K. T. Swartz (14 page)

In silence, everyone pulled out their handguns, split up into their teams. Like a well-oiled machine they set off across the snow. The fresh powder crunched under their shoes. Michael gestured with two fingers, and his partners fell in behind him. No one made a sound, simply followed orders. It had taken months of drilling to turn terrified civilians into a capable militia, but they’d done well – their shots improving, their aim steady. He felt comfortable walking in front of one college student, a hairdresser, and a garbagewoman without feeling like he was about to be shot in the back.

Liz trotted up beside him. “It’s pretty quiet out here. I don’t see any tracks at all.”

“I don’t smell anything,” Rob offered. Tony nodded.

He’d noticed that too. Roger’s seemed oddly deserted. Considering grocery stores were serious draws for the undead, their absence had his finger tapping the trigger.

Tony whistled suddenly as they walked around the building; he pointed to a dumpster turned on its side. “Look at that.”

Michael stared. Blood and blown off limbs splattered the interior like a dry coat of paint. Corpses were piled inside and lay scattered around the back parking lot. But the damage to the dumpster, where something had punched dozens of tiny holes through the metal, drew his attention. Waving the others to stand back, he crept closer. Held his gun steady should any of the bodies move. He nudged one of the dead with his toe. Snow shushed, sliding off the corpse. But it wasn’t frozen. The zombie’s body resembled the dumpster, so punched full of holes that severe internal damage had caused it to lose mobility. The bashed-in skull told one hell of a story too.

Something clinked under his boot. He knelt, dusted snow off a 6 inch nail. He stared at it, at the crushed, blackened gunk frozen to it. His eyes went to the dumpster, to its impression of Swiss cheese.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered. Turned back to his partners.

“What did you find?” Liz asked.

“Somebody used a nail-bomb to incapacitate them and a blunt instrument to finish the job,” he said.

Tony stepped closer to Rob, who frowned at him, but Tony didn’t notice, only glanced around, his arms hugging himself tightly. “Do you think they’re still here?”

Michael tossed the nail away. “Probably not. Nail-bombs are awkward to carry long distances, but considering the snow over the bodies, I’d say this was done awhile ago.”

“Could be why we haven’t seen any undead around,” Liz commented.

Michael nodded. “We proceed carefully and cautiously. We don’t know who we could be dealing with.”

“He could be a loon like that guy outside Nashville,” Rob said, shooting a glare at Tony.

Tony stiffened, glared right back, but stepped away from the college student.

“Lower your voice,” Liz hissed. “You want draw attention to yourself?”

“No, I just don’t want to be spooned,” Rob shot back.

“Enough,” Michael snapped. “This isn’t the time or the place for this. Keep your mouths shut. We’re moving out.” Rob scowled but stayed silent. Michael headed around the grocery store’s far side. He’d tried to get everyone comfortable with their teammates when he originally selected teams, but some just weren’t complying, were too hung up on their own prejudices to see the danger in them. In moments like these when their lives counted on every eye and every bit of trust in another, they couldn’t afford anything less.

Tony’s need for reassurance only irritated Rob, who couldn’t see past his own machismo, misguided as it was. As it stood, the more Rob pushed Tony away, the more Tony hovered near him, though he knew Rob didn’t share his sexual orientation. But fear made people do strange things. Liz fell in beside him as he led them to the back door of Roger’s.

“You really should separate those two,” she whispered.

“I need everyone here at a hundred percent,” he replied. “Those two need to learn to deal with their differences or their arguments will get us killed.”

Liz shrugged. “You really think Rob’ll come around? He’s one of the biggest homophobes I’ve ever seen.”

“He needs to get over that too,” was all he said. He stuck his gun in his belt; knelt to search the door for wires or cords peeking around the frame. But nothing was there. His gun in his hand, he stepped inside. Liz flashed her light around the stockroom. Nothing moved in the shadows, only their breath curled in white puffs through the air. He pushed through the swinging doors and stared. An almost untouched store lay before him. The fruit was rotting on the shelves, the frozen foods long past their expiration dates, but beyond that were the canned goods, the foods with longer expiration dates.

Tony whistled. “Wow.”

“Now this is what I’m talking about,” Rob said.

“Everybody, grab a cart. Pack it full. We’ll probably make several trips,” Michael said. “And don’t get just one thing.”

They nodded, headed for the front. Michael followed as they swept each aisle, but no zombies lingered in the darkness. This grocery store had been completely swept clean. Liz’s smile was lopsided. “I don’t know whether to jump for joy or be weirded out.”

Michael had to agree. Such well-wrapped presents didn’t normally fall out of the sky like this, especially after an Out-Break six years old. The unexpected surprise made him itchy, had him looking over his shoulder for ghosts.

Tommy, Cherise, and Arti met him outside.

“How’s it looking?” Tommy asked.

“Clean,” Michael said. “There’s a pile of corpses around back. Looks like they were hit with an explosive.”

“No shit?” Tommy asked. “Well, this must be our lucky day. Your wife said there’s still gas in the pumps. We ain’t seen any z-bags either.”

“All right, let’s get everyone inside and refill our supplies,” Michael said.

Tommy nodded over Michael’s shoulder. “Looks like they beat ya to it.”

Behind him, Marleen and Rae led the kids across the lot. “Tommy said everything’s all clear,” Marleen said. “How’s the store look?”

“See for yourself. It’s perfectly clear,” he said.

A smile split his wife’s lips. “Oh,” she said suddenly and pointed over her shoulder. “Max spotted a fire engine on that hill over there. If we’ve got time I’d like to let him see it.”

Michael shrugged. “Let’s get our supplies together first, and then we’ll go.”

Marleen pecked him on the cheek; she grabbed a cart and started shopping. Michael leaned up against the outside wall as everyone else went inside. His breath curled in the air. Maybe this was a bit presumptuous of him, but it seemed Canada wasn’t as far off as he thought. Danville was an unexpected gem buried in a mound of horse dung. They had everything they needed. Gas and food. Roger’s actually sat between two strip malls. Either one they could clean out and fortify. For awhile they’d be safe, fed, and warm. But this wasn’t his choice to make. He could ask them if they wanted a temporary reprieve from their journey or whether they wanted to keep going.

In silence, he watched them shove as much food as they could into their trunks. As promised, Michael drove his wife and son up the road to the gleaming fire engine sitting parallel with the firehouse. It and another building were connected, with the first story windows heavily boarded up. The better to keep anything out. While Max climbed into the driver’s seat, he walked the building’s perimeter. Grabbed the boards on the windows and tugged on them. If the scrape marks and black stains were any hint, the fortifications held up well. He circled around behind the firehouse, spotted a rope ladder curled up by the roof. A single cord was tied to it and ran down the building, to a few inches above his head.

“Marleen,” he shouted.

Marleen ran around the corner, her gun in her hand, with Max trailing behind. As he had taught her, with both hands on the weapon, she held her gun down by her side. Her eyes reflected fear. When she spotted him, she slowed. Frowned. “What’s wrong?”

He pointed to the rope ladder, then gave the cord a sharp tug. The rope ladder unfurled, dropping within reach. “Cover me.”
She nodded, watched the slope as he climbed to the second story window; he pushed it open. One quick look around confirmed his suspicions. He stuck his head out the window. “Come on up. It’s clear.”

Marleen and Max joined him inside. He nodded to the stacked bottles of water, the folded clothes, and carefully made beds. “Somebody was using this as a safe-house. He even cut the stairs off to the prevent attack.”

Marleen ran a finger along one of the shelves that held bottles of labeled chemicals. She held up a clean fingertip. “Someone is still using this place. No dust.” She looked at him. “There are survivors in this town.”

“We don’t leave people behind, right, Dad?” Max asked.

“That’s right,” he said. “We have to find them.”

“Honey, we don’t have room for anyone else,” Marleen protested.

“Then we make room,” he said and leaned out the window. “We better get back.”

Marleen exhaled loudly but followed. By the time their SUV pulled up beside the camper, everyone was already inside. Aluminum can lids popped. The smell of beer and fruit juice created an unusual odor that had him wishing he could walk back out.

“Hey, Mikey’s back, just in time for the party,” Arti exclaimed, saluting him with an upraised beer can. A round of cheers filled the room before he waved for silence.

“It looks like Danville may have some survivors in it,” he said. “The firehouse has been reinforced as a temporary base, with enough supplies to feed a small group of people for a month.” He looked at everyone. “We need to find these people and help them.”

“If they got this store and a fortress, they don’t need help,” Rob said. “We do.”

“We don’t leave folks behind,” Cherise said, “or did you forget how we found you?” Rob glared at the woman. Tommy crushed his beer can in his hand, his eyes on Rob, who looked away.

Michael held up a hand for silence. “Since we haven't seen any tracks – or any sign of anyone coming through here in the past few days – they probably have other fortifications just like that fire station, which means they’ll probably be easy to spot. Danville doesn’t look that big, so we can probably cover it in less than a day. If we don’t find anyone after that, we assume they’ve moved on and we do the same, unless you want to stick around longer.”

Marleen relaxed the pinched expression on her face.

“Everybody agree?” Michael asked. Nods all around. “All right, let’s get started. Keep an eye on your gas tanks. Radio in if you spot anything, and above all: be careful. We’ll meet back here two hours before dusk. Any questions?” No one said anything. Again they split up into three teams; took three different directions.

Marleen jumped when Arti’s voice burst through the radio. “Holy crap! I can’t believe this – over – you won’t believe what we’re looking at – over – it’s like a freakin’ slaughterhouse over here – over – somebody had a freakin’ party and forgot to invite the living – over.”

Marleen looked at him. “She really likes to irritate you with all those ‘over's, doesn’t she?”

Cherise’s voice came through the radio. “What are you looking at?”

Liz’s voice replaced Arti’s. “It looks like a car lot, but most of the cars have been torched. Gas fire, it looks like. The concrete has more zombie speed humps than a swinger’s convention.”

“Mom, what’s a swinger’s convention?” Max asked. Marleen slapped a hand to her forehead.
“Seriously – over,” Arti said into the radio. “There’s gotta be at least fifty or sixty of ‘em out here – over – in pieces, that is – over – when you get a chance, Mikey – over – you might want to check this out.”

Michael took the radio from his wife. “Are there any fortified buildings out there?”

“Nope,” Liz said. “Just this car lot. Looks like its isolation may have been the reason it was picked for whatever this is.”

“Just keep looking then,” he said.

“What do you think?” Marleen asked. “I mean, about all of this?”

“I think we’re dealing with a highly organized, educated group of civilians,” he said. “Although why they’d pick this town is beyond me.”

“I don’t know. If we lived in a small town, I think I’d want to stay and protect it,” she said. “This is where their memories are, their homes. Maybe they got married here or went to school here, or maybe they lost their husbands or wives here.”

“Sentimentality will get you killed,” he said.

“Maybe, maybe not,” she said. “We haven’t found the survivors yet.” Michael didn’t say anything. Marleen lightly squeezed his arm. “But we will.”

“You’re awfully optimistic.”

“They have something worth fighting for,” she replied. “They won’t go down easy.” Michael glanced at her. Her smile was lopsided. “Isn’t that what you told me about that group of terrorists in Afghanistan?”

He couldn’t argue with that.

At a crawl, the SUV drove down street after street, but only undisturbed snow met his gaze. The sun emulated their slow pace through the city. But eventually Danville’s shadows lengthened, its main street deserted but for a handful of frozen undead, and they were quickly dropped with bullets in their foreheads.

“Mike, we need to find someplace to spend the night,” Marleen said.

He nodded, picked up the radio. Tommy’s voice crackled across the radio waves. “Ladies and gentlemen, one seriously tricked out fortification has been located. On the corner of 4
^th
and Lexington Avenue.”
Marleen unfolded the map. Her finger tapped paper. “Got it.”