Z-Risen (Book 2): Outcasts (7 page)

Entry #13 - Clusterfuck

08:45 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

It was time to put up or shut up. Joel wanted to go in shooting. I wanted to try something else. We glared at each other until, after a few seconds of trading comments about why both ways out were a shitty idea, Joel relented.

I took a deep breath, put the shotgun barrel over my shoulder, and casually strolled out from behind cover. I moved as if I didn’t have a care in the world, even though I might have a hundred gun barrels pointed at me.

I ambled around a stalled car that still had moving occupants inside. From the appearance of the two Z’s, I guessed they’d started chewing on each other out of zombie boredom.

The walk was only fifty feet, but it seemed to take forever.

I neared a pair of cars. Both were newer, and one of them still had a sales sticker on the window. Whoever these guys were, they were smart. Hitting up a car dealership and taking whatever we wanted should have been our next move.

“Stop! Hold it right there!”

The kid couldn’t have been more than twenty. He wore a
wind breaker and a cowboy hat. At his side was a holstered six-shooter hanging from a wide, crooked belt. He looked like he was trying out for a modern-day Western.

“W
hoa, man. What’s the deal? Me and the boys are hungry and need to get back to our base of operations.” I spoke with a calm confidence.

The kid was quickly joined by a pair of guys not much younger than him
. They carried assault rifles.

“Boys?”

“Yeah. Who are you guys?” I asked.

“Uh. We’re from the University of San Diego. We were trying to find a safe place to rest. We saw the military vehicle.”

“You guys should move on. I’m with a bunch of Marines and they’re twitchy fuckers. They see all those guns and they’re likely to start shooting. In fact, see that truck over there?” I turned and pointed.

The guys followed my gesture and the cowboy gasped.

“Yeah, that’s my friend Joel. Marine sniper. I’ve seen him shoot the arm off a Z from three hundred yards. That’s what he did in the war. He shot people.”

“Oh shit, man. We aren’t looking for trouble; we were just looking for help.”

“Are you sure there aren’t any lurkers around? Backup? You guys wouldn’t be trying to steal our shit, would ya?” I leveled my best stone-cold-killer gaze at the kid.

“No, man. No. It’s just us.”

I turned and waved the all-clear for Joel. If these guys had laid in some kind of trap, they were the best actors in the world.

“
Joel’s calling it in. If you guys are legit, no one gets hurt. Cool?”

“I swear
, it’s just us. We’re just lost and hungry,” the youngest of the bunch said.

He had pale skin, freckles, and red hair. He was so skinny I wondered if a stiff wind would knock him over.

“We got a warning over coms that our little home here might be in danger,” I said.

Joel kept his assault rifle at the ready as he advanced toward us.

“That wasn’t us.”

“Yeah? You wouldn’t lie to me, right? What are your names, anyway? I’m Jackson Creed and that mean motherfucker is Joel Kelly.”

The three exchanged glances. They looked like they wanted to get the hell out of here, and I didn’t blame them. I was bluffing, sure, but if I thought a bunch of hard ass Marines were bearing down on my location, I’d leave a rooster tail of dust.

“We should just go,” the skinny guy said.

“Free country,” I said.

“It
was
a free country a few weeks ago,” the kid said.

“You mentioned some others?”

“Yeah, man. A bunch of guys on motorcycles and in trucks. They exchanged words with whoever is up there and then moved out. They didn’t look happy.”

I looked into the hotel parking lot and found out why. Donny was in the gunner’s seat, and he had the machine gun pointed in our direction. They couldn’t know that he was out of ammo.

I lifted my hand and waved. Donny waved back.

“Do you know who those guys were?”

“Just a bunch of mean looking guys. Bad asses. They wore leather and looked like they had a gang before this shit went down. They had swagger, man. Tons of swagger. Their leader’s named McQuinn.”

Joel joined us and he didn’t look happy.

“How many?”

“Just a few, but last night we were camped a mile or two from here and we heard this loud noise. We saw lights on the road, so we kept out of sight. There were probably fifteen or twenty vehicles.”

Joel moved toward the gate. He waved once and got the all-clear from Donny.

“Creed, let’s go.”

“Sails?”

The Chevy crept up on our location from the west. She came in real quiet, and I noticed right away that the thumping was gone.

Donny ran out and opened up the gate, and Sails drove in. Joel motioned for me.

“You guys have any supplies?” I asked.

“Not much. We got a case of refried beans and some salsa from a shop that wasn’t picked over. Also found some beer, but Edgar’s been hitting that stuff pretty hard at night.”

The third guy wasn’t as tall as me, but he was wide. Even with his gut, he looked like he was in decent shape.

“Gotta feed the machine,” he said and belched. “I play football. I used to.”

“Bring your stuff. We’re moving out soon, but we have some food. Got any ammo?”

“Not much. A few boxes.”

Joel stormed toward me.

“What the hell, Creed? These guys need to move on.”

“Oh.”

I hadn’t even thought about taking a vote.

Rumbling sounded in the distance and Joel got a worried look.

“It’s cool. We don’t want any trouble,” the skinny guy said.

The other two followed suit and hopped into the cars. I wanted to say something, but Joel was right. We didn’t need more mouths, but that wasn’t the only reason. They didn’t look like they were capable of taking care of themselves.
They were just a notch lower than me on the zombie fucking apocalypse totem pole.

I moved toward the gate and shut it while Anna pulled up next to the HUMVEE.

“You fixed the car?”

“Yep. It just needed a woman’s touch.”

“Really?”

“Nah. We picked up an arm along the way, and it was thumping under the car.”

I actually laughed at that one and gently punched Sails.

“I hereby grant you the rank of First Class Engineer in the United States of Undead America.”

“I better get a damn pay raise,” she said.

“Oh, you will. I’ll put in a call to the President immediately.”

“Wow, Creed. You’re all heart.”

“True story. Now about that date?”

“Yeah. About that,” she said and turned.

I followed her gaze; a moment later, a rumbling sound reached me.

Engines. A lot of engines. And they were heading in our direction.

###

09:25 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

Our minute of chitchat ended on a sour note, thanks to a bunch of assholes determined to crash our party. Over the last few weeks, we’d run into good people.
Mostly good people. There were a few exceptions, of course, like Ken and his bat-shit insane buddy, who were holed up in a little house when they weren’t grabbing female Z’s off the street. Fucking a Z? In the case of Monster Ken and his jackass-in-training, they must have been crazy before the whole end of the world thing occurred.

From time to time, we’d even come across some looters, but – as Joel pointed out – it wasn’t our job to play sheriff. We weren’t cops. It was a dog-eat-dog world, and the meanest dog would want to find the biggest bone.

As far as I could tell, we were the only bone in town. A few stragglers were making a living by scrounging, but for the most part, this little town had become full-on Undeadville.

It’d finally happened. It was bound to. The
mercs had mentioned moving fast, but Joel and I had talked them into staying for a day while we did a food run.

Fuck me.

###

09:35 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

“Sorry about the communications, man. The batteries started to die about the time you boys left,” Markus said.

He held up the dead unit and then tossed it into the back of the HUMVEE.

“Do we have more batteries?”

“Don’t know, man. There’s still a lot of shit in the back of the transport. We can check later, but right now we have a bigger problem.”

I nodded and moved around to the back of the Chevy to help load food into the HUMVEE. I grabbed a box of juice bottles, stuck one of the bottles into my pocket, and maneuvered the rest of the box into the truck. Christy grabbed it and shifted the contents into the back.

Roz came down the stairs in a rush. She had the last of the supplies from the hotel room in one hand and her handgun in the other.

“You guys get fucking lost out there?” she asked as she breezed by.

“We got in some trouble,” I said.

“Imagine that. You and trouble.”

“Come on, Roz. We found a great stash of food, but the place was crawling.”

“I’m sure. This whole town is crawling. Now let’s go before those assholes get here and I have to start shooting fools.”

Too late.
They were already here.

###

09:45 hours approximate

Location: Clairemont, CA - Undead Central

The kids in the two new cars roared back toward us. I didn’t really think about options for them. If they were caught, they’d probably be killed, or at least get their asses kicked. The guy in the red sports car did a little wave as he drove past. I waved back.

Then they were gone.

The carnival arrived a minute later.

Donny had been busy moving shit around in the back of the HUMVEE. He whooped once and then slammed a heavy box on top of the transport. Markus conferred with Joel Kelly. Markus nodded and then disappeared up the stairs.

I waited around with my dick in my hand, wondering what in the hell I should do. Donny called my name.

“What’d you find?” I asked.

“Got some frags. Best fucking thing? I found a few rounds for the fifty cal. We can spook ‘em. Now who’s going to go out and bullshit our way out of here?”

“I guess you’re staring at me because I have the duty?”

“That would be real Christian of you, partner,” he said.

“What if they start shooting?”

He tossed down a box of shells. I caught it and read the tops. He’d given me about thirty fresh rounds for the Mossberg.

“Shoot back,” he said and loaded the big machine gun.

Donny handed down another box to Joel.

Joel opened the green metal box, extracted a few round items, and then handed a couple to me.

“These are M67 frag grenades. You’ve seen this on TV a million times, right? Pull the pin and throw. After it hits, you’ve got anywhere from three to seven seconds before the blast. When you throw, make sure to yell ‘frag out,’ especially if we’re around you.”

“What’s the range of the explosion? I don’t want an ass full of shrapnel.”

“Fifteen meters immediate blast zone, but shrapnel can travel as far as a few football fields, so you make sure you’re behind something. This will scare the fuck out of anyone on the other side of the fence.”

“Scare them worse than a bunch of zombies?”

Joel winked.

We moved toward the perimeter.

He checked the fence and figured out a way to lock it with a metal bar. It wouldn’t hold up to a halfway-determined assault from even a small vehicle, but they didn’t know that.

Brick walls rose on either side of the fence. Joel found a spot out of sight, then loaded rounds into magazines and secured grenades to his tactical armor. I refilled the rails and breach of my shotgun. Standing, I couldn’t see over the wall. I limped to the front office, dragged a chair out, and placed it next to the wall. I climbed atop it to get a look at the approaching force.

The wall was old and pitted and made of red bricks. I found a couple of places where the grout had eroded, so I was able to view the road through the small holes.

What I saw was a scene straight out of a Mad Max movie. Trucks, cars, and motorcycles closed on us. Someone had mounted a head on the hood of one of the trucks. From a distance, I couldn’t tell if it was male or female.

Maybe they would just hang a right and keep going. I scanned the parking lot and saw that everyone was hidden, either behind cars or in the Chevy, which had moved to the side of the building and was out of sight.

The lead pickup truck came to a halt, and a guy hopped out and took cover behind his door. Another man slid out of the passenger side and took cover behind his door. He wore some kind of camouflage gear. As far as prospective allies went, this was not looking promising.

Then at least fifteen motorcycles roared up behind them.

They were a motley bunch, but they were well supplied with guns. I saw more than a few women among them. They all had hard faces.

“We know you’re in there. Just give us the military vehicle and we’ll be on our way. We don’t want anything else.”

“That’s not cool. What if we need it?” I called out from behind the wall.

Joel shot me a questioning look.

“What?” I whispered.

He shrugged and pointed toward the guys on the other side of the fence then showed me a fist.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to say.”
I whispered back.

“Be a
hardass,” he shot back.

Jesus. Why wasn’t
he
talking?

“How many are there? Maybe you guys can join us. We could use a few more men,” the guy said.

He wore a pair of reflective sun glasses even though it was overcast. His hair was steel grey and about an eighth of an inch long. He wore a giant gold cross around his neck on an equally huge gold chain. He also had about five guns strapped to various parts of his body. Topping that off was an assault rifle bigger than anything I’d seen since this whole shit-fest started a few weeks ago.

“Yeah. We can use
ya.” His buddy spoke up from behind the other door, then chuckled.

“State your intentions.” I deepened my voice.

Joel shrugged. Thanks a lot for the vote of confidence, pal.

“Name’s
McQuinn, Frank McQuinn, and we intend to take that HUMVEE and go.”

“Do you see that big gun on the HUMVEE?”

“Yep, sure do, and no one’s behind it. Run out of ammo?”

“You don’t want to find out.”

“Look, man. There’s, what, two or three of you? And one’s a chick. We scouted you earlier at the shopping center. Good moves back there.”

“Yeah, thanks. I got all my Christmas shopping done in one day.”

McQuinn chuckled.

“Just give it up. We don’t want to have to do things the hard way. Right Roscoe?”

“Goddamn right,” his companion said.

“Just go away and no one gets hurt,” I said.

“You said that already.” McQuinn sighed. “Have it your way.”

He motioned and a couple of guys moved up behind his pickup.

A shot rang out and the side mirror, right next to the man, exploded. He fell away from the door, hand up to shield his face. He was back on his feet in a split-second and behind the pickup just as fast.

“Hey, man! I thought we were having a friendly conversation here.”
McQuinn yelled as he rubbed his cheek.

More men moved in toward our position. I counted nine and relayed the information to Joel. He nodded and made some hand gestures of his own in the direction of the hotel.
That made me feel better. At least they had a plan of some kind.

“The next round is through your fucking head. Now turn around and go.”

Donny stopped hiding and popped up in the gun turret. He yanked back on the release and then fired five rounds at the pickup truck. The sound of the huge machine gun thundering in the mid-morning sent shivers up and down my spine.

So much for my shitty attempt at diplomacy.

This was bound to happen. The zombie fucking apocalypse was going to bring out the worst in people; it was inevitable. The same thing would happen during any catastrophe. You’d get your share of people helping out, of course. We saw that when the bombs exploded in Boston. We saw it when tornado after tornado leveled parts of Moore, Oklahoma. A lot of people helped out.

Then there were the other guys. Those who only gave a shit about
themselves or how they could fuck others over. That’s who we were facing now.

I lifted the shotgun, held it over the top of the fence, and blasted. I wasn’t aiming for anything in particular, since I couldn’t see a damn thing. I just wanted them to know that we were all armed and ready.

I peeked back through my little hole and saw guys scrambling. They dropped to the ground in shock. Some thought to drag out weapons, but they’d just have a wall to shoot at. Or Donny, and no one seemed interested in taking on the HUMVEE.

Donny let loose with another short burst. The booming gun scared the shit out of me, and I couldn’t imagine how bad it would be out there, in the path of those huge rounds.

The lead asshole’s truck took all of the damage. Bullets punched into the hood and steam erupted through the grill.

Joel Kelly slipped to the gate, took a breath, then popped out and laid down a few rounds. He aimed low and hit a tire. Just like that, he was back behind the wall.

Donny stopped firing and all was quiet—except for the sounds of glass falling to the ground and guys calling back and forth in fear and confusion.

McQuinn
ran to the choppers. He didn’t even look back.

“Get the fuck out of here or we’ll kill every one of you!” I yelled.

He jumped on the back of a motorcycle. The driver spun the bike around and roared off. A second truck backed up and attempted a half-donut that ended with the driver planting the ass of his pickup into a telephone pole. It fell over with a crash and crushed part of the truck.

Just like their arrival, their departure was fast and ugly. Within a minute or two, they were all headed back the way they’d come from. I wanted to cheer, but settled for shooting Joel Kelly
a thumbs up.

Too bad our victory would be short-lived.

###