Dying Days 2 (13 page)

He rounded the corner to the bar and stopped short. At least twenty zombies were gathered around the door, banging against it.

Obviously, living people were inside, the first glimpse of such John had had since waking.

John ran around the corner, checking doors until he found one open. He went inside and grabbed a chair, breaking it and hefting the broken leg pieces.

"Hey, douche bags," he yelled as came close to the group. They all turned.

John took steps backwards, making sure none had gotten behind him. He also wanted to make sure every single one of them followed so he didn't have a repeat of the survivors trapped in the car.

Satisfied he'd gotten their full attention, he led them down the block, circled around a building, and got behind them. He was at the front door of Kimberly's Bar before they'd turned around or seen him.

He knocked, quietly at first.

When another zombie came down the street at him, he tapped harder. This got the attention of the back few of the group he'd led away, and they turned.

"Let me in," John said as he pounded on the door.

Now, new zombies were approaching.

"Hello?" he yelled and hit the door with his forearm. "I need to get inside. I know you're in there. Please."

The door opened a crack but John didn't wait for pleasantries. He pushed at the door and forced his way in, pushing the man out of the way and slamming the door shut.

Three pistols appeared, pointed at his face.

John leaned against the door and closed his eyes, breathing heavily. "Pull the trigger or get those guns out of my face."

He opened his eyes and looked at each person in turn.

"Need a drink?"

John nodded. "Is this it? Are the rest at Fort Matanzas?"

"Not that I saw. The zombies got in, and they're everywhere. Hundreds of them. I'm Mike Ross." Mike shook John's hand.

"I'm John Murphy."

"I'm Ellen, but everyone calls me Kimberly. You're from the southern outpost, right? I've seen you in here before."

John nodded and took a beer from her. "Yes, and there are some companions I came with. Two of the group came in here last night. Kayla—she's a redhead, in her forties—and her brother Peter. He's a big guy."

Ellen nodded. "They were both here last night, but that's all I know, sorry."

A pretty redhead sat down across from John, staring at him until he looked her way. She wiped her eyes, turned back and smiled. "I'm Tosha. I remember you from last night."

"You do?"

"Yeah, you blew me off when I asked you to come in here and buy me a drink."

John shrugged. At this point he didn't think any of that mattered anymore. John didn't know what actually did matter at this point.

Tonya and Trish welcomed him.

The banging on the door was getting louder.

"Is there another way out of here?" Mike asked.

"Through the back alley, between the buildings," Ellen said. "We sneak out that way to get home if there are too many people on the street out front."

"We need to get out of here." John stood. "Do you have any weapons?"

Trish laughed. "You'd be amazed how many people traded in guns, ammo, machetes and swords for liquor."

"There are six of us and hundreds of them," John said.

"This should even some of the odds," Tosha said as she grabbed a long sword from the pile. She held up her gun. "Can anyone help me find ammo for this?"

Ellen selected a machete. "I've never killed anyone."

"Don't worry, mom, they're already dead," Trish said. She loaded a pistol but stopped. "Where's dad?"

"Holy shit," Ellen said. "He's been sleeping through this… as usual."

"It wouldn't be the first time. I'll go get him," Tonya said. "Remember the trip to Virginia when we were little? There was an explosion at the hotel and he slept right through it."

John pulled a box of ammo from the pile and handed it to Tosha. "This should do the trick."

Tonya screamed from the kitchen.

Mike was the first to get through the door with John close behind, but by then Mike was shooting.

John rushed in to see three zombies and Tonya, who was bitten and had blood pumping from her neck.

"Damn," Mike said. "Keep Kimberly and her daughter out."

John turned and blocked the doorway, gripping Ellen by the shoulders as she tried to get past. He pulled her close despite her struggling and looked to Tosha to help with Trish.

"Let me go, I need to get to my daughter and husband. Move, damnit!" Ellen yelled and tried to break free of John's grip.

John frowned when Tosha simply put the gun to Trish's head and asked where she was going.

Mike fired four shots in quick succession.

Ellen collapsed, hitting the floor. Trish ran to her and they hugged.

John looked at Mike when he popped his head in. "What happened?"

Mike shrugged. "The back door was open, probably because it's so hot back here. They found the alley and have been eating and, uh, other stuff to him for a while. I peeked out and the alley is clear right now, but it won't be for long."

John went to Ellen and her daughter. "I'm very sorry this happened, but we need to leave. Now."

"I'm not going anywhere," Ellen said. "There's nowhere for me to go."

John turned to Trish. "Please help me get your mother to safety."

Trish wiped tears from her cheeks. "There isn't anywhere safe. We're staying here."

Tosha grabbed another pistol and tucked it in her waistband. "Seriously, we need to go. Either they die or we all die."

Mike laughed. "Wow, are you a bitch."

"Loser, you have no idea." Tosha ran past Mike. "I'll meet you at the fort. I'll clear the way. Don't thank me or anything."

John tried to lift Ellen but she pushed him away.

"Go and do what you have to do." Ellen stared at John and smiled. "I belong here, in my bar, with my family. I need you to respect that."

"This is insane," John said.

"Get out. When this is all over, come see me. I owe you a free drink." Ellen kissed John on the cheek. "We'll be fine."

Mike stamped his foot. "John, we really have to go."

*   *   *   *   *

"I see light," Darlene said impatiently.

Russ squinted, making an exaggerated face. "Ah, false dawn."

"We need to move." Darlene made sure her machete was strapped to her back, her Desert Eagle was in its holster, and her latest additions—a pair of matching 9mm Browning L9A1's—were in their shoulder holsters.

Russ handed her a motorcycle helmet but she refused.

"Don't want helmet hair?" he asked.

She smiled. "I need to be able to see what's around us just in case I need to shoot something."

"Fair enough." Russ put his helmet on. "I hope you're wrong about us needing to get there so quickly. You're starting to freak me out."

"I'm freaking myself out, believe me. I hope you're bringing enough weapons."

"Nope, going light." Russ started the motorcycle. "Two rifles strapped to the saddlebags, four pistols and ammo in them, and eighteen grenades. And that's not counting what I'm carrying on my person."

Darlene got on the back of the bike.

"Oh, and I brought my last two Twinkies."

"I hate Twinkies."

"Good, because they're not for you. They're hard as a rock but I still love them."

"How long will this ride take?"

"As long as I don't get a ticket, we should be there in twenty-five minutes. The problem is this damn Palm Coast traffic. All these old drivers drive like they’re going to a funeral."

Darlene held on as he took off. He drove like a madman.

She closed her eyes and sighed. At his mention of a traffic ticket she was reminded of John Murphy. Up until now, she hadn't thought too much about what John’s reaction would be when she showed up in St. Augustine, wounded, riding the bitch seat of the guy everyone thought was trying to kill them.

Her excitement over seeing him again was now crushed, because she knew he'd yell at her for leaving Murph alone. John would be angry for the stupid move of going back to the gas station, almost getting killed…

"Do they have any doctors in St. Augustine?" Russ yelled to her.

"I don't know. Why?"

"I didn't forget about the two bites you've received and the fact you're still alive. I think I need some blood-work from you when we get there."

"Fair enough."

At this point, she didn't care. She was alive and she wanted to stay that way.

As Russ pushed the motorcycle past seventy miles per hour, she closed her eyes again and hoped she'd make it in one piece to see a doctor.

Chapter Seventeen

Tosha, despite being in great shape, was out of breath by the time she got to the Huguenot Cemetery wall. She hunkered down and cleaned the machete blade in the grass. She'd only had to use it once on the way here.

Before her was Fort Matanzas but there were at least thirty undead between her and the main gate. With the coming of dawn, she could see a stream of zombies coming over the Bridge of Lions, but what really bothered her was the men walking down the sidewalk past the Ripley's Museum with boxes of goods.

She was about to start shooting when she heard running from the way she'd come. Mike and John were heading towards her at full speed. Tosha stood up and waved to them to slow down, duck, and come to her.

"Glad to see I'm not the only one out of breath," she said as the two men fell next to her on the lawn. "We have company of the living variety."

"Who are they?" John asked.

"No idea. I've never seen them before. There's no way they just happened by, saw the zombies attacking us, and decided to waltz in and steal our stored supplies."

"I'm counting at least twelve," Mike said.

"They seem to be moving the supplies down the road to either a transport or… wait." Tosha turned and frowned. "To their boats. It's the motherfuckers we chased away."

"How can you be sure?" John asked.

"That guy right there on the sidewalk, giving orders. He's not the boss, but I saw him on the boat with the other guy. He's obviously important." Tosha leaned on the cemetery wall.

"If we follow them, we might be able to surprise them," Mike said.

Tosha stood, aimed, and fired a shot. It would have been a perfect torso hit, even from this distance, but another guy had stepped up just as the bullet reached the target.