Resurrection (Apocalypse Chronicles Part II) (10 page)

Something strange happened then. It started with Mei and spread to the rest of us, like a contagion, a good kind.

We laughed, deep and hysterical cries that filled the car. And it felt good. No, it felt extraordinary. I couldn’t remember hearing that sound since before the outbreak began.

It seemed odd that we found humor in Beverly’s disdain, until I realized something. Beverly’s insults had always been taken seriously, something to dodge or defend against. For the first time I saw them for what they truly were, sarcastic comments designed to do nothing more than point out the irony of our situation. Yes, she was self-absorbed and witless when it came to social norms, but thinking back I realized that I couldn’t pinpoint one instance when she acted with malice. All this time, I’d thought of her as cold and calculating but she was neither of those. She was nothing more than a social dimwit.

A year ago, I called her my friend, but I realized then she had never been one. All the time we’d spent at lunch and football games, shopping at the malls, sleeping at each other’s houses, I’d never actually gotten to know her. The truth was, I barely knew her at all.

Strangely, this made her more likable.

I was contemplating this when we spotted a stone sign chiseled with a town name and Harrison came to a stop. The street ahead appeared to be their main road. Local businesses lined both sides, single-story buildings with dated signs and even older merchandise. They stood dark and hollow with a few broken windows where snow had drifted inside.

Slight mounds spotted the sidewalks and streets but it was clear what these were, and I was glad for once that the snow had fallen. I had no interest in seeing who lay under it. As Harrison drove on, he was careful to avoid them, weaving through and around them with incredible precision.

“It’s so quiet,” Mei whispered, staring out at the stores.

Like a graveyard, I thought, but decided it was best not to voice it.

Instead, I suggested, “Might be a good time to look for supplies.”

Harrison nodded but didn’t stop until we came across someplace that offered the greatest reward for the risk we were about to take.

And he hit the jackpot.

“Army Navy Surplus?” Mei asked as Harrison pulled onto the sidewalk and stopped. She squinted through the tinted glass before muttering, “Oh…”

Camouflage jackets hung in the window. That was enough to tell her what was inside and how valuable this discovery could be.

I tried to contain my excitement, thinking back to Mr. Chow’s shop which had been ransacked and virtually emptied of its stock. Here, though, the windows were intact and there was no sign of forced entry.

Harrison twisted in the driver’s seat. “We go in the same way we trained: Silent. We get what we need and get out.”

The rest of us nodded in agreement.

We stepped out, forming a shield around Harrison as he tried the door. I had planned on picking the lock but on closer inspection we learned it was already broken.

He glanced at me with the same look I was currently giving him, passing a silent message between us: Someone
had
gotten in… Be diligent.

Harrison paused at the door to test the air and ushered us in when it was clear. After he motioned for Doc and Mei to remain at the door, he led, moving us through the racks and displays to the hallway. I surveyed each room from left to right and top to bottom, paying closer attention to dark areas. It wasn’t needed, not with Harrison as our radar, but habits are hard to break. We cleared the office, bathroom, a small cleaning supply closet, and the rear door, which was locked and secure. As we headed back into the store, Harrison returned to the entry to replace Doc and Mei. He positioned himself just inside the door, standing guard firmly, his face rigid with intensity. When he settled into his stance, I couldn’t stop myself from noticing his broad, muscled shoulders and his firm, commanding chin lifted proudly to the wind. He didn’t look like a boy from my high school. He looked like a man, determined to keep others safe.

When he swung his head toward me and our eyes met, and he’d found me staring at him, I felt my skin turn hot. Noticing it, his mouth lifted into a cocked, arrogant grin which actually made me tremble.

I’d seen that reaction before, when he’d caught me watching him walk across the cafeteria back when we were strangers. His head had dipped but not enough to hide his smile. It stirred in me now the same heat that it had back then, which stayed with me as I crossed the store for the ammo case. Doc and Mei had already scattered to the other side of the store, where he assessed the blades and she pulled camping gear from the wall.

The store looked untouched, which made me suspicious. Anyone willing to break a lock had most likely entered. Yet, there were still boxes of .223 ammo, perfect rounds for my rifle, stacked in the case, which made no sense to me. While there were no guns in sight, anyone with any knowledge of firearms would have known those were one of the most commonly used rounds and would have taken them. I shrugged it off with the fleeting logic they were “weapons-challenged. Their loss, our gain.” without any idea of how close to the truth I was.

I pulled a duffel bag from the wall and began to fill it, glancing up every few seconds to check on the others. The only time I deviated from the task at hand was when Mei handed me a white hunting jacket and bibs.

She used a hand signal, placing her first two fingers and thumb against her hip, to communicate a single word: camouflage.

I slid them over my clothes, while taking a sweeping view of the store. Everyone else, including Harrison, had changed. Even Beverly had shed her prized Bergdorf heels for boots, leaving her last possession of the old world next to the register, side by side like two delicate princesses. The sight of it struck a chord in me as I realized I was witnessing a metamorphosis, a discarding of their skins and an embrace of their new roles. We had come into the store looking ragtag but we’d leave looking like professionals.

Five minutes later we piled what we could haul into the sedan’s trunk. This included a first aid kit, camouflage clothing, ammunition, magazines, and cleaning supplies for my rifle, and backpacks filled with tents, sleeping bags, water filtration bottles, packages of dehydrated food and cookware. There was only one element missing. Weapons.

I was about to ask Doc if he’d taken down the knives when something caught my eye, a swift movement just over his left shoulder.

Harrison sensed it too; rapidly calling out a bird song, our designated call to attention, and pointing us back inside. We ran for the door in unison, but each of us caught a glimpse of what was coming.

A swell of anger rushed through me when I realized that I’d been so concerned with collecting ammo I hadn’t reloaded my rifle’s magazine and readied for an oncoming threat. Yet, here they were, thirty, maybe forty of them, loping down Main Street, right for our doorstep.

I wasn’t sure if they saw us and as we moved through the store to the back door, I hand signaled the question to the group. They were on alert, but stared blankly at me before shifting their gazes over their shoulders in search of an answer.

As quietly as possible I dropped the magazine before realizing the ammo, every box I’d collected, was now in the trunk of our car. I felt my face contort with anger, my eyes and lips pinching closed long enough for Harrison to look back and notice. He gave me a perplexed expression and I held up the empty magazine. He understood immediately but didn’t seem overly concerned, which of course put me on edge and left me with no idea other than the thought that he was going to sacrifice himself again.

We were in the hallway, so he rotated his torso back to me. “Save it,” he hand signaled.

And my mind flew back to the woods where he’d forced the muzzle to his forehead.

Stop
, I told myself.
Focus
.
What do we have to work with?

I looked around and my hope diminished further. We had fists and feet, that was all. Against one or two Infected we might have some luck but thirty? Forty?

The door flung open violently behind us, shattering the glass, exploding the serene shop into chaos. Alarmed panting followed, a clothing rack clattering to the floor, and a whine eked out from the store behind us. That took me by surprise. I’d never heard an Infected whine. I shoved the thought aside.

A few more steps and we’d be at the back door.

But we were too late.

When I glanced back, I felt disoriented as everything began to play out in slow-motion.

Three Infected were already inside the store, spreading out in differing directions, leaning forward, shoulders curling in, hunting with frenzied eyes. One twisted his head in our direction, his skull crushed inward on the left side. It had liberated his eyeball so that it was left dangling from its socket. But he saw us with his good eye and began his race down the hallway. The other two came with him and more appeared behind them.

Harrison had the door open now. He’d gone through and propped his body against it for us. He was watching what was happening behind us, a quirky look on his face. I didn’t take time to analyze it. I didn’t stop until I was outside the building, and only when I was forced to, after realizing we’d ended up in a back lot, its perimeter lined with a wooden fence covered in vine and snow.

We were trapped.

Instantly, my muscles tensed, I drew in a deep breath, and calmed my nerves.

We were going to have to fight this one out.

Then I turned and saw what had given Harrison that odd expression.

In the dark, narrow corridor I’d just fled down, the Infected were dropping one by one. Something was landing in their skulls, snapping their heads back and carrying their bodies with it.

It was Doc.

He
had
brought the knives with him. They were collected on a belt around his waist, each in individual sheaths. His right hand was operating in almost a mechanical way, employing a vertical method along the length of his torso as he repeatedly took a blade from his belt and launched it down the hallway.

The rest of us stood silently in astonishment. Then Doc spun around and, without really seeing us, shouted in warning, “I’m done! I’m out!”

He’d taken down twenty of them, at least. They were piled up along the ground and slumped down the wall, providing a nice, bumpy carpet for their friends to fall all over in their attempt to get at us.

Harrison stepped away from the door to position himself directly in front of me. I slid around him.

We were going to need all the help we could get.

Beverly, Mei, and Doc were in the middle of repositioning when the first Infected emerged, her hair matted to the point I thought she was bald, her wet dress clinging to her emaciated body. She looked small, easy to handle, but she showed how much hunger can be a reckoning force when she went for Harrison.

He met her halfway, blocking her with his arms, but she jerked her neck out and snapped once, dangerously close to his face. His hands slipped up to her jaw and were already twisting when more Infected began streaming out.

I took the next one, another woman who could have been a housewife at some point. Now, her sweatpants were shredded and the ponytail she’d been wearing at the time of her transformation was sagging to the side. Loose strands ran down the side of her neck. She was dirty but there was no blood on her, which meant she hadn’t eaten yet. And she proved it.

Her mouth opened to a gurgled snarl and she lunged at me. I was ready for her but my roundhouse kick landed oddly at her hips which sent a bolt of pain through my shin. Her momentum in getting to me didn’t help much either.

My mind screamed at me to shoot her but logic intervened. I had one bullet left, and I refused to waste it on an Infected I could handle.

She stumbled back from my kick but the next Infected behind her shoved her forward, directly into the butt of my rifle. Her body shot backwards again but this time she collapsed.

Harrison was freed up by then and stepped calmly over her to snap her neck before moving on to the next Infected. With this one, he did his best to use the man’s body to block the others, and it worked until the large Hispanic man shot through the door. His force sent the rest of us spiraling, all but Harrison.

Once I got my feet under me again, and saw the man heading for Harrison, I raised my gun at the Infected’s head.

“No!” Harrison shouted, his hand darting up to face his palm to me. “Save the bull-”

The man hit Harrison hard, taking him to the ground.

Seeing Harrison on his back was terrifying for me, enough to steal my breath away.

Screw the bullet
, my mind reasoned, and I aimed my gun at the man’s head.

My finger moved into the trigger guard and I began to squeeze when Harrison did something I least expected. He dropped his head to the ground and paused. My throat closed in terror as I tried to understand what he was doing, because it looked oddly like he was giving up, letting himself be taken, again sacrificing himself for the rest of us. Then his head snapped up so fast it was a blur, and he slammed his forehead into the Infected hovering over him. The man’s neck was strong, the muscles protruding in steep, thick lines from his jaw to his chest, but Harrison’s force sent the man’s head back and a loud crack echoed across the lot. When it fell forward again, it drifted heavily to the side until it ultimately slipped down to dangle loosely from his body.