ROLL CALL
Alive:
Carson
Ryder: Former marine/Former police officer/Suffers from retrograde amnesia/
Searching for clues to his past
Damien
Albright: Found and saved Carson/Has no family or friends outside of the
group/Doesn’t seem to have a care in the world
Kenny
Sudrow: Former spa porter/Happy to be doing something else
Chuckie
Razzano: His only concerns are his Rolex and his hair gel
Chase
Crawford: Religious zealot/Loner/Keeps to himself
Willard
Pickman: Scientist/Worked for the CDC/Knows of a cure
Eli
Burton: Survivor found in Cherrywood Mall/Parents were rich and left him a
large inheritance when they died
Vern
Sheldon: New associate/Drives a box truck/Carries a badass flamethrower
Terry
Watts: Proprietor of the Starlight Hotel
Valentina
Jackson: A new ally that was saved by Carson Ryder
Deceased:
Arnold
Vesti: A compassionate man who let the entire group stay in his underground
shelter/Biters got him
Regis
Whitfield: Abusive husband of Janice Whitfield/Biters got him
Devin
Morris: Comic store employee from Long Island/Was found dead, strangled in his
sleep
Darren
Mays: Survivor found in Cherrywood Mall/Shot by Damien Albright/Claimed that
Carson arrested him at one point
Trevor
Virden: Comic store owner/Biters got him
Brent
Blaze: Former Cherrywood police officer/Vern Sheldon shot him after he got bit
Ally
Burton: Wealthy sister of Eli Burton/Attacked by a lone Biter
Janice
Whitfield: Pregnant wife of Regis Whitfield/Committed suicide
IN THE FLESH
By Daniel Skye
PART TWELVE
BLOWN AWAY
Day One Hundred and Sixty-Five.
Chase Crawford hadn’t uttered a word in
weeks. His crucifix rested, buried under a mound of snow beside Janice
Whitfield’s grave.
He mostly slept during the day, or
just remained confined to his room while the others bonded, ate together, drank
together. He’d eat at night while the others were sleeping and roam through the
halls. The vacancy of the corridors offered Chase the peace and silence he
needed to ponder his next move.
He was afraid to speak up at this point for
fear that Eli Burton would kill him. And partially because he didn’t think
anyone would take his word for it. But when Willard Pickman knocked on his door
that day and came in to check up on him, Crawford spilled his guts.
“What’s gotten into you lately?” Pickman
asked as he closed the door behind him. Crawford was at the edge of his bed,
reading a complimentary copy of the Gideon Bible. Others had been reading
Stephen King and Tom Clancy novels that Terry Watts was generous enough to
share. But for Willard, the solace of the Good Book was all he required.
“It’s that kid,” Crawford told him.
“Which one? Kenny? Chuckie?”
“No, those boys are fine by me. It’s Eli
Burton.”
“What about him?” Pickman asked.
“That boy’s got the devil in him,” Crawford
said. “I can see it plain as day.”
“Oh boy, here we go again,” Pickman said,
rolling his eyes. “All aboard the crazy train.”
“See, this is why I didn’t say anything
earlier. You guys never take me seriously.”
“You make it very challenging.”
“Have you ever heard of the Black Lodgers?”
“It doesn’t ring any bells.”
“They’re an international group of
bioterrorists. Their sole function is to spread disease, poison the planet, and
bring it back to the dark ages. I read of them years ago, back when they
harbored five thousand members internationally. As of last year, there were
four hundred and fifty-seven thousand members.”
“What does this have to do with Eli?”
“He bears their symbol on his arm. Every
member of the Black Lodgers has to be marked, a way for them to identify one
another. I believe Eli knows more about this plague then he’s shared with us.
And I believe he’s very, very dangerous.”
“Why haven’t you told the others?”
“The same reason I hesitated to tell you.
Nobody listens when I speak anymore.”
“Can you blame them?”
“I suppose I can’t.”
“Now can you keep a secret?” Pickman asked.
“Of course,” Crawford assured him. “I’m all
ears if you have something to confess. I promise I won’t judge you. But I can’t
promise the same for our Lord.”
“You know this underground lab that we’re
heading to? The secret lab in Texas that houses the miracle cure that’s going
to save the world?”
“I believe I know what you’re referring
to,” Crawford said, waiting for the man to make his point.
“I lied,” Pickman said under his breath.
“We did engineer a cure for this pathogen, and it is in an underground base,
somewhere in Texas...as far as I know. I mean, that is if somebody hasn’t
gotten to it already. But the truth is I don’t know where the base is. I doubt
we’ll ever find it.”
“Then why in God’s name did you lead us all
the way out here?”
“I don’t know. I guess I was trying to
offer everyone the hope to survive, to carry on. At one point, I honestly
believed we could find the place. That we could save the world. Now, I’m not so
sure. The farther we’ve traveled, the more I’ve lost faith. I don’t think any
of us are going to make it, Chase. Just remember, you promised to keep it a
secret.”
Willard Pickman wandered off, closing
the door behind him. Chase sat on his bed, pondering the horrors that awaited
them. He did promise, and he certainly didn’t want to be the one to break the
bad news to the group.
There would surely be a riot when
everyone found out they had been led astray by Pickman. And if he confronted
them now about Eli, with no proof, just accusations and conjecture, they’d
never believe him.
Chase was stuck between the proverbial
rock and a hard place, with no other options except to wait it out, and see
what potentially horrific events would transpire.
* * *
The group had finished the bottle of scotch
Damien snatched from the liquor store, and now they were working on the
bourbon. The guys had offered to teach Valentina how to shoot, but she was
already versed in weaponry and fired with the accuracy of a pro.
“I wanna learn how to shoot,” Chuckie
Razzano told them as they gathered in the vestibule to warm up after being
outside for more than an hour.
“You?” Damien Albright scoffed.
“Shouldn’t you be looking for your Rolex?”
“Fuck the watch,” Chuckie said. “It’s just
a meaningless material possession. A gun is a foundation for survival. I wanna
learn how to shoot. Hell, I need to learn. At least for my own sake. So what do
you say?”
“I’ll teach you,” Carson Ryder said.
“Sweet,” Chuckie said. “Let’s have at
it. I’m ready to go.”
“Give me a few minutes,” Ryder said,
rubbing his hands together. “Let me get the feeling back in my fingers first.”
“This will warm you up,” Vern Sheldon
said, passing him the bottle of bourbon. Ryder took a swig and passed the
bottle to Valentina.
“Thanks,” Jackson said as she swilled
the bourbon and handed the bottle over to Kenny Sudrow.
Kenny quaffed some down and tried
passing the bottle over to Eli Burton. “No thanks,” Eli said politely.
“Might as well drink it while it’s
here,” Kenny said. “It’s going fast.”
“I don’t drink,” Eli told him. “I like
to keep all my senses as sharp as possible.”
“I can respect that,” Kenny said, passing
the bottle to Damien instead. “I know you want some.”
“You sure as hell don’t have to ask me
twice,” Damien said, guzzling the bourbon down.
“Hey,” Valentina said. “Save some for
the rest of us.”
“We’ve still got about half a bottle,”
Damien said, drying his wet lips with the sleeve of his jacket.
“Let’s save it for tonight,” Ryder
suggested. “Chuckie, I’m ready if you are.”
* * *
Chuckie wasn’t too bad for a beginner.
After going over the basics with Carson, two Biters staggered out from the brush
and Carson put him to the test. He missed the first shot, but the second shot
was on target.
Carson took down the second Biter with
his Remington shotgun and commended Chuckie on a job well done.
“Once you get used to the recoil of a
gun, it’s a piece of cake. The trick is to have a steady hand. You can never
shake if you want to be accurate.”
“Thanks for teaching me all this,”
Chuckie said. He went to check his watch, then realized again it wasn’t there
anymore. “I never would’ve learned all this growing up on Long Island. I was
from Levittown originally. Never thought I’d end up in Tennessee of all places.
Life is full of surprises.”
“What’d you do?” Ryder asked. “Were
you a student?”
“I was an employee at Best Buy. I was
always a big movie buff, so the job was a blast. But I didn’t see myself doing
it forever. Then again, I never saw myself doing anything like this either.”
“Do you know what happened to your
family? You know if they made it?”
“Can’t say for sure,” Chuckie said.
“It was two days before I ended up in Arnold Vesti’s bomb shelter. I waited for
two days, but they just never came home. For all I know, they’re still out
there somewhere.”
“I showed the photo of my wife and
daughter to Valentina,” Ryder told him. “She recognized them. Said they passed
through here and were heading for Arkansas. I figure we can search for them
once we move on from this place. I just wish I could remember my daughter’s
name.”
“It will come to you eventually,”
Chuckie said. “I’m sure you’ll find them, alive and well.”
“I can only hope,” Ryder said as
another Biter shambled through the thick brush and set its sights on them.
Ryder let Chuckie do the honors as he raised his gun, fired, and capped it in
the head. “Nice shot.”
“Thanks,” Chuckie said. “I think I’m
getting the hang of it. You know, I wasn’t always like this. I know I come
across as a total hipster with the cologne and the watch and the hair gel, but
that was just my way of fitting in. On Long Island, it was the only way for me
to make friends and have a social life. I went to clubs, titty bars, and sports
game with my hair all spiked up and my gold chain dangling off my neck. The
girls loved it. And I loved the attention. So I just kept it up. I got stuck
playing this character. And this character consumed my life.”
“I’m
sure you’re not the only one, kid. But in this new world we’ve found ourselves
in, it doesn’t matter who or what you were. All that matters is what you become
now.”
“You’re right,” Chuckie said, nodding
his head. “I never thought of it that way.”
“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have a
cigarette, would you?” Ryder asked.
“Nah,” Chuckie said. “Sorry. I was
never a big smoker. That was another thing I used to do just to fit in. You
know what I really wanted to be growing up?”
“Nope, tell me,” Ryder said.
“I wanted to be a firefighter,”
Chuckie told him. “I used to be mesmerized by fire trucks whenever I saw them
on the television. I wanted to be one of those heroes riding on the back of
that cool truck, climbing up that big ladder and saving people trapped on the
third floor of a burning building. When I was five, my dad let me watch
Backdraft. You ever saw it?”
“Can’t say I remember it,” Ryder
shrugged.
“It was a great movie,” Chuckie said
as they walked back to the vestibule to warm up and rest their guns. “It really
inspired me. But I just never followed through on my dreams.”
“I wish I could tell you there’s still
time,” Ryder said as they entered.
“I know it’s a major risk, but we’re
going to have to venture into town again,” Damien said, interrupting their
conversation. “There’s plenty of ground we didn’t cover; plenty of houses and
stores we didn’t search. There could be a ton of supplies were missing out on.
Food, water, clothing. We can’t pass all that up.”
“I hate to say it after what we went
through last time, but he’s right,” Carson said. “This time, we take more
people though. You, me, Kenny, and Vern.”
“I’ll go,” Valentina said.
“Darling, you’re one hell of a shot,”
Damien said. “But we can’t put you at risk like that. You’re staying behind.”
“I’ll come along,” Chuckie said. “It’s
time for me to earn my keep.”
“You sure about this, kid?” Ryder
asked. “You’re still new at this.”
“I can handle it,” Chuckie assured
him. “Have some faith in me.”
* * *
A few Biters were shambling around
aimlessly outside the market. Vern Sheldon had left the flamethrower behind, as
the tanks fuel was running low, and he figured it wouldn’t be needed on this
occasion.
Carson pumped his Remington and took the
first Biter down with an earsplitting blast. Chuckie stepped up and took two
more Biters down with two well-aimed shots. Kenny did the honors of tagging the
last staggering Biter with his semi-automatic pistol.
The doors to the market were locked, but
not barricaded. So Damien saved all of them some time by kicking the doors in.
“That works,” Ryder said as they marched in
one by one, their weapons at their sides, as they had no clue what threats
lurked inside.
“I found cereal,” Chuckie said, holding up
a box of Alpha-Bits from aisle three. “Crappy cereal. But if it hasn’t gone
stale, I’m sure someone will eat it.”
“Even if it has gone stale, we’ll eat it,”
Ryder said. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”
“I found a jar of cherries,” Kenny called
out from aisle five. “They’re still sealed and they look good to me. We’ll just
have to eat them fast since we can’t refrigerate them after we open the jar.
Oh, I found a jar of peanut butter, too.”
“Good finds,” Damien said. “Take them
along. You got anything, Vern?”
“I found a box of tampons,” Vern said from
aisle eight. “I’d take them back for Valentina, but I don’t think that’d be
appropriate.”
“No, grab them anyway,” Damien said.
“She’ll probably be thankful you did. Hey, I got a big score here. Two display
boxes full of energy bars. And a bag of Reese’s.”
“I’ve got a case of water over here,” Ryder
shouted from aisle one.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Chuckie
said. “I found two bottles of shampoo. Jackpot.”
“Hey guys, we’ve got company in the
stockroom,” Vern alerted them.
“No threat, boys,” a man’s voice
called from the stockroom. “I’m armed, but my gun is tucked away. There are
just two of us, and we mean you no harm.”
The group moved to the stockroom, guns
raised as they assessed the level of threat. The men were indeed armed, but
they weren’t brandishing their weapons. They were sitting peacefully on milk
crates as they played cards for jelly beans, their guns tucked into their
waistbands.
“I’m Freddie,” the man introduced
himself. “That big lug over there is Joel. We’ve been on the road for weeks
now, months. I don’t really know how long it’s been.”
“You guys look like you’ve been
through the mill too,” Joel pointed out.
“We have,” Ryder said. The five men
lowered their weapons and rested them at their sides.
“Joel and I have been holed up here
for a couple of days now. I found some pillows and blankets back here. Looks
like we weren’t the first to crash here. I also found a whole bunch of
preservatives and bags of dry food. There’s still some left if you fellas are
hungry. Where are you guys camped out?”
“No place special,” Ryder said.
“Joel found this map of Tennessee in
one of the lockers over there. There’s a place not too far from here called the
Starlight. We’ll be heading there by morning.”
“Don’t bother,” Damien said. “It’s
taken.” Ryder glanced back and shot him a look as if to say ‘why’d you tell
them we’re staying there?’
“Now come on fellas,” Freddie said.
“I’m sure there’s plenty of room for all of us. Can’t we come to some sort of
compromise?”
“Yeah,” Damien said. “The deal is you
stay away from the hotel and we’ll let you keep your heads.”
“There’s no call for that,” Ryder told
Damien. “Guys, the place is full enough as it is. And we’ve had our share of
unpleasant encounters with other survivors. It’s nothing personal. We just have
to look out for our own.”
“You’ve got a big group, huh?” Freddie
said. “You’ve got women? I can’t remember the last time I had a piece of ass. I
bet you got some young ones with you, right? Some jail bait?”
“Don’t push it,” Damien said through
gritted teeth.
“So what? You guys think you’re gonna
come in here, raid the shelves, take our food and water, and then leave us high
and dry? I don’t think so, fellas. I’m sure you’ve done some pretty awful
things in order to survive. But so have we. And if there’s a place we can crash
until winter, we’re gonna crash there. You ain’t gonna stop us.”
“We’ll just see about that,” Vern
said, lifting his .357 Magnum.
“No need for that, fellas,” Freddie
said as Joel’s hand crept for his weapon. “Like I said, I’m sure we can reach
some sort of comprise. How about Joel and I stick to one side of the hotel and
you guys have the other side? Hell, you could stick us in the boiler room and
we’d be happy.”
“No dice,” Vern said vehemently.
“We’re staying at that hotel come hell
or high water, and that’s final,” Freddie said emphatically.
Vern cocked back the hammer of his
.357 just as Joel’s hand snatched the pistol from his waistband. Vern squeezed
off one shot before Joel had a chance to even raise his gun, nailing his right
above the eyes.
“Kill shot,” Freddie said with his
hands raised in the air. “Very impressive. I can’t say I’ll miss him. The guy
was slow, goofy, didn’t talk much. Kind of reminded me of Lenny from Of Mice
and Men. Are you going to kill me too?”
Vern felt the cold metallic sting of a
gun barrel press against his neck and he lowered his Magnum. At Freddie’s
recommendation, they all dropped their weapons to the floor.
“Allow me to introduce you to the rest
of the group,” Freddie said. The gang turned around to face their newest
adversaries. “That’s Brick, Crusher, Lobo, Vinnie Mac, and Tommy Boy. And as
you can plainly see, they’re all armed with AK-47s. So don’t make any sudden
movements, fellas.”
“Ok,” Damien sighed. “You’ve got us by
the balls. Take our guns and supplies and let us be on our way.”
“I don’t think so, fella. Hey boys,
you know that map Joel found? These fellas know where that hotel is. That’s
where they’re camped out at. And they’re going to take us back with them. They
got food, beds; I think they even got women.”
“Hot damn,” Brick said. “We done hit
the jackpot.”
“Brick here’s been dying for a piece
of pussy,” Freddie said. “Ain’t that right, Brick?”
“Damn right,” Brick said, licking his
dirt stained lips.
When Damien kicked the door in, none
of them had bothered to close it up or barricade it. As luck would have it, a
lone Biter had wandered in from the streets and crept into the stockroom.
The Biter sank its chipped teeth into
Vinnie Mac’s neck, tearing the skin away like tissue paper. The distraction was
enough to allow Damien to remove his bowie knife from its sheath and slice
Brick’s throat with it.
Lobo, Crusher, and Tommy Boy all
turned their AK-47 on the Biter, blasting it to pieces. But this gave the gang
enough time to gather their weapons. Freddie reached for the pistol jammed in
his waistband, but Carson was faster, and blasted a hole in his chest the size
of a grapefruit with his Remington shotgun.
Vern had retrieved his Magnum and took
out Crusher and Lobo with two quick shots to the head. Tommy Boy was the last
to go. He cowered in the corner of the stockroom, begging for his life. But
Damien showed no mercy or compassion when he turned that blade on Tommy Boy and
made him scream to his final breath.
“What was that rule you laid down?”
Damien asked Carson. “The one about not killing humans? I think that rule is
officially out the window.” They gathered their weapons and supplies, took
their newly acquired AK-47s, and bailed.
As they ran from the market, Ryder
heard the bloodcurdling screams and turned to see Chuckie getting mauled by not
one, not two, but three putrid Biters. The decomposing demons ripped, bit, tore
at every inch of exposed flesh. And what flesh wasn’t exposed, soon became
visible as they continued to claw and tear away at their prey.
The group stopped dead in their
tracks, frozen at the grisly sight. Ryder wanted to act, but his body failed to
communicate with his brains demand for action. It was too late to save him
anyway. They all knew what happens once you get bit.
They stood aghast as the pack of
Biters tore Razzano limb from bloody limb. Ryder snapped out his trance and
pumped the shotgun, fired, and pumped it again. He fired three deafening blasts
that split their heads in two. It wasn’t just the threat they posed. It was
about avenging the friend they had just lost.
The boom of the shotgun just seemed to
lure more of them out. In seconds, Biters were spilling out onto the streets.
They floundered about in every direction, but most of this undead mob had
already set their sights on the fresh meat presented before them.
“We have to go,” Damien said.
“We can’t just leave Chuckie behind,”
Ryder said. “We have to give him a proper burial.”
“There’s an entire herd of Biters
barreling towards us. There’s no time. We have to grab our shit and go. We’ll
say a prayer for him later.”
* * *
“Don’t beat yourself up,” Damien told
Carson back at the hotel.
“He shouldn’t have been there,” Ryder
said.
“He wanted to tag along,” Damien
reminded him. “He knew the risks involved. We all did.”
“I know…if you’ll excuse me, I need to
be alone. I need some rest."
“Sure, no problem,” Damien said,
closing the door to Carson’s room behind him. As he walked through the halls,
he bumped shoulders with Terry Watts.
“Have you seen Willard?” Terry had
asked him.
“Can’t say that I have,” Damien said,
“It’s been one hell of a day.”
“We usually play chess together, but
he’s not in his room. And I can’t find him anywhere.”
“If I see him, I’ll tell him you’re
looking for him.”
“Thanks,” Terry said and excused
himself.
Damien considered knocking on
Valentina’s door, seeing if she wanted a little company. But he suspected
Carson kind of had a thing for her, and figured it best to leave her alone.
Instead, he knocked on Vern’s door and made sure to bring the bottle of bourbon
along with him.
“To Chuckie,” they toasted.
“That was one brave kid,” Vern said.
“Yeah, but he wasn’t made for this
kind of world.”
“Who is?” Vern asked.
“Men like you and me.”
“To tell you the truth, killing
zombies was never my thing,” Vern said. “I was a petty drug dealer and thief,
just doing what I could to support my family. I carried a gun, sure. But that
was just for protection. I never killed nobody before all this crazy shit went
down. I was a truck driver and a part-time janitor when I wasn’t in jail or
selling pot. That was my life in a nutshell.”
“What about that badass flamethrower
you got?”
“That thing,” Vern shrugged. “Took it
off a dead cop. Didn’t think he’d need it anymore. It took me forever just to
learn how to use the damn thing.” They both laughed and passed the bottle back
and forth until they got sleepy and retired to their separate quarters.
* * *
“Wake up!” Chase Crawford screeched
through every corridor of the first floor. “Everybody, wake up! We have to get
out now! Pickman’s gone mad!”
“What in the blue hell is going on
here?” Kenny asked as he stepped out from his room, rubbing his tired eyes.
Damien, Vern, Valentina, and Carson had also heard the ruckus and joined them
in the hallway. Eli soon followed.
“Pickman’s gone mad!” Chase screamed.
“He’s going to kill us all. We have to get out.”
Terry Watts had heard the commotion all
the way upstairs and ran down from the second floor.
“Sorry about this,” Damien apologized to
Terry. “He’s a bit overdramatic. Let’s go find Pickman and see what this is
about.”
Chase begged them not to go, but the
group trotted over to the lobby, where a strange device sat in the center of
the room.
“What the fuck is that thing?”
Valentina asked.
“Is that Chuckie’s watch?” Ryder asked
as he took a closer look.
“Oh shit,” Damien said. “It’s a bomb.
It’s a fucking bomb!”
“Correct,” Pickman said from the
vestibule, his voice grabbing their collective attention. “One of two bombs to
be precise. I’m sorry I lied to you all. I’m sorry I led you all this far. I’m
sorry I can’t save you. I’m going to help you, though. I’m going to spare you
all this endless suffering.”
“Run!” Ryder said. In mere seconds,
the lobby was deserted. They ran down the longest corridor of the first floor,
which led straight to the emergency exit. Outside, they put as much distance
between the hotel and themselves as humanly possible.
Watching from the adjacent woods, they
heard a loud boom that emanated from the front of the Starlight. An explosion
that took all of Willard Pickman with it. They cupped their hands over their ears,
waiting for the second boom. But it never came.
“Could it be…?” Kenny said. “Hey guys,
I think one of the bombs was a dud.”
“Let’s wait a bit longer just to be
safe,” Ryder suggested. And so they did. After a full half an hour had passed,
they returned to find the interior of the hotel unscathed. The bomb that
Willard Pickman had constructed indeed turned out to be a dud.
The same could not be said for the
bomb he planted just outside the vestibule, the bomb that took his life, and
destroyed Vern’s box truck and Arnold Vesti’s van in one fell swoop.
“We’re doomed,” Chase muttered.
“Doomed.”
To Be Continued With Part Thirteen:
CHARLOTTE
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