I decided not to try my luck inside the parking lot and parked just off the road. I could see various heads bobbing around. Not a lot of them, but that meant that zombies were in this area. I had to consider my car would attract them if I drove right in front of the store. I couldn’t take that chance.
With my AR-15 hung from my chest on a single point sling, Boomer and I made our way to the store. The canine was definitely on alert as we crossed over into the parking lot. He made various nervous gestures towards a group of cars a couple of hundred feet away from us. I was sure there were zombies hiding between the vehicles, but either they were comatose or just didn’t know we were out there.
On the side of the Ace Hardware, there was an outside fenced area where they would keep their plants and other outdoor equipment. The fence had a chain dangling from it like they had tried to prevent looters from coming in. Thankfully, the lock had been hacked off. Evidently, someone else had needed something from inside the store. The front windows were still intact, though, which meant if anything was in there, it hadn’t left.
The outside part of the store wasn’t that big and only had two broken up aisles. I could see plants thrown to the side, other things knocked off of shelves, and one of the two glass doors had its bottom shattered out, but was still shut. I guess they reached in and unlocked it. I quietly thanked the fellow looter.
As we made our way in, I let Boomer take the lead. I had a feeling the he knew that we were there for a good reason, and it was his job to make sure the area was safe. Boomer rounded each aisle, and then stopped at the broken door. His ears were up, he sniffed away, and then he flattened his ears and came back to me. It wasn’t a good sign. I wondered if the looters that broke in ever made it out.
I hesitated. Gunshots inside would undoubtedly attract the zombies in the parking lot. Though I was sure the glass in the front of the store was sturdier than your average home, I knew these things were strong and it would just be a matter of time before they broke through. Going into the store now violated a couple of the rules I had set for myself. Terror was starting to overwhelm me. I started to turn and leave as panic set in. There was no way I was going in there.
You came here for a reason, son.
My dad’s voice echoed in my head.
It was the conversation we had when I decided to join the military. We were at the recruiting station. He drove Dave and me up to Jacksonville to be sworn in and sign the final papers that would enlist us into the Army. Dave had rushed into the building to relieve his bladder, and it was just my dad and me in the car. My father was halfway out his door but I had yet to budge.
“You came here for a reason, son,” my father said as he sat back down in the driver’s seat. “If you don’t want to do it because you feel it’s not for you, that’s okay. But don’t back out because you’re scared. It’s okay to be afraid, but never let that fear make the decisions for you.”
My dad was never short of inspiring words, even if they were negative. In that case, he knew I was afraid. I tried to hide it, but my father could read through any mask I tried to wear. I was scared to face off with a Drill Sergeant, afraid to live the hard life my dad had, and scared shitless of going to war. I wasn’t really afraid of dying. Hell, most kids my age thought we were immortal.
“Okay, dad, I’ll bite this time,” I whispered to myself, staring at Boomer who was on alert. “Come on Boom, we’re not done here yet.” Boomer tilted his head and looked at me like I was an asshole, but he complied.
We moved over to the entrance, and Boomer peeked in. He gave me one last pitiful look before he leaped through the bottom part of the door, carefully avoiding the broken glass. I checked the handle, and pulled. It was unlocked. I opened it up and peered in.
The front windows shed light throughout the entrance area of the store, which was good. This reassured me in my choosing Ace Hardware instead of one of the other bigger stores. Home Depot and Lowes had huge aisles, and I was sure most of the building would be too dark to move through safely, even without the threat of zombies. That being said, the light only went so far into the Ace Hardware store. The back of the store was cast in a dark shadow.
There was also the familiar smell of rotting flesh. By then, most of the town carried the scent of death, but there was no mistaking when the dead were close. The odor was stronger and more pungent. Thankfully, we were near the outdoor tool aisle. I grabbed a pitchfork and let my rifle hang loose in front of me. The long tool seemed like a good plan. I could push zombies away from me without being in striking distance.
My plan was pretty simple. I grabbed a shopping cart and moved it as quietly as I could near the door we came in. When it was loaded, I would quickly roll it out to my car and unload it. I still hadn’t heard any sounds of the dead, nor had I seen any blood splatters or rotting pieces of flesh. That was a good sign.
Avoiding the back of the store, Boomer and I made our rounds silently and carefully. We picked up plenty of driveway lights, spare batteries, and the pair of bolt cutters I wanted. I had grabbed a tool box that I filled with basic tools when Boomer let off a low whine. That, I knew, was a bad sign.
I looked down at my friend and he was pointing in the direction of our exit. I couldn’t see the door because we were a few aisles away, but I could hear something. The sound of small pieces of glass cracking and falling was accompanied by an eerie scraping sound. We prowled through the aisles toward the exit. I listened carefully as the growing sound of a moan came closer.
I rounded the last aisle and saw a giant of a zombie. He must have been six and a half feet tall, and as heavy as my refrigerator. He wore a torn up shirt and his jeans were stained with dry blood. Part of his arm had been gnawed upon and most of his face was missing. Fresh scrapes and gouges were on his stomach and face, with trails of black ooze streaming down his body.
He saw us and croaked like someone who suffered from emphysema.
Boomer hugged the floor and let loose a low growl from his chest. He looked like a lion about to pounce. His snarl seemed to antagonize the brutish zombie, and he sluggishly walked towards us.
I dropped what I was carrying, including the useless pitchfork that would not have a chance of pushing away the monstrosity in front of me. The garden tool clanged as it hit floor, echoing throughout the building.
I lifted my rifle and pointed it up at the zombie’s head. The good thing about the Trijicon red dot sight was that it didn’t need a battery. However, it wasn’t a classic “red dot”, but an orange triangle. The tip of it was where the bullet was supposed to go, that is, as long as it was sighted properly. I was hoping Dave had already zeroed all of his weapons sights before he met his demise.
Right before I could pull the trigger though, the front of the zombie’s head exploded, followed by an echoing but muffled pop. The huge zombie dropped to his knees, then fell on his face.
A dark figure in black combat fatigues stood behind him. His face was painted dark and he was wearing a black floppy hat with a small flashlight duct taped to it. A large caliber rifle was slung on his shoulder. He pointing a pistol at me with a small can fixed to the front of the barrel.
He looked me up and down and then snorted irritably.
“You’re an idiot, kid.”
Chapter 8
Fish
April 3
rd
Afternoon
The sight on my gun was pointed at the man’s chest and for a second, I just stared at him in awe. I didn’t realize it at the time, but even if I had pulled the trigger, nothing would have happened. I never took the safety off of my rifle.
“You want to
not
point your weapon in my direction, kid.” He said it so matter-of-factly that I wasn’t sure if he was threatening me or giving me firearm safety training.
I slowly lowered it. A week had gone by since I had heard another human speak. It took a few moments for what he was saying to register.
“S-sorry about that,” I finally stammered. I was still in shock from seeing the zombie’s head explode. “I would have had it, you know,” I added, trying to sound confident.
“Yeah, and you would of brought a hundred of them down on the store.” He looked around. “I cleared this place two days ago. Why the fuck did you leave the gate open? Why did you bash the lock?” He was saying this as he lowered his gun and started walking in my direction. Boomer wasn’t happy with the way he was approaching me, and gave a teeth-baring growl.
“I didn’t bust the lock, man. And the glass on the door was shattered when I got here.” He was eyeing Boomer, and I think my tough little friend got frightened, because he backed up and hid behind me. “Are-are you a cop or something?” His outfit looked a little like what I thought the local SWAT team wore.
“No,” he said, taking his piercing eyes off of Boomer and bringing them back to me. He was only a few feet in front of me now, and I got a better look at him. He wasn’t that tall. I was six feet and easily stood five inches over him. But he was stocky and broad. Even with black camouflage paint on his face, I could tell he had an easy ten years on me. Something told me this guy was dangerous. He had a very cold and hollow stare to him.
“Are there others with you? I’m all by myself. Well, I mean, I have Boomer here. But I really haven’t seen anyone in almost two weeks.” I was talking fast, and I could tell by the look on his face that he was already irritated with me. I also conveniently left out that I had seen Sarah a week ago. I didn’t feel like telling that story.
He rolled his eyes, and glanced around the store.
“I’m alone, kid.” I could tell he wasn’t much for words. He was standing suspiciously, as if waiting for something unknown to happen.
I petted the back of Boomer’s neck. “I’m Christian. Christian Hunt.”
He eyed me for a second, and at first I didn’t think he was going to tell me his name.
“Fish.” He said after a few moments.
“Fish? Like in the water?” I asked.
“Fish, as in Fischer.” He said, glaring at me crossly.
“Right… Where are you holed up at?” I asked.
He looked around again and I started to understand why. He was worried. Not about zombies, but was trying to see if there was anyone else there to worry about. Maybe he thought there was a group of people with me and we were going to rob him.
“Why do you care?”
“Just asking, man,” I said, a little irritated myself. He wasn’t being that forthcoming or friendly. “Look, it’s just me. I’m alone and I’m tired of being alone. I was just asking because I have some supplies. If it’s just you, maybe we can make a team. You know, survive together.”
He chuckled. Seeing his stone face crack a smile actually made him look scarier.
“You mean, I keep you alive, and you do what? Cook for me? Do my laundry? Word of advice, kid, don’t go around telling people what you have.” He shook his head.
“Look man, I’m valuable,” I returned. “I was in the military. I was Army.”
Fish raised an eyebrow. “Really? What MOS?”
“Ninety-two Yankee.” I said, proudly. This guy must have known his stuff, because most civilians wouldn’t know what a MOS was. If you don’t know, it stands for Military Occupational Specialty, or rather, what your job was in the military.
“Supply?” he asked rhetorically, and chuckled again. “Great. A fucking pogue.” That struck a nerve with me. Not that he made me mad really, but that what he said was hurtful. I thought I was done hearing that when I left the military. No soldier likes that insult.
“Do I look like a pogue to you?” I retorted, and raised my arms to display my gear. “I’ve done pretty well for myself so far.”
“Sure kid,” he said, and turned around as if he no longer considered me a threat. I found that a little insulting too.
“I have,” I told him irritably. He turned back around, a hint of anger showed through his black stone mask.
“Really?” he said harshly as he pointed through the wall to where the outside gate to the fence was. “You leave your six wide open. You’re prancing around town with a mangy dog, and you were about to fire off a very loud weapon on a single Zulu.” He was almost eye to eye with me now. “You’re a fucking pogue, and a stupid one at that. I can’t believe you’ve made it this long.” I would like to note that his breath was pretty foul.
Boomer was growling, but at a safe distance behind me.
Again, I decided to stand my ground. By then, though, I realized Fish was probably a real tough son of a bitch. I knew that if I pushed too hard, he might leave, or kick my ass, or maybe even kill me. I had to be careful, but not seem weak at the same time.
“Okay, I screwed up with leaving the fence open, but Boomer is no ‘mangy dog’. He can sniff these things out. Hell, he warned me about the zombie before he even finished squeezing through the door. And I’ve taken out quite a few
Zulus
too,” I said, emphasizing the term he used for zombies. I tried to portray as much confidence as I could. Now, though, it almost makes me cringe at how stupid I must have sounded.
“Really? Hmm…,” he said mockingly. Fish looked around again. “Have you cleared the store? Made sure nothing else made its way in?”
“Well, I checked out the areas that have light. I wasn’t going to go back in the dark part. That’s crazy, you know?” I said. I actually thought that
not
clearing the back of the store was a smart idea. It almost makes me laugh now at how much of a pogue I really was.
Fish rolled his eyes as he strapped his handgun to his side in a strange belt type holster. I realized that the can on the end of the barrel was actually an oil filter.
He then walked over to one of the shelves and pulled out a heavy sledgehammer. The head of it was already matted with dried splotches of black blood. I guessed he had used it when he cleared this store a couple of days earlier. That was pretty smart. Leaving heavy zombie slaying equipment in a place you planned on coming back to, rather than carrying it around everywhere.
“Like I said, pogue.”
This time I rolled my eyes. I got the feeling nothing I said or did would be to this man’s satisfaction.
He turned on the flashlight that was taped to his hat, and then clicked another one on that was attached to his shoulder. He started to head into the darkness and stopped, and looked back at me.
“You coming, Supply?” he said sarcastically. “I’d rather have you near me than have you mistake me for a Zulu and shoot me in the back.” I wasn’t sure if I liked the nickname ‘Supply’.
I was actually happy he asked me to come, even though he was insulting me by doing so. I thought maybe the guy would trust me.
Boomer and I followed him into the shadows in the back of the store. The smell was worse the farther we went. I started to see the genius of the flashlights. I always held mine, but Fish’s were hands free. One flashlight was always pointing in front of him from his shoulder and the other one on his hat pointed wherever he looked.
It started to occur to me how stupid I was being. How could I trust this guy? I was so excited to see another person that I forgot that the new world was probably unforgiving. But this guy didn’t give me any bad vibes. He was an asshole, but he didn’t seem to be evil.
We came across two corpses. Both of their heads had been smashed into mush. I then understood why he wielded the sledgehammer. Fish had figured out that you had to completely destroy the brain.
I put Dave down twice with gunshot wounds to the head but somehow he was able to recover the first time and would have probably gotten back up the second. It took me cutting off his head to ensure his body wouldn’t reanimate again. You would think that a sledgehammer would be messier, but trust me, a machete is worse. I told myself to grab a large and small hammer on my way out.
We made our rounds through the dark, and didn’t see any other zombies that made their way in. I also made sure to point out to him that Boomer didn’t give any signals that there were Zulus lurking about. Fish just sighed and said he would be impressed when the dog did give a sign.
After we were done checking the store out, we went our separate ways. I don’t think he trusted me at the time, but he didn’t seem too threatened by me. Of course, if I ran into me, I wouldn’t be too threatened either.
We rummaged through the merchandise. I wasn’t sure what he was after, but I finished my shopping list, including the two sledgehammers. We met back up at the side door we came in.
“Look Fish, I was serious about teaming up,” I told him as sincerely as possible. I didn’t want to be alone anymore. But I could tell that was going to be a hard sell.
He looked me up and down, and then looked at Boomer.
“I’m good on my own, kid,” he said, a little too harsh, then softened up a bit to my surprise. “Sorry. Look, I ran into a couple of guys two days ago that wanted nothing but my weapons and food. I’m not about to open my door up to anyone just yet.”
I understood, but I still didn’t want to let go just yet.
“Hey, I understand.” I grabbed a construction pencil and ripped a piece of cardboard off of a box. I wrote down my address and drew out directions. I also added something else.
“What’s this?” he asked as I handed it to him.
“Directions to my house. I know you don’t trust me, and that’s fine, but maybe you might need help, or get overrun wherever you’re at.” He hesitated, then snatched the cardboard out of my hand.
“And what’s this other address?” he asked, pointing at my hastily drawn map. I think he was trying to play it off like he didn’t care, but I could see him working out the directions in his head.
“That’s hopefully going to be my new home. The house is locked down tight, and it has solar panels. I’m hoping I can rig something up.” I remember being excited when I talked about the house, and he probably read the expression on my face because he gave me a curious glare, like he was looking at a child excited about a toy he wanted to buy.
He folded up the cardboard and put it in his cargo pocket. He then unfastened his pistol.
“You should look into getting some oil filters,” he said while checking to make sure his was still fastened to the tip of his barrel. “They’re good at close range and will last for a few hundred rounds.”
I thought Fish giving me advice was a good sign. I had already taken note on the oil filter, though I hadn’t a clue on how to attach it to the barrel.
Up until that point, I was a little worried he would double-cross me. Giving him directions to my house was dangerous. He could come by one day when I was out and steal all of my goods. Or worse, come by to take my stuff when I was home. I was hoping that he was a good man deep down inside.
Fish sort of reminded me of my father. My dad wasn’t nearly as mean, but he wouldn’t mix bones when telling me when I had messed up. That didn’t make my dad, or Fish in this case, a bad person, just blunt. Well, Fish was blunt and unforgiving.
Fish opened the door and stepped out while I secured everything to my cart. He turned around, and poked his head in for another second.
“Do yourself a favor, Supply,” he said, reverting back into his cold tone. “Put that shit in bags and carry them. They’re easier to drop and won’t make noise like that mobile dinner bell you’re loading up. You might be able to outrun the dead, but if a scab hears you, you’ll be in for a fight.” He was already out of view by the time he finished talking.
Scab? What the hell was a scab?
I remember thinking to myself. I poked my head out to ask, but he had already left the fenced area and was rounding the corner.
With the exception of Boomer, I was alone again. Don’t get me wrong, he was great company. But just like Sarah, Fish was there, and then he was gone. Well, not exactly like Sarah. At least Fish wasn’t dead. But still, I quickly became depressed.
I had no idea what he meant by ‘scab’. I thought that maybe that was some of his own jargon referring to bandits or something. He said a couple of guys tried to rob him, and I thought that was the term he was using for them. He could have also meant zombies, though I doubted it because he referred to them as Zulus.
I decided to take his advice, and ran to get some bags. To my disappointment, the large sledgehammer was too big and bulky to fit into a bag. I did, however, find a way to strap it behind me. I just couldn’t jerk my head back because the top of the sledge was right behind the base of my skull.