Trudge: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse (14 page)

Brook looked down through the skylight at her brother, “Raven says that there are a whole bunch of walkers coming out of the woods behind the store. Hurry up and find a ladder.”

Every muscle screamed at him to stay seated, yet he hauled his big frame out of the comfortable chaise lounge and went in search of the tool aisle. Walking alone in the dark store without a flashlight made him feel very vulnerable. The hardware section was in the back right of the store. There were five aisles to search; finally he found an aluminum extension ladder in the very last one. It was difficult manhandling the twelve feet of ladder to the middle of the store quietly. The last corner that Carl rounded had a display of plant food canisters stacked pyramid like. The end of the ladder took out the bottom row and they noisily clattered around his feet. Carl almost lost his footing amidst the rolling containers. He managed to stay upright and stood the ladder on end, it made a lot of noise as he pulled it to its full twenty two feet of extension. An even louder clang resonated when the ladders end met the lip of the skylight. He braced the ladder for Brook while she descended. A faint moaning started somewhere in the store.

Raven sat statue like on the rooftop surveying the scene. The back parking lot of the store now had several walkers ambling around with no real purpose. There was constant gunfire and commotion coming from the direction of the truck stop.

*****

When Brook reached the floor she delivered the bad news about the walking dead amassing outside. Carl hushed her and told her to listen for a minute. A muffled ghostly moan was coming from behind a closed door somewhere in the building. Cautiously the two started searching for the sporting goods section. As they set out, Carl pointed towards the garden hose; Brook gave him a nod and said, “On the way out.”

Carl grabbed three large black nylon gym bags from the sporting good section. He kept two and threw one to Brook.

After a short search, Brook said, “I’ve found the guns.”

Carl helped her pick out two shotguns, a Mossberg 500 pump and a Remington 870 express camouflage model with a pistol grip. Carl removed the tags, found the slings and attached them to the weapons. There were no pistols to be had in the store. For good measure they also chose a hunting rifle. It was a Remington model 700 in .223 caliber fitted with a Leupold scope. They finished filling up two bags with twelve gauge shells, and all of the long rifle ammunition they could find. There were only three boxes of .223; they all went in the bag. Brook picked out a very sharp folding knife. They filled the third bag with canned food, beef jerky, peanuts and all of the bottled water it would hold.

The moans coming from whatever was trapped were now accompanied by steady pounding. Carl shoved six of the twelve gauge slugs into the Model 500 and chambered a round. Brook loaded the other shotgun.

“Let’s see where that sound is coming from” Carl said.

“I think we should get out of here” Brook countered.

“I want to take just one quick look. Ok?”

“Fine” Brook said as she flicked open the pocket knife, “but make it quick. I’m going back up to the roof after I get a length of hose.”

Carl followed the sound to its source. The noises were coming from behind a closed door with a two foot square glass window inset chest high. The sign on the door read “Loss Prevention-Employees Only”. Inside was one of the infected. It wore a security guard’s uniform and something had taken a big chunk of flesh from its neck. A good amount of dark dried blood blended in with the black rent-a-cop uniform. Carl could see that there were handcuffs and a pistol still on its hip.

The pale faced creature noticed Carl, and started throwing itself at the door and window. The moaning from the undead thing rose in volume the second it set its lifeless glassy eyes on him.

Carl coveted the pistol on the ghoul’s hip and he was determined to get it. When he tested the knob it turned freely. To his relief the dead bolt was not thrown. It was comforting to know that the undead didn’t remember how to open doors, or lock them. Slowly, shotgun at the ready, he turned the brushed steel knob and partially opened the door.

Carl guessed that the undead guard had been rotting in the stifling office for some time. The disgusting odor made his eyes water. He composed himself after a few dry heaves. He slowly turned the door knob hoping to get the initiative on the imprisoned walker. The creature’s strength caught him off guard. It shouldered the door open and came for him with arms outstretched, its fingers and mouth longing for his flesh. Carl misjudged the things speed; it grabbed ahold of his shirt pulling its gaping maw toward his exposed neck. Carl discharged the shotgun at close range. The walking corpse was blown backwards, pale bony fists still clutching fabric, its rib cage and left arm were destroyed by the buckshot.

A new chorus of moans started up after the weapons deafening discharge. Behind a second windowless door, another room still held undead. They started battering the door, flesh eating curiosity getting the best of them.

The guard didn’t stay down; it worked itself back into a standing position. Carl racked another shell and took careful aim. The next blast separated the creatures head from its body. The zombie fell with a thud, blood sluiced from the cavity where its head used to be attached. It was a messy task turning the dead security guard over to access the weapon. The pistol turned out to be a Sig Sauer M&P .40 caliber and there were two spare magazines on the belt. He took the gun, belt and all.

With each new blow the back door started to splinter. An arm punched through the hollow wood veneer door, and felt around for prey, before withdrawing back into the hole. A pale milky white face filled the jagged opening. Carl was devoured by the dead eyes lusting for his flesh. Carl knew it was only a matter of time before the door would totally give way. Instead of shooting the ghoul in the face and further eroding the doors structural integrity, he turned and moved as fast as his forty five year old legs would propel him. Climbing the ladder would be difficult as loaded down as he was but they needed all of the goodies that he carried.

Carl looked up and was greeted by two familiar faces. Slinging the Mossberg over his shoulder he started lugging the heavy duffel bags up the aluminum rungs.

A tremendous crash came from the rear of the Bi-Mart. The dead had breached the flimsy door and were coming for him.

Brook and Raven saw them first. The uniformed ghouls were heading right for Carl’s outstretched legs. The first ghoul slipped and fell on the same canisters of plant fertilizer that had nearly tripped up Carl. The tin can obstacle course slowed their pursuit enough for Carl to chuck the heavy bags up onto the roof. After clumsily regaining their footing, the creatures, mouths open and loudly moaning, threw their rotten bodies at the base of the fully extended ladder.

Brook’s straining fingers brushed Carl’s before the ladder was knocked from the lip of the skylight. He barely managed to grab hold as gravity fully took over and stole the ladder. He was strong enough to momentarily hang suspended but the glass still in the frame was shredding his bare hands. Compared to the fate that waited down below him, not being able to high five for a month was worth the tradeoff.

Brook held on to Raven’s legs and anchored her. She hung, suspended upside down, and stretched along the length of her uncle’s body, trying to snare the shotguns sling.

“I’ve got it. Pull me up!” Raven yelled out.

Feet planted on the skylight frame, Brook hauled all 60 pounds of her daughter, the shotgun sling firmly clasped in her hands, back to safety. They both held onto the thin nylon strap encircling Carl’s upper body. Brook’s muscles cramped, and her body quivered, while she fought to belay Carl’s weight. Raven’s grip was tenuous at best. Brook implored her brother to pull with all of his might.

Carl looked down at the undead mosh pit below his dangling feet and summoned every last ounce of strength from his tired arms and shoulders.

With help from the girls, he was able to hook a leg over and fully pull himself onto the roof. Carl lay there, flat on his back, gasping for breath and stared up at the brilliant blue sky.

When he had his wind back, and could command his quivering legs to support him, he stood and stumbled after Brook and Raven.

Raven was the first to reach the roofs edge directly above the Bucket truck. She surveyed the parking lot and said in a near whisper “We have a problem.”

Carl and Brook couldn’t believe their eyes when they peered over the parapet.

Chapter 27

Day 2 Bonneville, Oregon

Rawley noticed the headlights winking in the rearview mirror when he slowed to round a sharp curve in the road. A big grin crossed his face as it registered in his one track mind that the vehicle flashing him was the red Cabriolet driven by the two blonde beauties from the Vista House. Following them was the bright yellow Camaro and bringing up the rear was a lifted 4x4 pickup.

“Slow down we have company”, Rawley’s voice came through the two way radio that rested on the console by Cade’s Glock 19.

Leo relayed Cade’s response into the Motorola, “Driver man says the next chance he gets he’ll pull over.”

Five minutes later they stopped on the off-ramp merging the old scenic highway with the interstate.

*****

The girls were warmly greeted by Rawley.

Cade cautiously walked towards the Dodge pickup to meet the driver, M4 carbine hanging from his body, locked and loaded.

“Howdy, how’s it going friend?” the man sitting in the truck asked, his voice accented with a Southern drawl.

One look and Cade knew that the older man could handle himself; he locked eyes and held his gaze, he exuded an air of self-confidence, usually evident in law enforcement or military men.

“Well, considering that the dead are walking around and I’m not one of them. Pretty damn good! And you?” Cade said.

“Pardon my poor manners, names Duncan Winters”, the man said extending his hand.

Cade met him halfway and returned the man’s firm handshake.

“How did you end up travelling with the old man and the twins?”

“I was trying to get onto 84. I was aimin to head east to Utah and find my brother. Before I got onto the off-ramp I saw a group of unarmed people murdered in cold blood. One big sumbitch of a biker gutted a little girl while I watched” Duncan said, his voice wavering.

“Was there a state cop present?”

“He was the first to die” Duncan said.

“Did anyone resist?” Cade probed for more info.

“No, they were butchered before they could do a thing. Whole mess lasted less than it takes to watch a commercial on the TV. Those pukes make the Viet Cong look like pacifists.”

“Sounds like there was nothing you could have done to change the outcome by yourself” Cade said trying to assuage the guilt that he detected.

 “I felt a feeling of helplessness descend on me. I watched that madman and his boys have their way with those people, and after they murdered all of the men, they took the rest of the women with them.”

Duncan stared into Cades eyes, his rage evident, and said with a hard edge to his words, “At any cost, I’d like to send those pieces of shit to hell.”

Cade had only two words to add, “I concur.”

“I’ve got kin in Salt Lake City that I’d like to check up on. I was headed that way when this madness started. Maybe we can help each other until we part ways? Anyway, what I’m getting at is I’d like to roll with you all.” Duncan waited patiently for an answer.

“There is something to be said for strength in numbers, but in all honesty my first priority is to get back East and find my wife and little girl. If we should run into the gang on the way, well, we will just have to cross that bridge when we get there.”

“Guess I will take that as an affirmative sir. I’ll bring up the rear of the convoy and keep my eyes on our six.”

“Settled then, we’re Oscar Mike (military parlance for on the move) in five minutes” Cade said to the fellow ex-soldier.

Cade walked the line of vehicles and touched bases with Harry and the twins, and peeled Rawley away from the latter. Addressing Rawley, “I still intend on finding my family, but I want to make sure those animals don’t kill any more people. So keep your eyes peeled; if we see them, we need to hit them hard and fast. No mercy.”

“I’m with you brother” Rawley said.

*****

The convoy entered I-84 and snaked east single file. The Columbia River flew by on their left. As the day wore on the stifling heat made travel miserable. The hot gusting east wind only added to their misery. They had to stop a handful of times to siphon gas and to allow for restroom breaks.

Some stretches of the road were fully blocked by cars and trucks that needed to be pushed out of the way. They learned to use utmost caution when approaching vehicles on foot.  A good number of the infected had died and then reanimated in their cars, effectively trapping them inside, where they waited patiently and quietly for anything to get near enough to attack.

The group stopped near the Bridge of the Gods to search a large multi vehicle pileup and obtain more gas. Leo and Harry had volunteered to be the “suckers” as they had jokingly started taken to calling themselves. Leo had almost met the same fate as his brother; he was siphoning gas from a Toyota Prius, when a partially paralyzed crawler silently pulled itself along the road towards him. The creature knocked over the empty plastic gas cans waiting to be filled. The cans tumbled and clattered on the blacktop. Luck was on Leo’s side, the warning allowed enough time for him to crabwalk backwards on all fours and put some distance between himself and the ghoul. The young boy had probably been eight or nine when he died in the accident. The child zombie was naked save a pair of tattered Spiderman underwear and a shredded short sleeve shirt, reddish black with dried blood. The toothless face looked like it belonged to a meth addict; death had not been kind to him. The coarse rocky asphalt had been unforgiving as the ghoul strained to traverse it. Except for the head, the rest of his body looked like raw hamburger. Bite marks and missing flesh peppered its torso. The undead boy’s mouth opened and closed but no sound emitted. Without mercy or second thought Leo drew the compact Glock and said, “Better you than me fucker” and put a bullet in the crawler’s brain. He found that he was growing very thick skin after all he had been through. Being callous towards the undead wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, because empathy didn’t compliment survival. Leo followed the bloody slug track back to its source, it ended near a wrecked Camry. The crushed man and woman, who most likely used to be his parents, had been killed in the wreck and remained dead. In the back next to the booster seat was a Gameboy with a bag full of cartridges.
I’ll take that
, Leo thought to himself as he scooped them up.