The Dark Trinity (Book 1): Shuffle (21 page)

CHAPTER 28 
  WAITING FOR
THE MOON

The little dog ran through the blistery cold. The light snow
that was falling upon the ruined earth pelted him in the face as he sped on.
The moon above was getting higher. Boomer kept an eye on the moon at all times,
waiting for his cue to cross the river. His breathing labored, as he had been
running almost nonstop since leaving his home hours earlier. If it weren’t for
the bad-smelling people who were hurting all the normal people, he could have
made it to Master much faster, but he had to be careful and clever.

He let out a whimper as he ran. He got a bad feeling at that
moment. One of those instinctual feelings that animals tend to get. He could
feel that Master was in trouble and scared. That strange voice that had talked
to him in his head had told him that he needed to help his Master and this
feeling had solidified his resolve. He also wondered if he would ever hear that
voice again. It was strange to him, but seemed familiar on some level.

Boomer was exhausted, but he didn’t dare stop to rest, for
fear that he would fail Master. He loved his human with all his little puppy
heart and the thought of losing him made him whimper again. No, now was not the
time to rest. That time would come once he found Master. The loyal dog
continued on his unknown journey, watching the moon and waiting for it to tell
him his next move.

CHAPTER 29 
  LORRAINE

The click of the pistol caused both zombies to give a
collective sigh. All they wanted was to get a break from the train-wreck of a
day that they've had. Slowly, they both turned to face the new threat behind
them, raising their hands above their heads, again.

Looking back at them with terrified eyes, an older woman in
her fifties stood there pointing a rather large revolver at them. Her hands
were shaking so violently, you could swap the gun for a fork and let her
scramble eggs on autopilot. Nathan sensed that the gun was going to fire at any
moment.

“Look lady, we aren’t going to hurt you, I promise. I know
this looks bad, but I beg you to put the gun down so that we can explain our
unfortunate situation,” he told the woman.

Now the woman’s bingo-fat-laden arms were jiggling, as she
struggled to keep the barrel centered on Nathan’s head. Her eyes shifted
between the two hostages. After a long pause, her gaping mouth finally started
to form words. “You brought all those things here! We were safe until you
showed up!” she spit out.

Taking quick stock of the small pub, Nathan detected at least
four more bodies huddled behind the bar. The woman must have sensed that he
knew where the others were and took a step forward, stretching the gun outward
in a more provoking manner.

“Whoa, lady, like I said, we’re not gonna hurt you.” Nathan
wished his zombie voice didn’t sound so distorted and well, terrifying. It made
calming the woman down damn near impossible. He raised his hands a little
higher and took a cautious step towards the woman and stopped.

“Those things out there are after us too. We’re all on the
same team here, okay? All we need is a way out of here and we’ll be gone before
you know it,” he continued.

The woman narrowed her eyes, sizing up the two dead men who
stood before her. The gun lowered ever so slightly and didn’t seem to be
shaking quite as much. “This is a trick, isn’t it? You sweet talk me into
letting my guard down and then you eat my brains the moment I turn my back to
you!”

“Lady, if we wanted to eat your brains, we’d already be
drinking them out of your skull,” Ronnie blurted out.

Nathan grimaced in frustration at the rebuttal. The woman’s
terror renewed and the gun snapped back up, this time pointing towards Ronnie’s
face. He just stood there and smiled at her, his teeth stained with the blood
of rats and city chicken. This of course, caused some serious setbacks in their
negotiation.

“I must apologize for my friend here,” Nathan said. “We’ve
really had a shitty day and could use a bit of good luck.”

The woman moved her sights back onto him, but kept a
suspicious eye on Ronnie.

“I give you my word that we are not here to harm you and I
promise that if there’s a way out of this building, we will be out of here
immediately.”

The three stood there in the middle of the bar in a silent
tension. Nathan took a gamble and made another miniscule, slow and deliberate
step towards the woman.

“What’s your name, darling?” he asked. “What should I call
you?”

“Lorraine,” the woman replied after a moment’s hesitation.

“Hello Lorraine, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Nathan and
my idiot friend here is Ronnie.” Another small step forward.

Lorraine dropped her guard a little and the gun came down,
now pointing to his groin. She seemed to be unaware of where the barrel
pointed, but Nathan sure noticed.

“I sincerely apologize for barging in here like we did, but
we were short on options and didn’t have time to knock,” he said in the best
calming tone he could gurgle out. Another small, cautious step forward.
Lorraine now stood a mere five feet away.

“I must commend you on surviving this long. Those things
outside have been scouring the area for us, searching every building and car.
I’m amazed that they haven't found you yet,” he said, trying to be as
conversational as possible.

The revolver lowered a little more, much to his relief.
Regenerative powers or not, getting his junk blown into oblivion was not an
option. He took another small step towards Lorraine. She looked pretty
conflicted at the fact that one of the horrors from outside was now standing
right in front of her talking eloquently.

“I would also like to thank you for not shooting us,
Lorraine,” Nathan said as he continued his diplomacy. “Even though we appear to
be sort of dead, it still doesn’t feel good to get shot.” He made another
shuffle towards Lorraine, his hands still raised high over his head.

As luck would have it, the bar was a sports bar and had a
rack which hung from the ceiling. On this rack, the barkeep had arranged
several Pittsburgh Steelers football helmets on it. Of course, none of them
were secured to the rack very well. The moment he took his last move towards
Lorraine, Nathan's long claws bumped the shoddy rack, toppling the helmets onto
the barroom floor. The commotion shattered what little calmness he had been
able to instill in Lorraine and the pistol rocketed back to attack position.

“NO WAIT!” Nathan screamed, but his yell came out more like a
drowning ferret, not to mention, too late.

Lorraine squeezed the trigger of her much-too-big-for-her gun
and sent a large bullet screaming through the air. It tore into Nathan’s
shoulder; shattering bone and shredding muscle and tendons before it blew out
an apple-sized hole through his back.

His instincts took over. In an instant, he leaped at the
immediate danger. Before the woman got another shot off, his razor-sharp claws
swooshed down, severing Lorraine's arm just above the elbow. Before her
forearm, which still held the gun, hit the floor, he backhanded the woman,
sending her across the bar and onto a pool table. Her screams echoed throughout
the building and out into the street, which threw the horde of the dead into an
even bigger frenzy.

“JESUS CHRIST! Why does everybody feel the need to fucking
shoot me??!!”

“Ha! Dinner time!” Ronnie exclaimed

“No! Remember, we can’t eat them,” Nathan said.

Disappointment washed over Ronnie’s face. “Yeah, I know. It’s
just that all that blood has made me hungry.”

Nathan steadied himself and tried to regain his composure.
His newest wound had already begun to heal as bone fragments ejected and new
bone, tendon, and muscle wove new structures. Lorraine’s wails and sobs played
a morbid soundtrack to the violence that had just transpired. He glanced over
at the bar and could see the glowing aura of the other humans, huddled so close
together they appeared to him to be one big glowing blob.

He hated himself for hurting the old woman, but honestly, he
was really getting tired of being shot. Things needed to start moving along; it
was only a matter of time before the Horde found a way inside. Ronnie eyeballed
Lorraine like a veal cutlet. In Ronnie’s defense though, Nathan couldn’t help
but feel a strong pang of hunger as Lorraine’s blood oozed down his cheek.

He jumped up onto the bar in a single leap and perched like a
vulture on the edge, looking down at the humans who had just heard the whole
negotiation go sour.

“Alright folks, I know you’re all scared, but she didn’t give
me a choice. She blew a hole in me the size of Texas and well, that kind of
hurt and now I’m more than a little bit pissed off. So, unless you would like
me to feed you nice people to my hungry friend over there, I suggest someone
starts being helpful and points us to the nearest exit.”

The huddled group stared back at him with wide, saucer-like
eyes as they observed the gaping hole in his shoulder close up. Then, a man of
about thirty stood up bravely from the bunch and extended his hand. “My name is
Ricky.”

The fact that this guy was trying to shake his hand shocked
Nathan. He had to give the guy credit, the man had balls. “Well, Ricky, it's a
pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he replied. He reached out his own hand
and enfolded Ricky’s with his wicked talons.

Ricky’s reaction was clear as he began to sweat like Niagara
Falls and his heart rate spiked through the roof. He watched as the monstrous
claw closed around his palm. His eyes looked up to meet Nathan’s, which were
anything but comforting. All he could see in them was a glossy red reflection
of himself. A bloody grin stretched across the zombie’s face. The corners of
his mouth split, as if his mouth had opened too wide and had torn the skin.

Nathan released his grip on Ricky’s hand. “I assume that you
stood up because you are able to help us escape?” he asked.

“Yes...Yes sir,” Ricky replied. “There’s a door that leads to
the back alley and there’s the front door...”

“Now Ricky, I’m sure you’re aware that this building is
literally crawling with thousands of things that look like me, right?” Nathan
interrupted.

“Um...Yes...” the young man managed to whimper.

“And you also realize that the only way you and your
companions are going to live is if my friend and I leave, right?”

This sobering statement seem to jog Ricky’s memory somewhat,
because his face lit up with an idea. “OH! I almost forgot about the secret
passage!” he exclaimed.

“Whuft pheakwret paffage?” Ronnie asked.

Both Nathan and Ricky turned to Ronnie, who was munching away
on Lorraine’s severed arm, the hand dangling down pointing the revolver towards
the floor.

“DROP IT!” Nathan yelled at him.

Like before, Ronnie realized what he was doing and dropped
the bloody appendage like it was the plague. “Awww, shit dude, I fucking did it
again!” he exclaimed, disgusted with himself. “Now I’m gonna go get all
stupid.”

“Well, if you keep eating everybody you will,” he replied.

After staring at his friend for a long moment to make sure he
did in fact leave the arm alone, he turned back around to Ricky, who looked
mortified by Ronnie’s snack. “You were saying, about the secret passage?”

“Uh...Oh...Yeah, there’s a trap-door in the back room that
leads to a sub-basement,” Ricky started, not taking his eyes off of Ronnie.
“There’s a metal door on the far side of the sub-basement. I’m not sure where
it goes, but I know that it will take you out of here.”

“Thank you, Ricky. You’ve been extremely helpful.” Nathan
looked over at the old woman who was now bleeding out and unconscious on the
pool table. “Oh, you may want to tend to your friend over there. She’s not
looking well.”

He hopped off his perch on the bar and walked towards the
door leading to the back room. “C’mon buddy, let’s get the hell out of here.”

The two zombies left the main bar area and moved into the
back room, closing the door behind them. They searched the floor and finally
found the trap door that Ricky had mentioned. It was small, not larger than two
feet square, and sat in a dark corner of the room. It wasn’t easy to spot, so
that would buy them some time should the Horde breach the bar.

Ronnie pulled the door open and peered down into the dark.
“Looks clear, bro.”

“You alright?” Nathan asked his friend.

“Yeah, bro. I’m good. How ‘bout you? How’s the shoulder?”

“Good as new I guess,” he answered, rotating his arm as if he
needed to prove it.

A scream sounded out in the bar.
“OH MY GOD, SHE’S ONE OF
THEM! SHE FUCKING TURNED INTO ONE OF THEM,”
someone shouted. Another person
screamed, then a gun fired. A loud crash followed and then more screaming.
“HOLY
FUCK, THE OLD BITCH BIT ME! WHAT THE...? WHAT ARE YOU DOING? DON’T POINT THAT
THING AT ME? I’M NOT ONE OF THEM...”
Another gunshot ended that.

Nathan looked at his claws and saw the small grooves that ran
down the top of each spur. Upon closer inspection, he saw a thin line of thick,
sticky liquid seeping out at the bulbous knob where his fingernail had been.
Toxin. Nathan hadn’t even noticed that his hands were now just as lethal as his
mouth. Now he felt horrible about hacking off Lorraine’s arm. He didn’t want to
hurt the woman and he certainly didn’t want to infect her.

The commotion out in the bar was escalating even further, so
the two friends decided that they had overstayed their welcome. Taking one last
look at the bar door, they took turns jumping down into the sub-basement below,
Nathan closing the trap door behind him.