Zombie Fallout 5: Alive in a Dead World (5 page)

“Because for some damn reason, he always
finds a way to stay one step ahead of it,” BT said proudly.

“One step isn’t a lot of cushion, son,”
Crotchety said.

“I’d be six feet under, if it wasn’t for
him.”

“Understood. Three doors down, dipshit named
Greg Hodgkins, Nascar fan and all that implies was shooting through
his window for hours it seemed when the zombies first came. That
very same night, I heard his screams for help. The more he shot,
the more zombies came. Now I’m no genius, but it almost seems that
if you leave them alone, they tend to do the same.”

“Yeah? We haven’t had that kind of luck,” I
told him.

“No,” Gary said over-exaggeratedly as he
shook his head.

I looked over to where this great battle had
waged, but except for a few splotches on the curb, I didn’t see
much evidence. “Where are the bodies?”

“We waited a few--” he started.

“We?” I asked.

“Sonny, do you really think I’m stupid enough
to answer my door in my sleeping gear without a little back-up?” he
asked as he pulled a small walkie-talkie from his pocket. He must
have seen the look on my face. “Relax, no one has you in their
sights, just yet. We just kind of keep an eye out for each
other.”

“I completely understand.”

“So we waited a few days until any of the
zees that could move on their own power left, and then we piled up
the rest of them and had a huge bonfire. We gave Greg a proper
burial, although I’m not sure he deserved it. He was kind of a
prick, you know the type. Has two pit bulls and lets them roam the
neighborhood. Kids were scared to go out and play.”

“Nobody else wants anything?” I asked trying
to be as nonchalant as possible as I did a three-sixty trying to
ascertain where his “friends” might be. It was possible he was
bluffing, but the situation didn’t necessitate me seeing his
cards.

“Those of us that are left want for
nothing.”

“Thank you…” I wasn’t sure how to address
him.

“Occupant works just fine, and just so we’re
clear, you’re welcome to rummage all you want in his house and no
other on this street. Are we clear?”

“Not a problem, thank you for your
hospitality.” And for once, I meant it, not a note of sarcasm in my
voice. I’d like to say I’d help a stranger, but I think I’d be
fooling myself.

Deneaux was busy opening multiple cartons of
smokes, smelling individual packs as if they were fine wines, while
the rest of us walked down to Greg’s former abode. Except for a few
busted out windows, his home looked in fairly decent shape. Two
rusted-out hulks of cars sat on cinderblocks on the side of the
driveway.

“Holy shit,” BT said, “it’s the living
embodiment of a cliché.”

“Okay, to make this perfect, he’d need to
have an old school, giant, television box, but it has to be broken
and have a small, thirteen-inch black and white sitting on top. I
answered him. “First gun choice bet?” I asked him.

“You’re on,” BT said, fist-bumping me.

“Dammit,” I said as I walked into Greg’s den
and found myself staring straight at what appeared to be a mammoth,
sixty-five-inch flat screen TV mounted to the wall.

“Now I might not be the most intelligent man,
but my guess is that isn’t thirteen inches. Do you want me to round
up a tape measure to make sure?” BT asked, smiling.

“Find the guns, ass,” I told him as I went
into the kitchen, where an H&K 9mm sat on the kitchen table.
“How do you feel about 9mms?” I shouted to BT. I was thinking this
was going to be a treasure trove and I wanted his first dibs
selection off the board.

“That is a weapon of choice of the common
thug and I want no part of it, especially since I am looking at a
fully auto AK with a drum magazine.”

I ran out of the kitchen to see what BT was
holding. It was a sight. And I would have loved to have gotten it,
that was of course, until we figured out that that was what Greg
had been using before his demise and he had not saved even one last
round to take himself out.

“Hard luck,” I told BT, smacking his shoulder
as we tore apart the house for fifteen minutes, looking for
anything to change the gun from its status of dangerous looking
paperweight.

“I can still swing this thing,” BT said. He
was pissed because after that, I came across a riot shotgun, which
I laid claim to, plus about a hundred deer shot rounds. Besides the
other arms we found, he had an AR, but it looked like he had run
over the lower receiver with a tank. There would be no rounds going
down range in that thing.

“Not bad, it’s a start,” Brian said as we
loaded the truck.

“I don’t care what old Occupant Seventeen
said, but that house was ransacked,” BT said, still completely
irked about his lack of rounds.

“Maybe if you just wave it around
aggressively, people will get scared,” Gary suggested.

“Talbot you had better rein your brother in,”
BT snarled.

“He’s my older brother, BT. He isn’t going to
listen to me.”

“Nice pistol,” Paul said as I was looking it
over, trying to figure out the cocking mechanism, safety and every
other moving part. “You should give it to Deneaux.”

I looked at him like he had just snorted some
weed.

“No man, I’m not kidding. The lady can shoot
the balls off a gnat from across the room,” he told me.

“Paul, I love you, man, but I think all those
years of drug use finally caught up with you.”

“Well, if they caught up with me, they sure
as hell snagged you too.”

“Fair enough, but I’m not the one suggesting
we give Deneaux one of the few guns we have right now.”

“Listen I know you’re a great shot with the
rifle, no doubt. But she’s unshakeable with the pistol. I watched
her, man, she was like the pistol champ of 1908 or some shit.”

“1908 huh? What’s that make her? Like one
hundred and thirty?”

“She could be,” Paul said, looking over to
the cab. “Doesn’t matter though, she’s freaking amazing with that
thing.”

“Fine. I’ll take your crazy ass word for
it.”

“You are not giving that old bat that pistol
are you?” BT challenged me.

“She has to guard her smokes somehow,” I told
him.

“We had an understanding, you and me, Talbot.
I would hang with you, if and only if, you didn’t get any fucking
nuttier,” BT told me.

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” I told
him. I walked over to the cab of the truck.

Deneaux was barely visible from the dense
cloud of smoke she was producing. I rapped on the window with the
pistol. “You want this?”

She rolled down the window only far enough to
grab the proffered weapon. “H&K P2000 V3 9mm,” she said,
putting the cigarette she had in her right hand in her mouth so
that she could grab the pistol. I just want to note that she
already had one in her mouth, which I can only assume she was
holding with her left. “Nice weapon,” she mouthed around the butts.
She pulled the slide back and looked in the chamber. “Clean too,
how many rounds?”

“Fifty-ish.”

“I’ll take it. We done?” she asked, looking
up at me. I nodded, but before I could complete the gesture, she
rolled her window back up.

“Always a pleasure,” I told her. She waved me
off and began to load the clip. “Who wants to drive?” I asked.

“I’d rather run behind the truck now,” BT
said and he probably would have too if my emergency field surgery
on his shot leg hadn’t left him with a pronounced limp.

“Hey, you’re the immortal,” Gary said. “You
should probably drive, all that second-hand smoke would be bad for
the rest of us.”

“You guys suck,” I said. We all got back into
the truck I made sure to honk for an extra long burst as we pulled
away from Seventeen Georges Road, I waved enthusiastically for his
hospitality. What can I say? I was feeling a little dour. Seventeen
gave me the finger as we rolled away. We couldn’t keep doing this
house to house crap. Eventually, we were going to come across
someone that didn’t want company and we didn’t have the numbers or
the arms to get into a firefight from an undefended position.

I was thinking of scrapping the whole idea of
punching Eliza in the eye and just racing to catch up with Tracy.
I’d rather spend my last few days with her anyway.

“I’ve got an idea,” Brian said from the
backseat where the smoke was only minimally better. Gary and BT had
thought it a better idea to sit in the truck bed, it was a balmy
fifty degrees out and the sun was shining bright.

“I’m listening,” I choked out through the
curtain of carcinogens.

“If you can find a hardware store, we’re
going to need some tools.”

I drove back by the Big 5. If I remembered
correctly, I had seen a Home Depot somewhere in the vicinity, I
hadn’t really acknowledged it then, as I wasn’t planning on
building a catapult at the time. “Hey, you’re not planning on
making a trebuchet, are you?”

“A what?”

“A catapult-looking thingie.”

“I should have sat in the back with the other
two,” Brian complained.

Paul had his sweater up over his nose, and
his eyes were bloodshot. “Shit, Deneaux, could you lighten up a
little on the cigarettes? I can barely breathe.”

“That’s the problem with you young ones
today, no longevity. You are like all the products of your time,
you’re not built to last like us old timers are. Probably would
have asked for your HR generalist before you landed on the beaches
in Normandy. We weren’t called the greatest generation for
nothing.”

I almost put the truck up on two wheels when
I realized I was just about to miss the entrance to the giant, box
hardware store.

“Talbot, you just about made me fall out!” I
heard BT yell.

I waved my apology to him, I was beginning to
pass out from the oxygen loss. Brian, Paul and I raced to be the
first to spill out of the cab. I think Brian won, but it was a
virtual three-way tie without replay.

“How much room you got back there?” Paul
asked after his coughing fit was through.

“Enough,” BT answered in sympathy.

“What are we doing here?” Gary asked.

“Brian has a plan,” I told him.

“Okay just so we’re clear. All you military
types don’t think alike, right? I mean when he says he has a plan,
it doesn’t involve some crazy stuff, right?” BT asked.

“Hell if I know. He didn’t tell me. Let’s
lock and load insofar as we can,” I told the group.

Mrs. Deneaux came out and rubbed her
half-smoked butt on the side of the truck so that she could smoke
it later. “Oh come on,” she said to me when she saw me watching her
in amazement. “You’ve already beat this truck into submission. Your
brother won’t even notice this,” she said, pointing to the new,
black burn mark.

“You have like five thousand cigarettes; why
are you saving that one?” Gary asked.

“I plan on smoking every last one of them,”
she cackled.

“Yeah, and most likely in the next few
hours,” I answered. “Alright, let’s keep our eyes open for any of
the squatters.” That’s what we were calling the zombies in the
sleeping packs. “Any of those and we’re out of here, no matter if
you got what you need or not, Brian.”

“Understood,” he said, nodding his head
tensely.

I went through the door first, feeling
totally inadequate with my .22 rifle. I had left the shotgun in the
truck. It had some damage and until I could ascertain if it worked,
I wasn’t going to risk our lives with it. “This sucks,” I
mumbled.

“You say something, hoss?” Brian asked as he
came up on my left flank.

“Just wishing I had something a little more
potent than this pea shooter,” I told him.

“Bet that’s what you’re wife says,” he said.
He stopped. “Sorry man, battlefield humor, helps ease the
tension.”

“Not for me,” I said and he laughed. “Wow,” I
said softly, the store didn’t look like it had even opened for
business yet. It was virtually picked clean, except for a few
scraps of lumber, haphazardly scattered on the floor. “Is this
worth it?” I asked Brian.

“Maybe. What I’m looking for wouldn’t garner
much attention. I wouldn’t think.”

“Alright lead on.” The five of us stayed in a
tight-knit group, keeping eyes on every angle of approach. The
stench of death was present, but it was impossible to distinguish
if it was from dead people or walking dead people. Funny, but now I
was wishing Deneaux was smoking to quench some of the stench.

We started to head down an aisle, but I
didn’t like the idea of us being this tightly grouped, I was
envisioning zombies flooding in from both ends. “Hold on,” I told
the group. “Let’s do some reconnoitering. Gary, could you go up to
the end of the aisle and make sure we’re not going to meet anyone
we wouldn’t want to?”

“Is this about that time I told Mom when you
snuck out of the house?”

“That was you?” She always told me that she
had gotten up in the middle of the night because the dog had
barked. “I got grounded for a month because of you?”

“Well what the hell were you thinking,
leaving your bedroom window open in November?”

“I needed to get back into the house, didn’t
I?”

“Well, how would I know you snuck out? Mom
was up, getting a glass of water in the kitchen, I told her your
bedroom window was open.”

“Do you have any idea how much she scared me
when I got back in and turned on the light and she was sitting at
my desk?”

“Oh I bet that was pretty scary,” Gary said
empathizing with me.

“If I was any older, I probably would have
had a heart attack.”

“If you were any older you wouldn’t have had
to sneak out.”

“Boys,” Mrs. Deneaux said. “This is really
fascinating, but I have a cigarette with my lip marks on it that
I’m dying to get back to.”

The thought of anything with Deneaux’s lip
marks on it gave me the shudders, apparently Gary too because he
went to the end of the aisle without any further delay.