Four (Their Dead Lives,1) (12 page)

All eyes landed on him.

ALEC

Vomit hurled from his throat and into a toilet. He rested his face on the cool porcelain bowl, too drunk to care about cleanliness. Nicole, crouching next to him, cringed as she rubbed his back soothingly. “Let it all go.”
 

Let it go. I must let it go. The past. The vomit. Everything.
“You’re the best,” he slurred, his eyes closed. He wiped at his lips. “I wish my friends stayed longer. I wish things were diff—oh no!”

Nicole wiped away the chunks covering his mouth with a tissue once he finished. She stroked his head, running her fingers over his short hair.
 

“Babe, do me a favor?”
 

Nicole said, “Sure.”
 

“Check on Brian for me. He’s a mess.”
 

“Okay. Call for me if you need anything.” She hiccupped on her way out of the bathroom. Nicole was pretty good about handling her vodka, and Alec wondered a bit resentfully if she was even drunk. He stayed sprawled over the toilet for a few minutes after she left. Nothing more would come out so he eased off the bowl, wobbling back, his legs sore from lying on hard tiles. Cold water from the sink felt life-saving on his face.
I’m never drinking again.
With a clean finish, he lurched at the door, moving pretty quietly for a drunken stumbler.
 

Pressed against a wall of the hallway, he sidled out toward the main area of the bar. A cold breeze crawled behind him.
Must have left the back door open.
He ignored it and, pausing in the hall, he heard Nicole, Brian and the waitress, Erica.
 

“I almost lost everything today,” Brian sighed.
 

“You’ll be fine.” Nicole touched his back and Alec saw jealousy spark in Erica’s eyes.
Not sure what Brian was thinking when he cheated on his girl. Some guys can’t control their weenies.
 

Brian rubbed at the bags under his eyes. “How’s Alec doing?’
 

“He’s thrown up the last of it, I think. How are you?” Nicole pulled the stool closer to him, resting one hand on his arm.
 

Brian absently rubbed a finger along the rim of the tequila bottle, never bringing it to his lips. “This place is sinking and it’s drowning me.”
 

“What do you mean?”
 

“Financially, I’m done. I have to close it down.”
 

Nicole reached over and touched Brian’s wrist.
A sister’s touch. Nothing sexual. I’m surprised they don’t see me standing here. A chocolate shake sounds good.
His mind wandered. Brian placed a hand on top of Nicole’s. Both of them were thoroughly punished by icy cold stares from Erica. Erica was about to speak, about to voice her jealousy—

The entrance to the bar swung open. They all turned in their stools, no one noticing Alec in the hall.
Another person? How many people are coming tonight?

A tall man wearing a leather jacket stood in the doorway. His hair was slicked back and he looked like he’d stepped out of the 1950s. Erica’s boyfriend: Tommy. Alec had met him once or twice. Not a fun guy to be around.
 

“Tommy!” Erica hopped off the stool. “Where have you been?” She froze when she got a good look at him.
 

Tommy stepped into the light, revealing a bleeding cut slashing across his face.
 

Erica grabbed him anxiously. “What happened?”
 

Brian and Nicole stepped off their stools.
 

Tommy heaved, strands of dark hair falling over his forehead. He threw them back with a quick head swing. He stared at Erica, then Nicole, and finally Brian. He too didn’t notice Alec. A cold whisper choked from his lips: “They’re coming.”
 

They
?
 

“Who?” Brian went to his office.
 

Tommy shook his head, confused. “Can-cannibals. I don’t know. It was dark. They attacked us at a gas station. They killed everyone. I barely escaped.”
 

Brian returned, his shotgun in one hand, a box of shells in the other.
A determined badass.
“How many?”
 

“A dozen or so. It all happened so fast.”
 

“Let me get this straight. You were at the gas station and attacked by, uh, cannibals?”

“I don’t know what they are. They ate two of my buddies and attacked the attendant. I think the survivors barricaded themselves inside the food mart. These things are strong. I had to run.”
 

“You swear you saw this?”
 

Tommy stumbled a step closer to Alec’s brother. “Do I look like the type of guy who would make this up?”
 

Brian, swinging the shotgun in one hand, pushed his way to Tommy.
 

“Brian,” Nicole cautioned, following closely behind.
 

“Nic, go get Alec. Bring him here.” Brian’s eyes stared directly into Tommy’s. “I’ve had one helluva night, kid. So no, I don’t think you’re making this up, considering I’m the one with the shotgun.”
 

Tommy nodded. “Well, load it already.”

Brian smiled. “Already loaded.”
 

Erica said, “You keep it loaded all the time?”
 

“Nicole, please go get Alec and bring him here.”
 

Enough of this nonsense.
“Bring me here for what?” Alec leaned right outside the bathroom hall and wiped his mouth. They all stared at him.
What? Do I still have vomit covering my face?
 

A stench of decay wrapped around Alec, and before he saw the source, a rotting hand grabbed his skull.
Holy hell!
Shoved forward, Alec smashed down onto his chest. Something scrambled on his back. He kicked, swung, clawed at the wooden floor to escape but he was overpowered. Trapped. A moan sank in his ears, cold breath crawled along his temples, and claws ripped his shirt. Rough fingers scathed his flesh.
 

“Alec!” Brian pumped his shotgun and went for his brother.
Please don’t let him miss. Please let me live.
Brian fired with no hesitation. Whatever pinned Alec was thrown across the bar by the impact of the spread. Something warm and wet soaked through his shirt. Brian grabbed him, hauling him to his feet.
 

“Shoot it again!” Tommy yelled.
 

“I know what I’m doing,” Brian said grimly.
 

Alec stood in shock, realizing what had pinned him down.
Is Tommy an idiot? I might be drunk but I know a zombie when I see one. This is no cannibal.
The zombie struggled to rise and Brian fired again. Its skull vanished in a fountain of blood and bone.
 

“Hell yeah, brother!” Alec stomped and pumped a fist in celebration.
 

Another moan crawled its way up the dark bathroom hall, followed by another low groan. Wooden flooring creaked under the weight of each step two stumbling corpses took, slowly emerging into the light.

“More!” Erica yelled.
 

“Get that back door shut!” Tommy commanded.

Alec’s ears rang from the shrieks and the loud blast of the shotgun.
Nicole
. She was standing next to the bar, both hands on a stool. Her eyes were wide as he rushed to her side. “We’re okay,” she said.
 

“They keep coming!” Brian screamed over his shotgun.
 

Tommy pointed at the main entrance. “Forget the hall, let’s make a break for it.”
 

Alec kissed Nicole, took her hand, and they ran to the main door. Not thinking twice, he yanked the entrance open. A sprinting corpse sprang through, pouncing on his chest. He slammed to the floor underneath its weight, pinned once again.
 

Nicole screamed for Alec to get up and for his brother to help. Alec struggled with the dead woman. It wasn’t as strong as the male stumbler who had pinned him before, but he wasn’t able to get away. He saw past it into the night and spotted another slow stumbler making its way up the patio.
 

Alec rocked back and forth, shoving his hands into the woman’s chest, kicking his legs, all in a frantic attempt to escape. He slapped a hand across its face and it hissed down at him, cold saliva falling off its lips and splashing against his forehead.
You dirty bitch!
He gagged and coughed from the stench, and as its teeth darted for his neck, a bar stool smashed into its face. He grabbed the opportunity and rolled away from the corpse, staring at his beautiful fiancée in all her glory.
 

Nicole fought for balance, clenching the stool with both hands. Her eyes were locked on the female stumbler struggling to rise. She screamed, charged forward, and shoved the stool into its gut, thrusting it off the patio. She almost fell over outside.
Nicole!
A cacophony of moans surrounded her. Dead silhouettes filled the parking lot beyond her. She threw the stool at them, knocking a corpse over, and retreated. Alec rose to his knees and grabbed her. Slamming the entrance shut as the door swung closed, he caught a glimpse of headlights accelerating right for the porch.

“Everyone get back!” Alec screamed and tugged Nicole, sprinting for safety.
 

The front entrance collapsed. A patrol car plowed into the bar. Tables and chairs exploded in every direction. The wave of destruction culminated at the wall of bottles: glass and alcohol sprayed across the establishment. Two bottles shattered on the roof of the car, pouring gin down its windshield.
 

“Brian!” Alec called, holding Nicole by the relative safety of the office. The car was between them and the hallway Brian defended.
 

“What the—” his brother yelled from the other side of the car. He was separated from the rest of the group. Brian grabbed his shaved head, ignoring the zombies and pending apocalypse. “What the hell did you do to my bar?”
 

The engine shut off. Sheriff Ortiz fell out the front seat next to Brian, right onto his hands and knees. He yelled back at Deputy Miller, “Why did we listen to that drunk kid?”
 

Howard, cuffed in the backseat, simply shrugged. “Okay, mistakes were made, but I’m pretty sure we ran over a couple of zombies. Success! Am I right?”

Miller, ignoring him, kicked the driver’s side open.

“Everyone to the back office!” Brian rushed past the patrol car. He got a glimpse of the outside and Alec followed his horrified stare.
 

Outside, a pack of sprinters made their way past the slower stumbling zombies. Brian fired twice through the broken wall. A wooden beam dropped just in front of him. The center of the wall had vanished, only a gaping, ravaged hole in its wake. He stopped behind the car, leaned against it, and fired spread after spread.
 

Deputy Miller swung the patrol car’s back door open, grabbing Kale’s shirt with one hand while keeping his pistol, a Glock 22, aimed at the shattered entrance. Kale stumbled out from the patrol car, his wrists cuffed tightly behind his back. He lost his balance and crashed to his knees. Alec ran to help.
 

They stared at one another, thinking the same thing
: we leave as four.
 

Inside the patrol car, Howard squirmed on his side; his wrists were cuffed in front of him. Ortiz blocked his door. The sheriff took out his sidearm, standing alone on the side of the bar where Alec had first been attacked. Gunshots filled the room. Howard wiggled back, trying to get out through Kale’s door when Miller grabbed his ankle and tugged. He fell on the ground right next to Kale.
 

Quick shots came from Ortiz while strong spreads came from Brian.
 

On his feet, Kale sniffed, staring at Alec. They nodded as Alec rubbed his friend’s arm. “Glad you’re okay.”
 

“Too soon to say that.” Kale turned to their three defenders.
 

Ortiz, Miller, and Brian continued to fire at the oncoming horde—an army of rotten flesh, starving moans, and rapid feet flooding from the outside.
 

“Fall back, Sheriff!” Miller screamed, retreating a step toward the office. The sprinters stormed into the bar. Brian spun around and rushed past the deputy, grabbing the shotgun shells on the bar as he told everyone to seek refuge in the office. Alec stood in place, watching the horror unfold.
 

 
“Ortiz!” Miller called for his sheriff.
 

“I’m com—arghyearrh!” The sheriff unleashed a tormented scream before he appeared around the patrol car.
Right behind him!
The tumbling fat man clutched at his own neck, blood leaking through his fingers.
Bit.
He reached for Miller as he fell to his knees. He couldn’t maintain pressure on his neck wound and let go of it. Blood jetted across the patrol car. “My cats,” he whispered sadly.
 

“Sheriff!” Miller’s cries would do no good. The sprinters launched on Ortiz and his body vanished beneath a roiling mass of the undead. Two gun shots. Two tortured squeals. Silence. Miller forced his way into the office along with Brian.
 

Alec, closest to the door, pressed his back against it to wedge it closed.
Just a door between us and them.
And like the seven other people staring back at him, he knew they’d trapped themselves in their own grave.

JEFF

They’re already here.
Jeff stared out the sedan’s window at a gas station. Two massacred bodies were next to pumps, a Jeep near them.

“Should we call the po-po?” Jerry’s voice was quite sincere. “I don’t have a cell. Allergies.”
 

“How are you allergic to cell phones?” Sadie asked.
 

“I just am!
Okay
? Wow.”
 

“Don’t overreact, Jerry,” said Kelsey.
 

“You’re right.” He stroked the steering wheel. “Sorry, Sadie.”