The Ugly Beginning - 01 (7 page)

Grabbing a shirt from his open locker, Dillon had a plan. He yelled, gaining the attention of what he knew had to be a zombie. Sure enough, it came to his bars, hands outstretched. Both its arms reached into his cell. The zombie’s face pressed against the bars, teeth gnashing.

Pulling his belt out of the jeans he was wearing, Dillon took stock of just how this thing moved as he fashioned a noose. Like a snake he struck, catching both arms at the wrist with the belt and cinching tight. Pulling down, he brought the arms across one of the crossbars with a loud crack. Both arms bent unnaturally at the elbows as he quickly came down with all his weight to sit on the floor. He secured the belt to a lower bar and then grabbed the tee-shirt. This part would be a bit tricky.

Stepping up to the door, fighting down the bile in the back of his throat, Dillon took a wrap around one hand with the tee-shirt and swung the dangling portion of the shirt, catching it as it dropped behind the head of what he now recognized as CO Johnson. Again he yanked with both arms, falling back and bringing the shirt through the bars. It was secure against the back of the neck of the abomination. Quickly, he tied the loose ends of the shirt together, securing the head against the bars.

Dillon stepped back to admire his work. The thing was helpless for the most part. It was struggling, trying to pull away while its mouth snapped fiercely. A low, moaning snarl came from the zombie that had once been CO Johnson.

Picking up his combo lock, Dillon dropped it in a sock and wound up. He swung, bringing his makeshift bludgeon down on the head of the creature. Again and again he swung, sometimes deflecting off the bars, but eventually, he accomplished his goal, breaking open the skull of this thing.

He looked across the tier. At some point, Ian had figured out what Dillon had done. A second beast was splayed against the kid’s cell door bars, hanging limply.

The third zombie had wandered off. With both doors to the tier open, distant sounds of gunfire and screaming could be heard.

Dillon hit the button on his sink and began to wash up. In his mind, he was taking an inventory of the food in his locker. He had gone to canteen the morning before and bought a hundred rack. He wondered if things would get as bad as they always did in the movies.

3

The Geeks Shall Inherit…

Norfolk, VA
—Darrin’s fingers flew over his keyboard. He glanced up at his monitor screen, scanning the responses to his last statement:

WARRIOR1197
: kilt it?

DMNINJA
:  yep!!

The chat room fell silent.
It would figure
, Darrin thought,
I am the only one with a gun
. Not that it was much, just a .22 that he bought a few years back when he moved into his own apartment. Other than two times at a local range, it had never been used. Truth be told, he still had the original box of bullets he purchased the day he picked up his gun…minus thirty rounds. That meant he had seventy bullets.

After almost an hour of bickering, the four, Darrin ‘DRKMISTIC’ Goldburn, Mike ‘DMNINJA’ Rathers, Kevin ‘WARRIOR1197’ Dreon, and Cary ‘KOKO’ Kolchek, agreed on where to meet. They unanimously rejected downtown Norfolk, and instead chose Trashmore Park. It was central to all of them, and more importantly, wide open so they could spot trouble at a distance.

Each agreed to load their cars with whatever supplies they felt necessary. Mike and Cary would be coming in Mike’s El Camino since Cary didn’t own a car. They would meet in two hours.

Looking out his window, Darrin couldn’t see anything moving. He had a clear view of the long parking lot. Still, he would have everything by the front door before he started loading up his trusty, but beat up, Geo Metro.

The normal late night quiet was buzzing with the occasional siren. More ominous were the gunshots. While this was by no means an affluent neighborhood, it was no inner-city gangland. Deep down, Darrin knew that things were bad, and it would only get worse.

Still, he had questions. Eventually, these things—the zombies, or ghouls, or whatever you wanted to call them—would run out of food. It was simple mathematics. Unless they ate each other. That didn’t seem likely. Otherwise, they would already be turning on each other and not walking in these groups that were being reported in the more populated areas.

Grabbing the most important bags, Darrin stuffed the pistol in his waistband and peered out the peephole to ensure his hallway was clear. He quickly unlocked his deadbolt and opened the door. Down the stairs two-at-a-time and out to the parking lot he ran. So far, all was clear. Figuring that zombies would have little use for his things, he dropped both duffels by the hatchback and sprinted back to his apartment.

It took six trips. After the last one, he ran back to make one more walk-through of his place. His last stop was the breaker box. One by one, he shut everything off. Things were gonna get pretty crazy. All public service would likely be gone soon if it wasn’t already. It was only a little thing, but Darrin wanted to do all he could to cut down on the coming chaos. Just maybe his place would not catch fire due to some random event. His last act was to leave the door unlocked. There wasn’t much to steal. He had all he deemed valuable. In the movies, somebody was always running…seeking a place to hide. Just maybe they would find his door and be safe for a minute. Just a minute.

Again he ran down the stairs to his car. The coast remained clear. He unlocked every door and the hatch. Sliding the key in the ignition, just in case, but not starting the engine, no sense making unnecessary noise, he began loading up.

As the last box of food was fit into place, he heard a distant scream followed by gunshots. He considered seeking out the source, but decided that there would be lots of bad things happening in the next few days…weeks…forevers…and he couldn’t stop them all. The best thing would be to just go and meet up with his friends.

Safety in numbers.

A few moments later, he was on the freeway. While the roads were still mostly empty, there was definitely more traffic than normal for this hour. Every passing police car had lights flashing and seemed to be in a big hurry to get someplace.

Darrin considered things as he saw them. A completely unprepared for, only-in-the-movies scenario was unfolding. Most of the initial responders to the crisis would be police, fire, andmaybe military. They would die in large numbers, at least early on. This would eliminate most of the authority figures. So what would be left?

His exit came, and eventually he found himself pulling into the Trashmore Park parking lot. He was the first to arrive. A slow drive-through revealed that, by appearances at least, there was no immediate danger. Nothing shambling about looking to take a bite out of him.

***

Kevin slowed as the neon lights of the pawn shop came into view. He knew for certain that the guys would be waiting, but he also knew that things were about to get crazy. He’d be damned if he was going to wait for absolute chaos to set in. Somebody was going to have to break the first egg. Or, in this case, window. Pawn shops had guns. He had considered going to an actual gun shop. But, most likely, there would be pretty intricate security. In a couple days, when all hell had broken loose, they could hit one of those places. Tonight would be like practice. How fast could he get in and out?

He pulled into the empty parking lot. The place was dark inside; a good sign. He parked in front of the large, plate-glass window.

King’s Pawn
.

Clever.

Grabbing the brick that sat on the passenger’s seat, Kevin took one more look around. All was still clear. Leaving the engine running, he walked up and cupped his hand to the window to take a look in. The cash register was to the left. Directly behind it was his prize.

Pistols would probably be under glass in the display counter by the register. Taking a few steps back, Kevin hurled the brick as hard as he could.

There was a crash, followed by a loud, ringing alarm bell. Lights flashed inside like strobes. He climbed through the jagged hole and dashed for his prize. Or, as was the case…prizes.

In three trips, he had the swords, crossbows, rifles, and shotgun. On the fourth time in, he grabbed a baseball bat from a stand and attacked the glass counter. As he had suspected, the handguns were right there. His plan worked flawlessly with one exception: no bullets.

Well, nothing could be done for that now. He scooped up his prizes: five guns. He had no idea what any of them were, they could worry about that later. A case of bolts for the crossbow was the last item he grabbed before running to his car.

Throwing everything into the front seat of his Ford Escort wagon—well, actually the title was still in his mom’s name and he owed four more payments—he took one more look around. Across the street, in one of those coin-eating, do-it-yourself car washes, a lone figure stood under the fluorescent lighting in the middle of bay five.

Kevin climbed into the car and grabbed one of the swords. He turned the car around and stopped in the exit drive to the pawn shop. He flipped on his high beams and turned the car at an angle that lit up whoever, or whatever, this person was.

The head jerked around to face him, followed awkwardly by the body. It was what had once been a young woman. Her long, blonde hair was matted with something dark that Kevin figured was most certainly blood. She had a big, dark stain on her right side around the shoulder area. That side of her shirt was torn leaving an exposed breast.

“Nasty,” Kevin breathed.

He climbed out of the car as the blonde zombie came stumbling across the four-lane road. He easily reached the raised strip that acted as a divider with its shrubs and young trees spaced out perfectly. The closer she got to where he waited, the stronger the gag-inducing stench became. Nothing he’d ever experienced in his life—up to that point—could compare.

Hands reached out, and even in the darkness he could see the mouth open. The zombie made a rattling sound that was like a sigh mixed with a high-pitched growl. Kevin timed his swing, bringing the sword down on the top of the skull. He had considered decapitating the zombie, but remembered a scene from
Day of the Dead,
when a zombie’s head lay in that dark tunnel, eyes darting back and forth. The sword crashed through the skull. Another thing left out in the movies was just how much his hands stung from the impact, or vibration, or whatever.

The pain was enough to make him let go of the pommel. The body hit the ground, knocking the sword loose with a clatter as it skittered a few feet away on the road. Shaking the pins and needles from his hands, Kevin scooped up the weapon, wiped it across the back of the zombie at his feet and headed for the car.

***

Mike and Cary hauled the last loads to the El Camino. Most of the back end was loaded with camping gear: tent, stove, lanterns, sleeping bags, Jack Daniels. A few moments later, the blue, plastic tarp was secured with twine and bungee cords. They left nothing to chance, grabbing shovels, an axe, a pick, and splitting maul.

They discussed the possibility of doing the whole “Mall Scenario,” but felt there were some definite drawbacks. First, it would be a few days before society degraded to the point where commandeering a shopping mall would go unnoticed. Second, if zombies gathered, it would be like a siege. Eventually they would need to move, and that never ended well in the movies. Also, there was the rot factor. They had smelled just one of those things, and it was worse than the smell of that tannery they had gone to during a field trip in fifth grade. Large numbers of those things could only be worse. Plus, the food in the malls would eventually go bad if it didn’t just plain run out.

 For the past ten minutes, they had been debating Cary’s plan. It was inspired by the book he had just finished. So far, Mike could not find any real holes in the logic.

“I’m not talking the peaks of the Rockies. I’m just saying a place away from most population centers. The reason to be on top of some sort of hill is so we can see what’s coming.”

“Well,” Mike tugged on the tarp, ensuring it was held fast, “I’m pretty convinced. I bet Darrin will go for it. But Kevin…”

“You think he wants to play
Road Warrior
?” Cary laughed.

“Dude, he’s always going to those survivalist camps. Reading that crazy militia crap about how to live off the grid. Right now he’s probably trying to figure out how to build a still that converts urine to gasoline.”

The two locked stares for a moment, then burst out laughing. They climbed into the cab of the El Camino still chuckling. Mike turned the key and the CD player came alive a second later. A guttural guitar carried on the night air turning quite a few heads. None of the heads’ owners could tell you that they were hearing the song
Stranglehold
. They simply were able to decide that noise meant the source would satisfy their primal desire.