Dying Days 2 (5 page)

Right now, though, John was looking at over a hundred of them, all in the middle of the road. Blocking their path.

"They have someone," Peter said.

"A caravan of cars, headed this way," Kayla added. "Why wouldn't they be heading in the other direction, towards St. Augustine?"

John surveyed their position, and it wasn't promising. They were at a spot where short, stunted trees rose at odd angles on sand dunes, effectively making a wall to their right, and to the left was more of the same.

"Are there people alive in the white car?" Peter asked.

John looked through the binoculars and sighed. A woman and her daughter were inside, windows closed, but the zombies were slamming the car with hands and heads. It was only a matter of time before they'd get through.

"We need to do something," Stanley said. He was an older man, a former attorney, and this was his first foray to trade for supplies.

"There are six of us," Kayla said. “It's probably twenty-to-one odds against us right now."

"And?" John said with a smile.

Kayla pointed. "I'll take the twenty to the right. Anyone have a problem with that?"

Peter shook his head but was smiling. "Hopefully someone has a Plan B."

John looked back the way they'd come. The road was completely empty. "Maybe we can lead them back to the next break in the dunes, have them follow us onto the beach, and then double back and rescue the people."

"How long will that take? We don't want to get caught out here in the dark," Stanley said.

John looked up at the sun overhead. "We have several hours to kill. Sorry, poor choice of words. Even if we lead this slow group back, get them onto the beach or off the road, and then get through the dune barriers, we'll have plenty of time to get to St. Augustine." John pointed. "Around the bend is a nice break, a beach access, and if I remember correctly, there's another just past the cars. We can skirt the entire scene and end up north of the living, save them, and be on our merry way."

"And then get our drink on at Kimberly's Bar tonight," Kayla said.

John shook his head. "Everyone get a head start and I'll get their attention."

"With your fancy crossbow?" Peter said. Everyone had chided John when they set out, since he'd selected an expensive crossbow for the journey instead of his compound bow or one of the others in his growing collection. "You go with them, I'll shoot a couple. I haven't shot in too long."

"I got this," John said but Peter put his hand up.

"I may be big, I may be fat, but I can still out-walk these dudes." Peter drew his pistol suddenly and shot. "Besides, it's too late. I already got their attention."

John watched as Peter kept shooting. He wasn't a good aim, but it didn't matter. The zombies began shuffling toward them, bumping into one another in the limited space.

It was quite unnerving, even though John and the group had such a lead, to see so many bloody, dripping corpses moving so slowly and so methodically.  It shook you.

It took longer than they thought, and Peter shot one of the lead undead when they started getting closer. That also kept them in focus so they kept coming.

They got to the beach and John was glad there wasn't another horde waiting for them there. The beach was empty, the gentle waves crashing, a lone seagull flittering overhead.

"Watch the dunes and the water," he said. He was waiting for them to get circled and attacked at any moment.

"Here they come," Peter said behind them. He shot again.

"Don't waste your ammo. They got the message," Kayla said.

The run up the beach was long and John's calves were hurting by the time they found the next break. It was empty of zombies, something he was thankful for.

They stepped back onto A1A a hundred feet north of the caravan.

"Shit again," John said. Not all the zombies had followed them. At least six still remained at the cars.

"I guess I can shoot again," Peter said and reloaded.

"Let's make this quick." John took two steps and shot a bolt through the head of a zombie, watching it fall.

The others got closer, took careful aim, and dispatched the remaining five like they were nothing.

"I sometimes imagine we're in a zombie video game and we're killing the easy ones until the big boss zombie rises from a crack in the ground and attacks us," Peter said.

"Sometimes I worry about you, brother," Kayla said.

They approached the cars, checking each one for survivors. There were none.

The car they'd seen the two people in was last, and they all circled it.

John didn't want to say 'shit' again, but it was the only fitting word to use.

The windshield had been smashed in. Inside the woman and her daughter struggled to crawl out of the car with bloody lips and vacant eyes.

Kayla said it for John. "Shit," before silencing both with shots to the head.

Chapter Five

"Go tell them," Steve said to Mike.

"Go tell them what?"

"That Tent World has to move to another part of the city."

Mike rubbed his eyes. The short drive over from Fort Matanzas had been eventful, with Steve, Corona in hand, shouting out the passenger window for people to get out of the way, as if the giant tour bus with his face painted on the sides wasn't enough to get them to move.

"This is wrong on so many levels," Mike said.

"Do you know who I am?" Steve asked rhetorically.

"That doesn't make this right."

Steve put his hand out and waved his fingers. "Give me the keys."

"No… why?"

"If you won't do it, I don't need you. I'll park it myself."

"There's no way you'll be able to hop that curb and position this monster without killing yourself or someone else,  or ending up in the river."

"Fine." Steve leaned his head out the window. "Who can drive this bitch and wants to hang with the world's last celebrity?"

"Shit." Mike put the bus in drive. "Sit back. I'll park it on the grass and we'll figure out the best way to get everyone to move."

"Toss them some pennies or a bar of soap." Steve laughed and sucked down the last of his Corona before tossing it out the window. "Better yet, since I'm sure they didn't know what soap was before the world shit on them, tell them the first fifty that move get a signed picture of me."

"I didn't think you'd sign pictures for anyone."

"I won't. I have a box in the bedroom of auto-signed headshots. You can do anything with a computer these days."

"I'll be right back."

"Hey, I think I even have a couple of number seventy-five racing cars as well."

"For the kids?" Mike asked as he got out and closed the door.

Steve stuck his head out the window. "Kids? Screw that. They'll open the boxes and play with them. I'll give them to collectors. They appreciate that kind of thing." Steve shook his head. "Kids? What's wrong with you?"

Mike was starting to wonder the same thing as he approached a group of people busy stringing a line to hang their river-washed clothes.

*   *   *   *   *

Tosha pushed her hair behind her ear and stared at the lead boat through the rifle's cross-hair sight. One pull of the trigger and she could kill the leader. She figured she had enough ammo in her pockets to kill quite a few of those bastards.

She'd been in the meeting room of the college when the word had come down about this group, about how they were killers and rapists. When David called them to action, and wondered aloud if they were the reason the Orlando safe haven had suddenly fallen, she had agreed.

There were some selfish people in this world, but you could mostly ignore them. The ones who were dangerous had only their self-interest at the top of the list and wanted what you had, even if they didn't need it.

She heard Bobby coming up behind her, making enough noise to wake the dead. If they were wondering where she was hiding and watching her—and she was sure they were on those boats—he'd just given away her position.

For fun, and because she wanted to shoot Bobby, she slowly rose up on her knees and let her ass wiggle as she slid forward, still holding the rifle.

She heard him stop behind her,knew he was getting a great view of her ass in the tight jeans.

"Get down before you get shot," she said to him without turning. "Crawl to me."

Bobby hit the ground with a loud thud and she wanted to scream. If he got a bullet between his eyes, she wouldn't have been upset in the slightest. She wondered how idiots like this survived as long as they did.

Finally, aggravated, she turned. He was within a few feet of her, on all fours, boldly licking his lips as he stared at her ass.

"See something you like, Bobby?"

He nodded like a little kid. "Is that a thong?" he stammered.

She smiled. "Technically, no. A thong has a small strip to it. I'm wearing a pink G string. See the difference?"

"Um, yeah."

"Come closer and check it out."

He moved on all fours, reaching out with his hand to touch her ass.

Tosha kicked back with her leather boot, catching him under the chin. The man dropped in a heap.

Satisfied he was taking a nap and not dead, she went back to her rifle.

The boats were farther out and starting to turn north. In fifteen minutes, they'd be passed the island and out of sight.

Tosha decided she'd take the time to follow them and make sure they didn't try to land close to an unmanned fence or a stone wall they could hop.

She had time to kill before heading to Kimberly's tonight. What else was she going to do? She hadn't killed anything in several days and was getting antsy.

There weren't many men that could keep up with her insatiable appetites for sex, drinking and shooting things. Instead, she'd try to keep herself amused in all three departments.

Movement to her left caught her eye. At first she assumed it was one of the patrols, but when two figures ducked behind a low wall, she knew it wasn't part of a patrol.

"Finally, some action."

A quick glance at the water told her the boats were still moving away from shore, but it wouldn't have been hard to get a few people onto the shore.

Coming over a sand dune, she saw there were only two of them. One was an older man, with a stained blue bandanna on his head and no shirt, his doughy torso covered in tattoos. He moved to his right and away from his partner, who was just a kid with a dark mop of hair, carrying a skateboard, of all things, and looked pissed, even from this distance. They split up, and Tosha decided to make this easy. There was no way she could keep track of both, but with one of them out of the picture she'd simply track the other or hope he surrendered.

Tosha hit the ground, set up her shot, and pulled the trigger within seconds.

The Tattooed guy's head exploded, stray pieces of his bandanna fluttering in the breeze as he fell.

She was sure the boats had heard that as well, and she was glad. Maybe that would dissuade them from attempting something so stupid again.

The kid wasn't in view but she knew she could find him. She waited to see if he would make a run for it so she could blast his head off as well.