Aftermath (Book 1): Only The Head Will Take Them Down (25 page)

Chapter 26: No Vacancies

While John shone the torch of his Remington through the front windows of the hotel, looking along the marble floored lobby for the slightest sign of movement, Donald quickly hobbled towards the entrance. Upon arrival, he jammed the pointed end of a tire-iron – which John could only assume he’d found in the truck – into the small gap separating the large, almost completely glass doors.
“Careful with that, piece of glass that big gets smashed it’ll make one hell of a noise”, John said softly to Donald, who acknowledged his words of caution with a nod, after which he continued with his work, running the solid metal bar up and down the gap looking for the lock.

Back at the window, John had yet to see a single sliver of movement inside, and so had instead shifted his focus to the pair’s surroundings, from the plumes of smoke still rising to their South-West, to the seemingly ever-lasting rows of hardware stores and car-parks that lined the street as far as the eye could see. Eventually however, his focus drew back to the gas station. Its outline was clearly visible just fifty or so metres from their position, and yet still it was far enough away to mean that for all John knew, it could be absolutely crawling with reasons not to venture over there, all of them just slightly out of sight. Whether its main building was completely jam packed with biters, or the buildings across from it had cleverly positioned snipers, there was no chance he would risk coming to the same fate as the charred bodies that lined the gas stations they had not long since passed. Getting a good view from the top of the hotel was now his top priority.

A sudden metallic clunk came from behind John, a sound that signalled Donald’s successful bypassing of the door’s lock, its frame now somewhat bent around where he had applied pressure, but the all-important glass still completely whole all around it.
“Good job”, John said as he walked back over to the now open doorway, and made his way slowly inside.
“Thanks Mom!”, Donald replied sarcastically, following close behind, albeit at a much slower, and more limp impaired pace.
Inside the lobby things became much clearer, the surroundings no longer covered by the layers of dirt that covered the exterior of this and every other building now. Everything from the floor to the ceiling reeked of misspent money, a desperate attempt by a medium class hotel to pump up its curb appeal and bring in every last cent they could muster, from any person willing to drop in off the once busy street outside.

What struck both men the most though, was the utter lack of life, both past and present. Not a soul could be heard wandering the halls, and judging by the near perfectly clean condition of the floors, and the lack of even a tiny droplet of blood on a single surface, it was a safe bet that nobody had been here since the infection had started. It was of course something both men had hoped for, but something neither had expected to actually be the case.
“You think there’ll even be anything here?”, John asked as the pair moved slowly towards the front desk.
“At the very least we’ll get a good look-out over that gas station, anything else we find is a plus”, Donald replied, putting to rest any ideas John might have had about leaving any sooner.

Arriving at the front desk, John rounded its large wooden structure, pointing his shotgun into the dark corners of its underside as he moved, the shadowy areas shielded from the outside light by the sturdy oak structure above. Like everywhere else in this building though, John found nothing hidden away, aside from a till he knew would be empty, and a computer that had long since lost the power needed to turn on, not that it being able to do so would have done the pair much good anyway.

“Anything?”, Donald asked from the other side of the counter.
“Nothing”, John replied, just as he noticed something that he knew would present them with a problem, “and all the doors are electronic”, he added, looking in dismay at a rack of electronic key cards used to open each of the rooms above.
“So?”, Donald asked, unsure of why this was a problem.
“So I reckon either my foot or that little tire-iron you got there is gonna be worn out as hell by the time we’ve broken our way into who-knows-how-many rooms”, he said, pointing towards the rack containing what looked like hundreds of keys.
“Jesus that’s a lot”, Donald said, his face suddenly taking on a much whiter colour at the thought of going through so many rooms. “Probably a lot of stuff to scavenge though…”.
“You can’t seriously want to go through every single one?”, John asked in response.
“Well I was planning on…”, Donald stopped short as he saw the look of defiance building on his companions face, “…how about…”, he paused to consider his offer, “ten rooms per floor, plus all the essentials, you know like function rooms, kitchens etc.?”, he asked.
“Five per floor”, John replied, “And the essentials”.
Donald hesitated for a moment more, attempting to decode John’s tone of voice to see if he might find the tiniest amount of leeway, but he saw no such window of opportunity.
“Deal”, Donald replied, reluctantly.

*
      
*
      
*

“Anything?”, Donald asked as John left room 112.
“Same again, tiny ass bottle of water and some out of date fake coke”, John replied, trying to sound sarcastically enthusiastic at the latter item as he as he walked past Donald, grabbing the tire iron from him.
“Better than nothing huh?”, Donald said out of desperation, John now down the hallway and ready for the next door.
“There’s like four mouthfuls in this thing”, John said softly back to Donald, throwing the bottle of water back down the hall as he did, and jamming the tire irons pointed end into the doorframe. “I’m losing more than that in sweat breaking these damn doors open”, he added, just prior to the familiar crack of a doorway springing open, followed by John disappearing immediately through it.
“Well that’s number five for this floor, maybe the restaurant will do us some good”, Donald said hopefully.

The hallways of the hotel wound irregularly around the middle of the building, thanks in no small part to the numerous odd shaped extensions it had received in its tenure as the roads biggest living quarters. Regular stretches of floor to ceiling windows – which exposed an ugly tarmac ‘garden’ no doubt added to try and boost the aesthetic appeal of the building – did at least mean that the hall was well lit, but that was little bonus considering the amount of time and effort the pair were exerting in making their way along it, and they’d yet even to make it to the second floor. Up ahead however was the entrance to the hotel’s restaurant, something that would at least have a pantry, hopefully with some decent food inside. Of course, if the hotels ‘gourmet’ cooking was to the standards its numerous street-side adverts claimed, tinned food would be an unlikely find.

“Not even water in that one”, John called out as he exited the final room of the floor, quickly checking both directions for signs of intruders, before continuing down towards the restaurant’s rear entrance.
“Here’s hoping for something in here then”, Donald replied as he attempted a quick hobble after John, arriving at the door just in time to see its lock give way, and the door swing heavily open into the empty restaurant.
Inside was an array of perfectly laid out tables, their spotless white cloths covering top to bottom, and a variety of shimmering silverware catching both men’s eyes from every direction. The room was almost completely illuminated thanks to small amounts of sunlight breaking through the many windows – which in turn gave a perfect view of the Western car park, and a small amount of the nearby gas station – helped along by the many metallic reflectors that littered every table.
“So this is how the other half lives”, Donald said, walking into the room, his eyes looking around in excitement at the display of what he apparently deemed to be great wealth, “Or
lived
, rather”, he added.

“Back here”, called out John’s voice, who had quickly found the kitchen area, keen to spend as little time on this ‘last stop-off’ as possible.
“Anything?”, Donald asked, limping towards the kitchen’s open door.
“Tins, glorious tins!”, came an excited yelp from behind the big metal entrance.
“In a place like this!?”, Donald called out in shock.
“Even the rich get ripped off it seems”, replied John, who leant round the door to show off the first of his finds, two tins of baked beans, something both men knew to be worth their weight in gold in the world as it was today.
“Well it’s about time!”, Donald replied with excitement, “How much is in there?”, he asked, dropping his backpack to the floor.
“I reckon a hundred or so cans, baked beans, soup, peas, all kinds of stuff”, John answered, rolling a series of cans along the floor to Donald.
“Well this’ll do nicely”, Donald replied as he picked up the first two, inspecting them briefly before placing them into his bag, “Haul like this I’m wondering if checking the rest of the hotel is even worth it”.

There was a pause while John fumbled around suddenly in excitement, his head eventually re-emerging around the pantry door.
“You mean that?”, John asked as he leant around to look over at Donald, who stood reading the label of some tomato soup.
“Maybe…”, Donald replied, before looking up to see the excited face of his companion, “But we still do the gas station”, he insisted, pointing at John as if to insert some form of authority.
John pointed right back at him, “
Now
you’re talking sense”, he replied, before returning to his duties of fetching the many tins left inside the pantry.

Can after can rolled slowly along the marble floor, hastily caught and stowed into a rucksack by Donald, who grew more and more excited by each fresh ‘clank’ that marked another meal being found. Over time, Donald began to feel some concern over the eventual weight of the haul, and his ability in kind to actually carry it, but before long the supply stopped, the noise of cans hitting the floor instead replaced by the noise of John filling up his own bag, concluded soon after by the familiar sound of him zipping up, signalling that he too had all he could take.

“Much left?”, Donald asked as John walked out from the pantry, backpack in hand.
“You kidding me?”, John asked, seemingly dumfounded, “We barely took half!”, he exclaimed.
“Well in that case, let’s empty these out at the truck and come back!”, Donald said excitedly.
“Donald…”, John started, unsure as to whether or not he should voice his so often outspoken opinion, “You’ve got enough there to last you a month, maybe more, and that’s on three meals a day! Leave some for the rest of the world, not everyone out here is an asshole, some people need it”, he reasoned.
“Some people should have found it sooner then, shouldn’t they?”, Donald asked coldly, “Now either every ounce of food in that room goes in the truck, or you’re not coming with it”, he added, pointing firmly at John, who despite everything that had happened, was still at the complete and utter mercy of Donald.
“Fine”, John said through gritted teeth, “But I won’t be a part of it, I’ll keep a look out, you can transport”, John said, knowing full well that with Donald’s limp, he’d most likely tire of the repeated trips very quickly.
“Deal”, Donald said, “But ain’t no need for you to be down here, go check out the roof, see what’s going on at the gas station. Head back down when you know if it’s safe or not”, he added.
John said nothing in response, instead opting for a cold shoulder approach, as he walked quickly past his companion, and headed for the nearest exit leading back towards the hotel’s central hallway.

Once out of sight, John withdrew a tin of beans from his rear jean pocket, and a tin opener from alongside it. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the items, as if celebrating a small victory over the tyranny of Donald, one which meant that he at least wouldn’t go hungry in the next few hours, should Donald decide to withhold the rest of the food. The joy of a meal however was no match for the guilt he still felt over the situation, the thought of what could well be starving women or children, finally making it to a place of sanctuary such as this, only to be met by an empty pantry, no water worth scavenging, and no chance of finding any more in the entire building. Worse still, it was something they would only find out after hours of searching through its many rooms. John knew from day one that this new world would spawn the worst sort of people, but he had hoped that he could at least remain true to his own morals, even when another tried to stop him.

*
      
*
      
*

“Every day it becomes harder and harder to stay alive, and every day I spend with Donald it becomes harder and harder to actually want to. He’s no saint, no stand-up guy who wants to see me reunited with my family. He’s a disgusting, dark, selfish asshole who thinks that just because things have gone to shit, they can’t be brought back. Some people need to understand that this world doesn’t get fixed by waiting round, it gets fixed when we all pitch in to fix it, when we share the food left behind, and don’t shoot each other for no good reason.

Something tells me that’s not something he’s ever gonna’ understand, but hell, if he gets me to my family, he can go walk off a cliff for all I care, cause I’ll be done with him. God help the next person he decides to ‘help’.

Right now I’m sitting in the 5
^th
floor stairwell of some Madison hotel, place is alright far as I can tell, but there’s too much trouble around here for me to want to come back, too many risks to bring anybody I care about here. Soon as this is done, I’m heading out onto the roof to check out the gas station next door, then we’ll raid that, and head in to Madison city for what I hope is our last stop-off. Looking outside just now I’m not sure we’ll make it out of there today, after all it’s already mid-afternoon right now. But hell, it’ll all be worth it when we’re all reunited.

Till tomorrow,
John.”

Chapter 27: Bird’s Eye View

“I don’t see ‘em Jay, you screwin’ with me again?”, came a voice from the left.
“I’m telling you, they went right in through the front door, like a half hour ago, that’s their truck right there!”, replied Jay, pointing over to the just barely visible rear end of a Toyota Hilux.
“You sure that’s it? I mean last time we saw it, it was pretty dark and all…”, asked the voice again.
“Trust me, it’s the same one, same two guys.”, Jay insisted.
“Alright”, said the other voice, still unconvinced, “Let’s say that is them, what in the hell would bring them all the way out here?”.
“Chance, I figure, same as us. Seems like someone up there thinks we need to settle this”, answered Jay.