Dying Days 4 (5 page)

Chapter Five

Jeff Hurleson pulled over onto the side of the road and put his hand up, stopping his team. When he shut off his Harley, they all did the same. The five men dismounted and stretched their legs, keeping close to Jeff as they kept their eyes on the few zombies wandering around the parking lot to the flea market.

"Haven't we been here before?" Claude asked, the oldest of the group. He'd been a member of Hell's Angels (according to him, at least) but Jeff only took him along because he was muscle, even in his late fifties. He was also a mean drunk and Jeff was hoping if any one of them found alcohol they'd keep it from Claude.

"We've been in most places," Jeff said quietly. He pulled his baseball bat and sword from his makeshift holsters on his bike and stared at the destroyed flea market buildings. "But we need to keep checking. Maybe we missed something."

"This is a waste of time," Claude said.

Jeff casually pointed the sword at Claude. "I'm sorry but did I ask you what you'd rather do? Are you late for something better? Got a hot date? I'm in charge and don't forget it. We go in and we try to find something we can use. We have one hour. Then we move down I-95 toward Port Orange."

"We've picked Port Orange clean as well," Claude said. "I say we shoot down  further south and see what we can find."

"And we will. Eventually. Right now we do what I say." Jeff looked at the other three men with them and they looked away, knowing if anyone else said a word he'd be even more pissed. Claude just didn't get it. He wanted so badly to be the leader, but he didn't have the blessing of the Lich Lord behind him. Of course, Claude also whispered about rising up and killing the Lich Lord, as if that would help them. The old guy just didn't get it.

There were a few zombies that had spotted the group and they would slowly be surrounded, but Jeff wasn't worried. A horde coming at them would be very bad, but they hadn't seen a mass of them in weeks, especially once the intelligent ones started arriving.

"Someone take out the zombies and keep our bikes safe," Jeff said and his eyes fell on Claude. "I'll leave it to you."

"I want to go inside and explore," Claude said. "I don't want the grunt work. Bryan always gets the cleanup jobs."

Bryan, the smallest of the group as well as youngest at barely twenty, looked away at the open slight.

"Bryan is coming with me," Jeff said. "You'll do as you're told, or I'll let the Lich Lord know you didn't think his plans were good enough."

"You think he scares me? One bullet to the head will end him… same as anyone," Claude said, but Jeff could see he wasn't nearly as cocky as he wanted everyone to think he was.

Jeff smiled. "Not a problem. As soon as we return I'll make sure you get a private audience with him. Make sure you bring a weapon, because you'll need it." He turned to Bryan. "Who was the annoying dickhead you came in with?"

Bryan put his hands in his pockets and looked down. "My brother, Garret."

"He had beef with the Lich Lord," Jeff said.

Claude waved his hand. "Yeah, yeah, we all know what happened with that idiot. He couldn't keep his mouth shut. It was his own fault, and, if you remember correctly, I was the one who had to toss his broken body over the gate and watch the zombies finish him off. But he was a fucking idiot. No offense, Bryan."

"I guess none taken," Bryan said quietly.

"We're wasting too much time. I gave you an order. You either get in line or face the consequences once we go back to Main Street. The choice is really yours," Jeff said. "Bryan, stay on my ass. Everyone else hit the building on the left. Claude…"

Claude waved his hand. "Fine, I'll go kill stupid fucking zombies while you guys have all the fun. I'll remember this, though. And when I'm in charge, you can bet your fat ass you'll be the one tossed over the gate," Claude said to Jeff with a grin.

Jeff walked away before he attacked the douche bag. He didn't want to lose his cool in front of the other men but he was going to get even sooner rather than later.

"I hope you brought your clean diapers, Bryan, because you're going to need them in there," Claude yelled. "Good luck, little boy."

Bryan caught up to Jeff and Jeff could see the young man was shaken up.

"Forget that jerkoff," Jeff said. "Let's get this done so we can get back."

"Are you going to turn him in?" Bryan asked as they entered the dark building, turning on their flashlights. "I hate his guts."

"At some point, he needs to be dealt with. I'm not sure when I'll get to do it, though. The Lich Lord doesn't want me to dole out justice. I need every able-bodied man to keep the line and help when I'm out and about," Jeff said. "As much as I want to put a bullet in his head, I have to wait. Someday I'll get the clear to do it."

"You're the only one who told the Lich Lord they wouldn't kill Claude," Bryan said simply as they kept moving through the building, shining their light into the ruined stalls and spaces. It was empty, long picked over by scavengers.

"True," Jeff said slowly. He stared at Bryan but the young man was busy searching next to him. What was the kid getting at? Jeff didn't think he had the balls to do anything on his own, but these days you never knew what another man was capable of. "I gave my word I wouldn't touch anyone without leave from the boss. It also trickles down to the men under my command, you know."

Bryan stopped and shined the light at Jeff's face. "Is that an order?"

Jeff shrugged. "I can only tell you what I've been told. If you decide to do something on your own or take matters into your own hands, I cannot help you. And I won't sacrifice my neck for someone else. That's all I'm saying about it."

The pair got to an intersection and heard the unmistakable sound of something being dragged, from the darkness ahead, toward them.

"It sounds like one," Bryan said.

"But it could be a trick." Jeff knew the intelligent zombies used the mindless ones as decoys in their attacks sometimes, sending them out ahead while they outflanked the target. "You go ahead and I'm going to watch our backs."

Bryan dutifully moved ahead, the flashlight beam leading his way and his baseball bat at the ready.

Jeff hefted his bat and spun in a circle, making sure nothing was sneaking up on them. He needed to find another sporting goods store or a rec center so he could find more baseball bats and hockey sticks. Anything heavy they could use to fight with, without having to shoot a gun and draw attention.

Something heavy fell in the next aisle, close to the intersection.

"I think we have company," Jeff said quietly, hoping Bryan heard him. Jeff didn’t want to lose sight of Bryan, but he didn't want to stand by and get attacked from another direction. He took two steps to his right and put a damaged stall in his way, so when a zombie came around the corner he might not immediately see him.

Nothing else moved. Jeff kept looking behind him, making sure he wasn't being suckered. He heard the hard thuds of Bryan's baseball bat as it met rotting flesh down the aisle. Six shots later and it stopped.

"Clear," Bryan said.

"Back this way."

Bryan came up, flashlight aimed at the floor. "What's the matter? It looks like a clear path to the next three intersections."

Jeff pointed. "Something fell."

"What?"

Jeff shook his head. "I don't know. That's why I called you back, dumb-ass. We need to go find out."

"I'll go around to the right," Bryan said.

Jeff nodded and watched him go before shuffling forward, the beam of light leading his way. Most of the stall supports had collapsed but the wood could be salvaged in places to create weapons. Jeff made a note of several pieces he'd have to come back for at some point, or send a team back tomorrow to collect them. They only had their bikes today, and they couldn't carry much of this. Maybe they'd at least salvage the good stuff and make an easy pile for later.

"Come out," Bryan said from around the corner.

Jeff picked up the pace, ready to swing the bat and destroy a zombie or two. When he came around the corner, he stopped short. Bryan was standing with a young boy, who was still alive. He looked like shit, face caked in dirt and filthy clothes, but he was still breathing. "What do you have?"

Bryan smiled. "I found this little dude hiding under the table. It looks like he's been eating grass and bugs and things. Kid has been surviving."

"For how long?" Jeff asked the boy.

The boy was scared but finally spoke. "I don't know. Weeks, maybe months. My parents were killed in the mini-van and I ran away."

"Where?"

"I don't know. A long way from here. We got trapped and zombies surrounded us, but then a smart zombie killed them to get to my family." The boy's eyes welled up with tears. "I just ran and ran."

"Great story, kid." Jeff turned to Bryan. "Let's keep moving."

"What about him?" Bryan asked.

Jeff looked at the dirty little kid. He couldn't be more than ten. "What about him? He seems to be doing well for himself. I'm sure he'll be fine. We have a job to do."

Bryan walked a few feet away and motioned for Jeff to join him.

"We don't need any dead weight," Jeff said and grinned at his stupid pun. "This kid is a survivor. We'll clear the zombies from the flea market and he'll be safe."

"No way. He's coming with us," Bryan said.

Jeff was about to argue when he sighed. What did it really matter anyway? Another damn mouth to feed, but this kid could also be another donation to the Lich Lord. He did like the young kids for some reason. He'd kill and drain this boy within the week. It was easier than trying to capture other survivors. "Fine, but he's your responsibility until we return to Main Street. If anything happens it will be your ass, and if the kid gets in the way he'll be sorry."

"Not a problem," Bryan said. "Do you know the layout of the flea market, kid?"

The boy nodded. "My name is Toby. I hid a bunch of guns under a table but I'm too scared to use them. I also have cans of chicken soup."

Jeff laughed. "So far you're being very helpful, kid. I like it. Lead us to your cache of weapons and your feast of soup."

Chapter Six

Three zombies walked to the deck but didn't go up the steps, staring at the upstairs window and smiling. There were quite a few standing in the street, watching in obvious amusement.

John had not seen this many zombies in one place in a long time, and he was scared. He didn't want to look at his dad or Darlene right now, preferring to stare out the window and watch instead of letting them see his fear.

Darlene came to him and put a hand on his back, leaning against John and the wall. "What are we going to do? I can hardly move, and you know Murph isn't too fast."

"I can still outrun you, plumper," Murph said from the bed, where he was sitting. "I may be old but I can still hear."

Darlene turned to John's father and smiled. "Call me plumper again and I'll box your damn ears off, understand?"

Murph put his fists up and shadow-boxed the air. "I think I can still take ya."

"Will you two children shut up for a second? We have a real problem and it's about to get worse," John said. "There's no way out of this apartment. We can't shimmy down the back drain or fall to the back deck without killing ourselves. We're screwed."

"I just want to feel the love of a good woman once more before I die," Murph said.

Even John had to laugh at the comment. They'd been through these situations so many times since this mess began, and they always fell back on making jokes and goofing on each other at the most inappropriate times. The only other option was to break down and cry. They'd done that countless times. "Old man, if a woman so much as touched your privates, they'd turn to dust."

"But in her hand, and that's all I'm looking for."

"Gross," Darlene said.

"I'll go down and draw them away from you. Then start heading south," John said. "I'll catch up."

Murph snorted. "By the time I get down those steps with the help of this plumper, er, preggo, it will be tomorrow. And even if we made it onto the steps we aren't going far. You could run them into next week and we still wouldn't be further than a block. In case my good-looks are fooling you, I'm fucking old. I'm too old to go down those steps except if I fall or in a body bag. You two kids need to escape. Let them come up and I'll brain as many of them as I can. I'm getting sick of listening to you two trying to do the nasty every chance you get and thinking I can't hear."