Stay Dead: A Novel (16 page)

Morning came without incident in the hall. Sal had
nothing negative to report on the newcomers when Bruce arrived.
Bruce nodded with a smile and casually walked in. Sal’s shift was
over, so he headed home in hopes of sleep.

Bruce walked past the bar and, noticing the dirty
glasses, and emptied bottles smiled to himself. He wasn’t exactly
happy about it, but understood. He hoped that they would in turn
understand him. He walked to the spot where he addressed the group
last night, and stood their patiently for a moment. The people who
were awake watched him carefully, and those who still slept quickly
awoke at the sound of his voice.

“
Morning,” Davis said loudly but
not annoyingly so. And he deliberately left out the customary
‘good’—he stopped saying ‘good morning’ the day the dead began to
walk again.

“
Morning,” many
replied.

“
Time to earn your keep. Hope you
got some rest ‘cause you’re going to need it.” He paused to look at
the crowd, knowing he had their attention he continued. “Any
doctors, nurses, or emergency service workers among you?” he
asked.

“
Not exactly,” Scott said, raising
his hand slightly. “My wife and I are morticians—we can stitch.
Also, we’re both certified in CPR.”

“
Morticians? No shit, I’d think
you two would be among the first to go,” Davis said with a good
hearted smirk. “Well, that’s good to know…let me write this down.”
He pulled out a small notepad and pencil from his breast pocket.
“What’re your names?”

“
Scott.”

“
And, I’m Judy.”

“
Okay, great,” Davis mumbled as he
jotted down their names, putting the words ‘stitches’ and ‘CPR’
next to them.

“
Law enforcement? Military?” Davis
rattled off. No one stepped forward. “Okay. Has anyone ever worked
for an electric company, or was at any point an
electrician?”

“
I was an electrician for most my
life,” Angus said as he stepped forward. “My arthritis is something
fierce though…can’t keep a steady hand anymore.”

“
Okay,” Davis nodded. He jotted
down the title ‘electrician’, while asking, “Name, sir?”

“
Angus.”

“
Okay. Next
up…construction?”

Frankie raised a hand, “I used to work part time for
a few years.”

“
Me too,” Chung-Hee
added.

“
I cut wood at Route 9 Lumber for
two years,” Jon-Jon said. He sounded unsure if it was relevant or
not, and felt foolish either way.

“
Okay, excellent. Names?” Davis
asked as he jotted them down under ‘construction’.

“
All righty. My last question: any
of you competent at using a firearm?” He was visibly surprised when
nearly everyone raised a hand. “Perfect,” he said with a big
shit-eating grin. “I’m going to need a list of all your
firearms…don’t worry, I’m not looking to take them from you. I just
want to know what you got and what kind of ammunition you’re going
to need. If you’re not sure what you have, bring it to me and I’ll
find ammo for it. Every one of you that raised a hand will be
pulling shifts at the roadblock, and throughout town. I’ll see if I
can get some walkie-talkies too.”

Eddie spoke up. “We got a few already, Sheriff.”

“
A few more won’t hurt, will it?”
Davis said.

“
No, sir, it won’t.”

“
Angus, Frankie, Chung, and Jon,
get your shit together and meet me outside in five minutes. We got
a lot of work to do. The rest of you, rest up and take it easy on
the booze. Either mysel or someone else will be by in a few hours
to start some of you off on guard duty or something.” He began to
mumble toward the end. “Maybe fixing up some breakfast for
yourselves wouldn’t be a bad idea, either. It’s gonna be a long
day.”

Five minutes came and went. Jon-Jon and the group
piled up in his van and followed Davis into town and toward the
police station. Once inside, Davis offered them coffee, stale
donuts, and cookies. None of them turned any of it down. They sat
quietly among themselves while Davis gathered everyone at the
station into one of the large meeting rooms. Davis rummaged through
a supplies closet for the county map and a box of thumbtacks. He
whistled and gestured toward the group as they shoveled crunchy
cookies into their maws. As if they were caught doing something
wrong they looked up and hurried over to him.

He briskly led them to the meeting room, where a
handful of weary officers and tired trusted friends sat or stood
around waiting. Davis tacked the map to a table and emptied the
rest of the tacks on top of it. He instructed the newcomers to tack
whatever places on the map they had come across that might be of
interest. Red tacks were designated danger zones, green was
designated for possible supplies, yellow were impassable roads,
blue, which remained unused, was for other stationed survivors, and
clear wasn’t designated for anything but if they came up with
another point of interest they’d have a color, or non-color as it
were.

By the time they were done there were almost two
dozen tacks on the map. Davis instructed everyone to update the map
when any new info was available. Davis cracked his knuckles and
decided it was time to let everyone in on his little plan.

“
Since almost everyone is here I
got an idea that can help to keep us all safe. It won’t be easy,
and we might end up hearing something from FEMA by then. But I
ain’t holding my breath. I want to wall off the town.”

“
And just how the fuck are we
supposed to do that?” Keith asked with one eye opened wide and the
other nearly pinched shut.

“
Not really sure to be honest. I
got a few ideas, but it’ll take us a long time, and like I said,
FEMA could make everything all right next week. But if they don’t I
want to be ready. First thing I want to do is get the power back
up, after that maybe a town hall gathering with everybody in town
to see what we can do about protecting ourselves,” Davis replied,
“which is probably something we should’ve done much
sooner.”

“
Shit, man,” Keith said. “Power
sounds good, but we’re already running on fumes. I know I’m
exhausted--”

“
Keith, that’s why I want to wall
off the town. We’re all tired as shit. But if we put up some
fences, get the power on and put up some security monitors then
it’ll be easier to get some shut eye. All I know is that if we keep
doing what we’re doing we won’t make it on our own.”

Jones spoke up. “Guys, let’s just take this one step
at a time, okay? Let’s get the power back on. I’m getting real sick
of pissing in the dark and hoping I don’t make a mess. We can fight
about the other shit after that.”

They all agreed to take things one step at a time.
Davis asked Jones and Keith to join him and the newcomers in
heading over to the power and electric building in the hopes of
returning power to the town. They obliged, and everyone headed out
immediately. Jon-Jon grabbed another cup of coffee on the way out
the door.

CHAPTER 1
6: Power to the
people

On the outskirts of town on a large barren plot of
land sits the Power and Electric company building. Davis pulls up
to the entrance gate of the fence which he quickly finds to be
locked. Their presence draws the attention of a dead thing that had
wandered either to, or from, town. Its clothes were the color of
sand, was torn and frayed, and was barely clinging to the wiry
frame of the withered young man. His body looked like it had been
run over several times: his head was crushed, its contents being
contained by the leathery flesh which was stretched and ripped from
head to toe. What remained of his hair stood up in frantic clumps.
His arm was barely clinging to its shoulder, splinters of bone
jutted from his forearms and mud like blood clung in gooey chunks
around the wounds of his body. He was missing an eye, and it was
uncertain if his other was there or if it was merely a wad of puss.
He stumbled forward on swollen legs, and on shins as mangled as the
branches of diseased trees.

Davis’s stomach soured at its ghastly sight. He
returned to his truck to retrieve his gun and a pair of bolt
cutters. With the cutters slung across his shoulder he took aim at
the shambling creature and fired. The creature slumped to the
ground, reduced to a pile of twisted flesh. Davis walked over to
it. Wincing from the stench he turned his head to the side and
fired a second shot to the dead man’s head. He returned to the
fence, cut the lock and kicked the entrance gate open.

They drove in past the fence, pulling up toward the
front of the building. The parking lot had a number of vehicles:
employee vehicles, company vans, and repair trucks. Davis took note
of this and headed toward the front doors with caution.

The rest of the group followed as Jones and Keith
held the rear, both carrying shotguns. They found that the doors
were locked. Their dark tint made seeing beyond them difficult. Not
wanting to break the doors just yet, Davis led them around to the
side looking for another way in. They came across another locked
door then continued past it around the building in search of
another. They came across a small loading dock and finally next to
the dock, an unlocked door.

Davis slowly turned the knob and opened the door. A
red light shone from inside the building as they entered. Standing
in that dim red corridor they remained motionless, their breath
slow and controlled, listening intently to the sounds of the
building. Machines hummed and clicked. The place seemed empty.

Not knowing where to go, the group picked a
direction and cautiously continued ahead. Davis led the charge as
they passed a number of doors which turned out to be closets and
offices, all of which were equally empty and seemingly void of any
use. When the corridor turned, they headed up the side of the
building and going toward the front.

At the opposite end of the hall, stumbling from
around the corner was a man in dark blue work clothes. His tan
boots were covered in blood and with each step he left some of it
on the floor. Around his waist was a utility belt full of tools and
blood. The creature cocked its head, and began moving its jaw. He
looked as if he were trying to say something, but being that his
throat was torn to shreds, he failed. Several more of the creatures
came from behind the same corner. Their melancholy moans more than
made up for the lack of vocalization from the first creature. They
sounded hungry.

“
I guess their shift just ended,”
Jon-Jon joked but didn’t laugh.

“
Let’s go back the other way,”
Davis suggested.

The group went back in the direction of the dock
only to be halted again. Coming from the far end of the corridor
was another group of equally disgruntled and vocal employees. With
few options they turned around again, heading to the first group of
undead attackers. They tried the doors within the gap between them
and the dead: a set of restrooms, followed by a locker room, and a
closet after that. They were now mere feet from the first set of
attackers when the others rounded the corner behind them.

Frankie and Jones readied their weapons. Angus
looked ready to have a heart attack and make a trade to the
opposing team. Keith pulled a flask from his back pocket and tipped
his head back, letting the warm wet whiskey burn his belly. Davis
tried the last door, it opened and he rushed inside. The others
followed. Jon-Jon took aim at the first dead man they had come
across and fired. The bullet grazed the thing’s face and ricocheted
off the wall at the end of the corridor. He kept his handgun
pointed at the fearless foe. He stared at him, wondering what the
fuck the point of it all was. Wondering if he too would walk around
like that, if he’d even know, or care, deciding that none of it
mattered he fired again. The dead man died again, dropping to the
ground. The maggots in his throat held steady, oblivious to the
fall of man.

Frankie pulled Jon-Jon by the arm and Davis flung
the door shut behind them, giving Jon-Jon a look that would’ve
shaken him a few weeks ago. But not today and probably never
again.

The room they stood in was a small cafeteria. If
they had an appetite then they would’ve had plenty to eat. But
being that they wanted to get away from the things clawing at the
other side of the door they decided to head to the other door in
the room.

That door led to a small kitchen with vending
machines which emptied into the building’s central corridor. They
frantically moved into the corridor. Davis looked straight ahead
while the others spun around nervously. The front doors were at
their backs. One door led to another, and somehow they ended up in
front of a door with big bold letters stating CONTROL ROOM. Davis
turned the handle of the door, pushing forward. It opened only a
few inches before it was stopped by something on the inside. Davis
pushed harder, and then rammed his shoulder into the door, but it
didn’t budge. The sounds and smells of the dead traveled through
the air. They were coming. Davis attempted to ram the door again
when they heard a voice from behind the door.

“
You dumb zombies keep trying to
get in here when you know it ain’t gonna happen,” screamed a man
from behind the door as he violently stabbed a thin pipe through
the space between the door and its jamb.

“
We’re not zombies!” Davis
screamed back. “Let us the fuck in!”