The Ugly Beginning - 01 (20 page)

“Mmm-hmm,” Darrin agreed as he spun the steering wheel to the right. The vehicle was bouncing over enough bodies that it was barely noticeable as he caught the curb with his right rear tires.

He straightened out the wheel and took off for the interstate. He hoped Kevin would be there.

***

“Name’s Kevin.” His grip on the U-Haul’s steering wheel relaxed as he crested the on-ramp and entered the relatively zombie-free interstate.

“I’m Angela, and these are my daughters, Ruth, Shari, and Erin.” Angela pointed them out in turn. “I don’t know how we could ever thank you enough for what you’ve risked.”

“Where’s Mike?” Erin, the pregnant one who, now that Kevin saw her up close, was absolutely no older than fifteen, asked.

“He should be meeting up with us soon,” Kevin answered as he swerved just a bit to avoid a lurching zombie that reminded him of a priest from his mom’s church. He didn’t add out loud the part about, if he makes it out from under what looked to be at least a hundred eager corpses.

“You guys are totally like heroes,” Shari purred.

Kevin knew that, as odd as it seemed, he had seen that girl someplace before. The long, unnaturally crimson hair was giving way to dirty-blonde roots, and even without a trace of make-up, there was a wholesome but simultaneously slutty qual-ity to her face. Large blue eyes stared back at him questioningly. He would probably think clearer when his heart rate was back under triple digits. He was just now starting to feel the adrenaline subside, but his mind would not rest until he saw Darrin or Mike…or, hopefully, both.

“I’m just glad you ladies are okay.”

“Yes, well,” Angela’s voice held a certain edge to it, like she was used to being in charge, “now that you’ve rescued us from that place and those...
things
…where do you plan on going?”

“South Dakota.” Kevin slowed and came to a stop. Up ahead he saw around twenty or thirty zombies. They were scattered, but had definitely turned his way. He unlocked the door and opened it so he could lean out and see the on-ramp that he expected his friends to appear from.

“What’s in South Dakota?” Shari enunciated the state’s name like a teenager over-dramatizing distaste in being forced to wear second-hand clothing.

“Let’s hope so…or else.... Well, let’s just hope so and leave it at that.” No use upsetting the pregnant girl who seemed on the verge of hysterics. The distance between the U-Haul and the approaching zombies grew ever shorter.

A rumble in the distance began to grow. Suddenly, a firetruck crested the on-ramp, roaring onto the interstate. An unfortunate few of the undead staggered into the path of the approaching vehicle, only to be sent flying in a twisted mess of shattered bone and ruptured flesh.

Kevin ducked back into the cab, shut the door, and shifted into drive. They could catch up on all the events of the previous hour later. Now…it was time to put some distance between them and this dead city.

10

Tranquility Base

“They’re coming!” Barry yelled from where he sat in the open window on the passenger’s side. He propped his elbow on the roof of the truck and slid the stock of the 30.06 to his shoulder.

I turned back to the task at hand, scooping boxes of ammunition into a large duffel bag. I still couldn’t believe that this gun shop had not been completely sacked! Every so often, luck tosses you a rose.

Dillon came out from the back room with a huge grin. He brandished a pair of what I considered to be rather exotic looking weapons. They appeared familiar, and before I could guess—

“Fuckin’ AK-47s!” Dillon crowed.

“Wow! This gun store has quite a selection.” I nodded, not that I would really know.

“
These
weren’t for sale. The owner probably just carted them out to get his customer’s mouths watering. Good news is that I also found almost two thousand rounds in a footlocker!”

“Barry said they’re getting close, so we’d best get moving.” I shouldered the duffel bag.

Dillon handed me one of the AKs and retrieved the footlocker, then we ducked through the shattered glass of the front window. The street was in fact getting a bit crowded. The two of us jogged over to the truck and climbed in back. I knocked on the window and Ian laid into the horn as we started rolling.

So far, I had to say I was happy with how things were working out. It seemed that we’d succeeded in drawing a majority of the zombies after us. Occasionally, I heard shots that I assumed to be Teresa. That meant she was doing her part to empty the parking lot so that we could return and load up our newly accquired supplies. This gun shop had been pure, sweet icing.

Like Barry, I began scanning the sky. It was kinda cloudy, but not too bad. Looking towards what I guessed to be south, I spotted it! It banked and took off eastward, but there was no mistaking the outline of a fighter-jet. I’m not savvy enough to discern the type…or nationality…but it was definitely a military plane. I pointed it out to the others.

“Reminds me of 9-11,” Barry said as he watched the jet quickly shrink to a dot and vanish.

“Only thing in the air were the CAP flights making sure nothing else happened. It was so strange
not
seeing contrails in the sky,” I sighed.

“Think it means anything?” Dillon had already returned his attention to the task at hand, which was putting down any zombie that got too close.

“Who knows.” I shrugged. I slapped the roof and leaned down by Ian’s window, “Circle around. Let’s try and make a go of grabbing our stuff.”

The town was small enough that it took us no time to get back to the Walmart parking lot. There were still zombies wandering the area; more than when we first arrived, but considerably less than when we had set this on-the-fly plan into motion.

“Barry, keep an eye open and get behind the wheel,” I yelled as Dillon and I vaulted from the open bed. “Ian, take this AK and keep an open perimeter.”

We went to work loading things into the truck’s spacious cargo bed. I must’ve zoned out and just gone into automatic, because it took me a second to realize that Dillon was calling my name. At some point, he’d drifted into the sally port, and now he stood there motioning me to join him.

I jogged over. Dillon had a flashlight shining down the little hallway where the bathrooms and a few unmarked doors lined the walls. I listened, straining to hear it.

Dillon began moving towards the hall. I still didn’t hear any baby crying. I did, however, see a handful of shapes moving in the shadows and coming our way. The crash of some display stand or shelf or something caused me to jump. On reflex, I had my nine millimeter in my hand, my flashlight sweeping from left to right. Then…I heard it.

A baby’s shrill cry
.

Dillon broke into a run. I lined up a shot on what had once been a very fat man. The entire abdomen was an open, gaping meat cave. I watched a particularly large and pendulous strip of gray fat swing from the left side of its exposed and broken ribcage. I think I even saw a dangling lung. Then, I shot it in the forehead and continued to glance from open, dark store, to parking lot growing ever busier, to Dillon who was now raring back to kick what I assumed to be a locked ladies’ room door.

I quickly took out the only other two zombies that might cause any problems before Dillon could get in, grab the baby, and we could quit this scene. Ian and Barry were both shooting now.

“Hurry up, Dillon!” I screamed needlessly.

He smashed open the door on the third kick, stepped in, and I lost sight for just a second. Then, two things happened almost simultaneously that caused every hair on my body to stand on end.

Dillon screamed.

And…One of the zombies, close enough to see, but far enough away to not be a threat, made the most frightening sound I’ve ever heard.

A baby’s cry
.

Dillon stumbled back. Attached to his right arm was what had once been an old lady of at least seventy. My initial hope that flashed for just a split-second was that she would be toothless and that her dentures would have long since fallen out. Apparently she practiced good oral-hygiene, because before that hope could take root, she tore away a strip of flesh. Blood sprayed, looking black in the shadowy illumination of my flashlight.

Finally, Dillon managed to shove the emaciated, skeletal form aside and scramble back towards me. I stood frozen and unsure as he ran my way, clutching his arm to his chest.

“Run!” he screamed.

I turned and bolted for the truck. As we emerged into the daylight, I saw that things were worse than I had been aware of. Those things were coming from everywhere, and there were hundreds!

“‘Bout damn time!” Ian exclaimed as he swapped a new magazine into the AK-47. Barry was loading two spares between taking shots at the too-close-for-comfort horde of walking dead.

Both men glanced back and noticed Dillon’s injury almost simultaneously. Neither said a word, but their eyes were clear pictures of their emotions. Barry’s was pity and resignation. Ian’s was sadness…true and unbridled sadness.

“Let’s get the hell outta here,” Ian finally managed.

Everybody made for the truck. I got behind the wheel. Barry climbed in the passenger’s side, then Ian. The door slammed and Dillon still stood outside.

“Y’all make a run for it. Just gimme me a second to draw some of those fucks away if I can,” Dillon said, his eyes tight from the pain.

“Nope.” Dillon shoved his AK through the window and drew a large revolver that I was pretty sure was a .44 Magnum. He tapped his forehead with the bright, chrome-plated barrel. “I’ll take a few with me, then finish what that thing started.”

“Good luck.” I nodded. There was no sense in drawing this scene out, and Dillon obviously felt the same way because he turned and walked away.

We rolled up our windows, and I watched a man I’d come to really appreciate having at my side walk back to the darkened store entrance. I could see in the rearview mirror as he walked up to the hunched over figure of the old lady who had sealed his fate. She…it…was just emerging from the building. He strolled up, placed the gun to its forehead, and fired.

Many of the zombies to our right veered away from us, following the obvious and visible prey. I cranked over the steering wheel and dashed for the clearest path we had. Nevertheless, it was still a bumpy ride as we slammed and careened off the moving obstacles between us and the parking lot exit.

I heard three more shots…a long pause…and one final but slightly muffled boom of the Magnum. I reached the exit a few seconds later and swerved a bit as I turned down the street and towards the interstate.

There were still several zombies in the way, but I managed to miss most of them. The ones I did hit, I usually only caught with glancing blows that sent the body spinning away. I reached the on-ramp and floored it with nothing further impeding the rush to be back with our friends.

Once on I-84 East, the road was almost wide open. In the distance I spied the big, white power company truck, Anton’s car…and what looked like six or seven military vehicles. Before any of us could say a word, a pair of black attack-helicopters zoomed up from behind.

I said that the road was
almost
wide open. That is because halfway between us and our friends were the shambling mass of undead that remained on Teresa’s tail when we split up.

The two helos swung apart from each other and, with noses down, bracketed the seemingly oblivious pack of zombies. A loud, roaring buzz erupted as the helos’ machineguns opened up on them. In seconds, nothing was standing.

I considered stopping, but two things eliminated that option: my friends were over there, and really, where would I go? It’s not like I could outrun those attack helicopters. The best plan would be to simply drive up to where all those military vehicles sat parked around Teresa and the others and see what hand is dealt. If the military was going to kill
us
, then there was no reason for them to mow down that mob of zombies.

Right?

A few minutes later we pulled up. Barry, Ian, and I had our hands on our weapons, but not one single soldier so much as raised a gun in our direction. Instead, they waved us into their perimeter.

A quick scan of the situation revealed that nobody seemed agitated or scared. Thalia was even accepting a piece of gum from one of the soldiers. Maybe, just maybe, things were getting better. At the least, perhaps we would be taken someplace safe. My mind tried to set aside all of what I could only assume to be Hollywood-generated fears. Still, all fiction has some basis in fact.