Rotting to the Core (Keep Your Crowbar Handy Book 2) (10 page)

She wasn't alone in the truck, as it turned
out. A pair of armed men; one with a brief ring of hair just over
his ears, approximately in his late forties, the other perhaps in
his mid-twenties with a ridiculous “mullet”, piled out of the
passenger door holding weapons of their own. Both wore long-sleeve
shirts, jeans, work boots, and were none too happy looking.

“Dammit, Penny, where the hell did they go?”
Mullet demanded.

“How the fuck should I know?” The woman
replied, looking at him in obvious disgust. Jake assumed she was
Penny. “You were the one who was
supposed
to be on watch,
remember? Why the hell didn't you call us when you first saw them,
Benjamin?”

Mullet glared at her. “Because they were too
goddamn close. They were hiding behind the first trailer and turned
around just as I noticed them. I think the chick got nervous or
something, and convinced the dude to go out around the
neighborhood.”

Penny looked about, bringing up her
Remington. “Did you do something stupid? Did they see you?”

“They didn't see shit.” Mullet flipped her
the bird and pulled an oversized .357 from the back of his pants.
“Why ya think I didn't call sooner? I didn't want them to hear us
on the radio and take off.”

Penny shook her head. “How'd that plan work
out? You were probably asleep in the van again, weren't you?”

“Fuck you, ya stupid dyke.” Ben spat.

“Fuck
you.
And I'm not a dyke,
asshole. I like penis just fine. I just don't wanna see
yours.
” Penny laughed.

“Think they're in the school?” The older one
asked, attempting to quell an argument and giving the building a
once-over. He carried a well-worn Ruger M77 and looked like he knew
how to use it.

“Jerry's right, we need to check. If they're
in there, they probably didn't hear the truck and we could get the
drop on them.” Penny grabbed the truck keys and locked her
door.

Ben made a rude noise. “Why'd you take the
keys? Not like zombies can drive or something.”

“So if those two slip by us they can't use
the truck to get away,
dumbass
.” Penny pushed by him and
began striding towards the schools nearest door. “Besides, you feel
like walking all the way back and telling
her
why we lost
the truck?”

“Uh. No.” Ben paled slightly.

Penny snorted in disgust. “Didn't think so.
You and Jerry check the second floor. I'll head down to the
cafeteria.”

The trio hurried inside the high school and
Jake turned to Kat.

“Good call back there at the trailer
park.”

“Thanks.” Kat beamed. “Penny and Co. sure
seem determined to find us, don't they? I wonder why?”

Jake cocked an eyebrow. “Do we care? Are we
caring about this?”

Kat shrugged. “I dunno. I guess not.”

After thinking about it for a minute, Jake
sighed. “We have to find out. I doubt those three are part of the
group that took Allen, Maggie, and the girls, but I'm pretty sure
they don't have anyone's best interests at heart.”

Cho became hesitant. “Umm. Laurel told me to
watch out for you, and doing something stupid, like going in there
after...”

“She's my girlfriend, not my mother,” Jake
told her. “And did I complain about your crazy plan to zip-line
over a street full of zombies?”

“Yes. Quite a bit, as I recall,” Kat reminded
him.

Jake waved that off. “Besides, you think it's
the first time they've done this? You heard them. They had that Ben
guy hiding in a van, waiting for anyone that happened by. Pretty
dirty. Even before everything went to shit, that's not really a
practice normal people would engage in.”

Kat frowned. “Okay... But how did this become
our
problem?”

“Would you want someone else to say the
same?” Jake demanded, giving her a sharp look.

“Man,” Kat massaged her forehead, “Laurel's
gonna
kill
me.”

“Alright, here's what we'll do,” Jake
began.

After waiting to ensure the Truck-drivin'
Trio were well within the innards of the school, Jake and Kat
emerged from the pine grove. Once again, Jake was quite jealous of
the pretty Asian's ability to move without making the slightest
sound. As they sprinted across the field and took cover behind the
now-empty truck, Jake realized he hadn't even been able to hear the
footfalls of Kat's thick-soled biker boots. Shaking his head in
disgust, O'Connor realized he must sound like a rampaging
wildebeest by way of comparison and cautiously peeked over the
truck's hood. Their three unknown stalkers were nowhere to be seen
and the immediate area was zombie free, at least for the
moment.

“Check the cab. I'll keep watch,” Jake told
Kat and she smiled.

Kat loved rifling through other people's
belongings. She couldn't help it. She was curious. She never
took
anything. Well, except for that hairbrush from Rae's
toiletry kit, and the buxom woman had never missed it had she? And
that tube of 'ripe plum' lipstick from Gwen's pack, because
super-dark lipstick just didn't work with the blonde's complexion.
And then there was George's favorite pair of brass knuckles,
because they fit just
perfectly
under her right glove. Then
there was...

“What are you waiting for?” Jake asked.

“Oh. Sorry.” Cho shook her head. “Just
thinking.”

The writer kept his face neutral. “Kat, can
you please stop getting distracted by thoughts of shiny, pretty
things, or the clouds, and check the damn cab?:

Cho stuck her tongue out at him and opened
the passenger side door.

Kat found the vehicle's interior complemented
its patchwork exterior. The seats had large rips (that had been
clumsily fixed with duct tape), there were no fewer than forty
empty cigarette packs strewn about on the floorboards, every
ashtray was full to overflowing, a half-empty bottle of Wild Turkey
had been jammed into the now broken cup holder, there was an old
air freshener in the shape of the Playboy bunny symbol, and the top
of the gearshift was an 8-ball.

“Anything?” Jake asked, still watching the
school entrance.

Kat shut the door again. “Proof, if proof
were needed, that some people should be sterilized at birth so they
can't multiply. Good lord, I don't know when I last saw an '8-ball'
gear shift.”

Jake cringed. “That does kind of show a
distinct lack of taste.”

“Oh, it looks like Penny has taste.” Kat
sniffed. “It's in her ass, but she has taste.”

Shaking his head, Jake motioned towards the
school. Kat nodded and, with him once again in tow, trotted for the
entrance. The structure was still in decent shape, even taking into
account an obvious lack of maintenance. The surrounding lawns were
overgrown and debris was in the roadside gutters everywhere. Empty
soda, beer and water bottles, discarded candy-bar and snack
wrappers, abandoned personal items. Jake noticed quite a few old
piles of what had to be human feces on the steps to the front doors
as well. Someone had evidently not been a fan of public
education.

Upon reaching the entryway, the pair took
position to the right of the door and 'stacked'. This was a room
entry technique Jake had known previously, and Foster had drilled
into their group during the month-long training within his Columbus
safe-house, just prior to them setting out on their mad,
cross-country trek.

The author had originally learned it from a
crusty old SEAL when he was a civilian combat journalistic
consultant (read: battlefield target) while overseas with Britain’s
SAS. The aged warrior had drilled his training brick over and over
and over again, until they could, '
Fucking perform the fucking
process fucking properly! '
as the older man had so eloquently
put it. The entry team lined up on the same side of a door. The
second man put his hand on the first man's shoulder; the third man
put his on the second man's and so on. The last man in the stack
readied himself (or herself), and then squeezed the shoulder of the
one in front of him. Moving up the line, each man gave the one to
their front the signal, until the lead man felt the squeeze on
his
shoulder. Then knowing the team was ready, they entered
the room. The first going left, the second going right, on down the
line, until the entire group was inside (preferably in three
seconds or less), and they proceeded to decimate any opponents
within.

Jake squeezed Cho's shoulder and they moved
forward as one. Kat sped through the open doorway suppressed Glock
first with O'Connor on her heels, Hammer pistol extended over her
left shoulder.

The lobby was empty, save for months’ worth
of grime and rodent droppings. A pair of stairwells led up to the
second floor down the echoing hallway to the right. To the left,
dirty windows that lined the high school's main office glared
silently back at them from another hallway, distorting the duos
reflections into fun-house versions.

“Yeah, I almost shot your reflection,” Kat
admitted. She holstered her pistol and pulled her Grandfather's
sword from its scabbard along her back. “What say you wait here and
I'll have a look around?”

Jake shot a nervous glance left down the
gloomy hallway. “I dunno. That's not a good—”

He turned in Kat's direction to find he'd
been talking to an empty space.

“—idea,” Jake grumbled hotly. How the hell
did she
do
that? He'd only looked away for two seconds at
the most; that wasn't enough time to even make to the nearest
corner! Searching the ground, Jake realized he didn't even see
Kat's footprints in the dust covering the floor.

That is just not fair,
he thought,
creeping down the left-most hallway,
the way she thumbs her nose
at the laws of nature like she does.

Jake continued slowly into the darkness,
keeping close to the locker-lined wall for cover. He reached an
intersection and saw a sign for the cafeteria down to the right.
Pausing to pull a Sharpie marker out of his vest, he quickly drew a
large arrow on the wall, along with a large 'J', that way Kat could
follow. The pretty ninja-girl probably knew exactly where he was
anyway. She seemed to always know. That was another of her slightly
disturbing abilities, but just in case...

Taking care not to create a 'silhouette' for
some lucky, truck-driving redneck to shoot at, Jake continued
towards the cafeteria. If he knew Kat, she was going for Jerry and
Benjamin up on the second floor. He didn't know whether he felt
worried for her or sorry for them. That would leave him with Penny.
While Jake was quite certain anyone who'd managed to survive this
long with zombies running around everywhere could take care of
themselves, the simple fact he had surprise on his side should give
him an edge. Penny and her companions knew he and Kat were around
somewhere, but they didn't know
they
knew. That should allow
Cho and himself to get the jump on their respective targets.

Listen to me, all tactical and shit.
Jake mused as he crouched beside the cafeteria doorway.
What the
hell are we doing? We're not soldiers. Dammit, I never should've
insisted we follow these people.

Realizing there was nothing to do but press
on, Jake slo-o-owly eased around the doorjamb and into the
cafeteria proper. The first thing he noticed was the smell. The
eatery stank to high heaven and, considering the writer had been in
close proximity with a crap-load of zombies in recent months, that
was saying something. Few people knew the level of stench attached
to a rotting corpse, let alone one that had been wearing pants full
of its own shit for two or more months that was also normally
coated in other people’s blood. The stomach-turning aroma was
unique. Impressive didn't cover it. Neither did foul, disgusting,
or ungodly. The only smell Jake could compare it to was the inside
of a full port-a-john left in the summer sun all day, with a
hundred pounds of expired pork smeared all over its interior for
good measure. While the smell inside the cafeteria wasn't
quite
that bad, it surely ran a close second. When he passed
the serving counter, Jake learned why. Beneath the glass where
trays of what were once baked beans, mac n' cheese, mashed
potatoes, and (maybe) hot dogs, but he just couldn't tell. The mold
was just too thick. O'Connor squinted and gave his head a hearty
shake. The smell was enough to make his eyes water, but he needed
to remain focused. There was a trio of not-so-friendly people
somewhere in the building, and he needed to deal with one of them
sharpish.

Jake moved slowly through the half-light, his
head swiveling from side-to-side, eyes never still to insure he
took in the entire room. It wouldn't do him any good to 'tunnel' at
this juncture. That could get him killed as easily as any
zombie.

Tunneling, as it was referred to, meant
someone became so focused on watching what was directly in front of
them, they disregarded everything else. This was an extremely
dangerous habit most soldiers were encouraged to break, usually by
way of their Gunny, Master Chief, or Drill Instructors size eleven
combat boot upside their gluteus maximus. Not being aware of your
surroundings and not noticing a threat (like some terrorist asshole
with an AK-47 come out of the crapper to your left), could not only
get
you
killed, but some of your squad-mates too.

So Jake let his gaze rove slowly about the
room as he crept along, avoiding scattered trays, utensils, and the
occasional long-dry smears of what could only be blood. Try as he
might, he just couldn't help but wonder what it had been like
within the school when the dead rose just a few months prior. How
many had died there? Had they attempted to fight or simply flee?
Had any of the students survived? Had their families come in search
of them and found only their slaughtered loved ones, or had they
been consumed by the creatures too? He'd never know.