Wormwood Dawn (Episode II) (9 page)

“Hmm,” Jake replied, thinking. “How far north can you go?”

“Maybe Lafayette,” Dan said. “As long as we stay far from Indy, we should be okay.”

Drew came back, handing Dan a beer and plopping down again, cracking his open.

“I may be able to get someone to drop me off there,” Jake said. “Some people are planning to go to Danville in Illinois. Maybe I can have them drop me off there.”

“Drop you off?” Drew said. “That’s nuts. What if we don’t make it? You’ll be standing there on a street corner.”

Jake chuckled. “Yeah, that would suck.”

“Find an old phone book and pick out a place to meet,” Dan said. “Then message me when you find out when the group is leaving.”

Jake nodded. “Alright,” he said. “I think they’re leaving tomorrow morning, but I’ll let you know as soon as I know for sure.”

“Okay, brutha,” Dan held up his fist. “Peace out.”

Jake mirrored the gesture, and the connection was cut. Dan turned to Drew, raising his beer and clicking it to his. “Ready for a road trip?”

“Always,” Drew replied.

Dan stumbled out of bed the next morning, his head pounding with the after effects of almost a half a bottle of whiskey. He usually didn’t have hangovers, being a chronic alcoholic, but lately his drinking had been minimal. He had simply lost a little tolerance.

No worries; a couple of Vicodin would do the trick.

Drew was snoring on the couch with Pauli curled up next to him. The dog was lying on his back with his legs sticking up in the air, as if he too had passed out. Drew’s arm was around him, and the dog snored right into his face. Dan grinned as he passed.

He sat down at his laptop, rubbing his eyes as he waited for it to boot up. Pauli wandered over, looking up with those goblin eyes. Dan reached down to scratch his head.

“Good morning, sir,” he said. Pauli wagged his stumpy tail, scurrying off to hide.

The bulletin board was the same as it was the night before, with the exception of the message icon in the lower right. Dan clicked it, seeing that it was a response from Jake.

Looks like the group is ready to leave around noon. It will take about an hour and a half to get to Lafayette. They’ll drop me off at the Wallyworld there. I’ll be armed, so no worries.

Dan looked at the clock. Ten thirty-eight. It would also take them around the same amount of time to get there. He wasn’t sure where the
Wallyworld
was, but knew that Drew spent quite a bit of time in Lafayette. He would probably know.

He typed out his response, letting Jake know that they would be there—in a Hummer. He then sat back, contemplating what supplies to take on the trip. There was plenty of canned food, ammo, and beer—can’t forget the beer. They would take the Hummer, and load it up with whatever else they found on the road.

“Jesus Christ,” Drew said from behind him.

Drew rolled off the couch, going to the deck to grab a beer for his hangover. “Man,” he growled. “I need to go back to wine. You’re a bad influence.”

Dan chuckled. “Jake will be in Lafayette around one thirty,” he said. “Wallyworld. You know where it is?”

Drew thought for a second. “Yeah. No problem.”

“I was thinking about the paint job on the Hummer,” Dan said. “We should probably cover the Gephardt symbol, maybe paint over it. I have a shit ton of spray paint in the garage.”

Drew nodded, chugging his beer. “We should let the horses out, maybe. Let ‘em wander around the yard. If they run away, they run away. I just don’t want them trapped in the kennel in case a horde comes.”

“You know,” Dan said. “We haven’t been using them, anyway. I really just wanted to make sure they weren’t trapped in that stable. So, yeah, we’ll let ‘em out. If they stay, great. If not, they’ll find somewhere to go. Maybe Shirley will bake an apple pie and they’ll sniff her out.”

Drew yawned and stretched, lighting a cigarette. “Alright, let’s paint some pretty shit on that Hummer and get going.”

After gathering several bottles of water and some food for the road, Dan let the horses out. Drew opened the garage door, and began collecting spray paint. Dan showed him the stash, where there were numerous cans of black, green, tan, light green, and white paint.

Their first task was to cover up the Gephardt logo. It took one nice black square to conceal it. That was easy. Now they had to
unofficialize
it to make it look not-so-Gephardt-like. They each took a color, shaking up the cans, and randomly sprayed. Though it looked ridiculous at first, the more paint they swirled around on the surface, the more it looked like camouflage. It was a mixture of urban and woodland camo that was actually aesthetically pleasing.

“That looks fuckin’ good,” Drew said. “It looks like it’s ready to charge into battle.”

Dan stepped back, nodding as he admired their work. “Too bad the world went to shit,” he joked. “We could jobs on the paint line at NORAD.”

Drew chuckled. “Fucking NORAD.”

“Alright, I’ll lock up the house,” Dan said. “Grab anything you think we might need.”

They loaded up their equipment, several rifles, and a shit ton of ammo. Dan had brought the Barrett, his Robar, and two M4A1s. Drew packed the two Glocks in the glove compartment, took his shotgun, and a six pack of beer.

“Just in case,” he said.

The remainder of their arsenal was already in the Hummer; a few grenades, the
LAW,
and several ammo boxes. They were set. All that was missing was their traveling companion.

“C’mon, Pauli,” Dan said, opening the driver’s side door.

The pug hopped in the cab, taking a seat on Drew’s lap and leaning his front paws against the dashboard. Dan pulled out of the garage, and got out to close and lock the door. He took one last look at the horses, making sure they were alright, and got back in.

“Let’s roll,” he said.

The Hummer was surprisingly peppy, shooting over the gravel like it was nothing. Dan hadn’t noticed how overgrown the road was becoming, but even the thick weeds were no match for the vehicle’s four wheel drive badassery. He even cut across the creek to make the trip to the highway a little quicker. The Hummer ground right over it like it was nothing more than a set of railroad tracks.

“I fucking love this thing,” Dan said.

“It’s like a tank,” Drew laughed. “Fucking stellar.”

Drew turned right on 37, heading toward Martinsville. “We’ll take 39 to 74,” he said. “Then we’ll take the back roads the rest of the way. I wanna avoid Indy as much as possible.”

“Good idea.”

The highway was strange-looking. Though it never had much traffic to begin with, the fact that it was completely deserted was odd. There were empty cars on the side of the road, spaced randomly, and the number of them increased as they went north. They would have to pass through the west side of Martinsville, where there would be more cars, obviously, and possibly some shufflers or shamblers wandering the streets. Thankfully, Drew had said that the mercs were mostly concentrated on the east side near the flea market.

They wouldn’t pass too close to that side.

Dan took the exit to 39, using his turn signal for some reason. He looked over to Drew, who half-grinned at him. Dan shrugged. Pauli continued his navigation stance, staring out the window with his tongue hanging out.

“If we get lost, Pauli will get us where we need to go,” Dan said.

Pauli looked at him, then back to the road. They rounded the exit ramp, turning onto the main stretch of 39 that went through town. Dan spotted the veterinarian’s office on the left, and slowed down.

“We have time,” he said. “I’m pulling in. I bet they have some shit we might need.”

“Alright,” Drew said. “I’ll stay with Pauli. Grab some dog food if they have it.”

Dan parked near the door, strapping on his M4A1, and got out, leaving the Hummer running. The front door of the office was locked, telling Dan that it had not been looted. That was a good thing. He busted out a small square of glass and reached in to unlock the door. The office was cold, and his breath showed as he exhaled.

Keeping the rifle trained ahead of him, he crept down the hallway. He could smell the dried shit and rotted flesh of caged pets that were left behind. He ignored it, not wanting to look. He didn’t care that much for pets, but knew the sight of animals that had starved to death in their cages would be distracting.

The pharmacy was located in the rear. The door was unlocked and open just wide enough to see that the room was still well kept. No one, not even the employees, had done any looting. Bottles of medication lined the three shelves on the back wall. There were steroids, allergy meds, flea and heartworm pills, and four bottles of tramadol; an artificial opiate.

“Hmm,” Dan said. “Rainy day.”

He swept the tramadol into his bag, and turned to exit. As he passed the kennels, he heard a low hiss that froze him in his tracks. He listened for a moment as his heartbeat quickened and his skin moistened with fear. He heard the hiss again, and bolted for the exit, knocking over everything in his path.

Drew stood leaning against the bumper as Dan burst through the door.

“Did you get foo-“

“
Get in!”
Dan shouted, throwing the bag and his rifle in the back seat.

Drew opened his door, hopping in. “What’s going on?”

“Stalkers,” Dan said, throwing the Hummer in reverse and peeling out in the parking lot.

Drew looked back as Dan squealed into a left turn back onto the street. “Well, fuck,” he said. “Are we just gonna leave them there?”

“Yep,” Dan said, speeding toward the next exit.

He could see Drew nodding slowly out of the corner of his eye. If he objected, he’d get over it. There was no way Dan was about to go up against a horde of mutant kitties and puppies. Cute or not, they were now monsters; all of them.

Dan turned onto the exit, bringing them to route 39, which would connect to 74 eventually. This stretch of road would be out of the range of the larger cities, and they could get to Lafayette in peace; he hoped.

He pulled out his MP3 player, handing it to Drew. Maybe some tunes would ease the mood. Drew fished the audio cable out of his pocket, plugging the little player into the Hummer’s stereo. It had an aux jack; presumably for official podcasts. In a few seconds, Drew was flipping through Dan’s music library.

“Man,” he said. “I’ve never even heard of half these bands.”

Dan chuckled. “I hate American metal,” he said. “It sucks. Most of it anyway.”

“Ah,” Drew exclaimed triumphantly. “A Band of Orcs.”

As the crunching death metal blasted into existence, Dan put the pedal to the floor. It was a straight shot now, no need for careful driving. He bobbed his head to the tunes, thinking back at the poor cat that he had let into his house. If its emergence from the cocoon was any indication of what could happen at the vet’s office, fleeing was the best choice. The cat’s screeching had attracted not only a small horde of shufflers and shamblers, but a large, human stalker, too.

He had no desire to fight another one of those; nor another horde, for that matter.

Lafayette, like most towns, was in ruins. Even after such a short time since the comet, the survivors and the infected had torn it to pieces. It was quite obvious that heavy weapons—possibly bombs—had been used by who knows who. Gephardt had probably been here, as well as the National Guard at some point. Fires burned in the distance, filling the sky with thick blankets of smoke. Dust and debris blew in the wind, and the taller buildings that they could see were gutted and skeletal against the haze.

“Take the first exit,” Drew said. “The major shopping center is just outside town.”

“Good,” Dan said, not wanting to go through the mess ahead. “What kind of stores are around there?”

“The usual. Big outlet stores, Wallyworld, home improvement, junk food. There’s a sporting goods store we should hit, too.”

Dan pulled up to an intersection, looking for the tall store signs that would tell him where to go. Drew was at a loss.

“I think it was to the right,” he said. “All the fucking signs are down.”

Dan pulled out, turning right. They went slowly, eyeing the roadside, trying to see through the fog of debris. There were gas stations, fast food restaurants, strip malls, and lots and lots of dead bodies.

“Jesus, man” Dan said. “It’s like fucking Somalia, or Saigon.”

“Even worse,” Drew replied. “Detroit.”

Dan glanced at him. “You ever been to Gary?”

Drew laughed. “No, no no. No Gary for this boy. Fuck that shit.”

There was a water tower off to the right; what was left of one, anyway. The giant tank had been split open, leaving a gaping hole in the side. The letters
LAFAY
were still visible. Under it, a storage facility had been crushed by the weight of the water, its cinder block and orange garage door units were crumbled and open to the air; ripe for the looting.

“You think there’s anything interesting in any of those?” Dan asked.

“Sure. If you wanna loot some man caves or granny attics.”

He was probably right. Anything interesting would probably be gone by now. Even if there were guns in any of them, they had enough of their own to fight a small war with Cuba.

“There,” Drew said, pointing off to the left.

Dan saw the familiar architecture he was looking for, complete with the letters
WAL*M
emblazoned in big letters. It had apparently lost the rest somehow. Dan pulled into the nearest drive, making his way slowly into the maze of lanes that led to the various parking lots. They were all half full, with cars that were damaged or destroyed, most of them with their doors open and their windows smashed.

Bodies lay everywhere; half eaten or killed in other, more criminal ways. In addition to the hordes of roving mutants, there was quite the military style assault here.

“So fucked up, man,” Dan said. “This is insane. I can’t believe those cocksuckers would kill innocent people who were just trying to survive, or get away.”

Drew shook his head. Pauli seemed to be affected, too.

“Look at that,” Dan said, pointing to the front of the strip mall.

All of the windows had been broken, and merchandise—most of it crap—lay scattered around. There had been some looting after the fact, it seemed. Even the sub shop at the end had been raided. No doubt by hungry folks just looking for a bite to eat.

“Wallyworld is behind this mall,” Drew said. “It’s a big one, with a shipping center. I bet Jake is in the back somewhere. That would be the safest place, I’m guessing. Turn here.”

Dan turned the wheel to follow Drew’s direction. The lane wound around landscaping; retaining walls, planters, and small rock gardens. There were a few bodies on the side of the road, and a compact car that was flipped over and smashed. There was glass everywhere, but Dan rolled right over it, hearing the crunching sounds as they passed by. Pauli began whining and jumped into the back seat.

“He doesn’t like it here,” Drew said.

“Yeah,” Dan replied. “I don’t either.”

Finally, they rounded the side of the building, passing the lone trailers that were parked in neat little rows to their left. Several dumpsters were lined up after them, some left in line, a few of them scattered and plundered. Dan turned left around the corner, following the lane with the store’s receiving area to their left.

There were trucks parked in each loading bay, and many empty trailers and shipping containers arranged in a maze-like formation that was at least fifty yards wide. There weren’t many details that they could make out on the building itself; a few metal doors, some railings, and more and more bodies.

“What the hell happened here?” Dan wondered out loud. “Why were there so many people here?”

“This is a major hub,” Drew said. “And the shopping center is the only one around for miles. Lafayette gets a lot of traffic from the nearby towns.”

“I can’t see shit. I wish there was some way to communicate with him.”

Drew pressed the sunroof button, standing up in his seat to poke his upper body out to search. Dan drove slowly, skimming the edge of the property along the narrow lane. Drew bent back down to grab a rifle, grinning at Dan before going back up.

“See anything?” Dan asked.

“Just dead people,” Drew said. “Maybe a few pigeons.”

Dan suddenly pictured mutant pigeons parading around with messed up faces, and squawking like harpies as they dropped mutant shit on statues.

“Man, those containers are like a maze,” Drew said. “Reminds me of a Deathmatch map.”

“I hope there are lots of spawn points,” Dan joked.

“Wait!”

Dan slowed to a stop. “What?”

“I see a shuffler,” Drew said. “Around the stacked up containers with the red one on top.”

Dan spotted the stack. There were three of them; two blue and a red. He watched it carefully, waiting for the shuffler to appear. He heard Drew pull back the charging handle on the M4A1.

“I wouldn’t shoot it with that,” Dan said. “Too loud. You might attract attention.”

Soon, the shuffler rounded the corner, and Dan could see it full on. It was a woman. Her clothing was ripped and stained; her skin was pale and badly damaged. Her ragged, blonde hair hung in greasy, matted locks that moved very little. But it was her face that caught Dan’s attention. His mouth was rotted away, revealing the crooked, yellow teeth underneath. Her nose was partially missing, and her left eye was dangling from a thread of putrid nerves and veins. It swung and banged against her skin as she shuffled along.

She appeared oblivious to her surroundings, and wandered aimlessly; in no particular direction and with no real purpose. Drew squatted back down and plopped into his seat.

“I think she’s harmless,” he said. “The forum post said the shufflers may or may not attack.”

“I wonder what they do, then,” Dan said. “What do they eat?”

“Maybe they don’t.”

They sat in silence, watching the woman stumble along and disappear behind another stack of containers. As soon as they lost sight of her, a scream erupted. She appeared again, grasping the edge of the container as something attempted to drag her back. Dan’s heart thumped, and he stared, wide-eyed, as a claw enveloped her face and ripped off her head. She fell to the ground as her attacker dragged her body out of sight.

“Jesus,” Dan said.

A strange cackling sound was heard, followed by the ripping and crunching of flesh and bone. Drew looked at him, mouthing the words,
what the fuck?

Dan punched it, racing around the perimeter. They caught sight of something white and gangly disappearing over the top of a nearby container, disappearing from sight. Dan turned back to the lane, rounding the shipping area to look for another place to stop.

“What the fuck was that?” he said.

“Another one of those stalkers, maybe?” Drew said, his teeth gritted, and his brow scrunched.

As Dan sped along, the sound of metallic banging followed them. The shipping containers seemed to shake and jostle with the impact of something landing on them as Dan passed them.

“
Fuck!”
he shouted. “It’s following us.”

As they rounded a corner, a shipping container appeared right in their path. Dan swerved to avoid it, having to steer into the maze itself. The container shook as their pursuer landed on top of it, and as Dan squealed the tires to avoid hitting another, something impacted the roof of the Hummer.

“
Shit!”
Drew shouted, turning in his seat.

Dan punched the gas, reaching out with his other hand to close the sunroof. Pauli barked and whined behind him, and the cackling, jingling sound erupted through the opening above. Dan swerved, punched the gas, slammed on the brakes, and repeated. The thing wouldn’t budge. The sunroof had gotten stuck, and now he could hear the gurgling growls of the monster echoing through the opening. Drew fired his rifle.

The bang was deafening inside the vehicle, and Dan was caught off guard. He squealed around another turn, slamming the side of the Hummer into a shipping container. He heard the banging of the creature hitting the metal surface as it was thrown off the Hummer’s roof and into the corrugated sides. He stepped on the gas, and the engine drowned out the creature’s howls.

They had shaken it, but now they had another problem.

Shamblers appeared from behind the many containers, streaming over the railroad fence in the distance. They sped toward the Hummer, their red eyes burning with hunger, and their rotting teeth clacking and gnashing. Dan stepped on the gas, plowing through them almost effortlessly. They bounced off the bumper, or were thrown into the windshield with the impact, where they clung on and glared at the two men with lusting hunger.

There must have a thousand of them. They mobbed around the Hummer as it sped by, some of them jumping onto the hood; some grabbing onto the bumper and holding on as they were dragged along.

“Persistent fuckers,” Drew said, standing up through the sunroof.

Dan heard him fire several times, shooting the clingers off the hood and the bumper. Dan swerved to shake them, plowing through more of them as he sped straight toward the building. Off to his right, he could see an open container. Its door was just wide enough for a Hummer to fit through. Seeing as they had nowhere else to go, he headed straight for it.

“Get down!” he shouted. “We’re going in!”

Drew dropped back into the seat. “What are you doing? We’ll be trapped!”

“We can fight them off,” Dan said. “There’s nowhere else to go. If we need to, we can get out the other side.”

Drew grabbed his shoulder as the open door came barreling toward them. “They lock from the outside, by the way,” he said.

Dan squealed the brakes as they passed into the container. The Hummer slammed into the opposite door, jostling it and rattling the chains that held it shut on the other side. They stood, poking out the sunroof with their rifles ready, and turned toward the opening behind them. The horde closed in quickly, clogging the opening with its writhing mass.

Dan and Drew opened fire. Bullets tore through the mutated flesh, splashing black and green blood into the air as bodies fell by the dozens. Dan’s heart raced with excitement and terror all at the same time.

The shamblers continued coming; crawling over each other as they clawed their way inward. But they were met with dozens of 5.56 rounds, and the two men growled and howled as they ripped the attackers to shreds. Dan emptied his magazine, dropping it and loading another. One shambler got past their barrage, scrambling up the hood of the Hummer. Dan fired a round right into its face, and its head exploded in a gush of brains and black blood.

“
Raaaaaaargh!”
he screamed like Rambo, sweeping from side to side with his carbine.

Drew loaded up again, and fired indiscriminately, his bullets exploded the heads of the attackers one by one. Then, he ducked back into the Hummer.

“Cover me,” he said.

Dan reserved his rounds, firing only head shots. He only missed a few times, but he managed to keep the horde at bay as Drew did whatever he was doing. After a few seconds, Drew appeared again, a grenade in his hand and a grin on his face.

“Take cover,” he said, pulling the ring and tossing the grenade out the opening.

An explosion shook the container, and the back windows were splattered with guts and chunks of zombie flesh.

“Jesus Christ, that was loud,” Dan said.

They stood again, reloading as the distant horde rushed to replenish their numbers. The grenade had blown all of the shamblers in the opening to pieces, blowing them away in a large radius. Chunks of flesh littered the ground, and the massive pool of putrid blood was growing.

But still they came.

They resumed their barrage, taking down the charging creatures as they neared. Dan could hear another gun in the distance. He turned to Drew. He had heard it, too.

Thockthockthockthock,
the gun fired. It was slower than a full auto rifle, but the sound told Dan that it was high caliber. Maybe an M60? Shamblers fell in the distance, taken down by the gunman outside. Dan grinned as he continued firing. Jake must be out there somewhere.