The Hunt Chronicles (Volume 1): Awakening (26 page)

“Dinner,” Fish whispered with a grin.

I grimaced.  Alligator kabobs were not at the forefront of my mind. 

We finally made it to the trucks and I noticed Fish had calmed down some.  He was investigating them too casually for my comfort, peering in the open windows and moving around junk that was left on the seats.

I took up position at the back of the trucks facing the compound.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, kid,” Fish said in a normal voice.  “These trucks have been abandoned for some time.”

“How do you know?” I asked as I turned towards him.

“These windows have been down for at least a month.  The mold inside is pretty thick,” he said, gesturing with his thumb.

“They still might be in the building,” I said, pointing at the reception hall in front of us.

“Doubt it,” he returned.  “That’s an airboat trailer,” he said nodding towards the back of one of the trucks.

“So, maybe they’re out for a ride?” I said rhetorically.

“Maybe, but those things are pretty loud.”  Fish made his way towards the building.  “Stay frosty, just in case.”

Boomer and I followed him.  Gonzales pulled the truck up closer to the front of the building and the two of them got out.

“Jenna, stick by the truck,” Fish commanded.  “Honk the horn if you see any trouble.”

“I can handle myself too, you know,” she said in an offended tone.  “Why not let Carlos babysit the truck?”

“Because I said for you to stay near the truck,” he shot back.  He may have liked Jenna, but Fish didn’t enjoy being second guessed.  I found that out the hard way already.

She raised one side of her lips in a silent grumble and went back to stand at the driver’s side door of the truck.

“Kid, you’re in the lead,” Fish directed.  “Gonzo take the rear.  Stay at least five feet back.”

Gonzales nodded.  I could tell he was trying to hide his fear.  Rare breeds like Fish could seem confident in these types of situations, but normal people like me and Gonzales were scared.  We could try to deny or hide it, but it was there.

Fish and I quickly prepped our flashlights and I realized Gonzales was going to go in blind.  After I turned on the light on my hat and MP5, I quickly removed the one from my shoulder harness and handed it to him.  He nodded in an uncustomary thanks and I returned the gesture.

Fish moved to the side of the screened door that led to the front patio and opened it.  I moved in as tactically as I could with Boomer at my side.  I leveled the submachine gun at the center of the door as I moved.  I made it to the front with Fish on my heels.  He moved partially in front of me and raised his hand.

He signed “Three, two, one” with his fingers, then turned the knob on the front door.  The old hinges creaked as the door lazily swung open.

Boomer instantly started growling and my nose told me why a half a second later.

Death.  I couldn’t see or hear it, but the smell was god awful.  It had been masked by the abundance of fresh air.  The breeze that came from the east must have kept it away from us.  I heard Gonzales choke back some bile and heard Boomer let out a low snarl.

I moved forward into the dark building.  The room was long with windows that lined the east side facing the river.  The right side held a snack bar booth and a long display case.  The left was lit with ambient light, but the right was almost pitch black.

Stepping forward, I heard a loud groan from the floor boards.  I looked down to see that the floor was warped.  The ground must have adjusted over the years and caused the foundation to move.  It was like a mirror from a funhouse but on the floor.

That second I took to check the ground was a mistake.

I heard Boomer growl and bark as something flashed on the right.  I turned the submachine gun around and saw a gigantic blob just a foot or two from me. 

The zombie that came at me was an easy four hundred pounds and a whole head taller than I was.  He had on blotchy overalls with a faded red flannel shirt underneath.  There was a bubbly flap of fat that concealed any form of a neck, and giant floppy cheeks that sagged even with its mouth fully extended.  A dime-sized hole was in its left temple.  The trigger guard of a small .38 revolver was stuck on one of its pudgy fingers which indicated that this zombie died of a suicide.

On instinct, I pulled and held the trigger.  Thirty rounds came out in seconds, but none were aimed at the rhino-zombie’s head, as I later referred to him.  Sheer panic had me shooting before the barrel cleared the floor.  By the time the magazine was expended, I had peppered up the behemoth’s right leg and went all the way to its sternum. 

Even if I had put a bullet in its head, the sheer momentum it had was enough to land him on top of me.  I ducked, hoping it would just trip over me and fall to the ground.  Unfortunately, it dipped down as well and tried to grab me.  Both of us slammed to the wooden floor with me being the cushion. 

The weight of the zombie was excruciatingly painful.  I could feel my ribs pressing into my lungs and for a moment, I thought they would snap.  I could barely draw breath and with each move it made, I felt more pressure.  The only thing that saved me was the fact that I had tried to dodge underneath it.  The zombie was too fat to swing around and get ahold of me while I was balled up underneath its large gut. 

Boomer was barking and I heard Fish curse as the familiar sound of his suppressed .45 discharged.  If I didn’t think the bastard could be heavier, I was wrong.  At least it was actively moving while it was still alive… well, dead… undead?  I still haven’t got that one down yet.  Anyway, it became dead weight after Fish put it down.

It took Gonzales and Fish a few minutes to free me from the rhino-zombie.  Even after that, the two of them had cleared the small building before I finally got to my feet.  I checked myself to make sure none of my bones were crushed or broken.  Black goo was peppered on my clothes and vest from the bullet holes I inflicted on the zombie, but other than hurt pride, I was fine.

Fish came back over and glared at me.

“What the fuck was that about?”

“The floor creaked,” I whined.  “I just looked at it for a second-”

“Get your head in the game, dumbass.” He cut me off and turned.  He looked around and saw Gonzales in the snack bar area.  “What do you got, Gonzo?”

“This guy had enough food to last a man six months!” he exclaimed.  “Why would he off himself?”

Fish peered through the open cashier window.  “Shit, that would have only lasted his fat ass a week. It still doesn’t make sense, though.”

I walked over, removed the .38 from his finger and checked the cylinder.

“The gun still had four rounds in it,” I told them.

“And there’s a shitload of ammo back here too,” Gonzales continued as he searched the gear spread out in the snack bar area.

“Probably gave up hope,” I said sadly.  Fish rolled his eyes.

There was a door in the back that led west toward the inside of the enclosed camp.  That made sense because we didn’t see any other way to get behind the wall.  Fish had Gonzales breech the doorway that time.  I remember wondering if Fish was losing faith in me.

We moved into a large open area.  There was a gate leading to the front parking lot, but we could now see it had been boarded up from the other side.  There were a couple more small buildings and sheds in the back area, and a large stage on the south end bordering part of the river.  Picnic tables were scattered in different areas and a large cement structure about three feet high was off to the right.  I could see it was covered with meshed together chain-link fence pieces.

“What’s that?” I asked, pointing my MP5 towards the strange contraption.  I never noticed it the one time Dave and I had gone to Camp Holly.

“That’s where they hold the gators,” Fish said walking in that direction.  “I use to come out here with my buddy and-” he stopped in mid-sentence.

Boomer started growling and then I heard them...

Moaning.  Lots of moaning.  It was all coming from the alligator cage.  Gonzales and I joined Fish and looked inside. 

There were six zombies, two of which were children, crowded in the short enclosure.  It could have only been four feet high, half of which was deeper and filled with water.  Some of the zombies were missing limbs.  I saw at least two arms and one foot lying casually on the cement floor of the cage.  Among the body parts was what appeared to be the leftover skeleton of an alligator, though some of its bones had obviously been gnawed upon as well. 

Our voices, along with Fish’s approach, must have stirred up the gang.  They all began to claw and yank on their cell, begging to be free with their terrible croaks.

“What the hell happened here?” Gonzales asked.

“God knows,” Fish said evenly.  “And only God cares.  Kid, help me put them down and take them out.”

We spent the hour killing off the zombies, removing them from the cage and finishing them off with sledges, or breakers as we started calling them.  We did the same with the man in the building, though it took all four of us to move him out.  After clearing the rest of the area and making sure there were not anymore surprises, we had lunch.

It was a fairly good lunch, too.  The rhino-zombie definitely stocked up some nice food.  He had those gourmet survival meals.  I felt a little guilty eating two… okay, not all that guilty.  He also had five cases of fruit punch.  I think I drank seven cans.

Besides the food, we found a bunch of ammo for the .38, along with two 308 rifles with ammo to match.  The guy was probably a Prepper, because there were loads of survival gear sporadically placed throughout the camp.  Fish said half the stuff was junk and he probably just bought it all off some quirky website that told him he needed it for the end of the world.  I was sure we’d find some use for it, though.

By late afternoon, we decided it was time to head back.  Fish said the best idea was to move a small contingent out as soon as possible to start building the place up.  Then we could move everyone else there, but he would discuss it later with the Lieutenant.

“You’re lucky, man,” Gonzales whispered over to me as Fish drove us back towards the city. 

“Why’s that?” I asked suspiciously.

“You could have been bit, man,” he said, raising an eyebrow.  “I’m sure your buddy over there would have put one in you after he took care of the rhino-zombie.”

I just shrugged and looked out my window as we drove underneath the 95 overpass.  He was right, of course.  Fish wouldn’t think twice.  He had already told me it was better to die as yourself than as some monster.

It was times like that I wanted to tell people about my possible immunity.  My wound from where Dave had bitten me was as healed as it was going to get.  Unfortunately, the teeth marks were clear as day, so I knew I couldn’t pass it off as an old war wound.  But they would have to understand.  I mean, I had gone a month without changing into a scab or a zombie.  That had to mean I was immune.

I told myself that if the time was right later on that night, I would let Lt. Campbell and maybe even Fish know about my immunity.  Campbell seemed the obvious choice.  He was much more level-headed than Fish. 

There was also another thing to consider.  If I was immune, that meant other people may be as well.  If that were the case, I could help save some lives before someone decided to do them a favor and put them out of their misery.

But if I were to randomly get bit, they most certainly wouldn’t give me the chance to plead my case.  Fish would put a bullet in my head before I could manage to squeeze his name out.

My thoughts disappeared as my bladder started screaming at me.  Seven cans of fruit punch were starting to take their toll.  I should have taken a bathroom break before we left.  We were still twenty minutes away from the Ace Hardware compound and I wasn’t sure if I could hold it that long.

The rest of the drive back was pretty boring.  Fish and Jenna talked a lot about the opportunities Camp Holy offered for hunting and fishing.  Gonzales bugged Jenna about hooking up with PFC Trent back at the compound.  I interjected in the lighthearted conversation when I had something to say.  Mostly, though, I just thought about taking a leak.

We pulled into the compound a couple of hours before sunset.  Clouds were all but gone from the sky, which gave DJ, Gardner, and Preacher time to work on Big Red.  DJ still wasn’t moving around very well, but he was not the sort to just sit down and give orders on the modifications. 

They had already put up some panels on the side of the fire truck to protect the openings on the sides.  DJ was using another welder to make an iron rod mesh to put over the window.  Off to the side was a mockup of a large plow.  I figured that was going on the front of the truck as soon as they finished the rest of Big Red.

After finally relieving myself, I cleaned up as much as I could with some scavenged baby wipes.  Wipes were a prized possession when I was in the military.

Sunset was about an hour away when I finally got up the nerve up to talk to Campbell about the bite and my immunity to infection.  At least, what I thought was immunity.  I still wasn’t totally convinced.  I found out he was on the roof of the building talking with Specialist Combs who was taking over guard duty for the night.