Undead 02 The Undead Haze (8 page)

I was honestly surprised she was still alive. Keeping her in the top of my various packs seemed like it would’ve crushed or suffocated her. Yet the little rodent kept on going as though she had something to live for, too.

A soft knock on the door caught my attention. I stood up and opened it to find Beau standing there, illuminated by the electric lantern. He’d cleaned up—cut his hair shorter and shaved his beard off completely. The grime that coated his face and neck was gone, showing his pale skin.

“I managed to get into the loading dock,” he said. “Wanna come look?”

The kid was proud of himself and upbeat. His new look probably contributed to that, and I couldn’t say no. A pang of jealousy shot through me. I wanted to freshen up, too.

“Sure,” I said, then added, “When will I get an appointment at the spa?”

Buford laughed. “After. You’ll never believe what I found in there.”

He picked up the lantern and I followed him down the hall plus two flights of stairs until we were in the bottom story. When I first arrived, I figured out the bottom level was a tutoring center. Empty chairs and desks were scattered throughout the first half of the large room, then doors led to what I assumed were more offices. They had been locked, and I hadn’t bother trying to open them.

The windows didn’t illuminate much, so we relied on the white light of Beau’s lantern to get us through. It cast hard shadows onto the motivational posters and the effect made me nervous. Nothing could be in there, though, since Beau had been in the room. Any undead would’ve come out before now.

One door was open. A short flight of steps led upwards into a high-ceiling storeroom. Orange glow sticks were everywhere, giving me a good view of the place. There were stacks of metal shelves loaded with boxes. On the far wall were two loading docks, void of trucks. Everything looked normal.

“What’s the surprise?” I asked.

“This.” He walked over to an open box on the ground.

Inside were four tightly packed silver cans. Beau moved the light closer so I could read the labels. They all said vegetable soup, followed by nutritional information.

When on the move, finding food in the outskirts of cities wasn’t too hard. Stopping in smaller gas stations or houses that looked safe always produced needed goods. It was the cities themselves that were raped. People scavenged from what was closest to them, but the supermarkets and stores soon emptied. Because of traffic jams left with no one to clean up, most didn’t make it out of main thoroughfares. So if you were stuck in a city, eventually it grew harder to find what you needed. You had to travel farther every time you raided.

Being cooped up in a school with no access to anything but chips and candy sucked. Beau didn’t have much food on him when he showed up, and we were running out of everything from the bookstore. We both knew there was no point in searching the immediate stores and houses for food. It made our situation all the worse.

“What else is there?” My words came out a bewildered whisper.

“I looked at the boxes on the shelves. There’s canned fruit, vegetables, and more soup.”

How could the day get any better? I had the apocalyptic version of a spa waiting for me, and now we had substantial food again.

“Are those loading doors locked? Or can we open them?” I asked, drawing my thoughts away from the pleasantries.

“They have padlocks on them, but I’m sure I can find something to pry them open. If not, I could try picking them. They look simple enough.”

I nodded. “Let’s bring up a few cans of food then figure out what we’re going to take.”

“We don’t know if the truck will run. It’s probably been almost a year since the engine turned over last. It probably isn’t worth it to get stuff ready until we have a ride.”

“I guess,” I said. “We need to find a ride anyway. If we can’t get the truck, it should only take a day to find another car somewhere.”

That’s optimistic, Cyrus. You couldn’t find one to get you to Everett.

“It’s lunch time then,” Buford said.

I laughed. “How do you know what time it is?”

He raised his wrist, showing me a digital watch.

“Why bother? Time doesn’t matter.”

“Keeps me sane,” he said. “It’s the little things that count.”

* * *

Despite the occasional frozen chunk in the vegetable soup, lunch was delectable. Even had dessert: pears. We’d retired to our respective offices to eat in solitude. The storm outside brewed into a disaster while we’d been exploring the loading bay. I heard it raging through the windows. Hail pelted and wind whistled through the broken glass down the hall.

It’d been pretty quiet since we came back upstairs. If I leaned back, I could see into his office. He sat at his desk. Instead of turning on a lantern, he remained quietly eating in the dark. There were no windows over there.

I took a few more bites of soup before realizing I’d eaten half a huge can. If I kept going I’d puke from food-overload. With a feeling of resignation I stopped, took a drink of the pear syrup, and carried my cans to the stair landing. It was cold enough there that the goods would keep.

My stomach felt heavy and sleepiness came over me. I basked in my layers of sweatshirts as I trekked towards the bathroom, where Beau said he left all his hygiene products. Once I arrived, I couldn’t help but get a
little
excited. There was a bucket of melted snow by one of the sinks and an array of items: shaving cream and razor, scissors, and some kind of bath tissue wipe.

I wasted no time in making myself look like a human being again.

My name is Cyrus V. Sinclair. You might already know the V stands for vain.

* * *

After a restful night’s sleep, Beau and I decided it was time to check out the truck. I felt like myself once more, with only a lingering sense of illness.

Beau opted for his heavy lead pipe and I took Barbara. If we did end up having to take out an undead, the quieter the better.

The storm messed up the virginal snow, leaving muddy brown slush in its wake. Water dripped from eaves and trees. Trash and other debris gathered in areas the wind had pushed it to.

Yesterday Beau broke one of the locks in the loading bay. It couldn’t be relocked, but since the barrier was pulled to the ground I didn’t worry.

“You stand guard while I get the truck going,” he said. “Once it’s running, jump in and we’ll head over to the loading bay and I’ll lift the door.”

“You can’t lift the doors by yourself, not without using the crank. I’ll get out, too. Just lift it enough for me to get under and I’ll manually raise it.”

Beau nodded. “Once you’re under, I’ll drive in. Let the door drop.”

The plan was in place.

Easy.

* * *

Why didn’t it shock me? Because I was used to disappointments.

Beau turned the engine, but the truck wouldn’t start. I heard a series of clicks each time he tried. If that meant the battery was dead, I wasn’t sure what we’d do.

It was cold and wet outside. I scanned the area for any threats. Didn’t see any stiffs, but that didn’t lessen my anxiety. They were there. Somewhere.

Feeling desperately exposed, I moved closer and hissed, “The longer we wait—”

“Just a second. I’m going to try something.”

He slid out of the vehicle and ran to the hood. I didn’t know a damn thing about mechanics so I kept on the lookout, waiting to hear the engine roar.

It felt like hours, but then Buford climbed in the front seat and the engine cranked.

“Hallelujah,” I muttered, jogging around the truck to the passenger side. My footsteps sounded too loud for my liking. Until I was safe inside Rainer, everything was going to be too noisy or too risky. Gripping Barbara, I kept listening for nearby moans.

“Half a tank of gas,” Beau said as he jerked the truck into drive and did a broad turn toward the loading dock. “We’re in good shape.”

“We’ll be in good shape once we’re on the road,” I contradicted, just for the sake of it. Truth be told, we
were
in good shape. Truck was running, we were nearing the loading dock…

“Look.” Buford gritted his teeth, tilting his head to his left. “Two of them.”

I leaned forward and glanced out the window. Sure enough, two mobile rotbags were coming toward us. One was in a tattered uniform, possibly army, the other was a male wearing civilian clothes. They were coming from around Rainer and would reach our truck soon.

“Take them out?” I asked. “Or should we just rush?”

“No time,” he said as we came to a halt in front of the loading bay door. “You take the uniform, I’ll get the other one.”

Once the truck stopped we jumped out, melee weapons in hand. I broke into a jog, intending to go for the uniformed Z, but catching the attention of the other one. I veered to the left, intending to draw him away.

Beau would have to deal with the switch in targets.

The face on the one coming after me was atrociously rotten. I didn’t think slugs made it through cold weather, but this guy managed to find some. They were slinking out of his oozing mouth, and a few bigger ones sluiced up the sides of his face and neck. I couldn’t tell where his blackened teeth began and the baby slugs ended. He stank of decay and mildew.

My opponent was in worse shape than his friend, but a skull is a skull. I raised my bat and ran toward him. This time I
knew
my footsteps were loud. I reached him just as his hands came up and swung. My weapon met the side of his head, but he didn’t drop like usual.

From my right I heard a shout, but didn’t pay attention. Beau could handle himself.

The slow staggered and started to come back at me. I swung the bat again. It hit his head, sending him to the ground. The nails protruding from Barbara lodged deep in his scalp. She was pulled from my hands when he fell. No blood, but I could see the grayish rot of his brain oozing from a crack.

I put my boot against his head, grabbed the bat, and yanked it free.

“Hurry!” Beau shouted. I looked up. His zombie was down and he was already at the loading dock, pushing the door upward.

I sprinted over to help him. I had to drop Barbara on the cement because I’d need two hands for the job. With our combined effort, the door went up easily. As soon as I had enough space, I darted underneath to get to the manual chain, grabbing my bat as I went.

The steel was cold. I ignored it and hauled the door up, the pulley system clinking and grinding.

When the door was high enough, Beau drove the truck in. I watched outside for more undead as I lowered it. There were none, but I could’ve sworn I heard groans in the distance. I let the barrier touch the ground as lightly as possible. There was no sense in making more ruckus. I was so used to our hushed voices inside that my ears throbbed from the clamor of the truck engine.

The rumbling engine sputtered off and Beau opened the truck door, looking at me pleasantly. “We’re going to make a good team.”

Forcing a grin, I nodded. “We’ll find your sister in no time.”

Beau shrugged. He slid from the car. “Maybe. It’s all I have to hope for.”

It’s all I have to hope for
, I thought, terrified by how true that was.

* * *

“Now my brother? You’re going to leave him, just like you left me.”

I shook my head. “No. I would never. We’ll both find you.”

Blaze’s dead eyes peered at me and saw through the lies. “I don’t believe you. You left me. You’ll leave him.”

She unbuckled her seatbelt and splashed into the cold water swirling in the wrecked Mustang. Then she shifted towards me. Her hands looked like claws and her lips curved in a viscous parody of a smile.

“Let’s see what you look like on the inside, Cyrus.”

Just as her hands came to my throat I woke, gasping and clutching the blankets around me. The panic didn’t subside until my eyes adjusted to the midmorning light. After a moment my heart stopped racing. A familiar, chilly sweat clung to my skin.

Another nightmare
, I thought.
That’s all.

I threw my blankets off and searched for a bottle of water as I forced my mind to more agreeable matters.

Between the emergency supplies Beau gathered and the food from the loading zone, we were set in the resource department. The only thing we
did
lack was guns and ammunition. Melee weapons were fine, but whenever firepower was involved adventures like the one we were headed for became a lot simpler. If a stiff came out of nowhere at close range, there might not be time to swing a bat or bring up a crowbar. More effort meant expending more energy and putting our lives at risk. Yeah, guns made things a whole lot easier.

What time was it, anyway? Beau and I agreed we’d leave today, but I foolishly agreed to the precise time of 9AM. How would I know if it was 9AM or not? The sun wasn’t all the way up, so I estimated the time to be before nine.

By the time I drank some water and felt the sweat dissipate, there was a knock on the door.

“You ready to go?” came Beau’s voice.

“Yeah,” I said meekly, then after clearing my throat, “Yes, in a few minutes.”

“I’m going down to the truck. Meet you down there in ten.”

I fished around for a cleaner shirt and sweater and pulled them on. I rustled around the heaps of junk in the office. All the gear I’d abandoned since I arrived at the community college, like my tactical vest, boots, and thigh holster, were buried in there, and I wasn’t leaving any of it behind. It felt good to start suiting up again. The sound of snaps and zippers was invigorating. The purple school sweater looked silly under the black pocket-laden vest, but it was too warm to forgo.

We’d packed the truck the night before. Everything of immediate use went in the cab. I mentioned to Beau that if we lost access to the truck bed for one reason or another we’d be SOL. There were a few cans of food up in the front and other necessities Beau decided upon. Everything else was in the back, secured and covered with a tarp he found in the loading zone.