“Shit, man. Windows got bars. I guess we check the room with the locked door.”
I rolled my eyes and prepared for the worst.
#23 - Survival of the Fastest
11:20 hours approximate
Location: Vista
I wanted to trust the couple
, but it wasn’t easy. This was a different world. Gone were the days of small talk, neighbors who helped each other out, and even passive-aggressive comments. What had become the norm--the social media-driven Facebook world--was toast, hell, the internet was deader than a zombie. Now it was down to survival of the fastest.
Joel listened at the door for a half second then muttered, “Fuck it.”
He stepped back, lifted his foot, and smashed the door in. It splintered around the lock and flew open to crash against the wall. I fumbled for my wrench, fighting all of the gear and shit that was hanging from my pack. The strap caught in the stock of the little assault rifle, so I ripped it to the side, banging the stock against my elbow in the process.
The room was something out of a nightmare. The wall was liberally smeared with blood. Equal amounts of red stained the bedspread where it lay in a heap at the foot of the bed. The sheets were also a mishmash of gore and blood and the carpet, light brown, was splotched with blood stains.
A picture hung on the wall, at an angle. It was the famous painting by Edvard Munch, called
The Scream
. Not that I was an art expert, but who didn’t know this work? I also had owned a print of it when I was a kid. Mom thought it was something that would make me smile. It gave me nightmares for years, but I never had the heart to tell her.
The room contained a dresser with most of its drawers hanging open.
A pathetic looking Z lay on the ground. He’d been eaten almost to the bone around his abdomen, and most of a leg was gone. He lifted his head to look us over, then dropped it again, hitting the wall right next to the door. That explained the banging.
Another Z came at us. She’d been near the corner of the room, staring at nothing in particular. I didn’t even see her at first, because she was garbed in a dark dress and standing next to even darker drapes. She tripped over the Z and fell, hands out, so she caught Joel and dragged him to the ground.
The couple moved in fast, taking her by the arms and hauling her off. The man pushed her against the wall and the woman bashed in her forehead with the lead pipe. She fell in a heap and her head lolled to the side. Sightless white eyes regarded me.
Dori then took mercy on the man on the floor, two strong blows leaving a pile of rotted brains.
I grasped Joel’s hand and helped him up.
Joel moved toward the back of the room and peeked inside a door.
“Bathroom’s empty,” he said.
The door banged at the front of the house.
“Any way out?” I asked Joel as he eyed the bathroom.
He shook his head.
“Guess that means we’re going to have company,” I said. “We need to get the hell out of dodge, partner.”
“Check the window,” Joel said.
I moved the drapes aside.
Something crashed inside the house, rattling the walls. Moans and snarls came from the hallway.
“Bars!” I yelled for Joel. He joined me at the window but didn’t say a word.
“Now what?” I shrugged.
The couple pushed the door shut but it wouldn’t stay closed, because my Marine pal had destroyed the doorknob with his big Marine foot. Brilliant, Joel.
“This isn’t good,” he said.
###
He looked around the room for some egress point. He didn’t need me to tell him that there wasn’t one.
I unlatched the window and it slid open with a squeal. Joel joined me, and together we tested the bars. They had been constructed on a row so that they were welded together and set into the opening. Joel grabbed the windowsill and put his foot on the jamb. He tested the bars with a quick outward kick.
The couple grabbed the corners of a large dresser and grunted as they slid it across the floor toward the door.
“Wanna know how I know we’re fucked?” I asked Joel.
“How?”
“Because that shit never works in the movies,” I nodded toward the door-damming operation.
Joel snorted and kicked the bars again.
My pack was in the way so I shrugged it off and then fought all of the extra gear into a pile. My wrench stayed across my back.
I moved beside Joel and lifted my leg, hoping that my recently-healed sprain wasn’t going to be a problem.
“On three,” Joel said.
I nodded.
He counted and together we kicked the poles. It was like kicking a brick wall.
“Again,” he said.
Again we got the same reaction.
“Watch out, Joel.” I ripped the wrench off my shoulder and maneuvered it between a pair of bars.
Joel took this cue and moved aside. He grabbed the little home invasion rifle we’d dug up in the other room and examined it. He fiddled with a switch on the side, checked the magazine, inspected the trigger assembly, and then moved away to help the couple.
He dropped a box of shells on the ground, and with deft and well-practiced fingers, loaded the magazine.
“We can’t hold for long,” Tomas said.
“Got it,” I replied.
I pulled the wrench and got a little give from the bars.
The Zs smashed against the door. I looked over my shoulder and caught the entrance budging. Joel motioned for the couple to move out of the way. He lifted the little SIG, aimed, and fired. Not for the first time, I wished I had some ear protection.
In the movies, the shots weren’t this loud. Dudes shot each other and then had quiet conversation about drug dealers and the best way to break someone’s knee. In this room, the gun might as well have been mortars going off around us.
The gun bucked under his arms, and something dropped on the other side of the doorway.
“I like this thing,” Joel said.
I wedged the wrench a little tighter and pulled.
Christ, we did not have time for this!
Joel fired several more shots, but there was always an answer in the form of something banging against the entrance. The next time the door moved, a hand darted inside.
Dori pulled her knife and slammed it into the palm, pinning the Z to the doorway. Joel stuck the barrel of the gun into the gap and fired. When Dori yanked the knife free, the hand fell away from the doorframe, hopefully attached to a twice-dead fuck.
Tomas pushed her out of the way and pulled his guns. Dori fell back and shot him a dirty look. A smattering of a language I didn’t understand ensued. He snarled an answer back at her. She turned away in disgust and moved to my side.
“I can help?” she said.
“I don’t think so,” I said, and jammed the wrench between a pair of bars.
Joel shot something. Tomas shot something. I wanted to look, but forced my attention to stay on the task at hand.
“Open the mouth,” Dori looked up at me from under dark curls.
“Huh?”
“I show you,” she said.
Dori took the wrench from me and gently pushed into the spot I’d occupied, shooing me out of the way. She propped the head against the window jamb and then loosened the teeth so the span opened a few inches.
“Help me. We put on bar, there, and we have leverage.”
“Jesus,” I said, suddenly seeing it.
“Jesus isn’t here, only the dead,” she said.
With the teeth of the wrench stuck against the wall and the other part against the bar, I suddenly had something to work with. I grabbed the handle up high so I would get the most control, and yanked, putting my body into it.
The bar popped off and the bolt hit the ground. I quickly worked at the next bar. One down, and too many more to go.
Joel fired off a few more rounds.
“How we looking?” I called.
“The bodies are making a nice blockade out there. Door’s still not gonna hold,” Joel called back.
Several somethings hit the door hard enough to rattle the dresser. Then they hit it again.
Joel took a step back and unleashed half a dozen shots at the door. The ensuing thump of a form hitting the ground answered.
I popped off the third bar and found the fourth to be a mother. Dori and I both worked at it for a minute, but it wasn’t moving. She guided me to another one. It came off with a nice groan, leaving just two more bars.
Something pushed into the door again.
Hands reached for Tomas.
The window led to a backyard that was butted up against an apartment building. There was a small chainlink fence that ran the perimeter but several sections had collapsed, while others sagged. A few Zs roamed the yard, but nothing we couldn’t deal with. The trick, as always, was to take them out quietly. Cave in a few heads and avoid attracting a horde.
Another Z had managed to weasel its way inside the room.
Joel fired until the gun was empty, and set it down.
“Where’d you put those .40 rounds?” he asked me.
I wiped a line of sweat off my forehead and nodded toward my backpack. Joel unzipped the bag and dug around, pulling out boxes of ammo.
The door rattled again and this time, the dresser was partially bucked into the room. Tomas shot something in the face, but another Z was right there to take its place.
The last bar wasn’t budging. I was pretty sure Dori would be able to squeeze out of the room and maybe Joel Kelly, too, but I was stuck. Tomas was portly, so he wasn’t going, either. Maybe we could shoot out the wall and crash through. Maybe we could slither up into the ceiling after bashing a hole with my wrench.
Both options were pretty far-fetched. With my luck I’d get halfway into the ceiling only to be dragged back into the room while a pair of Zs ate my legs.
Dori looked over her shoulder, fear etched upon her face. She pressed the wrench head onto the last bar, but up high this time.
Joel had a few boxes on the ground and he was going through them, but a whole lot of cursing accompanied his actions.
“I’ll hold. You kick,” Dori said.
“What if I break your wrist or hand?”
“Take risk or we die,” she nodded toward the door.
“Fuck it,” I muttered.
“Exactly. Fuck it,” she said.
Dori held the wrench low on the grip and then dropped down as far as she could. I lifted my leg and braced myself on the window frame. I put my foot up and pressed against the wrench. If I didn’t get this right, she’d have some broken digits.
I pulled my foot back and then kicked the wrench handle, but I was so concerned about her hand that I barely tapped it.
The dresser got pushed halfway into the room; a pair of very determined and very freshly turned Zs pushed on the door until it gave.
Joel stumbled back, managed to load his handgun, snapped the magazine home, lifted, aimed, and blew one of the bastards' heads off. The guy had been dressed in a sky-blue running suit complete with a bright green headband. He had a mullet that didn’t look any better covered in gore.
The second Z was just as fast and dressed in the same gear, but in a ridiculous orange.
What a pair of assholes.
It got ahold of Tomas and dragged him to the ground. There was a brief struggle, but Tomas was strong and didn’t put up with any of the Z's crap. He knocked the guy to the side and then rolled over. He was on his feet with a snarl. The Z grabbed Tomas’s leg and tried to get a piece. Tomas ripped free and kicked the dead guy in the face. I was really starting to like this scrappy fighter.
The Z fell away but Tomas wasn’t done. He rolled over and drove his knife into the Z's face, yanked it out, and did it again.
The dresser moved again, and more Zs barged into the room.
I kicked the wrench again and the bar budged.
“Come on,” Dori urged me on.
I pulled my boot back and slammed it into the wrench, catching the edge of Dori’s finger. She didn’t have time to pull back, because the bar snapped free.
“Out!” I yelled.
Tomas came to his feet and kicked another Z. It fell back into the crowd at the door, creating a temporary roadblock. Joel fired a pair of shots and then came at us. I moved aside, but he urged me to go ahead.
I helped Dori out the window and Tomas was right behind her.
Joel shot a pair of Zs while he jammed stuff back into my backpack. Boxes of rounds and empty magazines were stuffed in. He tried to zip it closed but I reached over, grabbed it, and tossed it out the window.
“Dude, let’s go!”
Joel grinned, rose to his feet, and calmly shot a female Z in the forehead. She’d been covered in blood, her hair like some kind of nightmare of bright red dreads. She went down and then Joel was tossing our shit outside.
“Piece of cake,” he said, and then lifted his foot and shrugged out the window like he was about to go for a leisurely Sunday walk around the city.
I was right behind him. A Z managed to grab hold of my shirt but I shook his hand off. When I was outside I picked up my wrench and crushed the Z's head that came at us. The next one crowded in, so I bashed it just as hard. The two bodies created a nice little dam that would buy us some time.
“Piece of cake, my ass,” I muttered.
I grabbed my bag, shifted stuff around until it would close, and then worked it around my shoulders.
Dori and Tomas had advanced into the yard and taken out a pair of Zs, nice and quietly. He got a young guy's attention and backed away, and she shattered in the back of the Z's head. The last one was a guy who had to be in his seventies and weigh close to three hundred pounds. Tomas tripped him and Dori smashed his head to pulp. They nodded at each other and then turned to regard us.
“I like them. They’re the model of killing efficiency we should all strive for,” Joel said like a typical Marine.
“I like them too, because they’re alive and they’re not trying to kill us,” I muttered back.
###