Stopping the Dead (6 page)

Corey

“Hey,” Corey said.

“What?” Brian asked.  He was double checking all of the .50 cal ammo boxes.  The .50 cal stood between them on the table in the machine shop, the jam cleared and the weapon cleaned.

“What day is this?”

“Day four of our own
personal zombie apocalypse.  Why?”

Corey shrugged, “I’m just thinking about Emily’s kids.”

“Michael and Susan?”

“Does she have more?”

“Fuck you.”

Corey laughed.  “Yeah, of course Michael and Susan.  I was just thinking how much it must suck not having toys and movies and shit.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking that too.”

“You know,” Corey said, “that second hand shop run by the nuns is just up the street.”

Brian scratched his chin and looked at Corey.  “Do you think that we could actually get there and get back?”

“Don’t see why not,” Corey said.  “It’s not like
we can’t outrun the fuckers if need be.”

Brian nodded.  “What about the others?  I don’t think that anyone is going to be too hip about us running out to a store for toys.”

“We’ll just tell them that we’re doing a patrol since we can’t really see down the side roads.  And if we just happen to stumble upon the store, and just happen to get a few toys and dolls and stuff, well, hey, that’s just too bad.”

“Sounds good,” Brian laughed.  “We’re humping it, right?”

“’Course.”  Corey picked up a rag and wiped his hands.  “Don’t want to draw any more noise to us than necessary.
  We’ll pack light.”

“A4s and machetes.”

Corey nodded.  “We’ll have to raid Ernst’s supplies, too, see if he has utes.”

“Of course I do,” Ernst said, climbing up the stairs that led from the tunnel.

“Jesus Christ!” Brian said.

“You just about made me fill my pants,” Corey laughed.  “What’s up?”

“I don’t trust either of you,” Ernst grinned around his pipe.  He smoked happily, the smoke curling up around him.  “You’ve been alone long enough to come up with some sort of plan to break up the monotony of the end of the world.”

“No, not us,” Brian said.

“Never us,” Corey said.  “We’re just thinking that we should do a patrol, make sure that everything’s okay out there.”
             
“See what isn’t covered by the cameras,” Brian added.

Ernst looked at them, took the pipe out of his mouth, and smiled.  “Did you two know that your ears get red when you lie?”

Corey cleared his throat.

“Um, yeah, our mom,” Brian said, “she may have mentioned that before.”

“Yeah, right before dad took off his belt,” Corey said.

“Listen,” Ernst said.  “I’m pretty sure that you’re planning on doing something other than simply checking out what’s going out there.  But I also trust you two.  If you don’t want to tell me, or anybody else, that’s fine.  We’ll let it be a surprise.  Just remember,” Ernst said, looking at them both as he put his pipe back into his mouth, “that those fuckers out there want to eat you.  And who knows if there are other survivors, and if they’re going to want your gear.  Adversity doesn’
t
bring out the best in everybody.”

Corey looked over at Brian, and together the twins nodded.  “Yeah,” Corey said, “thanks.”

“No problem,” Ernst said.  “Now, utes are on the third sub-floor.  Boots, too.  Plenty of gear, actually.  Just make sure that you secure each room as you leave.  I really don’t want Michael wandering around and getting lost, or, worse, getting into any of the weapons.”

“Yeah, I copy,” Corey said.

“We’ll both make sure that it’s squared away,” Brian said.

“Right,” Ernst said, grinning.  “Make sure that you two bring a handheld, and be safe.”

The twins said good-bye, Ernst waving
as he left.

“Motherfucker’s quiet,” Corey said after a moment. 

“Right,” Brian said, shaking his head.  “Want to get geared up?”

“Damned right,” Corey laughed.  He tossed the rag onto the work table and picked up his A4 slinging it as Brian did the same.  In silence the two of them left the machine-shop, following the stairs down, a slim trail of pipe smoke leading the way.  They made their way to the tunnel and moved through it, the walls cool concrete with fluorescent lights set into the ceiling.  A fan whirred
,
keeping a steady flow of cool air moving around them. 

In a few minutes they reached the stairwell for the main warehouse, steel stairs led up to the first floor while other
s led down to the remaining sub
levels.
  As they passed the open
doorway for the second sublevel they could hear
Emily speaking in Chinese and Michael’s small voice answering.

The brothers continued down to the third sublevel and keyed open the door, motion activated lights flickering into life.  Row after row of equipment stretched out, each shelf labeled and with a full list posted.  Whistling the Marine Corps Hymn the brothers started moving through the rows, and within a short while they had everything from issue socks to proper cover.

“Fuck, Bri,” Corey said, setting his gear on the floor of the center aisle, “feels like we’re back on the Island getting issued our shit for the first time.”

“Almost,” Brian said, “almost.  DI Parker isn’t screaming that he’s going to make me eat
your balls.”

Corey laughed.  “Yeah, there is that.  Although I’m sure that Master Guns could do a pretty damned good impression.”

“I think,” Brian said, “that Master Guns probably trained every DI there ever was.”

“Probably was there at Tun’s Tavern,” Corey grinned.

“Probably built the fucking thing.”

The two brothers laughed and stripped down, replacing their worn and stinking civilian clothes with clean uniforms and equipment.  It was standard Army surplus, but Corey was sure they could figure out a way to make it Marine Corps qualified soon enough.  “Hey,” Corey said, lacing up his boots.

“What?”

“We should make sure that Ernst tells Lee about this.  Don’t know if he has any female gear, but she could at least get some clean clothes.”

“Good call,” Brian said, tucking his cover into his back pocket.  He picked up his ruck, slipped it over his shoulders and checked the straps.  “Feels good.”

Corey did the same.  “Damn right it does.”

The brothers picked up their weapons and kicked their dirty clothes into a pile by the door.  “We better make sure we pick that up later,” Corey said.

“Why?  Don’t you want Adam or Master Guns to beat the shit out of us?” Brian laughed.

“No,” Corey grinned.  “Not particularly.”

“Yeah,” Brian said, “good call.”

Corey closed the door and locked it behind them as they left, boots ringing out on the stairs as they made their way back up to the main floor.

Lee sat at the island, scrolling through the few camera feeds that were still active.  She glanced over at them, smiling tiredly.  “Ernst said to meet him over at the south wall.  He said that you’re going out for a recon?”

Corey nodded.

“Be safe,” she said, stretching.  “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“We copy, Sergeant,” Brian said.

She smiled again.  “Okay, get out.  Ernst is waiting.”

The twins nodded and walked by, pausing at the front door to load up on clips and to grab sidearms.  Fully loaded, the brothers stepped out into the early morning light.
  The zombies at the gate lifted their arms, pressing against the metal bars and letting out low, chilling moans.

“Fuckers,” Brian spat.

Corey looked at them, shaking
his head.  “Is it me, or are there more of them?”

Brian looked and sighed.  “No, you’re right.  There are more.”

“Great.”

The moans of the undead followed them as they turned the corner of the warehouse.  Ernst and Adam stood a short distance away, a ladder leaning up against the fence.  A trio of zombies lay on the asphalt beyond, heads split open, Adam holding a bloodied machete.
  Ernst still smoked his pipe, looking down at the bodies.

“Are you okay?” Brian asked.

Ernst nodded.  “That one there,” he said, pointing to a middle-aged woman missing an arm.  “She was my first girlfriend.”  He shook his head.  “Just made me think about how many others we’ll recognize out there.”

“Listen up,” Adam said, snapping Corey and Brian back to reality.  “You’ll mount the fence with the ladder, and you’ll radio back to us when you’re ready to come in.  You’ll come back here, and we’ll have the ladder ready to go.  Got it?”

Brian nodded.

“Why here?” Corey asked.

“See that door?” Ernst asked, gesturing past the bodies.

Corey looked and saw a door set in the warehouse across the street from them.  “Yeah.”

“Well, the code on that is 4-3-2-1, and that warehouse stretches all the way to Mason Street.  The front office is all windows, and it has a second floor.  You’ll be able to get a good view of which way to go, and how many of the zombies are out there.  Okay?”

The twins nodded.

“We don’t know if anyone is in the warehouse,” Adam said.

“Did have time to install the cameras,” Ernst added.

“So you checking the warehouse,” Adam continued, “is going to enable us to put the cameras in once you’re back.
  We will not make radio contact.  We already figured out that the dead can zone in on
noise, so we’ll leave the call-
ins to you.  Be safe, be smart.  If it gets touchy at all, get back to us.  Worst case scenario, come back by the main gate.  We can use the humvee or the pick-up to come get you, but diesel is in short supply, and we need to make sure that we don’t blow through the fuel.”

Corey nodded, Brian adding, “Got it.”

“Okay,” Adam said, looking at both of them.  “Be safe.”

“And be smart,” Ernst said, “no stupid mistakes.”

The twins nodded again, and Corey led the way up the ladder.  At the top he shifted his position, swung over, and dropped to the asphalt.  Within a heartbeat he had the A4 up before Brian was beside him.  Without looking back Corey led the way to the door, Brian covering him as he punched in the code.  The door clicked and Corey stepped in, weapon ready, Brian slipping in and closing the door. 

The warehouse was dim, but their eyes adjusted quickly.  The place was huge and empty, steel I-beams interrupting the monotony of the floor as they supported the ceiling.  The building stretched easily for two hundred meters, if not three. 

The twins moved at a quick trot, boots leaving prints in the dust, gear bouncing.  Ahead of them appeared a door and a staircase up to a second door. 
Corey gave a nod to Brian, and his brother held back, bringing the A4 up and keeping a lock on the first floor door as Corey slung his rifle and moved quietly up the stairs,
following a blood trail as he drew
his machete.
  Reaching the door he paused and listened.

Beyond it he heard the sound of shuffling.

Fuck me, he sighed.  Looking down to Brian he nodded, who flipped off his safety.

Taking a deep breath Corey grabbed the doorknob, twisted, and pushed into the room. 

The room stank of old death, a pair of male zombies swinging slowly to face him.  One was missing fingers on the hands reaching for him, while the other was missing most of his stomach and thighs.  But they were moving towards him, and
Corey sidestepped Mr. Fingers
and brought the machete down into the skull of Mr. Stomach.

The bone cracked, split, and its eyes rolled back in its head as Mr.
Stomach collapsed toward an
old steel desk.

Corey pulled the machete free and slipped under Mr. Fingerless’ closing arms.  He fought the urge for a center strike, and brought the weapon down hard into Mr. Fingerless’ temple, taking the whole top of the zombie’s head off.

As the skull cap clattered off of the desk, Mr. Fingerless collapsed on top of Mr. Stomach.

Stepping out of the room, Corey paused on the landing, flashed Brian the two signal, closed his fist, and made his way down the stairs.  He stopped at the first floor door, listened, and heard nothing.

He looked back at Brian, who nodded.

Corey took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and opened the door.

The front office was empty save for dust, footprints, and the beginning of the blood trail.
The windo
ws were dusty, revealing Mason S
treet beyond
.  The street was short, a narrow cross section bracketed by the foundry on one side, and the American Legion on the other.  Across from the front office was The Sisters of Mercy Thrift Shop, sandwiched between a pair of empty store fronts.  Children’s clothes, books, and toys were neatly displayed in the windows, and the store’s door was open slightly.