Read The Ugly Beginning - 01 Online
Authors: T. W. Brown
Bodies turned and moved towards this new distraction. The backside of the store’s parking lot was mostly clear. It wasn’t likely to get much better. Three blocks would seem like three miles, but he had to try. Cary lowered himself and dropped to the ground. Two zombies were already shambling his way.
12
Geeks, Girls, and Guns
Kevin walked up to the dilapidated Ford Escort that sat alone in what seemed to be an endless parking lot that stretched off into the horizon in every direction. He peered in the driver’s side window.
Empty.
Turning, he leaned against the door and took a deep breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Never having been a smoker, Kevin suddenly wished he could fish a cigarette from his shirt pocket and light up. It always looked as if folks who did such things in movies and on television found some sort of peace.
A dull thud made him jump. Kevin spun and staggered back a few steps at what he saw. Cary stared back at him through the driver’s side window. But that was impossible. He’d just looked in and seen the car was empty. Seriously, there was really no place to hide a body in such a small space.
A hand came up to the window and pawed in futility. Kevin stared into the milky, black-bloodshot eyes of the undead caricature of the man who had once been his friend.
“
I’m sorry, Cary,” he whispered.
Pulling his nine millimeter from its holster, he lined up the shot. It wouldn’t be right to leave Cary like that; trapped in a beat up Ford Escort as a zombie. He wrapped his finger around the trigger. As he started to squeeze, his arm began to tremble. The slight tremor quickly changed to violent shaking. He dropped his arm with a cry of sorrow and frustration. Zombie or not, Kevin couldn’t reconcile the thought of putting a bullet through Cary’s head.
“
I’m sorry,” Kevin cried. “I’m sorry.”
Cary’s face pulled back from the glass. His hand pressed firmly like he was trying to pop the window out. Then, with a speed unlike anything Kevin had seen from any zombie, Cary’s head shot forward exploding through the glass.
“
Kill me!” Cary’s zombie screamed.
Kevin sat bolt upright. Searching frantically, it took him a few seconds to remember where he was. They had pulled into a rest area about five miles east of a town called Zanesville. After a thorough walk-through, it was decided that this was not a bad place to stop for the night. It was remote, and they hadn’t seen a zombie or any sign of movement—living or dead—in almost a half hour.
The surrounding countryside was relatively flat, and the biggest obstruction was the concrete building that housed men’s and women’s bathrooms. This allowed everybody the luxury of an actual toilet…minus the running water. Still, it was better than a bush.
After they parked and everyone climbed out to stretch their legs, Mike and Darrin did a search to make sure the bathrooms—as well as the handful of abandoned cars—were empty of surprises. Once the “all clear” was given, the senator and her daughters quickly vanished into the bathroom.
Senator Angela Bergman. While she was certainly a big deal, it was actually the daughter, Shari, who he had recognized but couldn’t recall where from. That was because he wasn’t into bubblegum-pop music. Shari Bergman was the flavor-of-the-week in the Top-40 music scene. Only, in the past month, the big scandal involved Erin, her fourteen-year-old sister. Little Erin Bergman was pregnant by Shari’s manager. The tabloid shows and magazines shifted into sleaze-journalism overdrive. Additionaly, the big cable news networks—not much better than the tabloids in Kevin’s opinion—had been in an absolute tizzy.
Now, Senator Bergman was simply Angela, and her daughters were three frightened girls thankful to be alive. The four currently slept atop the roof of the bathrooms. Kevin, Mike, and Darrin took turns on watch. Kevin exiled himself to the U-Haul’s cab when it was his turn to catch some zees.
Taking a few deep, steadying breaths, he scooped up his gun and holster along with a sturdy hand-axe that he kept in a loop on his belt. Climbing out of the truck, he waved to Mike who sat on the rear bumper of Darrin’s recently accquired firetruck. Mike raised a hand in acknowledgement.
Walking across the moonlit parking area, Kevin marvelled at the quiet. It was simply amazing. Also a bit unsettling as each footstep seemed amplified and even the sound of his own breathing carried on the cool evening breeze. As he reached the rear of the firetruck, a tremor of anxiety rippled through him and settled in the pit of his stomach. While Mike had at least been cordial, Darrin still spoke to him only when it was necessary.
“Drink?” Mike offered a brown bag containing a bottle.
Kevin accepted, then stopped suddenly as a familiar smell invaded his nostrils. “Is this…?”
“Schnaps.” Mike nodded and smiled wide enough for it to show even in the shadows.
“Where on earth did you find it?” Kevin asked. “I mean, all the booze was in the back of the El Camino.”
“Not all. I had a pint under my seat. I pulled it out when I thought the windshield was gonna burst. When things began to look like I might actually live,” Mike shrugged, “I tucked it in my pocket.”
“Literally facing death, and you worry about a pint of Schnaps. Some folks might consider that to be an alcohol problem,” Kevin chuckled and took a sip.
“Yeah, well,” Mike accepted the bottle and took a much bigger drink, “those folks are most likely dead.”
“Harsh.”
A sudden cry caused both men to jump. Each had gone for his gun out of reflex, but both stopped short of drawing their weapon.
“I’m pretty sure that’s Erin,” Mike answered Kevin’s raised eyebrows. “All that obnoxious attitude she throws out when she’s awake is probably how she’s coping with being so damned scared.”
“Well, she is just a kid,” Kevin offered, his gaze focused on the squat concrete building.
“And knocked up.”
“That can’t help.”
The two drifted back to silence, passing the bottle back and forth until it was empty. Eventually, Mike excused himself, wandered into the bathroom, returned, and climbed up into the back of the firetruck. Moments later, his snoring drifted on the night air.
Kevin walked around the rest area, scanning for any sign of movement. He heard Erin cry out a few more times. Once, he thought he heard quiet voices, most likely Angela, providing some comfort. So far, the four females basically kept to themselves. They ate apart, slept apart, and usually did not venture outside of the vehicles until the caravan stopped for the day.
That first evening they had been giddy and talkative, even Angela. But by the next day it seemed as if the rescue was long forgotten. The Bergman women—well, one girl and three women—closed ranks. What was worse, Angela seemed to believe she still held some form of authority. It wasn’t that she acted snobbish, it was simply that even though she did nothing to contribute to their overall situation, she would delegate tasks and insist that she have a say in the many on-the-fly choices that were made daily.
Yesterday, Mike finally lost his cool after a refuel stop. They spotted a Shell station all by itself just off the interstate. Just as they had on several previous occasions, Mike, Darrin, and Kevin arranged fueling order by radio. It would be Darrin’s firetruck, then the U-Haul.
Kevin could hear arguing in the backgound as he and Mike sorted the details. It was Darrin and Angela. She, Erin, and Shari opted to ride in the firetruck. That left him driving in awkward silence with Ruth. Finally, Mike came back on the radio, “Tell Ruth to be ready to meet up with her mom and sisters.”
“We won’t be sparing any of the three of us!” Darrin’s voice yelled in the background.
Kevin glanced over at Ruth who returned his look with nothing more than a raised eyebrow. He knew she had been some sort of lawyer prior to all this. He briefly wondered how many people on the witness stand withered under that look and babbled. Well, he wasn’t about to say a single word. He turned his gaze back to the road and focused an inordinate amount of attention on the upcoming off-ramp. He could feel Ruth’s brown eyes boring into the side of his head and considered asking her what the hell she wanted, but knew that would be playing right into her hand.
“If I’m getting out, I’ll need a weapon.” Her voice wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, all of the Bergman’s had very pleasant voices, with almost an underlying purr.
“Take the machete under the seat,” Kevin said.
“And what would you expect me to do with that?” Ruth asked.
“The instructions are fairly simple,” Kevin smirked. “Grip the handle and swing the cutting end at the head of any zombie that gets close.”
“I’d prefer a gun.”
“I’m sure you would,” Kevin said, trying not to sound exasperated. “But the first gunshot will be a dinner-bell to every zombie within miles. We face less liklihood of being over-whelmed if we make as little noise as possible.”
“Okay.”
Kevin couldn’t help but cast a glance Ruth’s direction. Surely she was setting him up for a bigger argument. She was holding the blade in her left hand—hmmm, southpaw—and turning it side to side, hefting it to get an idea of its weight.
“Remember, when that blade cleaves into a skull, this ain’t the movies. The blade will often times get a bit stuck.” Kevin let off the gas as they reached the off-ramp.
“If I chop off the head, will that work?” Ruth asked.
“Only in that the body will fall.” His estimation of her raised just a bit.
“Like a rattlesnake then,” Ruth stated matter-of-factly.
“Huh?” Now Kevin was perplexed.
“You can cut the head off a rattlesnake, but it will still bite you for a while out of reflex.”
“Yeah,” Kevin had been very impressed in that moment by Ruth, “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”
They pulled into the truckstop and quickly found the cap for the gasoline storage tanks. Nobody was really talking much, and there was a lot of tension above the norm—mostly between Darrin and Angela. Still, the Bergmans clustered together and held some sort of meeting. Then, as a group, they made for the main building which was obviously some sort of store. At least it had been. It also contained a diner. That was probably the source of the fire that had brought down half the place.
While Darrin methodically dispatched the few roaming zombies drawn by the group’s arrival, Mike and Kevin filled the vehicles as well as a fifty-gallon drum that they discovered the day before. Once it was topped off, Kevin called for the Bergman women to load up.
“We’re drawing a lot of attention!” Darrin called as he began backing towards the big red firetruck.
“Ladies!” Mike bellowed. “We really gotta go now!”
There was no response or movement from the charred remnants of the building. Kevin drew the longsword from its shoulder harness and began jogging to where he had seen the gals duck inside. Along the way he simply steered wide of the slow moving undead that chose him as a hopeful meal-du-jour. He’d have to fight his way back, and would save his energy for that possibility.
Just before he stepped up on the curb that ran along the length of the place, the Bergmans—led by Angela—came strolling out of the tinted glass door like they were on a Sunday outing. To her credit, it was Ruth who took immediate stock of the situation. She urged the others to make for the vehicles.
By some amazing stroke of luck, everybody made it back—the women with arms full of grocery bags—and they were quickly back on the road. There was a considerable amount of arguing in the firetruck. Darrin and Angela were almost nose-to-nose like a big league manager and an umpire jawing over who was indeed the biggest idiot. In the U-Haul, Ruth was only mimimally apologetic.
“I understand things were a bit uncoordinated back there,” she spoke in level tones, but it was curt enough to have Kevin on edge. “We needed some supplies that you boys failed to load up on. Granted, we lacked the haste we should’ve had in the situation.”
“We have food, water, weapons,” Kevin ticked the items off on his fingers, “I fail to see where we’ve been negligent in our preparation. We have basic first aid stuff, blankets, even some luxuries like books and music.”
“And just what exactly do you have by way of feminine necessities?” Ruth asked.
“Feminine necessities,” Kevin nodded. Of course! It hadn’t occurred to him—or the others most likely—that there were certain hygiene requirements that Ruth, Angela, Shari, and Erin would require. He could see in the large bag she had placed at her feet between her knees every single item that made guys squirm at the checkout stand of the grocery store with their wife or girlfriend…or mother.
“Good thing more women weren’t on the roads.” Ruth pulled out a box of tampons and waved them at Kevin.
“Okay! Okay! I get it!” Kevin exclaimed, clearly uncom-fortable.
“Price check on register-six for
Playtex Pearl Tampons
,” Ruth affected a nasally voice and shouted out her rolled down window.
They shared some laughs and were still having an okay time of it, all things considered, when the rest area came into view and Mike announced that they would make camp. That was when Kevin realized he hadn’t seen any walking dead for a bit.
They pulled into the abandoned facility, the arguments coming from the firetruck making both he and Ruth glance at the other with raised eyebrows.
“You pull another stunt like that and I will leave you and your daughters, pregnant or not, to fend for yourselves! And I think we all remember how successful you were last time.” Mike climbed down from the firetruck and walked straight towards the only zombie present—a rather hideous looking biker missing its left arm. Fortunately there was no motorcycle helmet to complicate things. He swung his spiked baseball bat and put it down. By then, Darrin was at Mike’s side and the two stomped into the open restrooms. Not much more was said by anyone the rest of the evening. Ruth joined her mom and sisters, and that had been it. Kevin spent his silent evening contemplating the box of condoms he’d seen in the bag of “feminine necessities.”