The Reckoning - 02 (11 page)

             
I looked around quickly, searching for an exit.
What I saw was even better.
There was a rack of compound bows and boxes of arrows.
I snagged a camouflage bow and checked the arrows in the box.
They were all practice arrows, but they’d do the trick.
Knocking an arrow, I took a deep breath and steadied my nerves.

             
Once upon a time, I’d been a decent shot with a bow.
Unfortunately, it had been years since I’d gone bow-hunting.
I only hoped that my fingers remembered the task.
I wanted to take out the zombies as quietly as possible, since noise would only attract more of them.
If I had any chance at all of getting out with gas, I had to clear the pumps.

             
Right about then, the
Tracker
spotted me and let out that growl that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
It incited the others into action and they started beating on the door.
Cracks began to form, almost immediately.
Seconds later, the glass imploded with a crash and the
Tracker
tried to surge inside.
The metal crossbar caught him in the chest.

             
Before he could get past it, I let fly with my first arrow.
It missed him cleanly, but buried into the chest of a big redneck zombie right behind him.
It didn’t seem to notice or care that it now had an arrow protruding from its chest.
I snatched another arrow and readied it.
The
Tracker
ducked under the bar and stood back up, inside the store. It suddenly occurred to me that the
Trackers
might be a little smarter than the average zombie.

             
My second arrow flew better.
It punched through the bridge of the
Tracker
’s nose and buried nearly halfway to the fletching.
It wobbled for a few seconds before falling to the ground.
My second arrow was already leaving the bow before it hit the ground.
This one struck the big redneck in the right eye.
It fell over backwards, pinning a zombie kid beneath him.

             
Time seemed to stand still as I methodically knocked and fired arrow after arrow.
I stopped with an arrow drawn and ready when the last of them fell.
Sixteen zombies lay dead and I had fired well over twenty arrows.
I’m not sure how much time had elapsed, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple minutes.
Four arrows were embedded into a gas pump and two were stuck in the side of the pick-up. A few others had missed the pumps and vehicles completely.
I have no idea where they ended up.

             
I stepped out the door, arrow at the ready.
I didn’t see any zombies coming from either direction.
Slowly, I released the tension on the bowstring and sighed.
I could still see the trapped zombie kid struggling to move the big redneck.
I put the kid out with a love-tap from the hammer. With the adrenalin cooling in my veins, I began to feel the pain from my exertion. Pulling the bow back and firing that many times takes a great deal of effort. The muscles in my arms were on fire.

             
I spent the next fifteen minutes looking for anything that could be used as a pump or a siphon.
When I searched the small shed behind the store, I hit the jackpot.
There were several red fuel cans of various sizes. One was marked diesel, one was kerosene and three were labeled gasoline.

             
I checked the cans, one at a time.
They were all full, except the kerosene.
It was about half full.
I hefted the weight of one of the five gallon cans and realized that it was going to be hell carrying one of them back to the Tool and Die.
I decided to see if I could find a working vehicle.

             
The pickup had the keys in the ignition, but the battery was completely dead.
The Euro-car was a wreck.
The little economy model had a flat and I didn’t feel like changing it, unless I didn’t have a choice.
That left the mini-van.
I headed over to check it out.
It looked undamaged, but the door was locked.
It was the only Chevy on the lot, so I spent the next fifteen minutes searching the pockets of the dead.
I didn’t find any Chevy keys, but I did find a big lock-blade knife in the redneck’s pocket.
That went in mine.

             
I finally hit pay dirt in the office where the older woman had shot herself.
There was a set of Chevy keys hanging on a hook by the door.
I snagged them and headed out the door at a trot.
I was relieved when the door unlocked when I turned the key.

             
I opened the door and scanned the interior.
There wasn’t a zombie to be seen, so I climbed in.
I had to remove my pack to get in and almost struck my knees on the steering wheel.
The old lady had been very short.
I slid the seat back, put the key in the ignition and turned it.
The “fasten seatbelt” light came on and the soft alarm dinged.
I ignored it and checked the gas gauge.
It was almost full.

             
I almost jumped out of my skin when a twangy female voice came blaring from the speakers singing something about a cheating husband.
It was loud and I quickly hit the eject button on the CD player.
The radio was still on a channel, but all that came from the speakers was static.
With a frown, I hit the power button and the static ceased.

             
Crossing my fingers, I engaged the starter and it fired up on the first try.
I let it run for a few seconds before shutting it down.
Now I had to get to work loading up supplies.
There was no reason to fuel the truck, now.
We could take the mini-van all the way back to town and still carry a ton of cargo.
I got to work loading the important items.

             
I loaded the gas cans in the back of the van, followed by all the ammo they had left.
I even took ammo that we didn’t have guns for.
No sense leaving it to rot.
I loaded up five bows and all the arrows they had.
I recovered all the arrows I could and stuck them in the boxes.
I cleared out the chewing tobacco section and helped myself to several bottles of whiskey of various brands.
They didn’t have my Bushmills, but I really didn’t expect them too this far out in the sticks.

             
I found a display rack of “do-rags” and snagged one.
It was leather and I put it in my pocket, after yanking off the tags.
Next to it was a shelf with hats.
I snagged a black leather wide brimmed hat and slipped it on my head.
I also helped myself to a few pairs of sunglasses from another display. Then I loaded up most of their canned goods, including the canned dog food.

             
The last thing I found was some walkie-talkies.
They had several sets of the same general type.
I figured that they’d all have at least one channel in common, so I took them all.
I also loaded up all the batteries they had.
It was almost sundown when I exited the store for the last time.
Then I fired up the mini-van and headed back towards the Tool and Die.

             
The trip back to the Tool and Die from the store didn’t take nearly as long as the trip there.
I saw only a few wandering zombies, but none that could come close to catching me.
I pulled into the driveway and around to the roll-up door.
I had to get out and knock on it, although I’m sure he heard me pull in.

             
“Gunny, it’s me,” I said, tapping on the metal door.

             
Instantly, the door started rolling up.
I was back inside the van in an instant, and drove inside as soon as there was enough room.
No sooner had I cleared the door, Gunny started rolling it back down.
By the time that I had the engine off, the door was shut again.
I noticed that Gunny had several battery powered lanterns going, providing enough light to see by.
That was good, since the sun was almost down.

             
“
Gawd-damn
, Wylie,” he said, “it’s good to see you.”

             
“Did you have any problems?” I asked, shutting the door to the van.

             
“Nah,” he replied. “I was just getting worried.
It’ll be dark, soon.”

             
“I found us a new set of wheels,” I said, gesturing at the van.

             
“I see that.
Did you give up on the truck?”

             
“Yeah,” I said.
“The van has almost as much cargo space and it’s enclosed.”

             
“Good point.”

             
Gunny opened the side door on the van and whistled.

             
“Look at all that fuckin’ ammo,” he said, smiling.

             
“Yeah, I cleaned the store out.

             
“What’s the plan, now?” he asked.             

             
“We’ll spend the night here.
We’ll head back into Springfield at first light.
I don’t want to run into a pack of zombies in the dark.
Besides that, the headlights will attract them to us.”

             
I handed him one of the bows.

             
“Do you know how to use one of these?”

             
“Do I look like fuckin’
Tonto
to you?” he asked.

             
“I’ll take that as a no, then,” I replied. “I’ll keep one handy for myself.
I’m decent with one.”

             
“It’s all yours,
kemosabe
,” he said, grinning.

             
In lieu of a reply, I just extended my middle finger in his direction.

             
“You wish,” he replied.

             
We spent the next few minutes transferring over the supplies from the truck to the van.
Odin was happy to see me, but returned to his makeshift bed by the bathroom door.
It looked like Gunny had made him a bed out of towels and a blanket.

             
“I should have listened to you, earlier,” said Gunny, shaking his head.

             
“About what?”

             
“I should
never
have given that dog beans,” he said.
“The bastard nearly ran me out of here all afternoon.
His ass
stinks!
”

             
I just laughed as I kept moving gear.

             
“I tried to warn you.”

             
“I think his ass should be banned by the Geneva Convention,” said Gunny.

             
“I think it is,” I replied.
“It’s covered under chemical warfare.”

             
Once we were done transferring the gear, we settled down for the night.
It was dark outside and we turned off all but one of the lights.
While Gunny dug out cans of food for us to eat, I put batteries in two of the walkie-talkies.
I set them both to the same channel and tested them.
They worked like a charm.

             
“Here, Guns,” I said, handing him one. “The box says they have a ten mile range.
Let’s try not to get that far apart.”             

             
“Good plan,” he said, turning his off and pocketing it.

             
I set mine to scan mode, just to see if it could pick up a signal.
After a few minutes of nothing, I set it back to my chosen frequency and shut it off to save the battery.
Then I stuck mine in my shirt pocket, to keep it handy.
Gunny handed me a can of beef macaroni and I started opening it with my P38.
By the time mine was open, Gunny was already digging into his.
His looked to be chili with beans.

             
“Trying to compete with the dog?” I asked, grinning.

             
“Self preservation,” he replied.
“I’m returning fire.”