Another Zombie Apocalypse Tale: Part 6

Three Weeks and Two Days Since the Apocalypse

I adjusted the straps on the backpack, rolling up the excess strips and securing them with a rubber band. The truck jolted as a tire found a pot hole, and I grabbed the edge of the seat to keep myself steady.

I sat between Beckett and a spindly man, with just as spindly glasses, named Erik. He held the ‘oh shit’ handle that most vehicles had. His eyes were narrowed in a perpetual squint as he kept his gaze forward, which made me wonder if his glasses were his correct prescription.

My sister wore glasses, blinder than a bat without them. For some inane reason, she refused to wear contacts. If she hadn’t died and come back as a corpse, she’d have to be sequestered to a room in an effort to keep her alive. She would either lose or break her glasses within the first week.

“Are those prescription, Erik?” I asked when the road smoothed out, no longer tossing us around in the backseat.

“Nope.” He adjusted them on his face. “They’re reading glasses from a drug store.” He gave me a sardonic smile. “Unless you can scavenge an eye doctor to figure out what my new prescription would be, I’m screwed.”

I pinched my lips together, not impressed. “So, why are you coming along? How well can you see right now?”

Not that I really cared. This trip was my ticket away from the refuge and their insane leader Mr. Maddock. The backpack they gave me had a bottle of water, a Swiss army knife, a bag of dried apricots, and a long sleeve shirt. I was armed with the same machete I’d used in the breach.

“I can see well enough.” His tone was curt and he lifted his chin with a look of irritation. “I’m not a hazard to the team.”

“Oh-kaay,” I said slowly, widening my eyes a little and turning my attention to the city coming into view ahead.

Skyscrapers standing ominous against the horizon. The number of abandoned vehicles became too much for us to pass through with the truck we were in, so we exited and began walking.

Beckett had a shotgun strapped to his back and carried a carving knife in his hand. He stayed beside me as we walked at the back of the group. Erik carried a wooden rod with a metal spike protruding from the top. He walked with the woman who drove the truck at the head of the group. Her name was either Amber or Kimber. I didn’t ask for verification as I didn’t plan on staying long enough for it to matter.

She was a stout woman but had a walk that meant she knew how to handle herself, and was way too comfortable carrying a metal garden rake. The solid tongs were still stained red.  

Between us and them, was Elise with her medieval sword, and Marianne with her baseball bat. The two chatted in hushed tones as we were meant to be quiet. Noise could draw unwanted attention.

The sun blazed, unforgiving with its heat, but somehow the city seemed cold as we came into the shadow of the first building. My skin tightened and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I started to feel as if I shouldn’t have eaten as much for breakfast as unease started to weigh in my stomach, tempting to force the food up and out.

“I don’t like it either,” Beckett whispered, standing close enough to me that my arm brushed his when I jumped at his voice. He gave me an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

“Why does it feel so…” I couldn’t think of the word that could depict the feeling that this dead and empty city was giving me. Creepy? Haunting? Eerie? Dread?

He rubbed his tattooed arm, and I noticed the goosebumps that covered his skin. “Maybe because it’s the opposite of what we’re used to.”

I looked up into his eyes. I felt on the verge of tears with the panic that was starting to worm its way through my being. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be back at the refuge. I wanted… What I wanted I couldn’t have.

“We should continue,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder, “so we don’t get separated."

The others weren’t too far ahead. We all moved slow in an effort to be as quiet as possible. As we approached the hospital, a wide and squat building compared to the buildings towering around it. Vast seas of parking lots stretched between us and the entrance. A smattering of cars, some of them over turned, but the ones we all stopped to stare at was a pile of five or six wrecked cars. A steady stream of dark smoke rising from the middle.

“That’s new,” Marianne said, her tone leeching what little confidence I had. She adjusted her grip on the baseball bat and kept her head low as she scanned our surroundings. The others formed a semi-circle, everyone antsy as they fiddled with their weapons.

“What does it mean?” I whispered to Beckett, who was glued to my side, and for once I was 99.9% okay with his hero complex.

“You didn’t think we were the only ones alive, did you?” His tone, the unease and the set of his jaw, stole the warmth from my body. “Stay close and please, do what I say.”

I did as he commanded as we all made our way to a side entrance of the hospital. Which, I found idiotic. If they were so concerned about the burning cars and the other alive people who were obviously around—and yet remained unseen—shouldn’t we abandon the mission and try again?

Lucky for me, I already planned on abandoning the mission.

The soft, monotonous moans of the dead greeted us as soon as Erik opened the door. We all shared a look, then entered the building, Erik leading the way. Amber/Kimber walked beside him. Her garden rake held at the ready. Marianne and Elise took up the rear, and Beckett kept a gentle grip on my shoulder. A paranoid thought had me thinking he knew exactly what I planned.

A crash of breaking glass had us all jumping, startled. I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle a yelp. We all held our breath, frozen, as we listened. The moans changed in tone—more desperate and hungry than dull and bored—as the dead seemed to make their way to whatever or whoever had made the glass breaking sound.

“This way,” Erik whispered and waved for us to follow.

Even with Beckett’s hand on my shoulder, it took me a moment to get my legs to work. The reminder that I needed to find an opportunity to escape is what really got me moving. This trip into the hospital for medication, being guided by a blind man, was ridiculous.

The maze of hallways was giving major déjà vu. At least this time I fully expected there to be hungry corpses, with their curled fingers and snapping teeth, eager to break open my skull for my brains.

“The pharmacy is around the corner up there,” Erik said as he brought us to a halt. Perspiration beaded on his forehead, and he rubbed his free hand on his pants, leaving smear of sweat against the material. He met my eyes and said, “Last time we were here, the hall was full of gads. Hopefully, we can get you in.”

“Hm.” I gave a slow nod. “What about getting me out?”

Beckett squeezed my shoulder like my coach would do before a meet. A reassuring gesture that did absolutely nothing. “That’s more important than getting you in.”

“Right.” I puffed out my cheeks, letting the air out slowly. “Okay, what am I grabbing in there?”

Erik gave me a list, and explained in detail where each item would be kept. I read the list, unable to pronounce any of the items on it.

“You used to work here, didn’t you?” I tucked the list in a front pocket on my pants.

“Pharmacy tech,” he said with a forlorn smile.

With that bit of useless information over, we all tip-toed our way down the hall. Beckett and Erik paused to peek around the corner. The color drained from their faces. When they pulled back, I snuck a look myself.

Four corpses loitered directly around the corner. One of them walked against the wall, face first, like an NPC glitching in a video game. In the middle of the hall was a sign above a door with block letters labeling the room as PHARMACY.

In front of the door, was a corpse in a lab coat. Beyond the corpse in the lab coat, was a group of corpses, swaying and mumbling moans. The mass of bodies smooshed into the hall like sardines in a can. I tried to count them, but one would move and I’d lose count.

Fourteen or twenty-three. I couldn’t be sure. Either number wasn’t something I wanted to mess with.

“Here’s the plan,” Erik said, turning to the rest of the group. “Kim, Marianne, Elise, you know the drill. Beckett and…” He looked at me, grimacing at his forgetting of my name. “You will hang back with us.”

“M’kay.”

Next thing I knew, Beckett, Erik, and I were hiding in supply closet, watching as the three women strode to the corridor. They started shouting and making noise, then took off running. Continuing to make a ruckus the entire way. The horde of dead joined the cacophony with heightened moans and growls, their feet thundering as they took chase.

My breathing came in panicked huffs. My hyperventilating unbeknownst to me until Beckett put a hand on my shoulder, massaging the tense muscle.

“It’s all good,” he said, “We’re clear.”

We left the closet and headed down the hall, now empty of hungry dead.

“I don’t understand why you all needed me,” I whispered. “That tactic doesn’t require—”

My complaint was cut off as we reached the closed pharmacy door. Through the shattered window I saw why they wanted me. Inside, there were three corpses. Their flesh was actively sloughing off their bodies. The one closest to us, its eyeball hung out of the socket. Flies buzzed in and out of the empty hole.

“Uh, why not just lure them out?” I watched a chunk of the dead’s flesh slide down its arm, leaving a glistening trail of blood and viscous fluid.

“The door is locked,” Erik said in a tone more impatient than I liked.

The corpse in the back, tilted its head and turned glazed eyes at us. Its mouth clicked shut and he started to shuffle toward the door.

“Break the lock.” I took a small step back. I should run.

“It’s a heavy duty lock meant to keep crackheads out.” Erik shifted from one foot to the other, warily eyeing the corpse who was getting closer to the door with each second I wasted.

I took another small step back. “Shoot them, then. All the other corpses are chasing after Marianne and Elise and that other lady.”

“Too loud.” The spindly man pushed his glasses up his nose, face screwing up with annoyance.

“Then use your stabby stick,” I said, shoving a finger toward the wooden rod he held. “They’re like fish in a barrel at this point.”

Erik opened his mouth, lips twisting with a snarl, but then his face slackened and his gaze slid to Beckett, who’s lips pursed thoughtfully. As the two were stunned into considering the logic of my words, I turned on my heel and sprinted back the way we came.