The Ugly Beginning - 01 (32 page)

“It’s not like we have anything better to do…or… umm…a twenty-four hour time limit.” The sarcasm was creeping back into Mike’s voice.

“Well,” Kevin snatched a phone cord and stepped back into the principal’s office, “this guy seemed to be existing under Shaw’s radar without any problem. Maybe Shaw doesn’t come into this town.”

With that said, he dragged the body back into the office. Within a few minutes, using phone and power cords, they had firmly tied the man to the chair behind the principal’s desk.

“I say we go look around and see what is here that we might use. Best gather stuff in case we need to beat feet in a hurry,” Mike said.

The two crept out into the dark, shadowy hall with their weapons at the ready. A staircase was on the left past a section of lockers. Together they peered around the corner. They had two choices: up or down.

“I say let’s start at the bottom and work our way up,” Kevin said.

“Suits me fine.”

They crept down the darkened stairwell. Enough ambient light existed to see up to the point where the stairs reached a landing before turning back in an about-face and continuing down.

Once on the landing, they peered cautiously down the rest of the stairs. A hallway ran either direction. A dull glow to the left indicated some sort of light source. Kevin and Mike glanced at each other, nodded, and continued down. Mike clung to the right, Kevin against the wall on the left.

With one step to go, Kevin raised his hand, signaling Mike to stop. The other froze, raising the sword in case he needed to strike.

“You hear that?” Kevin hissed.

Mike listened. There it was. A creak, a rustle, other odd sounds. He looked at Kevin with raised eyebrows.
What
? He mouthed silently.

No idea
, Kevin mouthed back, shrugging.

Mike leaned forward to peek down the hallway. It was empty. On the right side, about twenty or so feet away, an open doorway cast a pale glow. It was also the direction of the source of the sounds.

They waited. The sounds continued, but nothing emer-ged. Kevin stepped into the long hallway. Still nothing. He walked towards the open doorway. Mike followed, glancing over his shoulder nervously.

Kevin peeked in the dimly lit room and, without warning, threw himself back. He landed on his butt, scrambling to gather up the bat that had slipped from his grip and clattered nosily on the linoleum.

“Holy shit!” Mike hadn’t been able to fight the curiosity. He stood against the far wall, staring into the dimly lit room.

Several girls—none old enough to be past high school age, all zombies—were bound to various devices scattered about the room. Some were dressed in cheerleader outfits, others in school-girl uniforms, others were completely naked.

One was only a few feet inside the door. Mike guessed she’d been the reason Kevin freaked. She was in a typical student’s desk. However, she was bound in place securely with belts and duct tape. Her hands were free and she reached for Mike, struggling in absolute futility against her bonds.

“What the fuck?” Kevin joined Mike, staring into the room.

“To hell with putting that sick fuck down. I say we feed him to these…” Mike’s voice trailed off. He was torn by disgust and pity. Disgust for that lunatic they had tied to a chair upstairs. Pity for these things. Each had only the most superficial bite, if it was even visible. This had been intentional.

In one corner of the room, one of the Schoolgirl-zombies struggled more than the rest. Kevin noticed that all of them had ball-gags secured in place except the overly agitated one. She had strips of duct tape wrapped around her head.

He stepped tentatively into the room, carefully avoiding coming into grasping range of any of the pathetic creatures scattered about. Weaving his way through the hellish obstacle- course he made his way to the long-haired brunette. The room was almost gaggingly sweet smelling, as if bottles of perfume had been dumped over each of the inhabitants.

“Shit!” Kevin suddenly bolted to the thrashing figure in the corner. He knelt beside the girl. Patting his pockets, he produced a pocketknife. “There is no way this won’t hurt,” he said, cutting through the tape vertically. “I’ll be as quick as I can,” he said, peeling corners back on each side of the slit.

“No way.” Mike stood over Kevin’s shoulder, staring in disbelief.

Kevin yanked both directions. It took four tries, but he removed the tape…and a considerable amount of hair. To his surprise, the girl didn’t cry. She whimpered slightly a couple of times, but that was the extent.

Neither man could ignore the partially healed bite just above the knee-high stocking on the right leg. It had to be several days old.

“Please save me.” The young girl looked up at the two with pleading eyes.

Mike and Kevin looked at each other with the same basic thought painted clearly on their faces. This flew in the face of everything they thought they knew. Could it be possible that being bitten wasn’t a one hundred-percent certainty that the recipient would turn? Cary’s face flashed in Kevin’s mind.

“Impossible,” Kevin breathed. It was as much a wish as a denial.

16

Tough Choices

“I was watching you and your little clique when the vote passed barring any attempt at a search-and-rescue mission,” she said simply. “None of you should ever sit down at a poker table.”

“So why would you leave with us?” My curiosity was more than piqued.

“Sergeant Wimmer is actually going to send out a few groups.” Doctor Zahn sat at my kitchen table and folded her hands in front of her, indicating that she might be staying for a while. “He has asked certain individuals that he deems crucial to join some of those groups. We will have a radio and instructions to make contact if a suitable relocation site is discovered.”

I had to give it to Paul Wimmer. He was nothing if not thorough. Instead of sending teams on a mission and depleting his finite supply of trained soldiers, he would let civilians do his dirty work. Only—

“Why would he risk sending crucial people out with a bunch of us untrained yahoos?” I asked.

“And what would compel you to make contact with him if you found someplace safe?” Doctor Zahn countered.

Good point
, I thought.

“Also, you’ve all shown the ability to survive this nightmare without help. He believes your survival is due to your not being bound to a command structure that would have you waiting to be told to act. Your independence and free thinking is an asset.”

“But this seems a bit obvious.” I sat at the table across from Doctor Zahn. “Why tip your hand? I mean, some folks might be a bit paranoid. They may shy away from bringing a government tag-a-long.”

“He’s not simply letting everybody make a run for it, Steve,” Doctor Zahn laughed. “He isn’t stupid. Some groups are being encouraged to go in order to thin out the population in the event that one of those migrating herds comes and traps us here. That lessens the draw on supplies. Others, people he’s come to trust somewhat, are being asked to accommodate a rider,” Doctor Zahn paused, then smiled. “What was your word? Oh yes, tag-a-long.”

“So how did I get so lucky to draw the most senior medical person?” I figured tonight was not going to be that chance to rest up. It was also probably going to be the last time I’d be living in such relative luxury for a while. I got back up and walked to my little kitchen.

“The sergeant is a fairly good judge of character. He feels that your group is the most likely to survive,” Doctor Zahn said matter-of-factly.

There was something else in Doctor Zahn’s voice, and I decided to press the issue, “And?” I walked back to the table and plunked down a cold beer—the matching twin to the one in my hand which represented the last of my supply—in front of the doctor. She looked up at me, and for the first time, I saw real emotion on her face. The stoic Doctor Zahn was blushing!

“Dave Ellis!” I blurted out.

“You will say nothing,” the cold, self-assured voice I was used to held a bit of a tremor.

“I got news for ya, doc…in a small group, travelling like we will be, secrets are all but impossible.” I took a long drink. Mostly because I was trying to digest this tidbit of information.

“Yes, well,” Doctor Zahn was blushing even brighter than before, “David isn’t the most perceptive person.”

“You made a pass and he missed it.” I tried not to laugh and succeeded, mostly.

“Be amused if you want,”
there
was that coldness I was used to, “but it was all I could do to reveal this to you.”

“Your secret’s safe,” I assured and sat back down. “Seal it with a drink.” I held up my bottle of beer. To her credit, Doctor Zahn picked hers up, we clinked bottles, and each took a long drink.

We finished our beer in silence, then Doctor Zahn left. I told her to gather any essentials and be ready in five hours. Five hours? Damn. At least I was packed.

Stretching out on the couch, I double-checked to ensure my alarm was set. Picking up my book, I hoped that I didn’t doze off before finishing those last thirty—

Another knock at the door!

“Really?” I said out loud to nobody. Well, whomever it was, they weren’t coming in. I’d do what it took to brush them off. Finishing
The Mayor of Casterbridge
was now a personal issue.

“What!” I yanked open the door and barked, hoping to be as off-putting as possible so as to encourage this latest intruder to go away.

“Steven,” the calm voice deflated my annoyance. As my irritation began to turn quickly to…was it fear?

“Mister Smith,” I glanced at the two armed soldiers standing behind Randall Smith. “Don’t imagine this is just a social call?”

Randall Smith doesn’t smile much. That is why, when he glanced over his shoulder at the two armed men, then back at me and smiled…I got more than a little nervous. “Privates Gregg and Hilton were simply kind enough to accompany me because I was negligent and out after dark without my weapon.”

It was actually a standing order that children under age fifteen remain indoors unless accompanied by an armed escort. Adults were expected to carry a weapon at all times when out at night. There was a “No Exceptions” clause on those orders. It was in place to minimize the risk of somebody being caught unaware by a zombie that managed to slip past the intricate security. I guess that is military thinking: Plan for every poss-ibility.

“I believe Mister Hobart can escort me back, gentlemen.” Randall Smith raised an eyebrow at me expectantly.

“Uh…sure,” I said.

There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence, then I jumped as if I’d been hit with a mild electric shock. Stepping back, I gestured to the impeccably dressed man standing in my doorway. “Please, come in.”

He did, and just that suddenly, the soldiers turned about-face and departed. Smith glanced around the living quarters, his eyes seeming to take in every detail. He went to my couch, considered the pillow, blanket, and alarm clock, then seated himself in the adjacent chair.

I’d shut the door, but hadn’t moved. I had no idea where this was about to go. I was trying to find reasons for the neatly arranged row of carry bags sitting along the wall that separated the bedroom and the livingroom.

“It’s entertaining,” I said, and decided to stop acting like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. I walked over, shoved my blanket aside, and sat down.

“Very seldom can you find somebody so unredeemable,” he waved the book.

“Oh, they’re out there.” I wasn’t sure where this was headed.

Once again we sat in silence. I was getting over my uneasiness and making my way to annoyed. If he was here to bust me for leaving, fine. If not, then I wished he’d get to the point.

“When does your group leave?”

Okay, no more small talk. I considered playing ignorant, but that row of packed bags sorta ruled that out. Still, if he was asking…

“Why do you want to know?”

Mister Smith flipped through the pages of my book, then set it on the coffee table. He folded his hands on his knee, leaned forward, and looked me square in the eyes. “Do you have children?”

Not what I expected. “Not of my own, but Thalia is mine as far as anybody’s concerned.”

“Then you may not entirely understand what it means to be a parent.” I started to interrupt, but he raised his hands. “You have
some
notion, but still, you’ve not raised a child that you fathered.”

“Your point?” I’d officially reached annoyed and was now considering tossing Mister Smith out my front door.

“I have a daughter…” his mouth hung open as if he’d forgotten what to say. There was another long moment of silence. This was becoming tedious.

“As I’m sure you’re aware,” he eventually continued, “there are other outposts like this one. Some on military installations, others in strategic, or perceived strategic locales. Until yesterday, we were in touch directly with five, and indirectly with seventeen more.”