Sometimes We Ran (Book 3): Rescue (6 page)

Claire nodded. “Going to have to find someplace new to trade.” It wouldn't be the first time. The Red-Eyes always seemed to find our meeting places.

We put Jerry back in his car and shut the door. The sedan was now a tomb.

Claire and I hiked back to the van to continue our trip. I carefully drove around the accident and entered the supermarket parking lot through the sidewalk. The entrance was too clogged with dead cars and trucks.

The lot was also full of abandoned cars. Some were still parked in neat little rows where their owners had left them. Others were haphazardly scattered across the lot. Some of the cars were smashed together in piles of twisted metal. It was a testimony in rust to the panic that gripped everyone during the early stages of the outbreak. I carefully steered our van around the carnage. Despite my attentive driving, I managed to clip a small pick-up truck. The van shuddered with the impact.

“Sidney is going to be pissed. You scratched Monique,” Claire said.

“He can send me the bill.”

I drove out of the rusting maze of snow-covered cars and trucks and into the clear. The facade of the dead supermarket was ahead in the windshield. All of the glass panels of the storefront were broken. Inside, the twisted remains of the metal fixtures were all that was left. Wild grass had begun to sprout up among the remains of the shelves. The old stores were always depressing. During the outbreak, they became battle zones as the people tried to get the supplies they needed.

The Pine Grove trade detail had arrived first. A blue full-size van was parked at the curb. I looked around carefully. No one was around. I parked next to the battered van, so that we were side by side, and shut down the engine.

Claire looked nervous. “You trust these guys?”

“Yeah...maybe. They don't usually sneak around like this.” I checked my gun, and exited the van. Claire and I walked to the back and scanned the area. We saw about a hundred broken and abandoned cars and trucks, but no traders.

Claire gripped her bat a little tighter. “Starting to look like an ambush.”

Reluctantly, I agreed with her. Couldn't trust anyone these days. “We'll give them a few minutes, then we deass the area.”

“Sounds good. All this quiet is creepy,” Claire said.

As I scanned the nearby wreckage for adversaries living or dead, I sensed some movement in my peripheral vision. Like an Old West gunfighter, I drew my gun and prepared for battle. Claire saw my gun emerge from the holster and took a battle stance herself. We were now ready to face any potential monsters.

A skinny, balding man emerged from behind a pile of wrecked cars. He had a rifle, but his hands were off the trigger. His signature camo jacket gave away his identity. It was Nervous Bob, the leader of Pine Grove subdivision.

“It's about damn time, Linder. Me and Floyd are freezing our collective asses off,” he said. Floyd followed Robert out from behind the wreckage. He was large man, bristling with many weapons. Twin pistols and various knives were poking out of several holsters on his person. Floyd had a shotgun as well. Looks like Pine Grove came prepared.

I put my gun away, and removed my glove for a handshake. Robert did the same, grasping my hand for a vigorous shake. The handshake had once again become the universal sign of trust.

“How are you, Bob? How's Pine Grove?” I said.

“It's home. Can't complain. You fenced-in bastards in Cannon Fields doing okay?”

“We're surviving. Got a few sick people.”

“I hear you.” Robert looked closer at my face. “When did you grow the beard?”

“Came in full a few weeks ago. Keeps my face warm. What do you think?” I said, turning to show him my profile.

“Not bad. Too bad it came in gray.” Robert turned to Claire. He looked her up and down and said, “I see you brought your muscle.” Claire's face turned a little crimson from embarrassment.

I laughed a bit despite her obvious discomfort. “Don't let her size fool you. The bat isn't just for looks,” I said. Claire just put her favorite weapon on her shoulder and shook her head. It was going to be a long ride home.

We gathered at the back of our vans to conduct business. Standard operating procedure was to open both vans, do a little shopping, strike a deal, then go home. Robert threw open the doors to his van as Floyd watched. Robert didn't have much. A few old tools, clothing, and some other odds and ends were stacked in the van. The pickings were slim.

“See anything you like?” Robert asked.

I glanced at Robert. He was a lot thinner than the last time I saw him. Floyd was skin and bones as well. “To tell you the truth Robert, there's not much here I need.”

A dark, faraway look crossed Robert's face. “I know. Got to admit, it's been a lousy winter.” He came in closer to speak in private. “Pine Grove is a little short on food. I was hoping you had some.”

“Maybe. You have any medicine? Antibiotics, or maybe anti-flu?”

Robert shook his head and snorted. “Used the last of it a month ago. I was going to ask you the same thing.”

Based on Robert's loss of weight and the lack of trade supplies in their van, I could sense that Pine Grove may be in dire straits. It happened to many communities out here when the end came. Ran out of food, and disappeared from the face of the earth.

“Come over to my van. Maybe I can help you anyway,” I said.

Robert stepped over to Monique's door and silently looked over what we had. “What is it with you Cannon Fielders and corn?”

“Three baskets. You can have the canned food, as well,” I said.

Robert shook his head. “I've got nothing to trade.”

“Just take it. You need it,” I said.

“Thanks,” Robert said. “I owe you.”

“You can pay me back by not starving to death.”

I watched Robert and Floyd unload the corn and canned goods from our van. Claire tapped me on the shoulder with the bat. “You're giving them our extra food without getting anything in trade. Michael's going to be pissed.”

“I know. Pine Grove might be in trouble. Wouldn't be right to watch them starve to death. Michael will just have to live with it,” I said. “We're all in this together, I guess. We have to look out for each other.”

Claire tilted her head and looked at me funny. “You know, I think you're mellowing in your old age.”

Our business concluded, we slammed the doors on our vans and prepared to leave. Robert got a strange look in his eye. “Thank you for the food. I don't know when we'll be able to meet again.”

“Don't mention it. If you guys need any help-,” I stopped in mid-sentence. A familiar scent filled my nostrils. It was the scent of death. Something awful had found us, and it was nearby.

Robert and Floyd smelled it as well. We flattened ourselves against the rear door of the van and waited. The smell was coming from the front of the vehicles. I peeked out from our hiding place and checked out the situation. Two young Red-Eyes were standing at the van's grill, sniffing the air. The cold was causing them some problems locating us. They hadn't found us yet, but it was only a matter of time.

“How many?” Robert whispered.

I held up two fingers. “At the front,” I answered.

“Let's get the hell out of here,” Robert said. “Every man for himself?” He stretched out his hand for a goodbye and good luck handshake.

“Yeah.” I grasped his hand and gave it a strong shake. “Good luck.”

“You, too. Get back to Cannon Fields safe.”

Robert and Floyd disappeared into their van. They had a pass-through to the seats up front. Monique was different. Our van had a solid wall between the cargo and the cab, and we would have to get in through the doors. I went back to the edge to keep tabs on our dead friends. They had moved to the driver's door. One was pressing its nose to the door handle to catch a scent. They were connecting the dots, and soon Claire and I would be in trouble. I pulled my gun, and turned to Claire. “Is your door locked?”

Claire thought for a second. “Yeah...I think so.”

“You come with me then. I'll shove you in through the driver's side. Okay?”

She nodded. “Take them out with the gun. I'll clean up any misses.”

We took a few deep breaths, then burst out of our hiding place ready for battle. The Red-Eyes, momentarily surprised by our sudden appearance, recovered and charged at me. The nearest one, a short blonde female, came at me hissing and growling like some kind of mutant wild animal.

I raised my gun and fired. The bullet caught her in the forehead, and she fell to the ground in mid-stride. Her companion flew at me in a rage with teeth bared and tongue hanging out in anticipation of a tasty meal. I aimed quickly and fired two shots. I got him in the shoulder and chest. Dark, black blood sprayed out behind him, and he stumbled The Red-Eye was hurt, but not dead. He immediately rolled over, and staggered to his feet.

Claire leapt into action. A swing from her trusty bat rang off the soft, decaying skull of the zombie. When he crumpled to the ground, Claire switched to overhead smashes to vanquish the undead monster at her feet. Menacing growls turned to whimpers as she rained blows on his head. After a few swings, the Red-Eye went silent. I stood in awe at the savagery of Claire's attack.

“Nice,” I said, admiring her work. “Let's go.” I grabbed Claire, and pushed her towards the front of the van. We had to hurry before more dead showed up.

Claire and I reached the driver's door. I opened it, and shoved her inside. After she settled into her seat, I holstered my gun and got the keys ready. As I prepared to hoist myself into the seat, the Pine Grove van roared to life and drove away, tires spinning on the slick asphalt of the supermarket lot. I sighed a little in relief. It was close but we were both going to get home safe.

Then, a crusty gray hand took hold of my neck.

I was thrown to the ground with great force. I managed to roll, and wound up in a half-crouching, half-sitting position on the ground. Drawing my gun, I raised my head to face whatever had taken me away from the van.

Blood and gore covered his tattered clothing. He walked with a slight limp, and his hands had bones showing. Long hair hung over his evil eyes. He closed in, cutting off any escape routes. I froze in place thinking he couldn't see me. He emitted a low growl as he walked, moving his head from side to side trying to focus on me. The skin from the lower half of his face was removed, leaving only skull and rotting muscle. His black teeth were set in a permanent leering grin. Claire tapped frantically on the glass to point out another problem.

He had two dead friends with him.

They came from the parking lot trudging through the piles of dead cars. These Red-Eyes were in a little better shape, but Bone Face was the leader. He would feed first. The Red-Eyes often formed  groups of collective intelligence to help them hunt their prey.

They had me trapped. Raising my gun, I fired in the direction of Bone Face as he advanced. One slug hit him square in the chest, the other tore through his neck. The ripped-up Red-Eye fell to the ground and began to crawl. His two companions picked up the pace, and charged toward me. I stood, and leveled my weapon at their heads. The battle was about to begin, and I hoped I could smoke both of them before I became zombie food in some God-forsaken parking lot.

And then a strange noise rose in the frosty air.

It sounded like a pissed off chainsaw. The high-pitched sound came from behind us in the busted-up supermarket building. Even the Red-Eyes raised their heads to take a listen. They retreated a little as the sound got closer. The sound was distracting them. They forgot about me, and looked for the source of the strange sound.

Claire threw open the door, and I hurried inside. As I settled into the driver's seat, a green blur flashed past the van and into the parking lot. It went flying down to the edge of the lot, and circled around to head back to our location.

“It's a motorcycle,” I said in disbelief.

The noisy two-wheeler rolled up to the front of our van and stopped. The rider was a middle-aged man with a leather jacket, jeans and black boots. He had long gray hair, and a mustache to match. It was one of those big bushy types that made him look like he was from the Old West, or fresh off a Civil War battlefield.

“Who's this guy?” Claire said.

I couldn't place the face. “No idea. I don't recognize him.”

The Red-Eyes were also shocked by his appearance. They regrouped to attack this new interloper, and crouched into attack mode. The strange man calmly pulled a sawed-off shotgun from a makeshift holster on the motorcycle and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened. Two more pulls of the trigger did not produce any dead zombies. The Red-Eyes moved in to feed on the interloper.

The man on the motorcycle put his gun away, and twisted the throttle. The tiny engine on the bike wailed in protest. He kicked the small dirt bike into gear, and drove straight at the zombies  At the last minute, he turned and began to do donuts around the confused dead.

They made a few halfhearted grabs at the little green bike, but retreated away from us and into the junked cars of the lot. Our new friend stopped in front of the van, threw me a quick salute, then gunned the bike and accelerated away to continue the zombie chase. The high-pitched wail of the engine faded away.

Claire and I looked at each other. “What the hell was that?”' Claire said.

I cranked Monique to life. The welcome throb of the powerful diesel engine filled the cab. “Don't know.” I slammed the gear level into drive, and put the pedal down. We fishtailed away from the supermarket. “I'm not waiting around to find out.”

“T
hat was close,” Claire said, settling down in her seat. “Who was that guy?”

I gripped the steering wheel of the van until my knuckles turned white The adrenaline was just now fading from my body and my heartbeat was returning to normal. “Don't know. Never seen him before, but he has a shotgun so I'm getting the heck out of here.” People with shotguns usually weren't very friendly these days.

The van bounced and swayed as we skidded over the curb and sidewalk. I hung a sharp left on the main road, and headed for home. The large vehicle whipped around on the asphalt. Claire hung on for dear life. “Easy. Let's not flip over.”