Floyd & Mikki (Book 1): Zombie Hunters (Love Should Be Explosive!) (14 page)

Before long, they were at the power plant. It was a surprisingly small building. Both Floyd and Mikki thought they were at the wrong place. They were expecting some kinda San Onofre or Three Mile Island with big cement-lined towers or something.

The place was locked up tight. They tried busting through the double glass doors in front, but whatever it was made of, the butts of their shotguns didn’t make a dent. Through the glass (or whatever it was), they could see all the lights were on inside. The building was far enough away from the rest of the town that the light apparently didn’t attract the brain-eaters. Otherwise, Floyd and Mikki would have found a crowd of them outside banging on the doors for all eternity.

“Hey, Floyd! Remember I said you oughta name your guns Bonnie and Clyde?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, now that we got out shiny new shotguns, that’s what we oughta name ‘em!

“OK, which one is Bonnie and which one is Clyde?”

“Well, duh! You’re the man so you get Clyde. Ain’t that right, Bonnie? Let’s see what you can do, old girl.”

“I thought their names were Floyd and Mikki.”

“No, those are our names, dumbass.”

Mikki traded her drum for one of the box mags with anti-armor rounds. She took a step back and fired. She blew about a two-inch hole in the glass, or whatever it was, and a spider web of cracks extended another six inches or so around that. She hollered with delight and blew some more holes in the glass in a circular pattern. When she was done, she kicked in the center of a circle she had made in the glass. They bent down and crawled through the hole to enter the building.

They smelled it as soon as they entered. “That’s not a zombie smell,” said Mikki, as soon as they opened the door.

“It sure ain’t,” said Floyd. “That’s the smell of death.”

There was a security desk in the center of the first room. A rather large body was slumped over the panel. Mikki switched back to the drum mag of shot shells before they headed over to investigate.

The dead guy was wearing a security guard uniform. Collar was open, clip-on tie was lying on a panel of controls and monitors. He was surrounded by empty soda and water bottles, snack food wrappers, and other litter. There were two office chairs on wheels behind the desk but only this one was occupied. Floyd pulled the chair with the body out of the way and looked at the glowing panel. Most of the screens were camera monitors. No movement anywhere.

Mikki moved to the keyboard and tapped a few keys to open the latest emails on one of the screens. She scrolled down through a series of them, the last one dated over a year ago. About 50 emails sent in month, all with similar cries for help. “What the hell is going on?” “Where is our relief?” “Can you please send help?” “We need food and water.” The answers were all the same: stay put, don’t go outside, help is coming.

“Poor bastards,” she said at last.” Probably starved to death, waiting for help that never came.”

“This guy was too big to have starved,” Floyd observed. “More likely ran out of water. The human body can live a long time without food, but only a week without water. Not a pretty way to die, either.”

Mikki tried the drinking faucet in the corner. Nothing happened when she pushed the button. Obviously, the place had all the electrical power anyone could want, but somehow the water had been cut off.

Mikki scrolled through some old saved video logs and found several news reels about the creeper uprising. One was a helicopter shot looking down at Times Square in New York, thousands of creepers completely batshit out of their minds, tearing up everything. For creatures who hated light, Times Square was not a popular tourist attraction. No wonder this guy was too terrified to leave the building.

Floyd took the guard’s key ring and ID badge. It had a magnetic strip that Floyd suspected would open doors somewhere, hopefully the weapons locker. The guy was part of security, after all.

Mikki hit a button on the panel and they heard a buzz and click from the door behind them. Floyd grabbed the door and pulled it open before it locked again. Mikki dragged the empty chair over and propped the door open so they wouldn’t get locked in. She only had so many anti-armor rounds and couldn’t afford to be blowing open every door they came to. Mikki loved blowin’ shit up, but she had to admit Floyd had made a good point earlier. They needed to save their grenades and special ammo for when they needed it most.

They wandered through several short, brightly lit halls off the main one and inspected a number of small rooms. Mostly conference rooms and offices. They found several vending machines throughout the building, all of which were completely empty. Then they came to the stairs.

“Up or down, Floyd?

“Normally, I would say go up, then clear the area and work the way down. That way nothing drops in on you. But we didn’t see nothing on the monitors but dead folk, so I say we go down. Armory is most likely to be down there.”

“Down it is,” Mikki said, opening the stairwell. She tore a piece of black duct tape from a roll hanging off her new belt and taped the door locks open. Then they descended to the lower level. Floyd thought to himself that she actually
was
learning a thing or two from him.

None of the rooms in this place was marked, except for room numbers that meant nothing to Floyd or Mikki. However, the third room must have belonged to the Head Engineer, because they found schematics of the place on the desk. A gun lay on the floor next to the engineer, who had blown his brains out. They had long since dried out while dripping down the wall. Several other former employees had taken a similar route out of here. They had opened one room to find one guy hanging from the ceiling by his neck tie, using it as a noose.

“Well, this explains a lot,” said Floyd, looking at one of the schematics.

“Yeah, this thing’s all underground. No wonder the building on top ain’t that big.”

“The unit itself ain’t that big, either, from the looks of this.” Floyd pointed to a schematic of the building, showing the location of the control room, bathrooms, and the armory.

Tapping a location marked Women’s Restroom on the map, Floyd asked, “Will you please go now,
before
we head back to the truck?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s a good idea.”

There were only three stalls in the Ladies Room, but they kicked each one open anyway, just in case. Mikki remarked that she didn’t know why they needed one. Everyone on the list of workers she had found on the security console and every body they had found so far seemed to be male.

Floyd stood guard outside the door. For a minute, he thought he heard something strange. Some kind of soft moan. He realized it was coming from the bathroom and he threw open the door.

“You alright Mikki?”

“For God sake, Floyd! I’m takin’ a shit in here!”

“Oh, sorry!” He jumped out of the room, embarrassed as hell, even though Mikki was in a stall and he couldn’t see anything.

Boy! He was really getting jumpy! All this brain-eater crap must be finally taking its toll on him. He wondered how much longer he could keep this up without losing his mind or joining the Head Engineer. Or, half-head engineer, Floyd thought to himself. Oh, that joke was so wrong on so many levels, but Floyd snickered anyway.

“Have a tough time in there?” Floyd asked, as Mikki finally emerged after what seemed like an eternity.

“You don’t wanna know. Why, you gonna be late for a movie?”

“Never mind. My turn.” Floyd ducked into the Men’s Room and came out a few minutes later. He wasn’t able to actually flush with no water, but he didn’t think anyone left in the building would mind. At least there was plenty of toilet paper. He stuffed a couple of rolls into his backpack. Mikki called him Speedy Gonzalez when he finished and emerged so fast, but he ignored her and finished rubbing in hand sanitizer.

The next room they investigated was obviously the Security Office. Two uniformed male corpses sat inside, surrounded by six radios in chargers. There were also a couple of headsets with earpieces and microphones that fit into the handsets. Floyd grabbed a few of those and stuffed them into his backpack, along with the radios and chargers. Mikki yanked the ID badges off the uniforms of the two guards, then took a nice, rugged, black digital watch from one of them and strapped it to her wrist. It glowed dimly to tell the time if she pressed a button.

They headed down one more flight of stairs. There were only a couple of rooms down there: the Control Room, the Armory, and Supply Room. Nobody was in Supply, but corpses filled the two chairs in the Control Room.

Zeke had been right. It didn’t take a whole lot of people to maintain the reactor. These two had died at their post long ago, yet the readings were still at optimal levels. There was a series of dials that corresponded to various readings and levels on the panel screens.

Sure enough, the door to the armory had a scanner, but the card from the entry guard didn’t work. Mikki tried one of the badges she had grabbed from the Security Office, and that didn’t work either. The second badge from there did work, however, and they were in.

There wasn’t much inside, but what they found was well worth the trip. There were four Mini Uzis and plenty of Zeke’s special ammo. They also found boxes of shotgun shells and specialty ammo for the AA-12 shotguns. There were also four black metal tubes that turned out to be self-contained Rocket Propelled Grenade (RPG) launchers. The government apparently had wanted to defend this place in the event of an attack, yet it never sent anyone to support the crew once the world went to hell. Apparently, there were more important things to do at the time.

Floyd said, “It’s gonna take at least two trips to get all this stuff out of the building.”

“No it ain’t,” answered Mikki. She went outside, dumped over a large rubber trash can on wheels, and brought it back to the armory. They filled it with ammo, the four RPGs and three more Mini Uzis, Mikki would have taken everything that wasn’t nailed down, but Floyd reminded her they only had so much room in the truck. He wasn’t even sure he could fit what they were taking.

Floyd started hauling the trash can up the stairs, one step at a time. Thump. Thump. Thump. It wasn’t that heavy, but he had two more flights to go. As he reached the first landing, Mikki disappeared down the stairs. He called after her but she just yelled back at him to keep going.

That girl must have the bladder of a mouse
, Floyd thought to himself, assuming she was headed to the bathroom again. Still, he was the one always telling her to go before they left, so he couldn’t complain.

He was just starting up the second flight of stairs when Mikki returned. She pushed on the bottom of the can to help him get it up faster. He appreciated the help, but he was in no rush. He couldn’t understand why she seemed to be in a hurry, all of a sudden.

“Now who’s gonna be late for a movie?” he asked.

Mikki ignored him and kept “helping.” When they made it to the top of the stairs, Mikki saw a pair of big metal doors on the right. She hit a button and the doors slid open.

“Damn! We coulda taken the elevator!” she complained.

“Great idea. A little late!” Floyd answered.

When they made it to the front door, they realized they couldn’t open it without a key. Mikki tried a number of keys they had taken from the fat guard’s body, and the fourth one finally opened the door. They never would have gotten the trash can out otherwise, unless they blew a lot more holes in the door. They kept the big trash can and left the little red wagon behind.

“Alright! Let’s go!” Mikki insisted.

“What’s the rush, Mikki?”

“Just wanna get out of this damn town as fast as I can,” she said.

Floyd sensed something was wrong as Mikki kept looking at her watch. She was walking faster than she usually did, too. “Mikki! What did you do?” Floyd finally asked, stopping her.

“Well, I kinda sorta maybe mighta…turned off the safety controls and turned up all the dials in the control room before I left,” she admitted.

“You did what?!”

“Well, Zeke said we had at least an hour before anything happened.”

“Zeke wasn’t no nuclear engineer! Goddammit, Mikki, will you please tell me
before
you do these crazy things?”

“Would you have let me do it?”

“Of course not!”

“Well, then. There you go. Now, you can yell at me about it for an hour or we can get the hell outta here before the plant blows the hell up! Your choice.”

Floyd tipped the can backwards into his chest, grabbed the handle and pushed as fast as he could. Mikki covered him with Bonnie as they made their way down the hill. It was only a slight slope, but it was more than enough for Floyd to pick up some speed. The sun hadn’t hit the horizon yet so it was still pretty light out.

Somewhere around them, Floyd heard a weak me-oan. Oh, crap, he knew it! One of those damn zombie kitties got out of the pet shop! Now it was alerting anything within range of their presence. Fortunately, is sounded muffled and wasn’t too loud. He pushed the can faster down the street, wheeling around smashed cars as he went.

He didn’t want to try going down the sidewalk where he would be close enough to the stores for some brain-eater to jump out at them. Besides, several cars had crashed into various shops or otherwise blocked the sidewalk. Across the way, a fire hydrant had been knocked over by a car and was shooting water up into the air. Whatever the problem was at the nuke plant, the water was still flowing down here.