“Stay back, Karina,” I said over my shoulder. There was no sense in being quiet. As my heart began to flutter in anticipation of opening the bedroom door, I regretted not going with my initial instincts.
We should have never come here
, I thought.
“We don’t mean you any harm!” I called through the door. There were a few bumps, but other than that, no response.
I shut my eyes and tried to calm the thumping in my chest as my hand reached for the doorknob.
“Go away,” a man’s voice said from inside the room just as I turned the knob.
“Look, man, we’re here to help. You’re in danger. There was a scab outside, and I’m sure it’s going to come back for you.” I started to push on the door.
“Don’t come in here!” he almost screamed. I noticed he had a Hispanic accent.
“We need to help him!” Karina insisted. I couldn’t deny the sound of desperation in his voice, but that could mean anything.
“Maybe he’s been bit.” I stated. “If he wants us to go, then we should go.”
“Fine,” Karina said sadly.
“Alright, we’re going. Remember what I said, though. A scab is hunting you. You need to get out of here.”
I let go of the door handle and turned to leave. Karina was too quick. She rushed past me and opened the door before I could catch her. I scrambled behind her as she walked into the bedroom.
The first thing to hit me was the stench. It wasn’t the smell of a zombie, however. Feces, sweat, and urine filled my nostrils and almost caused me to wretch.
Boomer rushed past both me and Karina and then stopped. Karina ran into him and froze like a statue. By the time I made it into the room, Boomer was growling ferociously.
I entered the doorway, gun drawn and poised to shoot the second something went bad. Surprise and horror stopped me in my tracks.
Bound to a metal bed frame was a woman. She was short with dark brown hair and dressed in soiled and bloodstained clothes. Her wrists and arms had layers upon layers of green duct tape that fixed her to the footboard in a sitting position. The same tape was wrapped around her legs from her ankles to her knees, securing them tightly together and to the floor.
It was hard to make out her face, because she had more duct tape wrapped around her head and then more that fixed her jaw closed. She was struggling to free herself, grunting and writhing around, though the heavy layers of duct tape prevented much movement or sound.
Standing next to the bed frame was the Storm Trooper. His helmet was off, but he still had on his armor. His features confirmed that he was Latino. He had jet black hair and his face was smudged with dirt and grime. His giant lawnmower blade was now slung where his shotgun use to be. That gun, however, was pointed directly at us.
“Drop it!” I ordered as I leveled the Glock at his head.
“I said get out!” he cried.
My initial instincts told me that I had just come across a deplorable scene and to shoot this bastard where he stood. You couldn’t help but think that. A man with a woman bound and her mouth covered so she could not cry out for help. Who wouldn’t think that they had just come across a sadistic rapist?
Something was off, though. He was scared, but his posture told me he wasn’t fearful for his own life. The grime on his face showed streaks of tears that had recently flowed down his cheeks. His eyes were nervous as he looked from us, to the woman, and then back to us.
There was something else that stopped me from shooting him: Boomer. He wasn’t growling at the Storm Trooper. He was growling at the woman.
“What the hell?” I breathed.
“Please, leave,” the man begged.
“What’s going on?” Karina whispered to me.
I stared at the woman bound to the bed frame. Wrapped around her bicep was a tan shirt stained with dried blood. Her skin was pale. But it was her eyes. Those purplish tracers were strewn around her irises.
“Karina, out of the room!” I commanded so forcefully I surprised myself. Karina backed out and stared at me from the entryway.
“Por favor. Please,” he begged me again.
“You have a scab,” I stated with a shaky voice.
“She sick,” he said in his thick accent. “She need medicine.”
Boomer was slowly stalking up to her. The rumble in his chest was more intense the closer he got.
“Boomer. Boomer!” I called a few times until he turned his head back to me. “Out. Get out.”
The canine hesitated a moment. After one more sharp command he reluctantly backed up and turned around.
“Karina, take him to the other room.” I saw her nod out of the corner of my eye. She grabbed Boomer’s collar as she guided him out of view.
“Please, sir,” the Storm Trooper cried as he lowered his shotgun. He wasn’t a threat to me. If anything, he was a threat to himself.
“She’s not just sick, man.” I told him as I moved the aim of my Glock from him to the female on the floor.
He quickly stepped in the way.
“Just leave,” he pleaded. “I find someone to help her. Make her better.”
“She’s not going to get better,” I said, softening my tone. I could tell this man was an emotional wreck. “There are no more doctors to help.”
“There has to be way,” he knelt down beside the woman. She grunted and tried to move her head toward him.
“As far as I know, there is no cure.”
“As far as you know,” he said as he gently touched her face.
“Look. We’re trying to help you. There are—”
“Christian,” Karina called out from the living room.
“Hold on,” I replied and turned back to the man.
“Christian!” she yelled out again. As if to emphasize her desperation, Boomer began to growl. Unlike before, though, he wasn’t growling at the scab in the room.
“Shit!” I exclaimed as I backed out of the room. The other man hesitated, but got up and followed me.
“What going on?” he asked fearfully. He must have felt my tension. After all, the look on my face must have changed dramatically when I realized why Karina was calling to me.
“Like I said before, you’re being hunted.” I muttered as I walked into the living room. “If we’re lucky, it’s only one of them.”
Karina and Boomer were standing in the middle of the living room, illuminated from the skylight above them. The light shining through had dimmed some as dark clouds closed in outside. A steady pitter-patter of rain was bouncing off the thick plastic.
Both she and the dog were staring at the front door. Boomer was crouched and giving off a deep rumble from his chest. The spiked, wet hair on his back looked like a row of pointed needles.
A scratching noise came from behind me, and Boomer spun around and backed up a pace. He barked and I literally jumped at the ferocious sound that came from the canine.
Spinning around, I leveled my Glock at the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. Like the windows, there were aluminum hurricane shutters covering it. An eerie clanking noise came from the shutters. I imagined the scab slowly running the metal rod I had seen him carrying earlier across the grooves of the hurricane panels.
“Christian…” Karina said nervously.
“How many?” the Storm Trooper asked nervously.
I ignored his question as I tried to concentrate. I had to stay level-headed. It was obvious that this man was a few pennies short of a dollar, and Karina was just a kid, no matter how smart she was. I forced my heart, which had made its way up into my throat, back to its proper place.
I pointed at the front door. “Karina, aim at that door. If something starts banging on it, squeeze off a few rounds in the center. I turned to the Storm Trooper and said, “You… what is your name?”
“En-Enrique,” he stuttered.
“Enrique,” I repeated, “is that car in the garage okay to drive?”
“Yes, but—”
I cut him off. “Okay. We’re going to go into the garage. We can…” I stopped talking. Boomer had changed from barking to whining, but this time he was looking up. Muffled footfalls were echoing from above. Both Enrique and I followed his gaze to the skylight.
Chapter 6
No Place Like Home
April 23
rd
Evening
“Shit! There has to be a few of them,” I cursed. Adrenaline was pumping through me like wildfire, but I still felt in control. My body, and mind for that matter, was growing accustomed to these tense situations.
I strapped my Glock in place and wrapped my hand around the pistol grip of the AR-15. I knew I would need the power and the ammo load of the rifle.
A scraping noise coming from the bedroom grabbed my attention.
“No!” Enrique screamed and started to run back into the room. I grabbed his collar and jerked him back.
“We don’t have time!” I shouted.
“That’s my wife!” Enrique struggled to get free.
Karina noticed something at the front door and squeezed off a couple of rounds.
The scraping noise from the back room grew more intense and Boomer was barking ferociously, warning us of more danger.
What little illumination that came from the skylight above darkened. I pulled Enrique back towards the door leading into the garage.
“Come on Karina!” I yelled at her. “Go to the garage!”
Karina acknowledged. She raced through the laundry room and into the garage.
“Boomer!” I called to the canine. I had lost sight of him while wrestling with Enrique.
One of the scabs started banging on the front door. There was a clanking sound as the doorknob fell off and hit the entryway tile.
Enrique broke free of my grip and pushed me towards the laundry room.
“You go!” he cried.
I almost turned around and left him, but that annoying voice came back.
You have to help him!
I knew the man wasn’t in his right mind. If that was his wife as he had claimed, he was sacrificing himself for nothing. Fish would have left him long ago, if he would have come to rescue him at all. But I wasn’t Fish. Part of me refused to be like the old Special Forces Sniper. That would be the human part.
“Come back!” I said as I charged after Enrique. He had almost made it to the skylight when I saw Boomer there, backing away as he growled towards the ceiling.
“Enrique!” I screamed, but it was too late.
All light from above disappeared as a shadow and rain fell through the opening.
CRASH!
A dark figure landed on top of Enrique and he crumbled to the ground.
The scab stood up. He was my height and size, but the creature was probably twice as strong as I was. His pale skin was riddled with scars and lacerations and he had ripped most of his hair away from his scalp. I noticed bullet hole scars on his abdomen, but they had been almost completely healed.
Raising my rifle, I felt a sense of relief that he didn’t have any weapons. Boomer was snapping at him, grabbing the scab’s attention.
I fired off three rounds, all hitting the scab in the torso. He spun around and fell onto his chest.
I moved forward, ready to expend another few rounds into the beast when the front door smashed open.
It was a female scab wearing nothing except torn rags around her waist. Her soaked hair was matted around her face, covering most of it. Like the one that fell from the skylight, she didn’t have any weapons.
I turned to confront her, but Boomer was already on top of her before I had a chance to bring the rifle to bear on the scab. He tore into her arm, ripping flesh back as he leapt out of range of her vicious counter-attack. Her hand slammed into the doorframe, barely missing him.
By the time I turned back around, the other scab was back on his feet. He ripped the lawnmower blade from the sheath on Enrique’s back. I swore there was a look of satisfaction on his face as he held it comfortably.
I had to trust Boomer could keep the other one occupied, and turned my rifle back on the now armed scab. He recognized the threat and jumped behind the island in the middle of the kitchen. I fired twice, but both shots missed.
The wail of a scab drew my attention towards the back bedroom. I saw fresh daylight coming out of the doorway, meaning another scab had broken through the hurricane shutters.
Moving towards Enrique, I fired two more shots at the scab in the kitchen. He stayed low and out of sight. I should have just filled the island cabinets full of lead, but I didn’t think about that. The high powered .556 round would probably have punched right through.
“Karina!” I yelled as I grabbed Enrique’s jacket under his armor and started to drag him towards the garage.
“I’m here!” she called back and I heard the discharge of the MP5.
I glanced over to Karina and saw she had shot at the female scab near the front door. Boomer had just leapt back a few feet. I wasn’t sure if Karina hit the scab, but the beast jumped back outside.
Enrique started to squirm as I squeezed off a couple of wild shots at the scab in the kitchen.
“Get up!” I shouted at him. “Get to the garage!”
He was trying to stand, but I could tell he was dazed as we made it to the opening of the laundry room. Karina was there and fired off two more rounds toward the kitchen island.
I helped him to his feet and didn’t see any blood. His eyes were glossy, though, and he stumbled as he stood up.
“Karina, get him in the car.” I ordered as I shoved him to her.
“No… no…” he mumbled, but seemed too disoriented to fight back as Karina ushered him out.
I took up position in the laundry room so I could see into the kitchen, living room, and part of the hallway that led to the bedrooms.
“Boomer!” I called.
I heard a bark just as Boomer came into view.
I kept my aim but used my left hand to grab him by his collar and guide him back into the garage. I saw the original scab from earlier that had followed Enrique back to the house. He was mostly concealed in the hallway near the bedroom, but I couldn’t mistake the familiar metal rod he had brandished.
He glared at me menacingly and ducked just as I sent a few rounds in his direction.
“Want me to start it?” Karina yelled from the garage.
“Yes!” I answered. I could feel Boomer breathing on my neck. “Call Boomer. When we get going, I want to be the last in.”
She did as ordered. It took a few calls and a couple of nudges by me before he left my side and jumped into the car.
I cursed at myself for not keeping track of how many rounds I had fired. I knew there was a round chambered, but I had guessed less than ten rounds remained in the magazine.
Suddenly, one of the scabs began to wail. A second later, three more from in the house joined in. They were communicating. The scream of the scabs was deafening, sending a cold chill up my spine.
The engine of the car came alive and I took that as my cue to get moving.
I slammed the laundry room door and pushed the washing machine in front of it. The seconds it took to move the appliance could mean a precious minute added on to our escape time. I turned around and bolted into the garage, slamming the door behind me.
The scabs shrieked again as I ran up to the driver’s side window. Karina was sitting in behind the wheel. Her face was pale and her lips were quivering. Boomer was barking from the passenger seat and Enrique was sprawled out on the back seat, moaning.
“You can drive, right?” I asked.
“Kinda… I don’t—”
“Just put it in reverse when the door opens. Let me jump in before you gun it, okay?” She nodded as I moved towards the garage door. I coughed as I inhaled the noxious fumes from the exhaust.
I pulled up on the door and it started to slide up.
Shadows of movement danced around my feet. I heard moans and croaks of zombies just outside the garage.
“Shit,” I cursed. The zombies had been attracted to the gunfire and shrieks of the scabs. Even with the rain, every zombie in the neighborhood had to have been drawn to our location.
Some of the dead-heads noticed the door had slid partly open and started banging on it. If the last garage I was trapped in was any sign, we didn’t have long before they caved part of the garage door in. That would make opening from the inside all but impossible. I looked back at the door leading into the laundry room. It wasn’t moving and no noise was coming from it.
“Damn scabs,” I cursed.
I was treating them like zombies when I escaped into the garage. The walking dead were mindless enough to keep following me. The scabs, however, were too smart for that. They knew I had firepower they couldn’t match and were not about to follow me blindly. It was as if they had shrieked to call any nearby zombies to the house and cover their escape.
I pushed the thoughts aside. Zombies were sure to swarm the inside soon, if they hadn’t already. We didn’t have a choice but to open the garage door and drive away in the car. I formed a plan, though it was reckless and dangerous.
“Karina!” I shouted.
“What?”
“Pop the trunk!”
“What? Why?” she asked.
“Just pop the damn trunk! Now!” I ordered.
I heard her fumbling around the seat and a moment later the trunk popped open.
I rummaged around the trunk and threw out as much junk as I could. The garage door was shaking and a few hands were reaching underneath, grasping at air. I ran back to the driver’s side window.
I took my rifle off and tossed it past Karina and next to Boomer.
“When the garage door opens, you hit the gas, okay?” I said quickly.
“What about you?” she cried.
“I’m going to jump into the trunk. We don’t have time,” I added as she started to shake her head. “When you get to the road, put it in drive and go until we are free and clear. Got it?”
“Christian…” she stammered.
“Got it?” I asked forcibly.
“Yes…” she reluctantly nodded.
I ran back to the trunk and made sure I could easily close it from the inside. The metal on the garage door buckled as the zombies pounded on it. I was almost caught by a hand reaching underneath and I stomped on its fingers. There was a crunch, but it didn’t stop the hand from reaching toward me again.
I unstrapped my Glock and shoved it in my vest for easier access. The trunk was approximately four feet from the garage door. That didn’t give me a lot of wiggle room, but it would have to do. I couldn’t wait any longer and so I bent down and grabbed the bottom of the door.
The garage door creaked and groaned as I used every muscle at my disposal to push it up. Hands reached in and grabbed at me when the door made it to my waist, but I couldn’t stop. I gave one final push and the door slid all the way up.
Hands gripped my vest and arm as I tried to spin around and go for the trunk. The car engine revved as I pulled and yanked to free myself, but the zombies held fast. I didn’t think I would be able to make it to the trunk.
Instead, the trunk came to me. The car screeched backwards and I dove in just in time to avoid being ran over.
When I landed in the trunk my head bumped into the trunk door. One of the zombies was ripped off me as the car smashed into it. Another zombie, however, was still holding tight.
I tried to position myself in the trunk. My legs were dangling and the zombie had a tight grip on my vest. Karina maneuvered down the driveway, bouncing me around in the process. The car came to a sudden halt and the force rolled me over. Before I could get a grip on the situation, the car jutted forward.
The hand that was clasped onto my vest was still there, and I felt like I was being pulled out of the trunk. I wiggled and squirmed until I could lift my head over the edge.
Dragging behind us was the zombie that was locked onto my ammo vest. Its other hand was gripping the bumper and pulling its body toward me.
It was raining hard and I saw that the hoard of zombies was limited to the area around the house we were in. That was good.
The dead-head dragging behind us was gnashing its teeth as it slowly got closer and closer. I could smell its skin burn as the pants around its legs shredded from the friction of being towed across the asphalt. After a brief struggle, I was able to pull my handgun out and put a bullet between its eyes.
The zombie instantly released its grip and rolled twenty feet behind us before it came to a stop.
Karina drove for another minute before she stopped. I climbed out of the trunk and looked around the street. I knew where we were, and it was only a few miles to my old hideout. A couple of zombies took notice of us and started shambling our way, but we were not in any real danger at that moment.
Trudging through the rain, I made my way to the nervous teenager, whose knuckles had gone white from gripping the steering wheel. Karina was staring at me from the side view mirror. Her eyes showed relief as I came into view.