Shamblers: the zombie apocalypse (10 page)

“I’ll head back around to the other side of the building since they know we
are here,” Wendy told me.

I pointed to the Spaniard and replied,
“good idea, and take that shotgun this fucker dropped back to Clod when you do.”

She ran back the way we had
come. I crouched down into the alley. From my position, I could see if anyone was coming. I readied my revolver just in case I could get a shot off.

A
minute later, I heard the tell-tale blasts of two different shotguns from the opposite end of the police station. One was definitely Wendy’s. Her shooting may not have been designed to use as covering fire, but I took it as such.

I bolted out of the alley. Ahead of me, I noticed that the
shotgun rounds had blasted the windows out of a house and nearly ripped the front door to shreds. I ducked as I moved across the street and passed two unidentified, dead bodies. The shotguns behind me went off a few more times. Clearly, Wendy and Clod had seen a target inside the house.

As I reached the front porch, I sprinted up the steps and body-checked the front door. I felt the door slam into someone who’d been hiding behind it, and I heard the pained yell of a woman. It had to be Karin.

I hit the door so hard that I sailed well beyond it and into a foyer. It turned out to be a good thing: the laser sight that was built into Yates’ pistol went zipping by and I heard a number of rounds blast into the door-frame where I easily could have been standing.

I slid on my stomach along the hardwood floor and hastily spun over. Another shot
from Yates exploded a vase on a table to my right.

I noticed that Karin was on her hands and knees at the front-left of the hall. She was still recovering from getting hit by the door. I aimed and took two shots a
t her: both struck her abdomen.

As she gurgled and cried, I backed further into the hall to get away fr
om the doorway where I knew Yates was hiding in.

“You still don’t have to do this,” he called out to me.

“Yes I do, fucker!” I answered.

“What did I do to you?” he asked as Karin writhed around in the hallway between us.

“Not a fucking thing, really,” I told him, “I just want your town and your men want a new leader.”

Another shotgun blast went off. Karin went silent and her body rolled over. Wendy had polished her off once she had
gotten a clean shot. The girl was reliable, I’d give her that much. It was still a waste of a nice piece of ass, nonetheless. Yet killing her had been necessary: my friends had previously assured me that Karin would never betray Yates.

“Who’s with you still?” Yates asked.

“I have Wendy, Sha’Quizz and Clod,” I told him. “It’s us against you. The rest of the few townsfolk left don’t have the heart or skill to fight it out with us –or the weapons.”

There was a moment of silence. Finally, Yates spoke. His tone was that of utter defeat, “let me go and you can have the town. There’s nothing left for me here anymore
now that my most trusted associates have betrayed me.”

“Toss that sick-ass fucking gun of yours into the hallway,” I told him.

A second later, his pistol thudded against the wood floor. It came to a rest near one of Karin’s outstretched hands. “Now show yourself to me with your fucking hands up,” I ordered.

Yates stepped out of the doorway
and did as he was told.

“All clear!” I yelled to my
acquaintances, “I’m coming out with Yates!”

I led Yates outside and capped Karin in the head as I stepped over her. In the middle of the street, waiting for us, were Wendy, Clod, and Sha’Quizz. Yates looked at them in disgust. “I supposed you have all seen the last of me,” he said dejectedly. I thought I had served you well, but it seems like you’ve had other ideas.”

“Give me a report!”
I demanded as I cut off Yates little speech.

“We killed everyone who was left but that priest guy
. He got away,” Sha’Quizz let me know.

“Fuck him; he’s no threat to us now. Good work my friends
.” I smiled and pointed to Yates then informed my crew, “I’ve agreed to let him go in exchange for leadership of Payne’s Creek. I’ll now be fulfilling all my promises to you kind folk.”

“Beg yer pardon, but that doesn’t
sound none too wise, I reckon. Letting him go, I mean, not the promises,” Clod whistled in between the many teeth that had been punched out of him earlier. He sounded even more like a hick than before.

“
Well, there is one more thing I should mention,” I said. I set my gaze upon Yates. He turned around to look me in the face. I pointed up to the clock-tower with my right index finger.

A shot rang out.

It went right through Yates’ heart.

As the last seconds of his life ticked by, I leaned down and whispered in his ear, “I forgot to mention
earlier that your sniper is also working with us.”

Part Three: The Showdown

Chapter Thirteen

I gasped for breath.
My body felt as if it was on fire. Invisible flames ran through my side. It was painful just to think. I saw a zombie shift somewhere off to my right. The basement door slammed shut. It was nearly pitch black. My adrenaline spiked. I rolled as best as I could and I opened my backpack.

I grabbed the flashlight I’d been provided with and flicked it on. It didn’t make the scene less pleasant. The zombie
in the basement with me hadn’t come up the stairs because it was almost as badly debilitated as I was: both its legs were missing above the knees, and one arm was broken in multiple places.

Had it been a “healthy” zombie, it would have been goodbye Nick. I had hit the luck of the draw as far as the Undead Lotto went.

Wincing through the agony, I grabbed my
tire-iron and waited for it to get near me. I certainly was in no shape to move if I had wanted to. As it slowly clawed its way closer with its bony fingers scratching grooves in the dirt, I heard a loud scraping and a bang from upstairs. Marcus had likely blocked the door to prevent me from leaving. That dick.

The crippled zombie got closer. I cracked its hand with my
tire-iron as it got within range. Most of the fingers broke and one snapped off entirely. It stuck to the tire-iron as I brought it up again and smacked it down across the zombie’s elbow. Now, both its arms were broken. Were there any amputee jokes to be made, this would have been an opportune moment.

Even with broken arms and missing legs,
the zombie was still undaunted. It works its way closer inch by inch. I waited until its head was within range of my weapon. I didn’t have a ton of strength given my predicament so I wanted to make my shot matter. I silently counted in my head as it got closer. When I hit ten, I brought the pipe down on the zombie’s skull with all the force I could muster.

My
tire-iron lodged itself firmly in the zombie’s head. I didn’t even have the strength to try to pull it free. Luckily, Mr. Cripple stopped moving. I breathed deep, yelled in pain as I exhaled, and listened.

As far as I could tell, I was all alone down here.
I positioned myself so I could a get good look inside my backpack. I knew there was first aid gear in there somewhere. After what felt like an eternity, I located bandages, gauze, disinfectant, and some anti-clotting powder. Considering the whole apocalypse and stuff, it was really an amazing amount of medical stuff. Once again, luck was with me.

I pulled my shirt up and tried to use the flashlight
to inspect the wound on my left side, near one of my bottom ribs. Blood was pooling all in my abdomen and in my navel. It was running down my side and into the dirt. I stuck one of my backpack straps into my mouth and bit down on it. I knew that no matter what I did, my attempt at playing doctor was going to fucking hurt, but I didn’t feel like dying here.

I first dumped the clotting stuff over the wound. It burned like one of the
Cali fires we had every summer. I screamed into my backpack strap while I bit down furiously onto it and soaked it with my saliva. I was surprised that my high-pitched wail didn’t shatter the grimy basement window near me. I dumped the disinfectant on next. It also caused intense burning, followed by more screams. By now, I was sweating even though I felt cold. My breathing was ragged and labored.

“Control yourself Nick,” I told myself, “I’m gonna get through this.” It sounded good. I st
arted to repeat the phrase in my head. I took the gauze next, and packed it into my wound; that action generated more agonized screams. Tears were now running down my face. As much as my injury plagued me, it seemed as if the .38 bullet had bounced off a rib and wasn’t lodged inside of me. That was encouraging. I was pretty certain my rib was broken, but nothing internally felt too terrible (as far as I could tell). I wasn’t sure if I had an exit wound, so I rolled slightly to check as I pressed down on the gauze.

This was the most painful roll
ing motion of my life. In fact, it was really the only painful rolling move I could recall up to now. Unfortunately, it had to be done.

I got on
to my right side somehow. While I propped myself up with my right elbow, I used my right hand to push on the gauze. I mostly kept my balance with my feet. At least I wasn’t paralyzed. With my left hand, I felt around my back as I searched for an exit wound. I didn’t find one and neither did any part of my back hurt. This meant two things: either the bullet was inside of me, which would be very bad given the lack of doctors nowadays and the certainty of an infection, or it had ricocheted off my rib. I hoped for the later.

While still on my
right side, I fumbled around with my left hand until I retrieved the roll of bandages I’d discovered in my pack a few minutes ago. I wrapped them mostly around my body then rolled back onto my back to get them all the way around. I had to shift myself a few times to adequately wrap the wound. Each time I did, it sent shockwaves of pain throughout my torso.

By the time I got done, it was a miracle I hadn’t gnawed right through the backpack strap. With that excruciating and miserable
bandaging deed taken care of, I lied on the floor and tried to get my breathing back to normal.

Even bandaged,
I still felt like shit that had been shot, set on fire, and bled half to death, but I was a little bit better off than I had been just minutes before. This wasn’t a permanent fix (by any means). I just hoped it would be sufficient to keep me alive.

I’m not sure how long I rested there. I know I somehow propped myself up so I was sitting. It hurt
fiercely at first, but once I was up, I felt the pain lessen ever slightly. I reached into my backpack again and I drank half my ration of water in about two gulps. I was so thirsty. I then mawed down all of my food. I would worry about starving later. For now, I needed energy.

My mind raced and I thought of what to do next. Suddenly, I recalled Becky! I hoped Marcus hadn’t killed her!

“Becky!” I yelled out hoarsely in case she was still upstairs. “Can you hear me?”

A minute later I heard her voice, “Nick?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my God, Nick! You’re alive?”

“Yeah.”

“I heard all kinds of screams. I thought you were getting eaten.”

“I…..ahhhhh….I got the zombie,” I told her through pained breaths. “It…..didn’t bite me.”

“Oh thank
heaven!” She shouted. “How bad is your wound?”

“I’m…..hurting…..ahhhh…pretty good. I….don’t really know.”

“I’ll try to get you help as soon as possible.” she said. “Marcus has gone somewhere, he may be looting. I think he’ll be back. I don’t know what I can do. He’s tied me up and left me in the freezer.”

That bastard; if I saw my way out of this I’d make him pay.

“I’ll tell him you’re dead,” she continued. It was good just to hear another voice and better to hear Becky come up with a reasonable plan. “I’ll make him think the shambler got you. That’ll give you a chance to escape.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

“Just be sure you stay quiet down there. Don’t make any noise. I’ll stomp twice on the floor hard when we go to leave so you know it’s clear. Don’t try to come up until then.”

“Gotcha.”

“Hey Nick?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you. Please don’t die on me down there.”

I smiled even though it hurt. I felt a little renewed strength and sense of purpose. “I’ll try.” I told her.

I could almost see her smile from here.

“Good,” she added, “now conserve your energy.” 

I don’t know how much time passed after she finished speaking, but I think I fell asleep for a while. I had some bizarre dreams and I awoke to a loud THUMP THUMP on the floor from upstairs. It took me a minute to remember what it was: Becky’s signal. The coast was clear.

I had to get out of this basement
now while I was still able to or I’d never see another sunrise.

Moving up the stairs was a brutal effort. I did it step by step
and basically used my arms to hoist my ass up to each step. I had to pause for a few minutes between each one. At one point, I was crying like a girl.

When at last I reached the door, I heaved against it. It didn’t budge.

“Ah fuck!” I cursed.

Even if I was healthy I would have had trouble pushing the door open. In my current, weakened state, I doubted I’d be able to push against whatever Marcus had placed in front of it. My other option was the window.

With my flashlight, I scanned the basement for anything I could find that could either help me get through the door or climb out through the window. My flashlight beam first revealed some square, wooden crates about two feet high. They were certainly stackable but looked too heavy to move. Next, I noticed an old, rusted wheelchair. Just beyond it was a pile of blankets that may have once been the Crippled Zombie’s bed. There were a number of empty prescription pill bottles around the bed, along with some empty Chinese food containers, and some other containers, including a thermos. That was encouraging. Perhaps there was still water, food, or (even better) painkillers that I could consume.

To the left of that stuff, I noticed a yellow janitor’s bucket and mop and various cleaning supplies.

None of this stuff looked like it would aid me with my dilemma, but it was enough to make the trip across the basement worthwhile. I wasn’t too happy with the notion that I’d need to go back down the basement stairs after I had struggled up them, but what else could be done?

Thus, I made the long, arduous
crawl down the stairs, around the crates and the old, rusted wheel-chair, and to the pile of blankets. In the midst of my pain, I searched through everything there. I found no food, but the thermos contained water. I hastily drank it down. The pills bottles that weren’t empty contained medicines I’d never heard of. I didn’t want to grow breasts unexpectedly (or something), so I decided to bypass them.

I then located a crumpled up note that read:

My dearest Maria, there are rumors that the infection is spreading. Jake from the auto repair place came up from Red Bluff this morning and said it looked bad. He said those things… he’s calling them Shamblers now, are starting to get out of control. I don’t think it will be safe here for much longer. I have agreed to let Rob take the kids to the Latour State Forest by McMullen Mountain. Rob thinks it will be safer out there. He’s agreed to come back for me in three days time. I wish that damn diabetes hadn’t taken my legs or I’d go out and search for you. I love you, but you pick the worst times to try to score a fix. I hope you return before Rob. If not, look for us at McMullen Mountain. Stay safe and only travel during the day. 

Love always,

Mark

I crumpled the note up and tossed it away.
As I shot a glance at the Crippled Zombie, who was likely once a junkie named Mark, I muttered, “look’s like Rob never came back, huh buddy?”

My next move was a search of the blankets.
Beneath the first one, I found a syringe and a packet of heroin. Perhaps that’s what had killed Mr. Cripple/Mark. As far as I could tell, the contents of the syringe looked like some of the heroin I’d seen people shoot up during the pre-apocalypse days.

I was never a drug user, and never would have considered sticking myself with a possibly used needle of unknown contents, but at the moment I was in so much agony that I didn’t care. “Here’s to hoping you didn’t have fucking AIDS,” I declared to the Crippled Zombie
/Mark as I undid a backpack strap and tied it around my forearm. Once I could see a vein, I took a deep breath, said a quick prayer, and injected myself.

Within seconds, I felt my pain start to fade. I was hit with a high that was simply mind-boggling.
My whole body and mind relaxed. It no longer seemed like I was seconds from death.

Hit with a blast of euphoria,
I continued my search of the basement. As I scanned the room with my flashlight this time, I noticed a long crowbar leaning against one crate. It had been blocked from my view before. It was my ticket out of here.

With the heroin in my system, I could now stand up with only minor pain
and didn’t even think about ripping my wound open more as I moved. I walked to the crowbar, retrieved it and went up the stairs.

Forcing the door open took some effort, and I took a few breaks, but I was able to get it to move. Once it was wide enough for me to slip through, I dropped the crowbar to the kitchen floor and shimmied through the opening.

I took a glance around the kitchen. It was empty. Marcus and Becky were nowhere in sight. I breathed a sigh. Everything really felt alright with the world. That’s when I nodded off from the heroin.