Reavers (Z-Risen Series Book 4) (12 page)

10:45 hours approximate

Location: Somewhere near Vista, CA

We hustled around the side of the building and hopped into a big white Chevy pickup. As I slid inside, I noticed the new car smell. I guess that if you’re going to survive the zombie apocalypse, it’s okay to do it in style. The Escalade had taught me that much.

Mateo jumped in the driver's seat, and that was fine with me. I was still hopped up on adrenaline, and my hands shook. My heart hammered in my chest. I was mad, confused, and disappointed. These people had no idea what they were doing by keeping that fucking shuffler around.

“You look pissed, bro,” Mateo said.

“I
am
pissed. That thing’s going to bring a massive horde our way. Probably the same damn horde we’re going to take a look at. Then what? I don’t care what they say, that ghoul is going to be the doom of your sanctuary.”

“Nah, man. It’s secure. A million of those things could stand outside the front door and we’d just lock up and keep it cool for a few days until they wandered away.”

“Or send out those military guys. What’s the story on the back of the Costco?”

Mateo navigated around the large potholes until he found the exit. He took us out to a main strip that was four lanes across, and then ducked onto a side road. Most of the buildings had been burned out, some all the way to the ground.

The city had probably been a hub a year ago, with people shopping on weekends, going to work on the weekdays. Now it was in ruin, and would probably be overgrown with weeds and crap in a few years.

“I don’t go back there. Those guys are equipped to deal with threats. Some are former military, there’s a few cops, but some were just preppers, or people who had useful skills. I figured that’s why they brought
you
in: to help refill the ranks. We’ve lost a few over the last couple of weeks.”

“To Bright Star, the boogeyman.”

“I just work here, bro.”

“Maybe I’m just paranoid,” I sighed.

Mateo produced a two-way radio and talked to someone at the base. Another voice chimed in and sent him down another road. He slowed at a three-way stop and checked his map. We’d gone a couple of miles, and with each turn I worried that we were going to get lost. But Mateo managed to take us across a
couple of back roads without running into an army of Zs.

Many streets were clogged with cars, but he managed to avoid those. I saw a few Zs wandering around, but the
level of activity was low. We came across a subdivision with a large painted plywood sign stuck to two trucks.

“Not welcome, fuck off,” it read.

“Some larger
groups have built up little plots around here. We’ve tried to work with them to coordinate stuff, but they usually don’t want anything to do with us. No one trusts each other anymore.”

“Can you blame anyone? It’s the damn end of the world, and people are protecting themselves. When I was with my friends, we came across more than a
few
groups who wanted to kill us and take our shit. Not that we
had
much shit.”

“It wasn’t that bad during the first weeks. Remember how the news kept playing off the infection?”

“I don’t man, because I was stuck on a ship. We arrived, me and my pal, Joel Kelly, after washing up at Coronado,” I said.

The ship had been overrun in a matter of hours. The confines of the ship meant there was nowhere to go. We’d been prepping for arrival with a great deal of excitement. The USS McClusky was due for retirement, and that meant we’d be on dry land for a
couple of
months before getting sent out to new commands.

About a quarter of the ship had been prepping their dress whites so they could go up on deck and stand around with their dicks in their hands while we arrived at base.

The excitement in the air was cool, but there was always that undercurrent of fear that uniforms weren’t clean, properly pressed, or shoes didn’t have a spit shine. I was supposed to be on duty for the morning, and escaped being sent up top.

Fine by me. I wouldn’t have to deal with Master Chief and his sharp eyes. They always found something, no matter how meticulous we were. That was his job, though: to be a hard-ass and show off his rank.

Then Zs had happened, and my life hadn’t been the same since. The best part of our arrival had been hooking up with Joel. That guy had saved my life too many times to count.

“You missed all the good stuff,” Mateo said. He’d stopped again at a crossroad, and looked both ways.

A Z wandered in front of the car. Good-looking girl at one time. She was completely naked and had probably been a beach blonde back in the day. Her eyes had probably been blue but they’d gone the milky white I’d grown to hate. Long legs and limber arms on a torso that might have been at home on the cover of a magazine a few months ago.

Now she was bloated, and chunks of her sculpted thighs had been eaten away.

The Z turned and looked at us. For some reason I held my breath, but she staggered away. I lifted my handgun and reached for the window control.

“Nah, man, let her go. She’s just another lost soul,” Mateo said, and crossed himself.

“Another lost soul that might try to eat us.”

“Don’t you get tired of killing?”

“Is it killing when these things are already dead?” I countered.

“Fair point, my man. Fair point.”

Mateo sped away from the crosswalk.

###

12:10 hours approximate

Location: Somewhere near Vista, CA

“There’s a safe house around here, but no one’s heard from them in a day. Happens sometimes. If they feel like they’re about to be overrun by Zs, they bug out for a day and come back later,” Mateo said.

“I wondered why we were being sent out. Thought you all had this area secured.”

“Nothing’s secured, bro. It’s the boogeyman out there,” Mateo sighed. “One minute it’s all fun and games, the next it’s running for your life.”

“I haven’t had any fun and games in a while.”

“What, no girl?” Mateo asked.

“Had one, kinda. She and I got separated a few days ago,” I said, and immediately regretted it. Anna was part of the enemy as far as Mateo would be concerned.

“Were you in love with her?” he asked.

“Dude, I don’t know. She was a mess,” I said, hoping he’d drop it.

Mateo found a house with a fenced entryway. He pulled the truck in and maneuvered it around so he was hidden from the road but
the front end faced out
, in case we needed to make a quick getaway. With the truck close to the fence, we were probably out of sight from all but very persistent prying eyes.

He grabbed
a backpack from the rear
and dug out a few magazines. He tugged out his sidearm and ejected the mag, inspected the load, and slammed it back home. Then he chambered a round and put the gun back in a drop holster.

I did the same, but tucked the gun under my belt, at the small of my back. I needed to upgrade my gear to compete. In a way Mateo reminded me of Joel, with his efficient movements.

“You military?”

“Nah. I did some ROTC when I was in high school,” Mateo said. “Had a little training with one of the military types. A National Guard named James. But James bought it a few weeks ago.”

I didn’t press, but wondered if James had been one of the paramilitary back at the Costco. It wasn’t any of my business. As long as Mateo knew how to handle himself we’d work well together, assuming I didn’t fuck something up.

I slid out of the truck, dropped into a crouch, and pointed the Springfield in the direction of the house. With the sun rising behind me, I’d be in silhouette, so I kept low. I moved around the back of the vehicle and next to Mateo. We peered at the home, but nothing moved inside.

The front door hung open.

“Let’s B and E,” Mateo said, and moved rapidly to the side of the little white stucco-sided home.

“B and E?” I asked after I’d huffed it to his side.

“Breaking and entering, bro. Six months ago we’d have been tossed in jail. Now it’s like a daily routine.”

“Don’t I know it,” I sighed.

“Watch the front. I’ll check the back. If you get swarmed, whistle or something,” Mateo said.

“Whistle? Like a show tune?”

“Yeah, man. 'Whistle Dixie,'” Mateo chuckled and moved out.

I moved around the home until I found a low double window. I
lifted my head and peered inside, but nothing jumped out. No one pointed a gun in my direction. No Zs smacked into the window like they were stuck in a horror movie. (That was their favorite thing to do: wait until you were close and pop out of somewhere, with the intent of scaring the crap out of any passers-bys.)

I advanced toward the door and pressed my back to it. I took a breath, raised my handgun to my chest, and then poked my head inside, did a quick look
and ducked back. Then I did it again, this time looking for a few seconds longer.

No one was banging around, no one was moaning for flesh. Nothing moved in the room, so I dropped to a crouch and moved inside.

I did a quick sweep of the main areas. A dinner table had been smashed to kindling. Placemats and a candleholder lay in the middle of the mess. The cushions were missing from the sofa and the recliner had been dragged into the center of the room. Someone must have sat there and poured lead into the old television, because it was filled with holes. The chair had a number of bloodstains.

“Clear?” Mateo appeared in the hallway.

I jerked the gun up and nearly shot him in the chest.

“Easy, bro.”

“Sorry, nerves.”

“I get it, just don’t shoot me,” Mateo said.

“I haven’t checked the closed doors yet. Nothing good ever happens behind closed doors in the zombie fucking apocalypse.”

Mateo snorted and pressed his ear to one of the doors, then snapped his head away and motioned for me.

I lifted my hands and shrugged, what?

Mateo pointed his hand several times at the door. Where was Joel Kelly and his complicated hand signals when I needed them?

“Z?” I whispered.

“Maybe, something moved. Thought I heard a voice. This is a safe house so it should, you know, be safe. We had a team of three out here a few days ago.”

“Seems like your teams are getting picked apart on a regular basis,” I said.

“It hasn’t been like this before. I don’t know what’s going on out here, but it’s not good. According to Douglas they’ve been setting up houses for a month,” Mateo said. “And I know I’m talking loud, now. I’m hoping we have some people left here and they’ve barricaded themselves inside.”

“Why not knock?”

“Tried it, no one answered the door.” Mateo said.

“Yo, anyone in there?” I raised my voice slightly.

No one answered.

“It probably is just a Z in there after all. I bet our team moved out because of some kind of threat.” Mateo said.

“Zs don’t speak,” I said, but didn’t mention bother mentioning that shufflers could talk, after a fashion.

“Sounds like crying,” Mateo whispered.

“If someone was alive in there, they’d have answered by now.”

“Let’s just bug out,” I said, hoping he’d see reason.

Why hang out in a house that might have Zs hiding behind a locked door? We’d be on the dinner menu.

“Can’t. Gotta report this,” Mateo said.

I motioned for Mateo to step away from the door. He backed up and raised his gun.

“On three,” I said.

“Is this the part where I ask if we go on three, or after you say three?”

I rolled my eyes.

I tucked my wrench under my arm via the shoulder sling so it didn’t
smack into my back.
With the gun held high and in both hands, I took a stance in front of the door.

I nodded three times, and on the last number, kicked in the door.

Or tried to.

I’m a big guy with big feet. Joel and I had done this a number of times, and I’d had pretty good luck. But the door was a lot thicker than it looked, and had a deadbolt securing it.

My foot hurt from impact, but I was ready to do it again.

“Stop, man. If someone wants to be locked up like that, they’re no threat. If it’s a Z, what are they going to do, unlock the door?”

I didn’t want to wait around for an answer.

“Let’s just go,” I said—probably the smartest thing I’d said all day.

Then the door opened.

###

38 – Trapped

12:45 hours approximate

Location: Somewhere near Vista, CA

The only thing that stopped me
from blasting was the fact that Zs didn’t know how to open doors. Sure, it might have been a shuffler, but those guys made a hell of a lot of noise before they did something smart.

Instead of a green-eyed ghoul, a haggard woman with dark eyes pointed a gun at my face.

She was thin to the point of being gaunt. She had ringlets of thick sandy blonde hair framing a lightly freckled face, like she was used to living near the surf.

I lifted my hands in the air slowly.

“No harm, ma’am,” I said. “We’re just looking around for supplies.”

“Get the fuck out before I put a hole in your chest,” she said.

“Good enough for me, Mateo?” I said.

He shrugged and backed down the hallway.

“Really, we’re not the bad guys,” I said, realizing as I did that I couldn’t say that with certainty.

We’d just assumed this place was empty and broken in. If she was alone, she was probably scared to death of someone coming in here. Had it been me, I might have shot first and asked questions later.

But really, who was bad and who was good anymore? I’d done shit I wasn’t proud of, but I felt like I’d also done some good. Like keeping Christy safe. Like helping other survivors over the last few months. I’d shot people, but they’d been a real threat to me and my companions.

“Bro, someone’s outside,” Mateo called.

I
moved away from the door, because I didn’t think I’d be able to convince this woman of anything except that she should shoot me in the head.

“In case you’re hungry, I’ll leave a little food at the end of the hallway, okay?” I said.

She didn’t say a word, just kept the gun more or less leveled at me with shaking hands.

I backed off as
well, until I was around the corner. I knelt and dropped my bag off my shoulders, and poked around until I found a couple of power bars. Protein would help her. Feeling extra chivalrous, I got out a small bottle of water and left it as well.

“We need to run. Bad hombres out there,” Mateo said as he advanced back into the room.

“Who?”

“Don’t know, but they spotted the truck. Not part of the fucking plan, man.”

Mateo had slid the front door closed and locked it. That wouldn’t save us for very long.

“How far to the next safe house?” I asked.

“A few miles,” Mateo said. “This fucking sucks.”

I lowered myself in front of the window and pulled the vertical blinds aside an inch. The men were dressed in military-styled garb, but they didn’t look anything like an organized force.

Two of the guys were big and wore thick beards. They had long assault rifles over their shoulders and sported a multitude of other weapons, like handguns and knives. One of them was tall and sported a Mohawk, of all things. The tips of his hair were bright green, orange, and yellow.

They fucked around with our truck for a while, trying the doors while one of them kept watch.

“We should go out the back and find a place to hide,” I whispered. “We can’t take them. We’d be lucky to get one or two at the most before they filled this place with enough bullets holes to turn it into Swiss cheese.

“Truer words, bro.” Mateo nodded.

The only problem was that if we went out the back way, the woman in the side room would probably start shooting at us.

I spun at a noise, and found her kneeling down to pick up the food I’d left. She opened the water first, and drained half of the bottle in one go. Then she ripped open the power bar and took a bite. She looked up like she was in heaven.

“You know these guys?” I whispered, pointing outside.

“Yeah. I know them. They left me here,” she said.

She was dressed in a pair of ripped jeans, and a loose sweater that had been light green at one time.

“We’re going out the back, cool? No problems and no one starts shooting.” Mateo looked at me, but I couldn’t read his face.

“Whatever,” she said.

Mateo and I moved toward the back
door just in time to see a shape appear near the entry. A hand
tried the knob.

“Michelle, your ass better be ready for me,” a thick voice said.

My gut knotted up as I realized what was going on here. She was a refugee, of course, and these assholes had a deal worked out with her--probably something she hadn’t agreed to.

She studied the gun in her hand like she’d never seen it before. She lifted it and put the barrel under her chin.

“Wait!” I said, but it was too late.

“Thank you for being nice to me. No one’s been nice to me in a long time. It makes this easier,” she whispered.

I moved fast and tried to grab the gun, but it was too late. She pulled the trigger on the little revolver, and part of the top of her head blew upward, splattering the wall and ceiling with specks of blood and bone.

The man opened the door with a loud “What the fuck!?”

Mateo shot him twice in the chest. The guy looked surprised as hell, then slumped to his knees. Mateo pu
t two more rounds in him.

One of the heavies dashed around our truck, assault rifle in hand. He rose up and fired a few blasts into the house. They went wide of us, but I didn’t need to get my ass shot off. I drew my 9mm and fired three or four rounds in his general direction.

(Always keep the lead firing so the bad guys keep their heads down. That had been a lesson courtesy of Joel Kelly.)

That got their attention. The heavies dropped to the ground and started returning fire.

Mateo waved me toward him. I didn’t need more of a fucking invitation, so I followed
, but paused to take the revolver out of the dead woman’s hand. It was heavy; with any luck, it still had more than a few rounds.

We hit the back of the house and dropped next to two windows. One overlooked the backyard, and the other, the south side of the small front yard. Some weeds had gone untended and grew almost to the window. They swayed in the light breeze, making me the outside world look hazy.

One of the heavies
opened fire
from the other side of the house. He shot wildly, hitting dishes, a cheap chandelier in the dining room, and a picture of a cat hanging onto a wire. The caption read: Hang in there!

When he’d
fired
dry, I heaved myself up and shot back.

The guy was lying on the ground. He reached under his body, presumably to extract a fresh magazine. Maybe he’d grown complacent, and wasn’t used to others shooting back.

He dug a curved magazine out and fumbled to align it with a Kalashnikov’s receiver
. I shot at him
three times.

Even though I’d spent a lot of time with Joel the Super-Marine, I wasn’t the greatest shot in the world. Something happens when you’re amped up and adrenaline is rushing through your veins. You’d think that anyone in their right mind who had months of shooting stuff under their belt would be a crack shot.

I shot with the revolver the woman had been holding. My first blast hit the ground next to the heavy'
s head. The second round went over him. The third stuck
him in the thigh. He yelped in pain, and fumbled the magazine.

The gun was empty now, so I tossed it on the floor and went for my sidearm.

Mateo nodded at me and hit the back door. He rushed out and shot at the guy, catching him in the back. I was right behind him.

The guy groaned in pain and reached for the hole below his shoulder blade. I put my gun in the small of my back and tucked it into my belt. Then I grabbed the assault rifle, yanked it out of his hand and grabbed his magazine.

I fumbled with the mag until I figured out that it hooked onto the receiver before it could be slapped on, pulled back the operating handle, and let it slap a bullet home.

I’d never fired one of these before, but I had the general idea.

The rifle lacked a full stock, but I’d seen this weapon in just about every action movie ever made. What bothered me was that I wasn’t going to move around, staring down the barrel. This weapon was more for spraying lead.

Mateo hit the side of the house and took a quick peek inside. A round blew a chunk out of the siding where his head had been, so he ducked back around.

The guy at my feet was having trouble catching his breath. I rolled him over--not to inspect the wound, but to grab more ammo. He reached for me, and blood bubbled from between his lips.

“Please,” he whispered.

I ignored him and took a couple of spare magazines. He had a big knife, too, but I had no way to carry it, so I tossed it into the woods.

Leaning over him, I said “Good luck with the Zs, fucker.”

A pair of guys came at us from the street, firing as they ran.

Mateo motioned and we ran back toward the house. I dashed into the doorway and dropped next to the window before bullets sprayed the side of the house.

Shit. We were trapped.

###