It
was
good.
Terry hefted the boot over the shelving, and squatted back down just as his projectile smacked an overhead display the next row over. Items crashed to the floor in a deafening avalanche, and the store was suddenly filled with the howls and screeches of countless monsters.
“
Damn nigga!!”
Vincent shouted.
The Shambler howled, and leaped over the metal railing by the front door, charging fast as its savage teeth gnashed together in hunger. Drew blasted it with a double-tap in the chest, but the thing kept coming. Jake pushed to the front, discharging his repeater, and blowing the creature back in a spray of rancid blood and tissue.
“Let’s blow this joint,” he said. “Dan, follow me around the railing.”
Drew, Terry, and Vincent vaulted the railing, turning to cover the entrance as Dan turned right. Jake fired a few shots ahead of him, and Dan could hear the others let loose on the charging Shamblers Through a hail of gunfire, Dan rounded the railing, and pushed the cart toward the door. The others let him and Jake pass, the latter walking backwards and firing until his Henry was empty.
Dan charged ahead as the others followed, firing. The cart was heavy, and his heart was pounding like crazy, but the sound of the raging creatures behind him drove him on. He continued pushing with one hand, and let his rifle slide down his shoulder, turning to watch behind him as he reached the maze of cars.
Shamblers were leaping onto the wrecked vehicles in an effort pounce on the fleeing men. Vincent and Terry stuck together between rows, while Jake and Drew navigated the spaces in between cars. Jake had his machete out, slashing and sweeping at the creatures as they clawed at him. The big guy cleared a way to the bed of a pickup, where he leaped in to reload. Drew rushed over, jumping onto the hood to cover him.
Terry and Vincent joined them, running backwards as they surrounded the pickup. Everyone on empty reloaded as the others covered them.
“
Dan!”
Drew shouted. “
Get the cart to the Hummer! We’ll cover you.”
“Fuck,” Dan cursed, wheeling the cart around. Vincent ran up and began pushing with his left hand while he held a pistol out behind him.
“
Push, white boy!”
he said.
Dan groaned under the cart’s weight, but got it going again. Vincent fired as he helped, and the Hummer came into view between the two large pickups. They wheeled it around the back, and Dan opened the door, grabbing everything in armfuls and tossing it in.
He could still hear the gunfire behind them, and the raging growls and screams of their pursuers. Jake and Drew appeared, crouching down to face the charging Shamblers as Dan and Vincent loaded up the Hummer.
Terry was the last to arrive, having turned to run sideways with guns akimbo; blazing both pistols in turn like a bandit from the Old West. He was suddenly impacted from the side as a Shambler tackled him from between two cars, and Dan gasped. Vincent turned, his mouth dropping open as he saw his brother mobbed by the raging Shamblers.
“
Terry!”
he screamed, running toward him with his rifle on full auto.
Jake and Drew fired into the horde, tearing their rotten flesh to pieces, but still they dragged Terry away screaming. Vincent charged after them, but was stopped by another charging group that broke away. He knelt down, dropping the mag from his rifle, and slapping another one in as the horde reached him.
“
Get out of there!”
Drew shouted.
Vincent stood again, unleashing the entire magazine in a screaming fury. Jake blasted the Shamblers away from him, stomping toward him, grabbing him by the back of his shirt, and throwing him back. “
Get the fuck in the Hummer!”
Jake shouted.
He pushed Vincent back, and turned to fire again. Dan jumped into the Hummer and crawled into the driver’s seat, starting it up as Drew got in beside him. Jake forced the door open, throwing a protesting Vincent inside. The man stood up through the sunroof, shouting his brother’s name and firing blindly into the gathering horde. Jake got in, reaching into the back for his LMG.
Dan threw the Hummer in gear, and peeled out, spinning out from in between the pickups and clipping a Chevette. “
Who drives those!?”
he shouted.
Jake popped up through the sunroof, and covered their exit with a hail of bullets. Dan could see the Shamblers dropping like flies as he looked in the rear-view mirror.
“I think we’re skipping the grocery store,” Drew said. “Just get the fuck outta here.”
Dan plowed into another small car, ignoring it and bouncing over the concrete barricades on his way out of the shopping center. There were more Shamblers in the lot, and he clipped every single one, steering out of his way to hit them, hearing the satisfying splats as they bounced off the bumper. From above, the firing stopped, and Jake and Vincent dropped back into their seats.
Vincent was visibly shaken; his eyes wide in disbelief, and his breath ragged and heavy. Dan felt sympathy for him. The man had just lost his brother, and now he was in a stolen Hummer with three strangers. Dan’s own heart sank when he saw Vincent put his hands to his face and lower his head. He knew it was pointless though. Shit happens, right?
Shoving his sympathy aside, he could only think of
their
survival. There was no point grieving for someone he barely knew. It would only cloud his judgment.
Join the club, buddy,
he thought.
Dan had turned to the west, crossing into the residential neighborhoods to reach the turnoff to 39. There was another pharmacy there where they could gather up medical supplies; one that was mostly out in the open. There, they could keep an eye on their surroundings. Everyone was quiet, and Vincent stared out the window, defeated and devastated.
Drew fired up a joint and puffed on it, blowing the smoke out the sunroof. That got Vincent’s attention, and Drew passed it to him.
“Here ya go, man,” he said.
“Thanks, dawg,” Vincent said. “I could use a fuckin’ drink, too.”
Dan reached into his pocket, pulling out a half-pint of cheap whiskey and passing it back.
“Aw, shit,” Vincent said. “Thanks.”
“Kill it if you need to,” Dan told him. “We’ve got more. Plus, this pharmacy sells liquor.”
Vincent held the joint out to Jake. Jake stared expressionless, and Vincent shrugged and handed it back to Drew, who took it with a smile.
“Jake’s a good boy,” Drew joked. “He’s not
on the pot.
” Air quotes.
Dan pulled into the pharmacy’s parking lot, slowly circling to get a good view of the area. The place was in better shape than most of the buildings in town. Only a few windows out front were broken, and all of the actual doors were intact. Perhaps this was the one place in town that hadn’t been looted.
That was good news.
He parked in the exact center of the lot, shutting off the Hummer. They all sat in silence for several minutes, scoping out their surroundings.
“Damn,” Vincent said, finally. “I’m high as fuck.”
Drew snickered, grinning.
Jake shook his head. “You guys are gonna die,” he said, “walking into the apocalypse on a fuckin’ cloud.”
Drew snickered again.
“Sorry about your brother, man.” Dan said.
He could see Vincent nod in the rear-view mirror.
“At least he went out in a blaze of glory,” Jake added.
Vincent finished the whiskey, tossing it out the window. “Fuck it,” he said. “He don’t have to live through this shit no more. Lucky him.”
“You gonna be alright?” Dan asked.
Vincent pursed his lips, nodding. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’ll be alright.”
“Well, then, let’s roll.”
The group exited the Hummer, checking their weapons and grabbing plenty of ammo. Dan left the keys in the ignition in case they had to run again. No point in pocketing them; no one was around to steal the Hummer.
The pharmacy’s doors were locked. Dan motioned for the others to stand back, then busted out the glass with the butt of his rifle. He reached in and turned the deadbolt, and looked in through the darkness.
The store was dimly lit by the moon coming in through the upper windows, and by the nearly dead security lights that were on each wall. The store was small enough to see most of its layout, and there appeared to be no one—normal, or otherwise—anywhere in the store.
“Looks clear,” Dan said. “Watch out, though.”
As they entered, Vincent went straight for the beer cooler, and Drew headed toward the racks of wine.
Jake shook his head, looking at Dan. “Priorities,” he said. Dan chuckled.
Jake headed toward the first aid supplies, and Dan went to the pharmacy counter. He hopped behind it, shining his flashlight on the rows and beautiful rows of prescription meds. There were bottles of just about everything, all there for the taking.
And take he did.
He stuffed his pack full, going by alphabetical order and sweeping his arm over each shelf of meds that started with whatever letter of the alphabet he knew that drug names started with. Jake appeared at the counter then, looking in to get his attention.
“If they have it, grab Metformin,” he said. “And check that cooler for insulin.”
“Are you diabetic?” Dan asked.
Jake smiled and nodded. “Only when I eat. I’ll find the syringes.”
Shit,
Dan thought. He never would have guessed. Jake always seemed cheerful, no matter what the situation. He even found the serial killer story amusing. Maybe Jake was a sick fuck, too, and just didn’t give a shit that he had a chronic illness. He chuckled at the thought.
“We’re all sick fucks,” he said out loud.
“What?” Jake said behind him, plopping a case of syringes on the counter. “I’ll take these you sick fuck.”
Dan approached the counter, scratching his chin. “I’m gonna have to see some ID, sir.”
Jake held up his repeater. “Is this good?”
Dan grinned, turning to the small cooler on his side of the counter. It was full of meds that needed refrigeration; penicillin, amoxicillin, Zithromax, and other things Dan had never heard of. In the back were smaller vials of insulin, Novalin, and Novalog.
“What kind of insulin?” he asked. “There’s a ton of shit in here.”
“Just grab it all,” Jake said. “It’s all good.”
“Grab a cushioned bag or something,” Dan said. “These are all glass.”
Jake set a small six pack cooler on the counter. “One step ahead of ya, brutha.”
Dan grabbed it, stuffing it full of the tiny bottles and cushioning it with some icy gel packs. He then zipped it up and handed it back. Jake stuffed it in his pack, giving Dan a strange look.
“You okay?” Jake asked.
“Yeah,” Dan said. “I’ve just never met someone who actually
needed
stuff like this.”
Jake rubbed his bald head. “What, Rogaine?”
Dan chuckled as he came around the counter. They split up again to gather other supplies. Dan realized then how much he liked Jake. He was a good friend, and he would have to make sure that Jake had a good supply of insulin; no matter what the cost.
That’s what friends were for.
Right?
“
Awwww, damn!”
Vincent growled from the refrigerated section.
Dan made his way over, seeing him waving his hand, pinching his nose shut.
“What’s up?” Dan asked, just as he walked into a wave of stench. He grabbed his nose, too. “
Oh my god!”
“That’s rotten milk,” Vicent said. “Smells like straight up shit.”
“That smells worse than any shit I’ve smelled.”
Vincent shook his head, opening the cooler door, still holding his nose. Behind the milk splattered glass was a motherlode of the best malt liquor and craft beers they could possibly find in a shit town.
“Ooh,” Vincent said, smiling. “Kid in a candy sto’.”
“Sweeeeet!”
The two of them gathered as much beer as they could carry, shouting to Drew as they passed him at the tobacco counter. “Beer!” Dan said.
They loaded up every single bottle of beer the pharmacy had, and returned to the tobacco counter. Jake passed them with bags of chips and cereal as they swept cigarettes, cigars, loose tobacco, and half-pints of liquor into their bags. Soon, they had the Hummer loaded with everything that would fit, barely leaving room for themselves.
They were stocked.
“Alright,” Dan said. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
The Hummer roared to life, and Dan pulled onto the street. They had the windows down, and enjoyed the October air as they contemplated their score. Dan thought about Vincent, and he and Terry’s plans before the encounter at Rural King.
“So, Vincent,” he said. “Where were you and Terry heading before you stopped here?”
Vincent shook his head. “Ain’t sure, man. Nowhere, really. Just kickin’ around, tryin’ to figure shit out.”
“I hope you didn’t have anything in your car you needed.”
“Naw,” Vincent said. “We had a few guns in the trunk, and some food and shit, but that’s about it.”
Dan nodded. “That’s good,” he said. “We’re all set up out in the state forest at my house. It’s pretty well secure, and out in the middle of nowhere. It’s kind of a moot point, but you can crash with us if you want.”
“Yeah,” Drew said. “Or we can just drop you off back at Rural King.”
Vincent laughed. “Umm, noooo.”
“Oh goody,” Jake said. “Now we are officially a sausage posse. We need to get some chicks to join us.”
“Do you have any good skills?”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Jake said. “I can guess. You have some good tactical skills, and are good with guns, since you’ve been around them your whole life on the mean streets of Gary.”
Vincent laughed. Dan looked at Jake in the rear-view mirror with a grin. “C’mon man, that’s kinda racist. Just because he’s black doesn’t mean he’s a gangsta.”
“I’m sure he’s not wearing that black bandana because it’s cold.” Drew said.
“Naw,” Vincent said. “He’s right. Me and Terry been rollin’ with thugs since we was old enough to drive. I ain’t trying to hide nothin’. Shit, I can fix cars, weld, do work on guns. Lots of shit. This nigga’s got skills.”
“Alright, then,” Dan said. “We’ve got a fourth. Welcome to the club, homeboy.”
The rest of the evening was uneventful. They laughed and joked on the way home, seeming in good spirits. Vincent was somewhat quiet most of the time, staring out of his window with sadness. Dan knew it was because of Terry. Hard as he seemed, Vincent would grieve his brother, but would do so in silence. It was best to just carry on and let him do it in his own way.
Dan’s own mind was occupied with the cop that had pulled them over earlier. He just couldn’t fathom that experience. Why was the cop still a cop? What possessed him to continue his traffic duties? Was he
that
dedicated to doing his job despite the end of the world, or was he just crazy?
Fortunately, as they merged back onto 37, there was no sign of the flipped car. Dan knew it was still there somewhere, possibly containing a dead cop, but they would likely not have to go back to Martinsville to find out.
Still, the situation was mind boggling, and the more Dan thought about, the worse it became. They would possibly run into more insane cops in the future, which meant they had another group to worry about. With scores of ravaging mutant zombies, big and grotesque monsters, and a nutjob security firm, having yet another enemy just made things worse.
And things were already enough.
At least now they had another partner to fight alongside them.