I’m DB by the way.”

Neil smiled. “I’m Neil and this lovely lady is Emma.”

Neil’s strained smile relaxed into a genuine grin. “DB, it’s really good to see people...living people still about. It’s been a long time.”

Curious now, DB asked, “How needy do I look anyway?”

“What?”

DB said, “You said it looked like I had some pretty tall needs.”

Embarrassed by his observation, Neil was at first hesitant. He did, however, finally say, “You looked...desperate...on the brink...maybe willing to do anything to get by. Sorry.”

DB started to protest and then said honestly, “We are. Well, I was anyway. We ain’t eaten in probably three days now. And our last meal wasn’t much. Just some uncooked pasta noodles and sugar packets. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hungry ‘nough to kill for my next meal.”

Neil raised his hands. “I’ll spare you the suspense. We’re outta food too. Haven’t seen any for some time. We were kinda hoping....”

DB nodded. “Yeah. I ‘spect most things have been picked pretty clean by now.”

Emma asked them both, “So what now? We gotta eat. Where we gonna find food?”

Neil didn’t know. They still had Whittier down the road a bit where they could likely find food, but they needed food now and not down the road. And now, they had two more mouths to fill. There was still daylight in which to search, so Neil felt comfortable continuing south for a bit before turning back to the others.

The decision as to when to return was still a matter for Neil to decide. DB and Ricky seemed harmless enough, but Neil didn’t want to reveal the others just yet. He wasn’t going to be as willing to trust people since their encounter with Maggie back in Anchorage. She’d taken their transportation. Neil was loath to learn what more could be taken from them by ruthless, selfish people. DB appeared worthy of trust, but Neil was still withholding.

The four of them started walking south together, and Neil asked, “So is Ricky your son? Or...?”

Obviously a practiced habit, DB spat a mouthful of saliva onto the ground, a few droplets of spittle clung to the longer hairs just below his lower lip. He walked with a slight but noticeable limp and kept his hands in the pockets of his worn jacket. Neil thought that perhaps the man hadn’t heard his question but decided not to press. Then all at once, DB said, “No. I found Ricky walking along the road down in Soldotna. We decided to team up and help each other out. I don’t know if either of us would still be here if we weren’t watchin’ out for each other. He don’t say much.” And as a way of answering the question differently, DB finished with, “My boy moved to the Lower Forty-eight a few years back. Down to Arizona. I don’t hear from him much no more.”

“So, you came up from the Kenai Peninsula then?” Neil asked.

“Yeah.”

“How bad was it down there?”

“As compared to what?” DB asked. He wasn’t trying to be difficult but it seemed kind of a relative question. Neil immediately recognized that his seeking clarification wasn’t strictly rhetorical.

“You guys must know something happened,” Emma asked DB and Ricky, “but do you know what? Do you know the scope of what’s happened?”

Spitting again, DB said, “I was a handyman. I can fix damned near anything...always been able to really. When work was good and bountiful, so was life. Lately, it’s been nothing but struggles. A little borrowing from Peter to pay Paul and sometimes not even that. So when I had work, I had to go.

“That mornin’, when all this started, I got a call about a water leak at a church in Sterling. I had just about enough gas in my truck to get to the job and back home. I usually get paid in cash, so I just planned on filling the tank after the job and probably getting a new can of Kodiak and some beer. But I had to work to get paid.

“Well, ‘bout halfway between here and there the radio started talkin’ ‘bout somethin’ goin’ on in Anchorage. It sounded bad. Bad enough to have the Governor call up the Guard. Sounded like Anchorage was burnin’ and people was dyin’ and no one had the first clue who was in charge. They kept saying that people were dyin’ by the dozens and that it was just ordinary folk who were doin’ the killin’. The folks on the radio was tellin’ folks to stay inside and out of sight. Sounded like a real shit storm.

“All at once the road started to fill up with trucks and SUVs, most was pulling boats and campers. I got no wife and my dog was with me, so I just kept goin’. ‘Sides, there was still that water leak and maybe a paycheck at the end of it. Anchorage is a long way off from Kenai so I just didn’t see the point of panicking. I thought those folks were just overreacting. Remember everybody getting all worked up over the New Year in Two Thousand, and then what happened? Nothin’. So I didn’t pay it no mind.

“The Fred Meyer parking lot in Soldotna, right there at the highway heading out of town, was nuts. I never seen so many people there. They was runnin’ every which way. I think I may have heard some shootin’ but it coulda just been some good ole boy’s truck backfirin’. I didn’t pay them much mind cause I didn’t have no money anyway. No use worryin’ ‘bout somethin’ that don’t concern me.”

“A few minutes and I was in Sterling. That place looked like it had already emptied out. Course, Sterling always looked a little deserted if you ask me. The church was a little off the main drag. And when we got there, everyone was gone. Doors were still open, but the offices, the classrooms, the little cafeteria, everything was empty. Well, not everything.

“There was a lunch all made and ready for the eatin’ left right there on the counter. A couple dozen corndogs, a small mountain of tater tots, an open can of peaches, and a jug of Gatorade or juice or Kool-Aid. Me and Duke, Duke’s my dog, we had ourselves a bit of a feast and stuffed our pockets full too. I found some canned food and dry milk in one of the pantries. Me and Duke wandered around and then found a TV. I thought it might be a good idea to get us some news. All the Anchorage channels were just test patterns. Fox News had some story on it about unconfirmed reports of a terrorist attack in Anchorage, but there were no details, only aerial shots of burning buildings and groups of people runnin’ on the streets. I even decided to check out CNN to see what the Libs were talking about. Their mornin’ people had some video taken by some amateur reporter or something like that in Anchorage. Well, they said it was Anchorage anyway.”

DB stalled for a breath as those first images resurfaced in his memory. The video had been unsteady, bouncing and moving in every direction. The camera could have been a cell phone or maybe a small digital number with limited capabilities. The images it captured, though, were breathtaking and perhaps a little unbelievable. Even the host, a pretty woman with dark hair and warm olive skin, expressed her doubt about the authenticity of the video, suggesting that they looked more like the scenes from George Romero’s latest.

DB wasn’t sure what he thought after seeing the video. It looked like it had been shot from a balcony overlooking a street. The pavement was filled with screaming, fleeing people. He was reminded of a video he’d seen of the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona, Spain. There were adults and kids; men and women; people from all walks of life. They looked more like stampeding cattle than people. After a few seconds, he could see intermingled with the terrified people a few others who looked enraged. It was quite clear that it was from these few that the others were running. He saw one of them grab a pretty lady wearing a nice business suit and drag her to the ground by her pretty hair that he had wrapped around his hand. He then set about assaulting her. At first, DB thought he was trying to rape her. He could feel his anger rise as he watched others, including men, just run by her as she struggled. He cursed them for their cowardice. When a second person kneeled beside the still struggling woman and started to chew off her fingers, he knew that there was more happening than what appeared on the surface. Seconds later, the video image abruptly stopped though sound feed continued. CNN put a dialogue box on the side of the screen as a man’s voice cried,
“Oh Jesus. Oh Jesus. I hope CNN gets this in time. [Screaming]. On no! We’re trapped.”