Insurgent Z: A Zombie Novel (20 page)

“We’ll get you cleaned up. It’s looking kind of green around the cut. Sky, there’s a first aid kit in the bottom drawer of Ruth’s desk. I say we secure the building and hole up for a while. Mason and I will check things out. You three stay here,” Troy said.

“I said you could give the orders if I
didn’t
make it back.”

Troy went to protest, but Mason held a hand up, and gave him another wink, before reaching over and smashing the cigarette in Ruth’s ashtray. “Good plan. Let’s go. I’ve already checked out the bathroom.”

The two officers headed for the hall with weapons held ready. It had been quiet so far, which had Mason believing the station had been evacuated. He thought it a bit odd that everyone had left. The only risk of hiding out here would be the fires, and luckily, the fires were on the other side of the street a couple of blocks down. They had looked to be burning themselves out at last glance.

Skylar opened the desk drawer and pulled out the first aid kit. Barry stood by as she opened an alcohol wipe. “This may sting.” She gently cleaned the area and opened two more packs to finish.

“Does it hurt?” Rosella asked.

“A little. It started to burn before she even put the alcohol on it.”

“I can’t believe you just got scratched. The cut already has pus in it—hold on—there’s something in here.” She used tweezers to pull out a fingernail fragment. “It’s just a fingernail. That person must have been handling some nasty stuff to cause an infection like this. I sure hope this isn’t that flesh eating bacteria like I’ve been reading about.”

“Flesh eating bacteria! What the hell is that?” Barry said.

“I don’t think it’s that. I read that comes from ponds and can be picked up in hospitals, too. You haven’t been around either of those lately, have you?” Rosella said.

“No . . . ”

“I think you shouldn’t worry about any of that now,” Rosella said, shaking her head at Skylar when Barry looked away. “We’ll be rescued soon and get a doctor to look at you.” She took his hand and patted it reassuringly.

“It’s clean now. I put some lidocaine to help deaden it and an antibiotic ointment for infection. I’ll change the Band-Aid every few hours and keep an eye on it. You’ll be fine. It’s just a scratch. I didn’t mean to get you worried.”

Barry craned his head over at the adhesive bandage and wrinkled his nose.

***

“Break room’s clean. What’s in the fridge?” Mason lowered his gun and filled a paper cup from the water cooler.

“Looks like we have some eggs, salad dressing, mustard, mayo, and a few bags with leftover lunches.”  

“The drink and snack machines are full. Ruth has a bunch of change in her desk that we can use. If we have to, we’ll bust in and get what we need. I want to do that as a last resort. We own these machines, and I don’t want to have to pay for new ones.”

Something smacked against a door down the hall.

“Hear that?” Mason said.

“Sure did.” Troy closed the refrigerator door and followed behind the sheriff.

The pounding increased.

“My office door is closed, and it sounds like it’s coming from there.”

“It’s got to be one of those zombie things.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Your office door locks from the inside. If a normal person was in there, they would just turn the handle and come out. Those things are stupid. I don’t think it’s smart enough to let itself out. Let’s shoot it through the door.”

“No. I’ve been in situations like this before. Follow me.” Mason led them past two empty offices and the inventory room before stopping at the door.

“I want you to slowly turn the knob all the way, kick the door open, and get the hell out of my line of fire. Clear?”

“Got it.” Troy waited for Mason to position himself with his 9mm pointed ready to fire. He slid by the door and turned the knob.

The door jerked open. The knob slipped from Troy’s grasp.

“Ruth?” Mason gasped.

The twisted form of his secretary lunged past Troy and was almost upon him. He fired once to her head, blowing brains into his office, and across his desk.

She crashed into him, and he caught her in his arms. Her head rested against his chest as her legs went limp.

Mason cringed as he held her tightly. He rubbed the back of her white hair and gently pulled her into the next empty office.

Troy came up to his side, and placed a hand on Mason’s shoulder, as he folded Ruth’s arms over her chest.

“This is fucked up. Ruth didn’t deserve to die like this.” Mason abruptly stood and looked down at the smear of blood on his shirt. “In fact, none of the good people of Botte should’ve ended up this way. I swear, if I find out that Hart had anything to do with it, I’m going to kill him with my bare hands. I’ll make sure the gators take care of the evidence.”

“I’ll help.”

“Let’s go.” Mason and his deputy returned to the entrance area.

“We’ll get the others and check out the inventory. After that—Whoa! Hold on.” Mason raised both hands.

Skylar held a steady bead on them, as Barry pointed the shotgun.

“It’s okay. It’s over. The first floor is clear.”

“We heard a shot. What was it?” Skylar said. She and Barry lowered their weapons.

“It was . . . it was Ruth. They got to her somehow, or she turned into one. I don’t fucking know what’s going on for sure.” Mason looked to the floor, glassy-eyed.

“Mason has a plan. He was just about to tell me. Mason?”

“Huh? Yeah, let’s arm up and head upstairs. First, get the change out of Ruth’s desk, and let’s eat some snacks.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Skylar opened two drawers before she found four rolls of quarters. “Found it.”

The others went directly to the break room. Mason continued down the hall to his office. He avoided stepping in the patches of blood and brain and sat in his chair. “Come to Poppa,” he said under his breath. He opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, full enough for a few stiff swigs. An open packet of Fig Newtons lay next to the bottle. They were a little stale, but he ate them without much thought.

The bottle emptied far too quickly. He held the fifth up and shook it, letting the last drop fall to his tongue. It went into the waste basket with a crash.
Look at me
, he thought.
I’m like some street bum begging for drops of alcohol to keep the pink elephants away
.

Disgusted with himself, he rose from the chair. His gaze caught the pictures on the shelf. Mason’s son stared back at him.
If I ever have a chance to become a real father, a real man, it has to start now.

Mason left and opened the door to the inventory room. Florescent lights flickered to life at the flick of the switch, showing shotguns on the wall neatly arranged in order. There were a few old flare guns next to a rack of bulletproof vests. The four spare handguns were in the designated drawer, and the ammo supply cabinet had not been raided.

Troy entered the room, the others followed, chewing on snacks and holding cold drink cans.

“It looks all here,” Troy said. “The others must have been out on patrol when this all went down.”

“Don’t forget about the others who are still here,” Mason said, fitting one of the shotguns with a tactical flashlight.

“What others?” Rosella asked.

“The ones that shoved Ruth’s desk by the front door, put her in my office, and didn’t have a key to get into this room and arm themselves. They either barricaded the place and left, or are upstairs. My guess is they’re upstairs.”

“Who do you think it is? If it’s any of our guys, then they would have seen us break in. They would have at least opened a window and called out if they couldn’t provide cover,” Troy said.

“Maybe they got bit and turned,” Skylar said.

“We’ll find out shortly.” Mason fitted a second shotgun with a flashlight. “Everybody gets a shotgun, plenty to go around, and plenty of shells, too.” He opened the gun drawer and pulled out a 9mm. “Barry, take this.”

The cook reached out and took the pistol, immediately pointing it at an empty spot on the wall, sideways. Gangsta style.

Mason groaned. “You’ve never really shot a hand gun before, have you?”

“No, but I did grow up shooting shotguns. Daddy never had handguns around the house.”

“Well, point it like you’re supposed to, and not like those idiots on TV, I swear.” Mason pulled out a .357 and tried to hand it to Rosella.

“I don’t like guns.”

“I don’t like dying.” Mason watched the momentary surprise on her face and realized how gruff he sounded. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. Rosella, this is a very serious situation. You have to at least be ready to try to protect yourself.”

“I’ve never shot a gun before in my life. I’m more likely to hurt myself, or someone else, than do any good.”

“It’s not as complicated as you think. This is a revolver. All you have to do is point and pull the trigger. The bullet hits what you are aiming for. Just don’t point it at yourself, or any of us, and you have nothing to fear.”

She reached up—hesitated—and then took it from him. “It’s heavy.”

“It needs to be a little heavy to help absorb the kick when you shoot it. You’ll do just fine. If the shit hits the fan, your heart will be beating so fast you won’t even feel it.”

Troy had filled Jay’s ammo bag and had one of the departments filled, too. “I think we’re good to go. We can probably pick them off one by one from upstairs if we want.”

“Maybe. One thing at a time. Everyone grab a shotgun and fall in line. I’ll lead the way.” Mason wasted no time. He slung the shotgun from his shoulder and left the room. The others downed the remainder of theirs sodas and followed close behind.

The stairs led to two smaller rooms and one large conference room. Mason waited by the door at the top for the others to be in position. “Ready?” The others nodded. He tried the knob. It was locked from the inside.

Chapter 16

The Secret’s Out

“You have to let them in,” Joyce said, an unpleasant look plastered across her face as her eyes burned holes into Cotton.

“I can’t just let them in, Joyce. I don’t know if they’re safe.” Cotton stood with his hands pressed flat against the cool wood of the conference room door. He knew what was waiting for him on the other side. The shouts and gunshots coming from outside had captured all of their attention, and when Cotton rushed over to the window to look, he knew before seeing them that it was Mason. The tough sheriff always found a way, and here he was knocking on Cotton’s door. He had watched the entire break in, and it was quite dramatic. Cotton saw the two people run from the diner and join Mason, Troy, and a woman who Cotton assumed to be Skylar, Troy’s wife. He was only able to get a glimpse of her as she ran from the Bronco to the police station.

He had heard everything. The door being kick open and slammed shut. The muffled chatter. The lone shot that resulted from them finding Ruth, Cotton assumed. What Cotton didn’t know was if they were safe. Was the group outside the door infected with whatever went awry with the Army experiment? And if so, would they bring the infection to them? Cotton wasn’t taking any chances with that.

There was another underlying reason why Cotton didn’t want them inside. His last conversation with Mason had been a heated one, and with the collapse of the town, and corpses eating the living, Cotton feared facing the fiery-tempered Sheriff. He felt the anger and tension seeping in from the other side. Cotton’s heart raced—raced so hard he thought it might explode in his chest. A panic attack was on setting, and he needed to regain control over this standoff.

“Open the door,” Mason called, and Cotton jumped.

“Open the door, Cotton. You have to!” Joyce said. “We need more people to help us, and they have guns! They can protect us.”

“I don’t have to do anything. I’m the mayor of this town, and I make the rules. We aren’t opening this for anyone.”

“Is that you, Cotton?” Mason said.

“Shit. You see what you did now?” Cotton said to Joyce, who crossed her arms in displeasure.

* * *

“That sounded like Cotton,” Mason said, turning toward Troy and the others.

“Are you serious? Well, why won’t he let us in?” Troy asked.

“Beats me. Guess he’s scared. Still, we need to get in there and check on them. This is a safe place, and we need to make sure it remains that way. I can’t have anybody turning into one of those things in here.”

“We know Cotton. Can’t we just leave him in there?” Skylar asked.

“No. I have to be sure.” Mason took a deep breath. “Cotton, open the door!” His fist collided with the wood in rapid succession. He heard voices on the other side, but there was no movement on the lock.

“So what’s the plan, Sheriff?” Troy asked.

“Only one I can think of. I’ll give them another warning, and then I’m shooting the handle off.”

Rosella and Barry stepped back at these words. Troy ushered Skylar away from the door, and stood between them and Mason. Mason readied his shotgun and aimed at the door.

“Cotton, if that’s you in there, I’m going to shoot the door down if you don’t open it. I would advise you moving away from it.”

Again, he heard quiet discussion from behind the thick door. The door handle didn’t move. He knew what had to be done.

“I will count to three, and then I’m shooting the handle off and coming in. We’re all heavily armed. Don’t try to stop us from entering.” Mason took another deep breath and began the countdown.

* * *

Cotton moved away from the door. No matter what, they were coming inside, and possibly bringing in the infection as well. Beaux and Mindi huddled together in the corner. Cotton saw the terrified expression on their faces.

“The noise from the shotgun is going to bring more of those things to us,” Joyce said.

“Ha, just go look outside. They are all over the building trying to get in. The entrance from our heroes out there brought the entire town to our doorstep.”

Cotton heard Mason’s voice count the number one. His blood cooled. Mason was going to shoot the door, and Cotton knew it. The sheriff rarely bluffed. What would happen then? Would the hot-blooded lawman come in and shoot them all for defying him? Cotton reconsidered opening the door, but the thought of taking a shotgun blast to the chest didn’t appeal to him. From behind the door, Mason counted off number two.

There was a quiver in Mason’s voice that Cotton detected. It was a tone of begging, pleading for the Mayor just to open up and be civil about it. Cotton didn’t care. He placed his hands on Joyce’s shoulder and moved her away from the door, closer to the wall, and farthest from the large windows that overlooked the town. They would wait.

Mason counted to number three. Cotton covered his ears, waiting for the blast. To his surprise, a high pitch voice rang out instead.

“Wait! Don’t shoot!” Mindi ran forward to the door. Beaux looked surprised at the action of his girlfriend.

“What the hell are you doing?” Cotton asked, but it was too late. Mindi was at the door in seconds.

She reached out a thin arm and turned the handle until the lock unlatched. The door opened just a crack.

* * *

Mason’s finger had started to depress the trigger when the click of the lock unlatching snapped like a firecracker. He wasted no time, and lifted a large boot to the door, kicking it open. The first thing he noticed, as he entered with his gun raised, was the young girl he sent flying across the floor. She had been the unfortunate recipient of the door slamming into her face. He scanned the room. Three people along the wall trembled with their hands in the air. Just as he had thought, one of those people was Cotton.

“Just what the fuck was that about?” Mason said, storming toward the mayor. The point of the shotgun struck Cotton in the chest.

“Mason...calm down, son. There is no need for this.”

“Bullshit. You know what’s going on! My town’s in ruins right now. I had to kill people that just yesterday, I’d sworn to protect. Why?”

“I... I don’t know.”

“You’re lying!” Mason cocked the shotgun and pressed it against Cotton’s head. “Tell me what you know, or I’ll paint the walls red.”

“Mason, calm down.” Troy was at his side. He placed a massive hand on the sheriff’s shoulder. “Lower the gun, man. Let’s talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about? You know this asshole had a hand in all of this.”

“But we don’t know that, and talking to him like this isn’t going to help. You’re freaking people out.”

Mason turned and saw Skylar, Rosella, and Barry frozen by the door. Rosella looked at him with confusion, and Barry was huddled behind her. The girl he had knocked down sat against a wall. The younger boy was by her side, pressing his shirt to her bleeding nose. Joyce was the only one who appeared unfazed. Mason lowered his gun, and Cotton staggered back.

“Thank you, Troy. Seems like someone will be in line for a promotion when this is all over with.”

“Probably for mayor,” Joyce said. The three men spun around, surprised by her statement.

“What do you mean by that?” Cotton shot, his face turning red with anger.

“Why don’t you share with them what you told me? I know you held back from all the details, but I remember you saying something about the military putting a chemical in the prison water.”

“Oh, shit,” Troy said.

Cotton let out a loud gasp of air in fear.

Mason stood over him. “Tell me what you know!”

“I don’t know anything. Joyce is drunk, or something. She’s making stuff up.”

“Enough of this. Troy, bring him to the window.”

Troy complied, bending over, and picking the Mayor up. He shoved Cotton toward the glass. Mason walked toward the window and unlatched the lock. The window swung open, ushering in the foul smelling air. A chorus of moans from the street filled the room.

“This is how things are going to work. Tell me what you know and you live. Lie to me, and Troy will drop you to the ground. You’ll survive the fall, I have no doubt, but not without a broken leg or two. You’ll wish I’d have shot you when those things begin to rip you apart. Now, talk.”

“I already told you. I don’t know anything.”

Mason nodded, and the large deputy understood. He grabbed the Mayor and leaned him over the window. The Mayor struggled, but he was no match for the powerful deputy. Cotton’s head pointed to the ground as half his body was out the window. Troy’s grip tightened around Cotton’s legs. The cries of the damned rose to fever pitch.

“Jesus, let him go!” Beaux said, jumping to his feet. An icy stare from Mason sent him back to Mindi.

“You’re both fired!” Cotton said. “Relieved of duty!”

“Oh, did you hear that, Troy? We both got fired. Seems we can do what we want now. Maybe we’re wasting our time. Just go ahead and drop him.”

Troy let Cotton’s leg start to slip from his hands. The Mayor let out a high pitched scream. “Jesus! I’ll tell you everything! Don’t drop me! I don’t want to die!”

Mason nodded, and Troy pulled the Mayor back inside. Cotton scuttled like a crab toward the far wall and slammed against it. His face was beet red, and thin trails of tears and snot ran down his chin. Mason and Troy wasted no time descending on him.

“Talk,” Mason said. It was an order.

“It’s a long story.”

“Well, then give us the short version,” Troy added.

Cotton took a deep breath. “We were selected by the U.S. Military for one of their programs. Defense against bioweapons, I believe. Colonel Hart, who you know well, Mason, met with me and the other board members of the town. He paid us a large sum of money to use Paradis as his little science experiment. The prisoners would be treated with a chemical that would make them immune to the various bio-agents our enemies use. The chemical was put in Paradis’ water well. I can only guess the town’s water supply was somehow contaminated by it. We were blinded by the money, and to be honest, none of us cared what happened to a bunch of lifers. Well, I got word that something did indeed go wrong. The dead coming back to life wasn’t a problem I’d ever dreamed of. I was told to get my family to a safe place, and I came here. That is all I know.”

“So you sold the town out for some money?” Mason said.

“We all did! I don’t remember you having any problems taking the money I gave you.”

“That was for combat testing, not this. I’d never have been okay with this. Mayor, you don’t have to worry about firing us. After this, I quit.”

“But you’ll still protect us? Right? You have to!”

“I’ll think about it.” Mason walked away. Troy looked down at the Mayor and shook his head in disgust.

Mason walked out of the conference room and down the hall. He needed to get away, to clear his head for a moment. There was a water machine in the hall, and he filled up a paper cup and drank. The cold water was refreshing against his scratchy throat. He drank until he was full. A soft hand on his back startled him. He whipped around, coming eye to eye with Rosella.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. I didn’t mean for it to get out of hand,” Mason said.

“Were you really going to drop him?”

“Probably not. I had a feeling he was going to crack.”

Rosella threw herself into Mason’s arms. He hugged her back as she began to weep softly into his chest. The smell of lavender filled his nose. He filled a cup of water for her, and she drank slowly. After a few minutes had passed, she composed herself.

“So what do we do now?” she asked. “Do we just wait here for help to arrive?”

“Problem is no one knows we’re here. There is no help coming.”

“What about the military? They’re still around. They could help us.”

“After hearing what they’ve done, I don’t think they’ll be in business of helping people.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, they will probably try to cover their mess. Which doesn’t bode well for us.”

Rosella fell silent, the reality of his words sinking in. They all had a death clock winding down. It no longer felt like a matter of ‘if’ death would occur, but ‘when.’             

“I’ll think of something. Let’s go back in the conference room and regroup a little bit. We need to stick together if we want to see tomorrow.” He placed an arm around her. The two walked back to the others.

* * *

Tensions had run thick for a while, but as time went by, the group of survivors started to calm from the initial adrenaline rush. Mason shared his story with everyone, as did Rosella and Barry, recounting the diner scene. Cotton sat off to the side, quiet and dejected. Introductions were made, and Mason apologized to Mindi for hitting her with the door. Beaux apologized to Mason for interfering with their interrogation of his dad. Joyce and Skylar were already discussing mani/pedi treatments for when they left this horrid town. Some laughs were mixed in, and an impromptu dinner was held with the contents of the vending machine. They were out of change, so Troy smashed open the machine, with a chair. They could hear the echoes of dead hands slapping the door, but the thick wood held firm.