Pandora (Book 5): Behold A Pale Horse Page 14

  The snarling zombie reached him and he lifted his left arm up in defense. She grabbed his sleeve with both hands and bit down on his arm as they collided. They both stumbled back and his calves hit the seat of their plush easy chair behind him. He fell back, landing in the seat with Stephanie right on top of him. She still had a hold on his arm and was chomping down on his sleeve. Luckily, the thick, tough leather of the jacket prevented her teeth from breaking through.

  As they struggled, he forced his left arm up high. As he pushed her head back, Patrick forced the barrel of the gun under her chin and pulled the trigger. The bullet splattered her brains on the ceiling. As she collapsed, he threw her off of him. She landed on the floor beside the chair. Breathing heavily, Patrick saw Steve stand back up. A piece of his skull hung off of the side of his head, dangling over his ear. Milky eyes wide, he snarled and started toward the easy chair. Patrick lifted the gun and pulled the trigger. Three shots rang out, the final one hitting Steve in the center of his face. He fell forward, splayed out on the living room rug.

  Sitting in the sudden stillness of the room, Patrick breathed heavily and just stared at the prone body. The smell of cordite and burn electronics permeated the air. His legs started to shake. Even when he was overseas fighting in Iraq, he really didn’t know if he had ever killed anybody. Sure, he fired a lot of bullets at the enemy; but even though he saw some fall, he never really knew for sure. He had certainly never shot anybody that close before. And definitely not a neighbor. As he started thinking of what would possibly be the eventual consequences is of all this, it dawned on him that he couldn’t leave the bodies here for Billy to see.

  Rising to his feet, he looked around. Moving the coffee table off of the rug, he grabbed Stephanie’s feet and dragged her next to Steve on the carpet. Then he rolled it over both of them and dragged it to the door to the garage. Opening it, he stepped down into the dark garage, grabbed the end of the rug and yanked it fully onto the cement floor in front of their car. Then, he walked back into the house, closed the door to the garage and walked to the front door. Opening it, he stepped out and waved Billy over.

  The door opened and Billy ran across the street. As he came up to the front door, Patrick stopped him.

  “Are you okay, Mr. S?” Billy asked.

  “Yes,” Patrick said. “Before you come in, I want to tell you that it’s a bit messy inside.”

  “My mom and dad,” Billy said, “are they inside?”

  “No, Billy,” Patrick told him, “they’re not there. They’re gone.”

  “Gone?” Billy said, shakily. “Did you have to –?”

  Patrick nodded. “But, they weren’t your parents anymore. Not really.”

  Billy winced, and then nodded. He hated himself now for having started this. If I hadn’t asked for my clothes, maybe things would’ve worked out somehow.

  “Just try to quickly walk upstairs and collect your things,” Patrick instructed. “I’ll wait downstairs for you.”

  As they entered the house, Billy’s eyes immediately looked up to the ceiling as they walked into the living room. He hesitated.

  “Look down at the floor, Billy,” Patrick said. “Just stare at the floor and go upstairs.”

  Billy did just that.

  Going up the stairs and entering his room, he quickly dug his travel suitcase from the closet and started to hurriedly pack his clothes. He then went into the bathroom and took his personal hygiene products. Walking back out, he finished packing some last minute personal belongings that he wanted. Then he closed the suitcase and zipped it shut. Finished, he paused, staring off into space. An odd, random thought had just sprung into his head. Where is our living room rug?

  The sight of that barren, wood floor brought all of his feelings into the forefront. Billy sat down heavily on his mattress and lay back next to the suitcase. Putting his arm over his eyes, Billy cried in anguish for his loss.

  Downstairs, Patrick heard the muffled sobs and went into the kitchen. He sat down at the table and let the boy cry himself out.

  § §§

  “Is this all the water we have?” Jason asked. His mother turned from the kitchen counter.

  “There’s a case in the pantry,” she replied. “Poland Spring was supposed to deliver more, but they never showed up.”

  “Oh shit, Mom, that’s not nearly enough,” he cried.

  “Jason, watch your language,” she reprimanded.

  He shook his head, worried about her obliviousness to the situation. “I’m going to run to Stop & Shop and see if I can get more,” he said.

  Jason grabbed his keys off of the hook on the kitchen wall and went into the garage. Turning on the light, he saw his father’s Lincoln Navigator, his mother’s Jaguar and his Camaro. He got into his car, started it and opened the garage door.

  Backing up, he turned and drove down the long driveway. Reaching the end, he turned onto his street and drove to the supermarket. He was almost to the corner, when he stopped. He was at the foot of another driveway when something caught his eye. Looking up the drive, he saw a gray-haired man walking on the lawn alongside the paved driveway. The front doors to the house were wide open.

  At first Jason thought he was wearing a sweater over a red shirt, but as he walked farther along, he could see that it was blood running down from his throat. The man stopped for a second as he seemed to have now seen Jason’s car idling in the street. He let out a long moan, and then continued walking down the lawn. He was starting to move faster now. His moans also increased. Jason looked back to the house and saw two people appear in the doorway. They looked down the drive and then start following the first man. They were an older woman and a thirty something year old man, wearing clothes stained with blood. All three were now moaning.

  Just as the old man came onto the drive near a low stone wall in front of the house, he opened his mouth wide. Dark, bloody saliva dripped from his gaping maw. He started to make a continuous biting motion with his bared teeth. Jason stepped on the gas and drove away.

  As he neared the center of town, Jason realized that he hadn’t seen another car on the road. But he did past two or three zombies wandering in the streets. The minute he turned onto Main Street, he ran into trouble. Several cars had been abandoned in the middle of the street, their doors hanging wide open. Jason had to snake around them. A young girl ran out a grocery store and jumped into a waiting car. Then, with screeching tires it sped away. He came to a red light and stopped behind another car waiting. The light turned green, but the car in front didn’t move. Jason gave him a short toot on his horn. The car remained immobile. Annoyed, he blew his horn longer now. Still, the car sat there unmoving.

  Swearing to himself, Jason pulled around the automobile. He stopped alongside to yell at the driver, but as he looked over, he could see the driver’s dead milky eyes looking back. On seeing Jason next to him, the man kept waving his arms out the open window and clawing the air in frustration. His seatbelt and closed door kept him prisoner in his own vehicle. Shuddering, Jason drove on.

  He passed the stationary store before coming to the Stop & Shop. A zombie was standing inside pounding on the glass door. A man scurried down the street holding a bag close to him. As he passed the store, the zombie saw him and began smashing herself against the door. Jason wondered why she couldn’t get out until he spotted a push sign near the handle. To dumb to pull it open, I guess, he thought to himself. Good to remember.

  Pulling into the supermarket lot, he found it almost empty. Quickly parking, Jason ran into the store. Inside it was practically empty. There was one person at the register. As Jason passed him he saw that it was the store manager. Two people were on line. As he rushed past the checkout line, he quickly realized that they were almost empty of groceries. He went up and down the aisles. There was no bread, no meat, no vegetables, and most importantly, no water. Jason walked back to the register just as the last person was leaving. The manager turned to him and Jason noticed a handgun in a holster on his belt
and a baseball bat behind the counter.

  “Looks like you’re my last customer, son,” the man said smiling. He was stocky with a comb-over and a small, neat mustache. “I’ll be closing right after you.”

  “Really?” Jason said, surprised.

  “Had a couple of those zombie things come in already,” the manager said, looking smug. He rested his hand on the holster. “Had to take them out.”

  Jason looked at the gun, then back up at the manager.

  “I’m done taking chances,” the manager said. “Closing up as soon as you leave.”

  “Uh, okay,” Jason mumbled. “Do you have any more water left? Maybe in the back?”

  The thickset man threw his head back and laughed.

  “You’ve got to be kidding, he said still chortling. “Ran out of water long ago. Matter of fact, that was the first thing to go.”

  “Oh, crap,” said Jason, slapping the counter.

  “Should’ve thought of that yesterday,” the man said snidely.

  I just home from college and found my parents had done nothing to prepare,” Jason said. “Are you really sure you’ve got no water? I’m desperate here.”

  The manager looked at him slyly. “Really,” he said. He tilted his head looking at Jason, still smiling coldly. Glancing briefly out of the large plate glass windows he turned back and said simply, “Come with me.”

  They strode to the back and the manager motioned for him to follow. They went through the swinging doors and entered the back storeroom. Near the receiving ramp were ten cases of water piled up.

  “Wow,” Jason gasped in surprise.

  “I’ll let you have two of these,” the manager said.

  “Oh, gee, that’s great,” Jason gushed in relief. “Thanks, man.”

  “Fifty bucks,” said the manager. “Each.”

  “What?” Jason gasped. “Are you fucking kidding me? That’s highway robbery.”

  “You want the water, kid? Fifty bucks each… take it or leave it.”

  Jason’s mouth hung open in sheer amazement of the man’s audacity. “You’re a fucking thief,” he shouted.

  “Okay, asshole,” the man said angrily, “a hundred bucks each.”

  Jason was furious. How could this man behave like that? He stepped forward. As he did the store manager took a step back and put his hand on his gun.

  “Don’t fucking try it, college boy,” he said grimly. “I have two zombie stiffs in the meat locker. It won’t bother me to stick you in there with them.”

  Jason was so scared and frustrated that he felt like screaming.

  “All right,” he spat out in defeat, “two hundred dollars for two cases. Here’s your damn money.” He pulled out his credit card and held it out to the man. The store manager looked down at it as if it was covered in excrement.

  “What the fuck am I going to do with that?” he sneered. “Cash only.”

  Jason looked at the card in his hand.

  “But my credit card is good,” he said, puzzled.

  The store manager relaxed and shook his head, “You know, for a college kid, you’re not too bright,” he said. “It’s not your card. It’s all cards. Haven’t you been watching the news? All these credit card sales everyone’s making… when do you think the store owners are going to see their money? I’ll tell you when – never – that’s when. This sure does look to me to be some kinda zombie apocalypse happening here. Shit, it’s all over the world now. I guarantee your ass that these power systems are going to go down. And when they do, all of these sales are going bye-bye. Not a trace. The same thing with all your money in the bank. We’re all going to be in a shit storm without end, until maybe… MAYBE… in the distant future.”

  Jason stood there trying to take all this information in. The whole country wasn’t going to fall apart. I mean, it couldn’t. Somebody must know how to solve this somewhere. What do we have a government for?

  Still staring at him, the manager said, “So, you want your water, or what?”

  “But I don’t have that kind of cash on me,” Jason pleaded. “Not two hundred dollars. Maybe fifty or sixty.”

  The manager looked down and his smug smile returned. “No, I wouldn’t think that you would. But, I’ll take that nice-looking watch that you got there.”

  Jason brought his arm up and looked at the watch his parents gave him for high school graduation. “But, it’s a Rolex,” he said astonished.

  “Oh, yeah,” the man said, “that’ll do just fine.”

  Still staring at the watch, he muttered, “But, it’s a Rolex.”

  The store manager now looked bored. “Hey, you want the water or not. I’ll tell you what. I’ll throw in another case because I’m such a warmhearted individual. That’s three cases. You’re going to need water. You can’t tell time if you’re dead.” He chuckled at his levity.

  Slowly, Jason reached up and unfastened the catch on his watch band. He took it off and reluctantly held it out. The manager snatched it out of his hand. Smiling, he took off his cheap digital watch and threw it over his shoulder. Putting the Rolex on, he held his arm out and admired it.

  “Looks damn good on me, don’t you think?”

  Jason got a wagon and placed the three cases of water in it. The manager walked him to the front door. Looking both ways down the street he said to Jason, “You had better load up your car quickly. It looks like there’s a bunch of zombies heading this way.” He opened the door and Jason rolled the cart outside.

  The store manager called after him, “Oh, and don’t bother bringing the cart back. It’s a gift.” He closed and locked the doors, laughing loudly the whole time.

  Jason quickly wheeled the squeaky cart to his car and hurriedly loaded all three cases into his trunk. He turned to look up the street and saw a small cluster of people coming his way. He knew by their gait that they were infected. He jumped in the driver seat and sped out of the lot toward home.

  § § §

  The sun was beginning its descent in the western sky, when Billy walked back down the stairs. His eyes were red and puffy and his face flushed. Patrick heard him coming and met him in the living room.

  “You okay?” he asked softly.

  Billy nodded and said, “Yeah.” He had his wheeled travel case behind him.

  “Okay,” Patrick said, giving him a small smile, “let’s get back to the house before it gets dark.”

  Leaving the house and locking up, they walked down to the sidewalk. There were two big bushes on each side of the walkway. As Patrick stepped out, he froze. Standing back again, he motioned for Billy to stop.

  “Get down,” he whispered.

  Three zombies were shambling up the street. They were about six houses down. Two men and a woman. The first man looked to be around fifty and was wearing a suit and tie. The entire right side of his face was chewed off, leaving wet, raw muscle and bone. He had several fingers missing, also. The fine woven fabric of his dark gray suit was stiff with dried and clotted blood. The sky was beginning to become overcast, with somber gray clouds muting the former pinks and oranges of the setting sun. As the wind picked up, his tie fluttered in the breeze. The woman, walking almost abreast of him, had on jeans and a flowered, lilac sweatshirt. She seemed unmarked and was apparently one of the original infected. Only her pale skin, milky eyes and vacant expression gave her away. The last zombie was walking about six feet behind them. A black man in a UPS uniform, he was dragging one foot behind him. It was bent at an unnatural angle with a bone protruding from the leg of his blood-soaked pants. It looked as though he had been in an accident. The fabric of his left sleeve had been ripped off and the bare arm beneath mangled. His head was hanging on his shoulder and appeared to be battered in.

  They hadn’t seen Patrick and Billy who were now crouched behind the bush. A dog began to bark from one of the houses and the three zombies halted, looking around.

  “Shit,” Patrick muttered through clenched teeth.

  He leaned forward and peered aroun
d the bush again, wanting to see if any more were coming behind the three ghouls. As he bent forward a bit more, the first zombie turned and saw him. He curled his lips and growled. The other two moaned loudly in response.

  Then, in a seemingly united reply, several other moans sounded from the surrounding area.

  “Damn, we’ve been spotted,” Patrick said.

  Looking around in fear, Billy said, “What are all those other sounds?”

  “They seem to call to each other when they see an uninfected person. Like a dinner bell or call to arms,” said Patrick.