Apocalypse Aftermath (7 page)

“Good.  Okay, girlie-girl, why don’t you climb up here and squeeze in next to Mom.”

Jessica looked back at Candice, who was just shifting her gaze from Austin to Jessica, clearly double checking the instruction.  Jessica nodded and held out her hand.  “Come on Candy Bear, there’s room.”  Her daughter unbuckled the seatbelt and scrambled forward.  She was small enough, and the SUV’s interior roomy enough, that she was able to fit through the space between the front seats and over the center console without a problem.

“There you go.” Jessica said as Candice carefully dropped down in the seat next to Jessica.  “You were so good while we were helping those people, I’m proud of you.”  She draped her arm around Candice to help settle her without being squeezed between Jessica’s arm and the padded plastic of the center console.

“You were really brave mom.” Candice said as she hugged Jessica.  “Were you scared?”

“Yes.” Jessica said in a stage whisper.  “But what’s being brave?”

“Doing what you have to even when you’re scared.”

“That’s it.” Jessica nodded.

“What about this?” Candice asked, gesturing at the case of bullets wedged in next to her against the center console.

“Move that over to Austin’s seat.”

Candice tried to lift the box, then had to use both hands, grunting with effort as she got it up and slid across the console.  “That’s heavy.”

“Bullets weigh a lot.” Jessica said, reaching to push on the box to help tip it over into the driver’s seat.

A gunshot sounded, and Jessica looked around sharply.  Austin, who had been trying to fit the suitcase of hand-me-down clothing Trudy Morris had donated to Jessica and Candice into the back of the SUV, straightened and spun as two more shots went off.  One of the Eagle people had his weapon upon his shoulder, but his left hand was raised in a thumbs up.  “It’s okay, just a single.  All clear.”

Jessica looked where his weapon was aimed and saw a zombie down in the grass of the road shoulder.  Austin looked too, then went back to rearranging the boxes in the cargo area.  He found room and got the suitcase situated, then left the back door open and went around to talk to the rescuees.  Whatever he said was brief, then the three of them headed for the SUV.  Sam went around to the passenger side, while Beth slid in to sit in the middle of the bench seat.

The blonde met Jessica’s eyes as she turned, and Beth smiled weakly.  “Th-thank you, for . . . for . . .” she said in a soft voice.

“I’m glad we could help out.” Jessica smiled.  The woman was actually quite pretty, even beneath the smudged dirt and tear stains on her face.  She didn’t begrudge Beth her emotional state; she’d been there herself.
  In some ways she still was.  Everything was harder now.

“Yes, thank you.” Darla said as she took the left side of the bench and propped her
shotgun upright between her knees.

“You look like you’re ready to handle anything.” Jessica said as politely as she could manage.  “But I guess anything can happen to anyone now.”

“No doubt.” Darla nodded, then grimaced.  She reached behind her and adjusted something, then shrugged.  “Ammo.  We’re not out, but we didn’t have enough to handle everything we were up against.”

“We played the long game and it paid off.” Sam said as he got in behind Jessica.  “Fortunately.”

Austin was standing next to the driver’s seat, patiently holding down the control to adjust the seat back.  “Sometimes you get the bear and sometimes the bear gets you.”  He tucked the bullet case away beneath the seat one handed, making Candice stare.  Jessica smiled in amusement at her daughter’s reaction.

“And sometimes the bear is a zombie that has a lot of friends.” Darla said sourly.  “Sam, I know you’re eager to get south but if you want Beth and me to stick with you then we’re going to have to stock up before we start moving again.  Food, water, ammo.”

“No objection.” he said soberly.  “We need to find a car anyway.  Hey, I don’t suppose y’all got anyone who knows how to hotwire a car, do you?”

“I don’t think so.” Austin said as he tried to get in behind the wheel.  It was a tight fit, but he stayed seated as he moved the seat back some more.

“Damnit.  Yeah, us neither.”

Darla shrugged.  “We’ll have to look around for something with the keys still in it.”

“Try houses.” Austin suggested.  “If there’s a vehicle at the house, odds are there are keys for it somewhere inside.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Austin turned his head and lowered his voice conspiratorially as he continued holding down the seat adjust.  “Don’t tell my boss, but I can let you have a couple of boxes of 9mm.  I don’t think we have any twelve gauge handy though.”

Darla blinked at him, then smiled and nodded.  “My lips are sealed.”

“It won’t be enough to get you out of something like that—” Austin said with a jerk of his head toward the killing field to the south, “—but it might help you avoid getting jammed up again.”

“Many thanks.  Sixty shots is still sixty shots, even if I can’t shoot like you can.”

“Practice.” Austin shrugged.  “Lots of practice.  If all this keeps up, I’ve got a feeling most people with a pulse are going to be a lot more practiced than they are now.”

“She does okay.” Sam interjected.  “Don’t let her talk like she’s helpless.  She’s pretty good.  Way better than me.  I’d never even touched a gun until yesterday.  Even Beth is better than me.”

“Practice.” Austin repeated.  “And patience.  Always play the long game.”

“It worked out this time.” Jessica put in, and heads nodded, though Beth’s lower lip
quivered like she was about to burst back into tears.

“Okay, finally.” Austin said as the seat got far enough back that he wasn’t scrunched up between it and the steering wheel.

“It’s your fault for being so tall.” Candice told him.

He burst out laughing.  “You’re right.  If I hadn’t eaten my Wheaties and drank so much milk I might be smaller like you.”

“I’m not small, I’m ten.” Candice said in a matter-of-fact voice.  She looked around as everyone else chuckled.  “What?”

“DJ, I don’t think nobody’s home.”
Chrome said.

Darryl shrugged as he glanced around before pounding on the door again.  “Bobo say be sure.”
  The rural neighborhood was fairly spread out, but so far everything they’d checked along this street had been empty.  Three days of zombies and apocalypse and he was still getting used to how
eerie
it was to go hours without seeing other people when out and about.  The Watkinsville area was the sticks, but it wasn’t Grizzly Adams territory either.  People lived here.

Or they had.

“There ain’t no cars in the garage.”

“Just wait.”

“Ain’t none of the others down this road been occupied.”

“Chrome, just fucking relax.” Darryl said, his tone growing annoyed.

Chrome subsided, and Darryl checked in both directions along the front of the house.  He had three Dogz with him in two of the stolen trucks they’d been using since Friday night.  Stony and Psycho were facing in opposite directions a little ways out on the front lawn, ostensibly watching for zombies.

But Stony was a little flaky at the best of times, and Psycho had a tendency to get a little preoccupied if something caught his attention.  That’s why Darryl had
Chrome designated as the outside lookout while he took the other two in with him.  Chrome he trusted to keep an eye out by himself.

“Okay.” Darryl said after another half minute had ticked by with no response from the house.  “Taking the door out.”

Chrome backed up further as Darryl raised the shotgun and pointed it at the door.  Aiming just to the right of the knob, he stepped back himself so he had a chance to avoid any flying splinters, then fired.  The shot pellets ripped into the wood in a tight pattern as the gun’s report echoed loudly.  Darryl worked the slide to put another shell into the chamber and fired a second time, then kicked forward with his left leg.

He’d gotten better at it.  His foot landed right where he wanted with all the power of his thigh and weight behind it.  The weakened door burst open with a cracking of wood,
bounced back against the wall behind it, and bounced again as he got his foot planted down in time to save his knee.  The first two had popped him right on the kneecap when they bounced, which fucking
smarted
.  He’d learned to use his boot to protect against that.

Cautiously, Darryl waited another few seconds, listening as he held the shotgun at the ready.  Eventually he stepped back and thumbed in two shells to replace the ones he’d fired off, then raised his voice.  “Let’s go Dogz. 
Chrome, give a yell if anything shows up.”

With Stony and Psycho following, Darryl moved into the house.  The living room was a little messy with speaker wires and game controllers scattered across the floor next to DVD and video game cases, but it was vacant. 
Kids had lived here, he saw from some of the toys he saw scattered around the edges of the room.

But it was empty, as were the kitchen and dining room. 
Sunlight through the windows gave him plenty to see by, even when he followed a central hallway past a bathroom to a den that looked to be set up as a man-cave.  The house was quiet except for him and the two Dogz backing him up.  It had that feeling of being empty; not abandoned, but with no one home.

“Man, check out that screen.” Stony said admiringly when he saw the enormous flat screen television mounted on the
den’s wall.

“We ain’t here for no
TV.” Darryl said as he ensured the room was empty.  Whoever had lived here was a big boxing fan; there were big posters on the wall in several places of Tyson, Holyfield, Robinson, and Ali in glass fronted frames.  The Ali and Holyfield ones were even signed, which argued for a dedicated fan.  As far as Darryl knew, Ali’s Parkinson’s disease had been getting worse for quite a while.

“Too bad, that’s a sweet setup.”

“Place looks empty.”

“We checking upstairs?”

“Nah, let’s go through the kitchen, then the garage.” Darryl shook his head when he decided the first floor was okay.  “But Psycho, keep an eye on the stairs in case something come tumbling down to eat us.”

“You got it DJ.”

The kitchen yielded two big boxes full of canned food, and another of boxed pasta, flavored pasta meals, and bags of rice.  They got it added to the rest in the back of the trucks, then Darryl led the way into the garage.  He opened the door, took one faltering step as a foul stench hit him, then stopped dead as his eyes swept around.  Clutching at the door knob, he stared in disbelief at the scene inside.

“What wrong?” Stony said.

“Zombies?” Psycho asked.

“Not no more.” Darryl said, struggling to hold on to his stomach.  His insides were twisting up as the blood splashed across the oil stained floor – blood and other things – assailed him.  As bad as the images were, the smell was worse.  The Georgia heat had
clearly had time to go to work on the carnage, and he abruptly turned and bumped into Stony.

“Fucking move!” he swore, shoving his way through the two bikers.  He made it out into the living room and leaned against the couch.
  He wasn’t above showing the garage upset him, but he
really
didn’t want to vomit.  It was stupid, but it was what it was.  He was supposed to be a guy the others could look to.

“What—
shit!” he heard Stony say, then the man started gagging.

“Lemme see.” Psycho said.  Darryl closed his eyes, concentrating on trying to keep the fresher air in the living room moving in and out of his lungs
, on the empty street outside; on
anything
but the garage.  Breathe in.  Think happy thoughts.  Breathe out.  Oh man.

“Huh.” Psycho remarked in a voice that was not just calm, but almost interested.  “Guess someone else who lived here took care of them before they got to be a problem.”

“Shut up.” Darryl muttered.

Psycho clearly didn’t hear him, and Darryl heard boots thump loudly on the concrete in the garage.  “Saves someone else the trouble.  Hey look, there’s some gas, and a chainsaw.  Those on the list ain’t they?”

“Man, how can you . . .” Stony started, then gagged again.  He staggered past Darryl, heading for the kitchen.  A moment later, Darryl heard him vomiting into the kitchen sink.  It wasn’t what Darryl needed to hear, not when he was still struggling to hang onto his own gorge.

“Turn the water on.” Darryl said as he turned a little more away from the kitchen, facing the window that showed a perfectly normal back yard beyond the curtains.

“What?” Psycho asked.

“
Stony, turn the fucking water on!” Darryl snapped louder as Stony continued to retch.  “There enough foul shit in here.”

“DJ, you okay?”

“Close that damn door.” Darryl said.

“Why, I got the stuff.  Or did you want to go through the rest of the garage.  There some bins in there, and a tool chest.”