The Renegades (A Post Apocalyptic Zombie Novel) (6 page)

“What’s up?” I asked Specs.

“My family. I need to know they are alive.”

“Hell, dude, if anyone is alive in this town, it’s your family. They are the only ones who were ready for this.”

“I don’t know about that. They were big talkers, but who can tell. This isn’t what they expected.”

“No. But your father has the disaster shelter.”

“That depends if they’re there. They said they were going back to the store.”

Specs’s family owned an RV about two miles out of town. It wasn’t exactly an RV as it was a cover for an underground shelter. On the outside it looked like your typical family camper van. But when you went inside, they had a trap door, and a ladder that went down into an abandoned silo built into a mine. The mine stretched for miles beneath the surface of the town. If you had claustrophobia you just didn’t go down there. At least the one below our saloon and museum was tight. The tours only took you a small way into the mineshaft, just enough to give you a taste of the history. But you couldn’t live down there. But that was exactly what his family had done. Built it in an abandoned section. They had secured it with metal beams. The whole nine yards. It was fucking amazing. One hundred feet underground. The silo had penetrated three tunnels. It had five levels. A living area, bedding, and a place for storing two years’ supply of food, an arsenal of guns, and a ten thousand gallon water tank. It had Sub-Zero appliances, Wolf ranges, and everything that made it livable for years.

Baja was a little anxious too. His family was out of town at the time everything hit. He was a strange guy. One moment he would be talking about his family. Worry spread across his face. The next, acting as if this whole thing was nothing more than a video game.

Izzy kept her distance from Dax. I was keen to know what her story was. I never got to know her. She was someone who didn’t hang out with Jessica as she was one year older than us. She was a stunner. Blonde, green eyes and had long legs. Jess was hot in my opinion but Izzy certain gave her a run for her money. I could see why Dax had been banging her. I mean dating her.

Out of all of us Dax appeared the most calm. He hadn’t faced a war like this. OK, he had done one tour over in Iraq but that was it. Maybe that better prepared him for it. The closest we had come to war was Call of Duty, and I was shit at that.

“Man, I could go for some ganja around about now,” Scot said.

I got up. That was one thing I remembered Matt’s old man having. He kept this little stash in a plastic container in his bathroom. There was a small hatch just beside the bath. It was meant to look like the wall, but if you pressed it, it would go in and boom. There it was. I pulled the bag out. The opening was full of papers, ganja, and a bottle of Glenfiddich, fifteen-year-old malt whiskey. It was entitled appropriately, Wounded Warriors. He had a liquor cabinet but he always kept the best stuff hidden away. Matt had found it by accident. The few times I had slept over and his old man was out, we would smoke up a mushroom cloud in his room, and do shots. I felt an ache. I missed him. He would have got a kick out of us being in here now.

When I came back into the room, I tossed the container down and Scot’s eyes widened. Baja shot up like a spring was attached to his ass. He pointed his finger at me.

“Dude. You. Are the man.” Baja was the kind of guy who always wanted first dibs on anything. Dax rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t touch it. That was just like him. His body was a temple, he would say. Like what the fuck was he expecting? To end up on the front cover of
Men’s Weekly
? If ever there was a reason to puff back on a little ganja, now was the time. Instead he opted to keep an eye out the window. Though he did have a drink of whiskey.

With the window partly open, we all heard the moans of the dead. It was a reminder that we couldn’t get drunk. We had to stay vigilant if we were going to survive. It would only take a moment for us to drop our guard and it would be our last.

However, that didn’t stop us passing around a joint like a pipe of peace.

That evening we relished what little remained of our sanity. I knew the coming days were going to test each of us in ways we couldn’t even begin to imagine. We would need each other. This was only the beginning, and the future didn’t look bright. It was bloody, and full of possibilities, but more unknowns.

T
he largest grocery
store for the town of Castle Rock was located a fair distance from the gun store. It was east, just off the main road. We had two options. Navigate our way over to Jim’s Gifts, break in and climb to the roof, and then proceed to move across the tops until we got to the far end of the town. We would then have a half a mile trek to the parking lot. Alternatively we could risk checking vehicles and attempt to blow our way through the undead that came at us.

We flicked for it.

I tossed a nickel in the air. Heads we hit the roof, tails we attempted the suicide mission of finding a car that still had keys and gas inside.

When I removed my hand, it was tails.

“Best out of three?” I suggested.

Specs laughed when it came up tails again.

“You won’t be laughing when they bite you in the ass,” I said.

Heading out that morning, we felt a hell of a lot more prepared. Specs, Baja, Jessica, and I had volunteered to do the run. Dax didn’t like it one bit. He wanted to be in on anything that was about to go down, especially if it involved me taking charge. It wasn’t because he cared. He was a control freak.

Scot and Jason told him to hang back. They wanted to figure out the logistics of getting around to all of our homes and checking on families.

Our plan was simple. Jessica and Baja would check cars, and Specs and I would cover them. Before we left, we went up onto the roof to get a better view of what vehicles might still be operating. Specs suggested we take the cruiser that Jessica had crashed into the store. But that was the only thing standing between us and a herd of Z’s. I spotted a cruiser outside the police station, and a red van a few feet from it. Beyond that we would have had to run by foot down two blocks to three cars that were still in parking spots outside the stores.

It was early still. A deep orange sun was coming up when we slipped out the back door of the store. We had made a point to use knives at least until we got to the cars. The last thing we needed was to be chased by some of the fresh Z’s. It was getting hot already. It had to have been seventy-five out there. I was sure it was going to rise higher. This was meant to be fall. What the hell was going on with the weather? Then again last year’s winter had been extremely mild.

Before venturing out, I pulled out my handgun, popped out the magazine, and checked the load.

“How many?” Specs asked.

I was counting the number of Z’s that were roaming around outside. There had to have been close to twelve. They were milling around near a dumpster. It was unusual, to be honest. I figured a cat had dropped in there and they were eager to have it for breakfast.

“Twelve.”

“Good chance they will go for us. Run as fast as you can behind the stores. Don’t stop even if you see anyone who is living.”

“What if we can help them?”

“Too risky.”

“You are starting to sound like Dax,” Specs said.

I ignored him, motioned for the others to follow and we filed out. We kept low and close to the wall. The first building was about twenty feet away from the back door but it might as well have been four miles. We raced our way over while stabbing a few Z’s in the head. The feeling of a knife going into a skull was different for each one. Those who were badly decomposed were the worst. Your entire hand passed through. It was like putting your fist into a cold apple pie.

The fresh Z’s were solid. It was actually tough to get the knife back out. I had to use my foot on one. I ended up crushing his head just trying to retrieve it.

The sound of the undead, their groans, their feet and bodies hitting the pavement, was sickening. Our town seemed frozen in time. For now the power was still working, so streetlights automatically turned off as the morning sun was just beginning to peek its face over the horizon.

As we made it to the corner of a building, we were about to run across to the next when we noticed a huge group that was busy chewing away on what must have been fresh kill. The bottom half of the body didn’t have any blood on it. We crept by thinking they would be distracted with their human Big Mac when Baja tripped. His nunchucks hit the ground. The group turned. Old and young cast their milky eyes on us. Had they been the slow ones, a light jog would have done the trick. But these fuckers were the ones that shuffled like apes.

“Don’t shoot. Whatever you do…” I called out.

A gun fired, taking the left half of one of the Z’s face off. I glanced at Specs, who was holding the gun.

“Sorry, my finger slipped.”

“Run,” I yelled. We unleashed round after round as we ran. To our dismay, most of them weren’t head shots, so they kept coming at us. I slung my assault rifle over my shoulder. It was attached by a strap. It was easier to run that way. I pulled out two handguns, the Glock 17 and a Beretta, and started firing.

“In here.”

I slammed my foot against a partially open metal door. I had no idea where it led or if there were more Z’s inside. I just knew we weren’t going to make it to the cruiser in one piece. There were too many. Even if we had reached the car, we would have been trapped. One by one they piled in. I continued dropping Z’s. Then we slammed the door shut. Except it wasn’t fully shut. A head and foot had squeezed in as we closed it. I fired a bullet into the face and the foot snapped. Pressing our backs against the door, we could feel the Z’s smashing into the other side. Our bodies jerked forward with every hit. The door clattered.

“Get something to jam between the handle,” I said.

Inside it was dark. I had attached a flashlight to the end of my AR-15. I flicked it on and swept the light around the room. Big mistake. The place was full of Z’s. I unloaded an entire clip taking them down. I popped the empty one out and slammed another one in. Specs and Baja and Jessica were against the door. All three of them were trying to keep the door closed while trying to assist me. It was pure mayhem. Then it stopped. The last one dropped. My heart was racing, my eyes darted around the room. I reached for a crowbar that I had seen beneath a table. I ran back and wedged it beneath the door. Specs leapt up and I took his place. I pushed my shoulder against the door while he looked around. He disappeared into the darkness then came back with what looked like a noose.

“What the hell?”

“Seems someone hung themselves.”

“Joking?” I replied.

“Nope.”

After we got the door tied off, we checked our ammo. Made sure we were loaded back up and then moved into the building. The ground had become like a bouncy castle. Except instead of it being inflated plastic, it was bodies. Chest cavities broke beneath our feet. Bones could be heard snapping. But that wasn’t the worst thing.

We were all still trying to catch our breath as we rounded the corner. We found ourselves in a room with thick wooden beams above us. A cross hung at the far end of the wall. That’s when I realized where we were. It was used for a religious group.

Bodies hung by their necks. There had to have been eight. Two of them were just kids. They couldn’t have been more than nine. Their lower extremities had been eaten by Z’s that had made their way in. Intestines hung out of a young girl.

“Why wouldn’t they wait? Why kill yourself?” Specs asked.

“Some lose hope fast. Who knows? Maybe they were part of a cult. Perhaps they saw this as an end of the world scenario.”

It was sick. I turned and felt my gag reflex kicking in.

“You OK there, bud?” Baja said.

“Give me a second.” I wiped the corner of my mouth with the back of my sleeve.

They were still moving. While they had taken their lives, their brains were still intact. How long had they hung there before they turned?

“Should we stick them?” Baja asked.

“No. Just leave them.”

“We can’t leave them like this,” Jessica said.

“They aren’t human anymore,” I replied.

“Doesn’t matter.”

She yanked out her knife and jammed it into the skull of a six-year-old girl. Her body went limp. It was strange to see her comfortable with stabbing, then again her father had raised her to be a strong woman.

We moved around chairs that were laid out as though they were getting ready for a meeting. A large pulpit was at the far end of the room. Behind that was a drum set, microphone stands, and a big banner that read Jesus Saves.

I couldn’t help but see the irony in that. I had never been a religious person. I respected anyone who did have faith, and I could understand why people believed. It brought a level of comfort and meaning to their lives. But it wasn’t for me. I hadn’t had time to consider it. It seemed like a crutch. Perhaps we were a product of our environment. My father was not a churchgoer, and by default, I guess that meant we weren’t either. Maybe in time I would come to see the need for faith, but for now…there was no one coming to save us. Seeing that six-year-old hanging there confirmed that.

There were two doors, one on either side. We could hear the sound of the Z’s thumping on the door from where we had entered. It was getting louder. I had lost confidence in whether the wire was going to hold or not. We didn’t like the idea of being stuck in here and becoming some Z’s communion.

We managed to get to the next floor using the door on the right. Blood was smeared all the way up the stairs as if someone had been injured and fallen. Though nobody was to be found. On the next floor, there were offices. It was common to find businesses sharing the same building. This looked like a graphic design company. Modern Apple computers were scattered all over the floor. Screens cracked and cords torn from the walls. It was almost like someone had gone berserk and attempted to strangle a Z before someone had dropped a monitor on its head.

“You think there is anything we can salvage? I always wanted a Mac,” Baja said.

I shook my head and kept my gun on the ready. You never really knew when something was going to jump out at you. I was learning to live each day with an elevated heartbeat. If I didn’t die from a bite, I was liable to keel over from a heart attack.

I didn’t imagine the power in the town would last for much longer. Even though Castle Rock had a large solar power farm that the power company tapped into; unattended, the power grid could go down at any time. They had brought in these massive panels. It was meant to cut down on the amount of power used, and provide us with cheaper power.

We reached the main door. There were a few more stragglers inside. Most were half-eaten, moving on what remained of their torso. We put them out of their misery with knives to the head. It looked as though whoever had been inside here had attempted to board up the doors and windows. It had failed. Most of the windows were gone. Smashed in. Glass crunched beneath our boots as I scanned the immediate area for Z’s. Compared to what we had just experienced there were hardly any. But then again, the noise of our guns going off would have probably pulled most of them around the back of the building.

We didn’t hang around. I signaled to the others.

“Let’s go.”

We raced along the side of the building until we reached the cruiser. Baja jumped in it, and Jessica hopped in the van. Within a few seconds Baja had the engine going. The radio kicked in. The station was fuzzy. No music was playing. He turned it down. I motioned to Jessica who was having no luck with the van and we all piled into the cruiser.

I was riding shotgun, Baja drove, and the other two were in the back. There were several ways around to the grocery store. We couldn’t go through the main town, as there were too many Z’s. They would have easily stopped the car. Baja, known for his off-roading antics, took us down through West Point, which was a fancy part of our town. Generally only the wealthy lived there. It was a huge suburb that had been built just for the rich, or the assholes of our community. Their kids drove the best rides to school. They had the most up-to-date clothes, and usually were part of some sports team that no one gave a shit about. But they did.

The roads wound around the houses. It was like taking a drive through Stepford. It was quiet. We could see that some of the houses had been boarded up. This wasn’t because they weren’t owned. The occupants had obviously attempted to barricade themselves inside. By the look of bodies all over the place, I don’t think they had time. We kept moving until we came down into the parking lot of Castle Rock Grocery Store. It was the closest thing we had to a Walmart. A wannabe superstore that was owned by some prick.

There were still a lot of vehicles in the parking lot. Z’s were roaming around in large numbers. The doors to the main store were wide open, which meant the place was probably crawling with them.

“You think this is a good idea?”

“Well, unless you want to go check out the two convenience stores, or raid a few homes. Yeah, it’s the best shot we have of finding some food that hasn’t passed its expiration date.”

The idea of eating mac and cheese for the next five years wasn’t appealing to me. I was hoping to find a steak or two. Maybe some nice frozen chicken that we could grill up tonight.

“I fancy some Pop-Tarts. The sweet ones with jam in the middle,” Specs said.

“A pretzel. Fresh bread,” Jessica added.

We clung to the desires of yesterday.

“Park up around the back. We’ll see if we can get in using the delivery trucks’ loading dock.”