Zomb-Pocalypse 3 (4 page)

Even though it’s
better with my coat off, the heat is still blowing full blast on my leg, so I
climb clumsily into the front seat, launching Silas’ backpack into the back
with my own. I slap the heat off, making Silas laugh again. “You did that on
purpose,” I accuse him, and he doesn’t confirm or deny it. “If you knew from
the beginning, why did you make me ride all the way down here on the floor?” I
ask, and he stops laughing.

“Because, Jane. We
are a team, and you tried to get one over on me,” he says, and I know that he’s
actually kind of pissed off.

“Why didn’t you
turn me in?” I ask, not really sure what to expect from him. Silas shrugs.

“For the same
reason. We are a team,” he says, and I feel my anger at him melting away. “You
have just as much right to help out your family and risk your life as any one
of us.” He looks over and sees me grinning at him in the gray morning light.
“Don’t read too much into this, you still have some work to do before you’re Annie
Oakley, but you can handle yourself as well as anyone else.”

“Thanks,” I tell
him, meaning every syllable. Only Silas would be this chill about me coming
along. Even Ryan would have marched me back up the mountain to the cabin if
he’d been here. I think back over Silas’ explanation and realize he never did
tell me how he knew I was in here. “Did you see me get in, or something?” I
ask, and he shakes his head.

“No, you actually
kept pretty quiet,” he says as he continues to stare at the road. It almost
appears like he isn’t going to answer, but I am used to Silas by now; he just
needs some more time. “I knew when you didn’t say goodbye to me,” he says,
sounding awkward. I smile, glad that he knows I would’ve said goodbye to him if
I’d had any intention of letting him go out on his own. “I was watching you,
and you said goodbye to your dad for show,” he says with a chuckle. “But then
you hugged Ryan and your mom, and that’s when I knew,” he sounds like a proud
detective who just uncovered the mystery plot.

“Well look at
you,” I tell him, and he chuckles.

“One thing I can’t
figure out though,” he says, and I look over at him, surprised Silas is willing
to admit that he doesn’t know everything. “How did you get your backpack out of
the house?” He asks the question I had least been expecting.

“I dropped it off
the roof into some bushes and picked it up on my way by,” I admit, and he gives
me a sideways look that actually appears a little proud.

“Well look at
you,” he says, mimicking my words to him from a few moments ago. “Your dad’s
gonna be pissed though,” he warns me, and I nod.

“I know,” I tell
him. I knew he would be, and I’m willing to take the punishment.

Silas surprises
the hell out of me by reaching over and grabbing my hand off of my lap and holding
it. His hand is warm and rough with calluses. I stare straight ahead, feeling a
flush come over my entire body as I give in to my urges and squeeze his hand
back.

“So where are we
going?” I ask after a few minutes when I start to feel the silence get heavy
and awkward.

“Barry is sending
us to a small town about forty-five minutes from the base of the mountain.” He
pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket and hands it over to me. I unfold it
and find a map. The small town is called Wheeley, and I feel my stomach dip.

“I know this place
and it isn’t that small,” I tell him, making Silas glance over at me sharply.

“How big do you
figure?” he asks after a moment, and I shrug.

“I don’t know but
they are big enough to have a Wal-Mart.” I say, making Silas curse under his
breath.

“This is gonna be
a shit show,” he tells me, and I can’t help but agree.

We start to see
more and more signs of humanity—or what’s left of it—the closer we get. All the
houses look abandoned and dark, garbage litters the streets, and abandoned cars
and trucks are everywhere, left with their doors wide open, or worse, closed
with zombies inside, scratching at the windows. There is even a burnt up dark
thing on the horizon. “What is that?” I ask Silas, pointing it out. It’s too oddly
shaped to be a building, but too large to be a truck, car, or even a bus.

Silas looks where
I’m pointing and squints. “I believe that’s an airplane,” he says, and I feel
sick as I take in the size of it. Now that he’s said so, I can see that he’s
right.

“It looks like it
was a big one,” I say quietly, and Silas nods.

“A 747, at least,”
he agrees, and I can’t help thinking about all the people who must’ve died even
way up in the air. If even a handful of the people on the airplane turned from
having the rare blood type, it would’ve been a slaughter. Nobody would’ve known
what the zombies were at first, and there probably weren’t any weapons either,
since you aren’t allowed anything even remotely dangerous on a plane… Silas
squeezes my fingers gently, pulling me from my dark thoughts.

I blink and look
around, purposely avoiding looking back in the mirror at the plane. I don’t
know why, out of everything, the plane crash is hitting me so hard—probably
because I used to be terrified to fly. More and more zombies are visible now,
roaming the ditches and roads in their tattered, dirty clothes, and equally
tattered and dirty skin. I avert my eyes from a particularly gruesome looking
lady in a pink sun dress. “Man, I forgot how terrible they were,” I admit to Silas.
Being up on the mountain top, even for those few days, had really made me
forget what it was like down here on the ground.

“Wishing you
hadn’t come?” Silas asks, and even though I kind of am, I shake my head. I
would do it all again, even though I realize nobody in their right mind would
choose to come back down to all of this if they didn’t have to. I gently pull
my hand from Silas’ as we pull into the Wal-Mart parking lot behind the other
two vehicles, and I know my time for reckoning is coming up.

I watch as the
doors of the other vehicles burst open and Barry, my dad, and the Sergeant
emerge with their guns up and ready. Dad’s eyes are sharp and he does nearly a
one hundred and eighty degree turn before his eyes land on me. His gun sags in
his hand when he sees me. My dad is not an angry man, but the only way I can
think to describe the look on his face right now is rage. He marches over and
pulls my door open angrily.

“Jane, what in the
hell are you doing here?”

Chapter Four

I’m not prepared
when Dad grabs me around the wrist and yanks me angrily from the truck. I
stumble when my feet hit the ground but manage to right myself. Silas is out of
the truck in a flash and in my dad’s face. “Let her go,” he demands, halting my
father’s movements as he attempts to drag me across the parking lot.

“Stay out of this
son,” my dad tells him, but Silas doesn’t listen. His hands lock onto my dad’s
wrist where he’s got a hold of me. I can tell he must be squeezing because my
dad suddenly releases me, his face going pale.

“What were you
thinking bringing her?” my dad demands, turning his anger on Silas, but I don’t
give Silas time to answer.

“It wasn’t his
fault.” I defend. “I hid in the back until it was too late for him to turn
around.” My dad’s face turns even stormier at my words.

“Do you have any
idea what your mom must be going through right now?” he asks, his question
making me feel a wave of guilt crash down over top of me.

“What in the hell
is going on over here?” Barry demands, storming up with a look of anger that
rivals my dad’s.

“Jane snuck into
the truck–” my dad starts to tell him, but Barry cuts him off.

“I don’t give a
crap about that!” he whispers angrily. “You three are going to attract every
zombie within a five mile radius if you don’t shut the hell up.” His words make
the anger leach from my dad’s face and he looks, if anything, like a dog that’s
just been kicked in the guts by someone he trusted. I feel awful for putting
him through this—maybe me coming along is actually more dangerous for him after
all.

“Sorry,” Dad says,
making me feel even worse. “I need her out of here though. Silas, take her
back,” he demands in a whisper this time, but Barry shakes his head.

“We can’t spare
the man. She’s here now, she stays,” he orders in a clipped tone, and I can
tell Dad wants to argue, but further discussion is cut short when we hear the
moans of the dead. “Damn it,” Barry mutters as we all bring our guns up. Silas
reaches into the back of the Ford and grabs both of our backpacks, handing me mine,
and I shoulder it.

I dig my knife out
and tuck it at my waist before pulling my gun out and double checking the clip.
I catch my dad staring at the gun. It makes me want to apologize for having it
despite his objections, but there isn’t time, and it would be crazy to remain
unarmed. “Incoming,” Silas mutters as the crowd of zombies becomes visible.
They are rounding the edge of the Wal-Mart and I feel my stomach quiver—I
haven’t missed this. There are at least twelve of them, but they are still far
enough away, and slow enough, that we should be able to pick them off.

We spread out a
little, and Silas starts firing into the crowd. For every shot he takes, a
zombie falls to the ground. Sergeant Regg joins in and his shots are just as
accurate. Their muzzled pistols let out a faint pop, pop, pop, and the zombies
fall to the cement with an audible thunk, but other than that it’s my own
heartbeat that is roaring in my ears.

I step away from
the others and raise my gun. Even though I haven’t fired it in nearly a week,
it’s just as I remember. I luck out and hit the first zombie in the head,
dropping it. I can feel my dad’s eyes burning into the back of my head, and it
shakes my confidence a little. I miss the next zombie and hit it in the stomach
instead. It doesn’t even slow down as black starts to slowly ooze from the
wound to stain his already horribly stained shirt. I take a deep breath and
realign my shot. My zombie is an older man, who might have been nice in life,
but now he looks horrible with dried blood smearing his chin, blank eyes, and
chomping, broken teeth encrusted with gore. He’s also wearing a fedora, which I
find odd. How the heck did he manage to keep it on through turning into a
zombie and then wandering around for who knows how long? My shot is true this
time and pierces his cheek; he falls back and the jaunty fedora finally falls
off his head to be crushed beneath the foot of the next zombie in line.

I feel a hand
clamp on my shoulder and I jump, spinning to find my dad. He motions for me to
follow him and Barry, leaving Silas and Regg to finish up the remaining zombs.
I glance at Silas and he gives me the nod—he will catch up—there are only a few
left anyway. I stick close to Dad’s side as I jog across the few feet of
parking lot that separate us from the front doors of the Wal-Mart.

The thought of
going inside is terrifying. The doors are shut firmly and, without electricity,
they don’t automatically open when we walk up. “Let’s hope this place was
closed when shit hit the fan,” Barry mutterers as he lifts a crowbar I hadn’t
noticed him carrying, and he starts prying the doors apart. I turn away from
what he’s doing to watch our backs and make sure Silas and Regg are alright.
They are jogging towards us, having finished with the mini horde. Despite the
imminent danger, I let out a small sigh of relief.

“This is risky,”
Silas mutters as he crowds in close to me and turns to the parking lot to keep
an eye on things. The parking lot is deserted, save for six vehicles, counting
our own, littered across the empty lot. I stare at them and agonize over how
they got there. I am reminded of the mall, where the people saved our lives and
then stole our truck. I just hope that if there are occupants inside, they are
of the breathing variety. We will be far less trusting this time around.

Regg nods his head
in response to Silas’ statement. “Yeah, man. You made this sound like we’d be
emptying out mom and pop grocery stores in some one-horse town,” he accuses,
but Barry ignores him. He almost has the doors open and, with a final grunt of
effort, they start to slide. We squeeze inside and Barry lets the doors shut
behind us with a resounding snap. Being locked inside with who knows what isn’t
exactly a pleasant thought.

“Are we sure this
is a good idea?” I ask as we creep forward towards the second set of doors.

“Because you’re
the one with good ideas?” Barry mocks as he uses his crowbar to pry open the
second set of doors. It isn’t as difficult the second time around, or maybe it
just seems that way because the walls on either side of us give the appearance
of safety.

The doors slide
open. This time Barry props them open with shopping carts, and we pass through
useless theft detectors. “Grab as much as you can, we need to stock up for
winter, think things like food and medical supplies.” Barry stops, his eyes
landing on me. “Since you’re here, you can take care of the feminine hygiene
products,” he assigns, and I grit my teeth in annoyance. “We need to break up
into teams."

“Jane is with me,”
my dad interrupts.

“I’m not leaving
her either,” Silas says, eying my dad with a look of challenge.

“Well, aren’t you
the popular one,” Barry sneers, and I’m starting to get the impression that
this guy doesn’t like me. “Very well, I’ll take Chad.” I blink for a minute,
not really sure who he is talking about. Sergeant Regg steps forward and I feel
like a total dummy—of course—Regg isn’t the Sergeant’s first name.

“Move out,” Barry
snaps as we all head for the cart corral and take as many as we can. Silas,
Dad, and I each grab a cart that we push inside another cart, and we start off
towards the left-hand side, while Barry and Regg take the right.

This reminds me a
bit of the time Ryan and I broke into that pharmacy, and it makes me shiver.
Even though that was the defining moment that led to me meeting Silas, I never
want to repeat nearly being eaten alive, jumping through a window, and almost
bleeding to death in an alley!

“Keep your eyes
peeled,” Dad warns us unnecessarily, and we all nod, not saying anything as we head
further into the store. It’s instant darkness as soon as we move away from the
doors and around the corner, and Silas brings out his flashlight and snaps it
on. It makes me want to jump out of my skin. Every time we are forced to use
flashlights in the dark, I can’t help but feel like a giant zombie magnet.

“I know you hate
this,” Silas murmurs so quietly that I almost don’t hear him, and he reaches
out and pats me on the shoulder. “Buck up,” he tells me, and I have to smile
despite the seriousness of the situation. Just because Silas let me come along
on this trip and even held my hand in the truck, doesn’t mean there will be any
hand holding for me now. I like him this way though; he makes me feel like I’m
tough enough to do this. If someone like Silas can believe in me, then I should
believe in myself.

I reach into my
pocket and pull out my own flashlight, shining it down the rows of cosmetics.
If Silas is going to light the place up, I might as well see what’s coming at
me in the dark too. The slight squeak of the cart wheels is the only things
that makes any noise—I don’t think any of us are even breathing as we strain
our ears for any sign of danger.

The openness of
the store has me jumpy, but we move as one in a pretty tight trio. I look
right, Silas looks left, and my dad walks backwards with his back pressed
against mine, watching the rear. We are all pushing shopping carts, so I hope
those will act as a bit of a buffer between us and any zombies lurking around
in the dark. We reach the aisle with the feminine products, and I blush as
Silas looks at me expectantly. I can practically feel him mentally telling me
to hurry up. I step forward and stare at the wall of boxes and freeze. It
doesn’t help that Silas and my dad are watching me so closely that I can feel
their eyes burning into the back of my neck as I stand there. Silas steps
forward with a cart and uses his arm to sweep an entire shelf of boxes into the
cart. He moves the cart forward a bit and does the same with another shelf
until the cart is piled high with boxes. “There,” he says matter-of-factly as
he heads down the aisle towards the end, and I’m grateful to him, and also
impressed by his willingness to deal with this stuff.

We find a bit more
room to squeeze in toothbrushes, toothpaste, deodorant, and as many bottles of
Tylenol, shampoo, cold medicine, bandages, disinfectant, and vitamins as we can
fit. Silas hands me the overflowing cart and I take over as we leave the aisle.
I round the corner and slam into a solid mass, letting out a little squeak of
surprise. Silas lifts his gun and his flashlight and illuminates a rotting pile
of flesh.

The zombie growls
and reaches across the cart, trying to swipe at me. Silas moves quickly,
popping him right between the eyes. The zombie stinks, and I’m surprised we
didn’t smell him well before I ran into him with the cart. I glance down at the
gummy mess he’s made on the edge of the cart and wince. Silas shines his light
down on the zombie. He’s wearing the iconic blue vest and happy face sticker of
a Wal-Mart employee. “I guess now we know we aren’t alone,” Silas says, and it
sounds super creepy the way he says it, making goose bumps pop out all over my
body.

The shelf beside
me is loaded with paper towels. I tear open a bag and use some to wipe the
zombie goop off the cart. Silas and my Dad watch me in silence, though I can
feel their judgment. “I don’t want it to leak onto our stuff,” I defend myself,
and Dad nods like he agrees, but Silas just rolls his eyes at me. I toss the
half-used roll into the cart and dump the garbage on the floor. There is a
rotting corpse down there, a little paper towel won’t make any difference. We
keep moving and, even though we were being cautious before, we are a thousand
times more careful now. Across the store, we hear a clattering, like something
falling off a shelf, and we all stare in that direction before Silas pushes us
to keep moving.

“What if they need
help?” I whisper, and Silas shakes his head.

“I’m sure they
would have yelled out,” he says stubbornly, making perfect sense, and I give in
and start pushing the cart forward again. “The middle is usually the food
area,” Dad says as he steers us towards the middle section. I can tell he’s
right by the smell of rot that permeates my nose as soon as we get close to the
rows of large freezers with glass doors.

“Let’s skip this
part and head to dry goods,” Silas suggests as we skirt around the rotting
vegetables and meat. I can still smell it from the next aisle over, so I pull
up the bandana at my neck to try and block out the stench. Silas reaches into
my cart, pulls out a little jar of Vicks, and dabs it on my bandana. The smell
of menthol permeates my senses, and I take a deep breath of relief. I won’t be
able to smell the zombies now, but we really couldn’t before anyway, with all
the other things that are rotting in this store. Silas dabs some on his own
bandana and offers the tube to my dad. My dad doesn’t have a bandana, but he
dabs a little under his nose with a nod of thanks, and Silas tosses the small
container into the cart. I hadn’t realized this neat trick before, but I
promise myself, if I survive this grocery trip from Hell, I’m going to carry
some with me from now on. I reach into the cart and pull the bottle of Vicks
out—why wait—there are at least seven other bottles in the cart, so I slip the
container into my pocket.

I hear Silas snort
in amusement at my antics, but I ignore him. We’ve reached the cereal aisle and
I run forward and grab my favorite box, adding it to the cart. “That is fine, but
we need stuff that is going to last longer,” Dad tells me.

“Like what?” I ask
when both him and Silas pass right by the cereal.