Zombies Begin (Zombies Begin Series Book 1) (12 page)

The large four-by-four burst out of the desert and onto a two-lane highway, scattering dust and dirt onto the asphalt. The black highway stretched out as far as the eye could see in both directions, splitting the desert into two. Santiago knew exactly where she was now. She had driven this road many times to and from the facility. Fuller sat back in the passenger seat, resting his eyes. It had been a long night and he needed sleep.

A small general store with a couple of rusted gas pumps stood lonely on the side of the road. The blue trim paint and food sale signs were faded and weather beaten. It didn’t look like too many people stopped at this place. Broken windows had been replaced with boards. The four-by-four pulled in beside the gas pumps.

A little bell rang as Santiago pushed the front door open. The place was dim. Only a few shards of sunlight peaked through dirt-stained windows, the few that weren’t boarded up. The place appeared to be empty. Were they even open for business?

“Hello?” she called, as she spotted a small rack of women’s clothing. It would be good to change into fresh clothes and lose her heels. She rummaged through the small selection, finding a pair of jeans, denim jacket and a pink T-shirt.

Santiago loaded up on snacks as well: candy, crackers and a couple of sodas. Just what you needed for a road trip. She glanced around, looking for the clerk. No one was at the old check-out counter. She sighted a small restroom in the back. This was her opportunity to freshen up and to change into clean clothes. Maybe then the clerk would be back.

***

Fuller finished filling the four-by-four, rehanging the hose. He looked out at the open highway. Probably not a good idea to sit on the side of the road for too long, exposed. Best to keep moving. Being in the open this close to the facility also wasn’t a good idea.

Suddenly a movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. It wasn’t Santiago. She was still inside. Something slipped behind the outside corner of the store. Fuller shook his head. He wasn’t sure if his mind was playing tricks again, or if he saw something move. It had been some time since he had had an episode. He pulled his pills out, shook the bottle around and popped a couple. That should fix the problem—or not. A banging noise erupted from behind the store, jarring his body. Hairs on his arms pricked.

***

Santiago splashed water on her face. She had changed into her new jeans and T. It felt good to freshen up. Almost as good as a shower. She patted old, rough paper towel across her soft face, soaking up the cool water. She could smell the dust on the paper. The restroom was rundown—dirty, dark and dingy. With any luck she would never have to visit this place again.

The little front door bell jingled faintly. Santiago turned her head slightly over her shoulder, as if to point her ear to the sound. She quickly slipped her arms into the denim jacket and gathered her things.

She carried her old clothes with her as she approached the counter. Now she could finally see someone who could help her. She walked through the short corridor to the main shop. No one there. Still an empty shop.

She noticed a small bell on the counter. She rang it. And then again. Someone must be around. She glanced around the store.

One of the shelves at the back of the store moved slightly, a small scuffing sound accompanying it. Maybe someone kneeling down, restocking the middle shelves.

Santiago looked around to see them, standing on tiptoe. “Hello?” She moved along the small aisles to try and locate the store clerk. “Hello?”

***

Fuller moved cautiously around the corner of the store. Maybe what he saw before was just a stray dog looking for food.

As he turned the corner he saw an old, rundown shed and what looked like small living quarters attached to the store. A few rusted-out old cars and other rusted junk littered the desert surroundings nearby.

Fuller approached the door to the living quarters. The door was wide open. Uninviting. It was dark inside. It didn’t look right; it didn’t feel right. He slowly moved inside to investigate. At that moment a rotting stench, of decaying food, filled his nose. Empty bottles and trash lay on the floor. Dust particles floated around the room in the sunlight.

Kicking junk out of his path, he eventually made it to the kitchen. The fridge door was open and food was spread around the room. It looked as though a wild animal had torn through the kitchen, munching a variety of food, leaving what it didn’t like on the floor and walls. The sight brought back memories of how Johnny Chen’s apartment had looked. As Fuller went to move on, something caught his eye. He could see blood-stained feet sticking out, pointing up, from behind the small island counter. He moved in slowly to investigate. A man lay face down on the floor. He was in his pajamas, covered in blood. Fuller wasn’t sure if the man was dead or alive. He gave the man a little shove with his foot. Nothing. Dead.

Fuller grabbed the man’s legs and turned him over. He had what appeared to be human bite marks to the majority of his body. His lips were dry and cracked, eyes closed. Fuller watched him for a moment, the man’s chest rose up and down slightly—

He was still alive!

Fuller spun around to make sure they were alone in the room. Where had the attacker gone? Was he still there?

***

“Hello?” Santiago called.

She moved slowly around the small store, looking for the clerk stocking the bottom shelves.

Santiago froze!

Standing with his back facing her was Tommy. He had on only a pair of shorts, no shoes or shirt. His body was dirty. Cuts zigzagged up and down his legs, mostly from running through the harsh, rocky desertscape. His dried, gray and broken skin was a giveaway he wasn’t the clerk—and the fact that he was half naked. Santiago hadn’t had much to do with Tommy, as he had only been brought to the facility the same day as Fuller, and all her attention was focused on him, not Tommy. But she recognized his symptoms. She knew what he was.

Tommy swayed slightly, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. His slight movement unnerving. His head was slightly bowed, almost as though he was in a trance or a standing sleep. Santiago’s heart thumped. Don’t make a noise. She felt vulnerable, scared and sick to her stomach. She didn’t know whether to stay still or run. What should you do when you faced a wild dog? A wild dog with rabies.

Santiago very slowly took one small step backwards and then another. Tommy’s head turned slightly, as though he heard the movement. Santiago froze again. She dared not even breathe. Her terrified eyes scanned the shelves looking to see what could be used as a weapon against this monster.

The shelves were filled with only snack food, nothing that was going to cause damage. In her hands she still carried her old clothes and heeled shoes. Her shoes looked like the best option. The heels were short and slightly worn out from the previous night’s walking on desert rocks, but they were the best she had.

She was close to the corner of the aisle. If she could just get around the corner undetected, quietly, she may be able to flee without being noticed. Even the smallest sound would cause her to be savaged and infected.

***

Fuller cautiously entered the bedroom. No one else seemed to be in there. After a thorough check of the place, he was satisfied that the infected attacker had moved on. He moved back toward the kitchen. His mind was divided on what to do with the victim. Help him? Kill him? He would soon become a wild animal, spreading the disease to others. Fuller didn’t have it in him to take a life.

***

Santiago slipped out of the aisle and stayed low behind the shelf. Hiding. She breathed heavily. Maybe too heavily. As if she’d just sprinted two hundred yards. Could the beast hear it? She pressed her forearm across her nose and mouth, muffling any sounds. Tears filled her eyes. Her heart pounded.
Today I die
.

She wrapped her skirt around one arm and her blouse around the other, tying them off to make crude arm guards. She put a shoe in each hand and braced to run. She knew her only chance of survival was to get back to the four-by-four where Fuller was and, more importantly, the twelve-gauge shotgun. She took two big breaths—run like hell!
Forgive me, Lord, for my sins
. She crossed herself.

***

Fuller stood over the lifeless man’s body. His mind racing. What if this man was the same as he was, not fully infected? Or what if he was infected? How many others would he infect? Fuller kicked at the man in an attempt to wake him. The kick, too soft to return him to consciousness. Fuller tried again to wake the man, kicking his lifeless body harder. The man jolted upright and gasped. His bloodshot eyes wide open. Disorientated and still under threat of attack, he lunged at Fuller’s legs.

Fuller caught the man’s arms before he could wrap them around his legs, easily tossing him across the room. His back smashed into the kitchen cupboards. Fuller stood facing him, relaxed, but ready for combat.

The man’s eyes were glazed. No thought. No emotion. His breathing fast and shallow. Grunting like a wild animal, drool dripping from his exposed teeth, he rushed Fuller.

The two men locked up; a power struggle. Fuller held his wrists, controlling each arm. The man’s mouth gaped wide, his teeth gnashing in an attempt to rip pieces of flesh from Fuller’s neck.

Fuller remembered the hip throw Lloyd had used on him about a week ago. As the man continued to force towards his bare neck, Fuller hip threw him with full force onto the hardwood floor. Dust burst across the floor on impact. The sheer force of the throw instantly knocked the man unconscious. He hadn’t fully succumbed to the virus. His strength still not mature.

***

Santiago sprinted hard toward the front door. She reefed it open, almost ripping the little welcome bell from the wall. She dared not look back. “MICHAEL!” she screamed, as she burst out the door. “MICHAEL!”

She dashed across dirt toward the four-by-four. No sign of Fuller.
Did Tommy already get to him? Was he already dead?
She frantically scanned the area as she ran.

The store door burst open behind her. The welcome bell rang.

Heavy, fast footsteps thumped behind her. The four-by-four still out of reach.
Don’t look back
.

Almost within arm’s reach of the four-by-four, Santiago glanced back to realize her fate. He was already there. Closer than she thought.

The beast lunged, its mouth gaping open so wide it covered his distorted face. A mix of blood and drool was all she could see. She spun to face her attacker. Its teeth smashed closed, like a bear trap cutting into flesh.

Without conscious decision—reflex—Santiago shielded herself from the bite with her lightly padded arm. Tommy bit down hard. She screamed/cried as the power of the bite fastened around her semi-protected slender limb. The makeshift arm guard tested.

The force of impact hurled both to the ground in a cloud of dust. Tommy on top. Her heart on fire.

Like a dog on a bone, he whipped his head around, tearing at the makeshift arm guard to remove it.

It was only a matter of time before she would be ripped apart. Infected.

She gripped her shoe in the other hand, holding it as tightly as possible. With all the strength she could muster, she swung the shoe into the side of the beast’s head. No effect. Not even a flinch.

Again she swung, clenching her teeth hard. The heel of the shoe found its target and stabbed through Tommy’s eye—like a pin bursting a balloon. The shoe tacked to his eye socket.

With half his vision taken out, Tommy released his bite to carelessly rip the shoe from his bloodied, mangled eye.

Seizing the opportunity, Santiago kicked Tommy back and scrambled to her feet. The four-by-four close, close enough to pop the door and jump in. The door slammed locked, Santiago inside. Her body trembled with shock.

Tommy leaped onto the hood. Santiago screamed as his feet landed like bricks on the cold, armored metal.

The beast bent down, peering in through the windshield, head slightly tilted to the left, his one good eye fixed on her. The other eye, a black void highlighted with thick blood and mucus.

Her heart beat fast. She sobbed uncontrollably, shaking. Her dirt- and blood-stained hands covered her face. Would the thick glass even hold?

Trying to collect her thoughts, she fumbled for the twelve-gauge shotgun that lay on the floor.

Tommy pounded the thick windshield with his right fist. Santiago shook as she loaded three cartridges into the chamber, momentarily jamming the last one. He continued to pound the unbroken glass.

Rapid strike after strike, Tommy remained fixated—even if it took all day to shatter the glass. Fist prints of blood and dirt smeared the glass.

Shaking and wiping tears, Santiago aimed the heavy shotgun at its one remaining bloodshot eye, the barrel almost touching the glass. Tommy’s eye empty of all emotion and fear; full of rage and hunger.

Don’t you effing miss
, she thought. Her finger twitched at the trigger.

Just as she was about to squeeze off her first and maybe only shot, she noticed the keys dangling from the ignition. She removed her finger from the trigger.