Rise of the Dead (21 page)
“You okay?” Danielle asks. She rushes over and puts a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs away from her.
“I’m fine,” he grumbles. “Just twisted an ankle. We need to keep moving.” He limps ahead of us down the street while I pause to scan the road. The dead stagger towards us through the brush along the highway. The shopping center is only a couple of blocks away, but the moans of the dead converging on our location urge us to pick up our pace.
I look back into the darkness of the tunnel hoping for some sign of Stitch.
“Blake,” Danielle wraps her fingers around my arm. “There’s nothing you can do. We have to go.”
“I know,” I let her lead me away, and we hustle to catch up to Fletcher and Quentin. I stop when I hear the sound of panting behind me. I turn and see Stitch trotting a few feet back, tongue lolling out a corner of his mouth. He sits and looks up at me with his head cocked to one side. I reach down to pat his scruffy head, and he winces, startled by the touch. Then he relaxes, and stops panting.
“Good boy,” I tell him. He stands up and wags his tail as he runs to catch up to Danielle.
The sight of the dark and shattered windows of the ravaged strip mall is a let down after we nearly lost our lives trying to get here. Even though I had expected to see the stores looted, the place looks demolished. The gas station at the corner had burned to the ground. Soaked papers and garbage clutter the walkway along the storefronts, but the area seems clear of undead. I doubt there will be much to scavenge from the raided pharmacy, but the liquor store seems surprisingly untouched. Several cars riddled with bullet holes occupy spaces in the lot. If any of the dead owners are still around here, I might be able to find the keys and get one running. After dealing with the corpses we encountered in the tunnel, I’d rather be traveling in a car if possible. I scan the road behind us to find a crowd of corpses that have followed us from the highway.
“We have to get inside,” I say. “Those things won’t take long to catch up.” I just want to get through this as quickly as possible so that we don’t end up trapped here. I want to get on my way home before it becomes impossible.
“We’ll check the pharmacy first,” Fletcher whispers. He hobbles towards the shattered sliding glass door, which is held open by a dead body sprawled on the ground. Fletcher peeks his head inside, then moves out of the way to let us pass. The smell of rotting food and death is almost more than I can bear as I straddle the corpse on the floor and slip inside. It’s dark inside, but enough light slips in through the store windows that I can see the front of the building is clear of any movement. One of the clerks lies dead on the counter next to the register. His dried blood splatters the glass of the cigarette case along the wall. I want to search him for car keys immediately, but I decide to wait until after we finish clearing the store.
“Spread out and grab anything we need,” says Fletcher. “I’ll watch the door. Five minutes and be quiet.”
Danielle takes Stitch and heads toward the aisle of pet products on the right and Quentin heads towards the food aisles on the left. After a moment of thought, I decide to head back to the pharmacy and try and find some antibiotics. I head down the seasonal aisle of the store, pick up a couple of bottles of lighter fluid and a battery-powered camping lantern and shove them in my pack. Nothing else of use remains. The opposite side of the aisle is toys and candy for Easter. I start to move on, but then realize I saw something else and turn around. A plush monkey sits on a shelf of cheap gifts. The kind of thing I would always have to buy for Abby when she was a toddler. Even though she grew out of that a few years ago, the stuffed animal just made me think of her for some reason. I pick it up and shove it in the pack, then sling the strap over my shoulder and hurry toward the back of the store.
The door to the pharmacy is locked, so I set the rifle and pack down to climb the counter and hop behind it. The moment my feet hit the ground, I hear a noise from the back of the room. It sounded like a plastic bottle hitting the floor. I quietly lift up my rifle from the counter and wait for another sound, but I hear nothing.
The tall shelves make it impossible to see much of what is behind them. I want to go back over the counter and get the hell out of here. After a few long moments of silence, I decide to continue my search of the pharmacy. There isn’t a lot of time to waste. I crouch down and move along the ends of the aisles and peer slowly around each corner. As I approach the last aisle, I hear another noise. Something scrapes along the floor. It freezes me in my tracks. I steady the rifle and get ready to turn around the last shelving fixture. I take a deep breath and peer around the corner. I scan the workstations in the back corner. Nothing. I release the breath I’d been holding and lower the rifle.
I begin rifling through the contents of the shelves looking for penicillin or something of the sort. I find some amoxicillin tablets and realize I need to find some bottles to store them from the cabinet. I turn back to grab them, and something smashes me in the head. The goggles get knocked from my eyes, and I fall back into the shelves and topple the whole fixture over. As my eyes adjust, I struggle to see anything in the darkness. I grope around and try to bring up the rifle when I realize the person that hit me is alive.
“Leave me alone,” she screams.
At the last second, my vision returns enough to see a lead pipe heading for my face. I deflect it away with my arm, and it clangs to the floor. The woman who swung it at me turns to run when I reach for her. I manage to snatch the hood of her black sweatshirt. She lets out a scream and spins and flails her arms at me. After a brief attempt to try and quiet her, I clamp my hand over her mouth and push her back until she is against the wall.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I explain.
She turns her head so she is looking away from me and I feel her muscles relax as she sobs. Her eyes focus on something behind me, and I turn to see Quentin and Danielle beyond the pharmacy counter.
“Everything’s okay,” I tell them. I relinquish my hold on the young woman. “What’s your name?”
“Natalie,” she whispers. Her breath is stale, and her voice is dry and raspy. She wipes at her bruised eye with the sleeve of her stained sweatshirt. Her lower lip looks like it split open not too long ago. She flinches when I raise my hand to push some strands of the long dingy blonde hair from her face.
“I’m Blake,” I say. “These are my friends, Quentin, and Danielle. No one here is going to hurt you. Okay?”
She stares at Danielle for a moment before she nods her head.
“Is anyone else here?” I ask her. She looks unsure how to answer me.
“I’m sorry I hit you,” she apologizes. After everything she has been through, she speaks without a hint of feeling in her words. I set my pack on the ground and reach inside for a bottle of water, twist off the top and hand it to Natalie. She snatches it from me and drinks eagerly from the bottle.
“Who did this to you?” I ask. As if in response, I hear the sound of a heavy door closing in another room. Natalie startles at the sound and clutches my arm. A distant, carefree whistle echoes through the building.
“It’s him,” the girl gasps.
As the whistler moves closer, the tune becomes almost distinguishable. Natalie digs her fingernails into my arms. She tries to pull me towards the counter.
“We need to go,” she pleads. I shake free from her grip to ready the rifle, but she keeps pulling at my arms. I raise a finger in front of my lips, and she quiets.
“Stay here,” I command her. “We won’t let anything happen to you.” I start towards the counter, and she slumps down along the wall.
“Don’t leave me,” she whimpers.
I slip out the pharmacy door and join Quentin and Danielle on the other side of the counter. Stitch presses his body against Danielle’s leg. The scruff bristles on his neck. I peer around the corner down a long aisle of band-aids, toothpaste, and mouthwash. The cone of the flashlight illuminates the aisle followed by the shape of a man. He crosses the back aisle and heads towards the front of the store.
“What’s going on back there?” Fletcher whispers through the radio. “Who turned on that light?”
“We got company,” Quentin transmits.
“How many?” Fletcher asks.
“Just one,” Quentin responds. “He’s alive, but he’s not friendly.”
Quentin gestures for us to move towards the man from different directions. I nod, and then he slinks away down the long aisle that leads towards the beverage cases. I ask Danielle to stay put in the back and keep her eyes on the girl. She nods and clips a leash on Stitch and brings him with her through the pharmacy door.
I step cautiously along the back aisle of the store. Hundreds of small items cover the floor. Any of them could potentially spell disaster. If I happen to knock a bottle of vitamins across the tiles, the noise will give away our presence immediately. I take cover along the endcaps, easing slowly around the corners to be sure each aisle is clear before crossing. I wait a few seconds, hoping the man might start to whistle again and make it easier to locate him.
“Hello?” a voice calls out. It sounds like Fletcher. What the hell.
There is a long silent pause that seems like it will never end. I hear the noise of heavy boots walking on the floor. Fletcher isn’t even trying to keep quiet. I peer around the corner, and I spot the man crouched about halfway down the aisle behind a display of reading glasses. He is focused on Fletcher up in the front of the store, so I watch him for several seconds before retreating around the corner. Fletcher is picking through the shelves, dropping objects intentionally on the floor.
“Don’t move!” The man tries to sound intense, but his voice quavers slightly. I hear the cocking of a pistol hammer.
“Hey, easy there, fella,” says Fletcher. His soft voice sounds genuinely surprised and afraid. “I’m not looking for any trouble.”
“I said, don’t move,” the man growls.
“Okay,” Fletcher concedes. He stops his advance and keeps his hands raised. I realize he is just distracting the man so that one of us can catch him by surprise.
“How about you slide that big ass gun over here,” the man says.
Fletcher slowly brings a hand around to the rifle strap and begins to lift it over his head. “Let’s just talk this out,” says Fletcher.
“What you got in that pack?” the man demands.
“We’re all on the same side here, right?” smiles Fletcher. “I can help you.”
I tighten my grip on the rifle and prepare myself to round the corner and creep up behind this guy and crack him on the back of the head with the stock. The thought occurs to me to shoot him instead. I turn the corner, but when I aim the weapon at his back, I can’t pull the trigger. I move cautiously across the floor, avoiding the bags of candy and potato chips that are scattered all around in the dark.
“What are you supposed to be?” the man sneers. “The cavalry?”
A candy wrapper crinkles beneath my boot and the man whirls around. His shock quickly turns to fury, and he levels the pistol with my head. I duck instinctively and lunge to the side. I bring the rifle up to my shoulder, but before I can pull the trigger, there is a spray of gunfire. The man crashes back into the half empty rack of chips behind him, then tumbles to the floor. Fletcher stands for a moment with his rifle still pointing at the spot where the man had stood. Then he pulls the strap back over his shoulder and advances down the aisle. He stops and looks down at the dead man and nudges the gun away from the man’s hand with his boot.
“Why didn’t you just shoot him?” Fletcher wonders. He bends down and retrieves the pistol, ejects the clip, then snaps it back in. Fletcher tucks the gun into the pack, then removes his .45 from the holster. He gazes back at the man on the ground once more. Then he fires another silenced round that pierces the man’s skull. “He didn’t have a second thought about shooting you.”
I watch the fresh blood pooling around the body of the man on the ground. His stubbled face is dirty and expressionless. A knot twists in my stomach and I feel a furious hatred for the dead man for being someone that truly deserved to die.
Fletcher walks over and grabs a handful of my shirt sleeve and helps pull me up. Quentin rounds the corner of the aisle and looks at the body on the ground and the two of us standing beside it.
“Let’s go,” says Fletcher. “There’s too many out front. We’ll have to go out the back.”
“Wait,” I say. I remember the clerk by the register and turn to run towards the front of the store. I hear Fletcher mutter a curse behind me, and when I turn to look, I see they are following me. “Just go,” I urge them. “I’ll catch up.”
They ignore this and pursue me to the front counter where I shove the dead clerk to the ground and begin digging through his pockets. The gunshot must have been enough to get the attention of the ones outside because I hear Quentin and Fletcher open fire on the other side of the counter.
My hand closes around a set of car keys, and I yank them free of the trouser pocket. I get up to leave and notice that dozens of corpses are pushing towards the door, stumbling over the fallen undead that Fletcher and Quentin have already taken out. Fletcher waves for me to go and waits until I run past him. Quentin continues firing into the gathering dead until they press through the door, the shoulders his rifle and follows us to the pharmacy.
“What the hell was that about?” Fletcher screams.
I ignore him and keep heading towards the pharmacy counter at the rear of the store. Once everyone is in back, we shove over a tall shelving fixture to block the door to the back of store. The pharmacy has a drive-thru window that leads to the back alley of the store. Danielle jabs the glass with the butt of the rifle until it shatters. She pokes away the remaining glass around the edges then shoulders the rifle. Stitch hesitates when she picks him up and sets him on the counter, so Danielle pushes his butt until he finally jumps out to the alley.
“Hey man,” growls Fletcher. “You almost seriously jammed us up back there. You mind telling me what was so fucking important?”
Natalie climbs through the window next and waits in the alley while Danielle throws her pack down.
“I had to get these.” I show Fletcher the set of car keys. I shrug my pack off my shoulders and set it down on the ground.
“We don’t need a car to make it back,” says Fletcher.
“They’re coming,” interrupts Quentin. He readies his rifle on the pharmacy counter. Danielle jumps out the drive-thru, and I hear her grunt outside when she lands in the alley. I lift my pack up and push it through the window.
