America the Dead (26 page)

Private Hook moved out and darted around the end of the aisle, scanning for threats before he nodded to Gomez. “Clear.”

Private Gomez turned around and moved to the next aisle. As he glanced at Hook, he saw the other soldier’s eyes get wide. Spinning around, he raised his rifle just as Hook shouted.

“Behind you!”

The cry echoed in Gomez’s ears as he flicked on his weapon light to engage the threat. A fast moving zombie, probably no more than seven years old, was literally hurtling down the back of the grocery store, his teeth bared as his breath wheezed out of his mouth. His little bare feet pattered on the tile floor as he rushed to his prey. Gomez waited until he had a definite shot, then fired just as the zombie boy leaped into the air, the bullet passing harmlessly next to him.

The zombie was four feet from landing on Gomez, who raised his rifle to defend himself. At the last second, Private Hook fired, hitting the zombie in the head and spraying zombie brains all over Private Gomez.

Gomez wiped his face as best he could, hesitating a second to give the dead zombie a kick. “Stupid shit,” he growled.

“Umm, dude?” Private Hook said.

“What?”

“Get your gun up, we got company.”

Private Gomez looked and saw a sizable number of zombies moving in their direction from the Seasonal section. Their glowing eyes and pitiful moans made him sweat all that much more. “Oh, Jesus.”

“Come on!” Private Hook grabbed his partner and bolted up the aisle, trying to head for the door. The pair skidded to a stop at the end of the aisle, nearly running into a second group of zombies that had come to the store to shop and never left.

“Shit! We’re cut off!” Hook yelled, firing into the face of a nearby ghoul. “Get back!” He fired again, completely missing the horde and putting a hole in a bottle of soda. Orange mist sprayed over the zombies and some looked up as a citrus-smelling rain poured on them.

“This way!” Private Gomez sped back to the deli, darting around the case. He let Hook clear the opening before he and the other private started shoving a heavy stainless steel covered table over to the opening. Just before they got it there, they tipped it over, barricading themselves from the approaching undead.

Private Hook raised his rifle and took careful aim, killing the nearest zombie. Another took its place and as he looked, he could see many more coming from the far side of the store, their glowing eyes swaying slightly in the gloom. He turned back to Gomez.

“We got trouble, bro. There’s a whole lot more of them than there are of us. I think we need to… hey, you okay?” Hook asked as he brought his flashlight up. Gomez was sitting on another table, holding his head with one hand while he tried to turn off his weapon light with the other.

Gomez looked up. “I feel weird, man. My head’s spinning and my gut feels wrong,” he said weakly.

Private Hook shined his light on Gomez’s face. He could see dark streaks on Gomez’s forehead, mingling with the sweat that was there, trickling down into Gomez’s eyes. Private Hook knew immediately what had happened. When the little zombie died, the brains got showered over Gomez. When the private sweated, he got the virus into his eyes, giving it access to his bloodstream.

Gomez was infected.

Private Hook cursed. This was not turning out the way he had hoped. He fired at the horde again, killing a zombie who slid down the display case, leaving behind a dark stain on the grimy glass. The rest of the zombies pressed forward, reaching out, trying to grab at the two men. A short zombie was flattened against the glass, its facial features spreading out against the thick panes.

“Come on, let’s see if we can get out of here.” Private Hook grabbed Gomez by the arm, ignoring his cry of pain. Hyper-sensitivity to touch was a late stage symptom of the Enillo Virus, but if Gomez was complaining now, then the virus had indeed evolved and was faster than ever.

The two men stumbled through a back door, finding themselves in the meat cutting room. Hook left Gomez in a chair as a loud crashing came from outside. Looking out the window, Private Hook could see the zombies had forced the barricade and were spilling into the deli area, looking for thin-sliced humans.

“Think, think, think!” he muttered to himself, pacing back and forth. He searched around the room, but the quick glance he gave it didn’t show him anything. Gomez groaned and Hook went over to his side.

“Hang in there, man,” he said, knowing there was nothing he could do.

Gomez looked up. Already dark circles were forming around his eyes. His feverish skin was slick with sweat and his breathing was labored.

“I can feel it taking over,” he whispered, slumping his head down onto his chest. “I feel like my mind is slipping away, bit by bit.
Madre de Dios
, it hurts.”

Private Hook’s reply was lost as the zombies plowed into the door, shaking it violently. They began hammering on it as others started pounding on the windows. Hook knew he had run out of time.

“Leave me, man. I’m dead,” Gomez whispered, tipping out of his chair and sprawling onto the ground. His skin was pale and he pulled his lips back in pain as a spasm racked his body.

“Not yet, you ain’t,” Hook said, moving a meat rack in front of the window and locking the wheels. It wasn’t much, but it might stall them a bit. He had nowhere to go, but he was going to make sure they paid for every bite they tried to take out of him.

Gomez whispered something inaudible from the floor. Private Hook looked down and saw he didn’t have much time before he was going to have a ghoul in here ahead of the others. He hated to kill his friend, but in this world it was kill or be eaten.

Kneeling down, he quickly stripped Gomez of his weapons and ammo, ignoring the whimpers of pain, figuring to make them last as long as he could. Who knows, maybe he had enough to kill them all and get out of here.

Gomez whispered again. Hook heard him, but wasn’t sure of what he said. Leaning down, he asked Gomez, “Say again?”

Barely audible above the banging, Gomez said, “Door.” and moved his head slightly towards the far wall.

Private Hook looked in that direction and saw light coming from underneath a large rack. Hook stood up and ran over, pulling the trays away from the wall. Just as he reached for the handle, the door leading to the deli burst open, slamming into the prone Gomez and knocking him several feet in the opposite direction. Several zombies tripped into the room, crashing into the racks Hook had strategically placed to slow them down. Two of them knelt down to try a bite of Gomez, but when they got close enough, they stopped and smelled him for a minute. Hook watched in horror as they straightened up, leaving Gomez untouched.
Jesus, they know!
he thought.

As Hook turned the handle of the door, he glanced back and the last thing he saw before leaving was Private Gomez rising slowly to his feet, his milky eyes searching hungrily for his former friend.

Private Hook hurried out the door and slammed it shut behind him. Pounding from the other side hurried him away from the building. Cradling Gomez’s weapons in one hand, keeping the other on his own gun, Hook began running back to the convoy.

Thorton is going to be pissed
, he thought as he ran.

Major Thorton was lounging in the sun when the three men he had sent to check the houses came trotting back. They carried improvised sacks and were grinning at each other. They stopped in front of the major and showed their prizes like kids with Halloween candy.

Thorton heaved himself upright and peered into the sacks. The first one held an assortment of canned goods, from Spam to Spaghetti-O’s. The next sack had a supply of ammunition, most of it for shotguns. Thorton was reminded about the nature of small towns in general. If they had any guns at all, they tended to be shotguns, which were relatively useless for zombies, or really big-bore handguns, which were good for one shot. The further east he went, the less he was finding for his men’s arms, which was going to present a problem if they ever had to face a serious horde.

The third sack held about three dozen cans of various fruits and vegetables, as well as a remarkably ample supply of porno magazines. Thorton looked up at the soldier who just shrugged. Ken shook his head and waved his hand at the three, who scurried off to show their comrades and share their booty. Chances were pretty good the men had found liquor as well, but they could keep it. Thorton figured it kept the men happy enough.

Just as he was going back to his chair, the front door of the hardware store banged open, spilling two soldiers into the walkway. They rose to their feet slowly and seemed unsteady in the bright sunlight. Thorton shouted out to them.

“You two! Get over here and report!” he said loudly.

The two soldiers jumped slightly at the sound of the major’s voice. Slowly swiveling their heads, they locked onto the major’s position and began moving in his direction. One, Private Ellis, seemed to have injured himself and had a nasty wound on his leg. The other, Private Barnes, looked like he had something fall on his face.

Thorton cursed them for their slowness and yelled out, “I said move, you worthless pieces of dog shit! I ain’t got all day!”

The two soldiers responded with their own outburst. As one, they both raised their heads, opened their mouths and groaned with enthusiasm. The sound, carried from freshly dead throats, echoed across the small town and into the surrounding countryside. It froze every living creature in their tracks for a brief second before chilling their blood to the bone. It was the calling cry of the zombies and they were on the hunt.

“Ah, shit. You dumbasses,” Thorton said as he realized what had happened to the two men. Somehow they managed to get themselves infected and now they just added to the zombie army’s ranks.
Nothing is going right today
, he thought to himself.
Should’ve just passed this stupid town by.
He walked over to the side of the road and picked up a small street sign that had been knocked over. The two former soldiers tracked his movements and moved to try and intercept him. At the trucks, soldiers spilled out with weapons at the ready, the groan of the zombies working better than a klaxon call to arms.

Thorton hefted the improvised weapon, then waited for Private Ellis to get closer. When the zombie came within range, Ken swung in a looping arc, catching the former solider under the ear and completely shearing his head off. The body of the zombie immediately fell to the ground while the head, still biting, bounced off a nearby car and came to a rest face up in the street.

Thorton didn’t waste time with the second zombie. Swinging the sign in an overhead chop, he brought the weapon down onto Private Barnes skull. The edge of the sign bit deep, completely halving the hapless soldier’s head. Thorton let the sign go and both it and the now completely dead zombie tumbled to the ground.

The major didn’t have time to reflect. Up the street, another soldier was running at him. Thorton’s first thought was
Oh shit, they’re all running now
? But when he saw the man waving to get his attention, he realized two things. One, this wasn’t a zombie and two, there was supposed to another soldier

Private Hook ran up to Major Thorton and bent over to catch his breath. Thorton waited impatiently with is arms crossed. When he had recovered, Private Hook was to the point.

“Sir. Gomez is dead, got infected by a little shit. Grocery store is full of the fucking things, nearly got me but I found an exit. Only got a few food items, sir.” Private Hook paused to take a breath. “They’re changing, sir.”

Thorton tilted his head to the side. “Explain.”

“Sir, we made a lot of noise getting in, but they didn’t come for us until we could be cut off. If it hadn’t been for the extra door in the butcher shop, I’d be dead, sir. We got trapped but good.”

Major Thorton nodded, processing this bit of news. It fit with some other information he had, none of it encouraging. He shook it off and shouted his orders.

“Get their weapons and gear, then mount up. We’re gone!” He strode to his vehicle and climbed aboard, just as his driver started the engine. They pulled out and moved away from the center of town.

As they passed the grocery store, Ken called a halt. Grabbing a Molotov cocktail from the back of the truck, he stalked over to the broken front door. He could see movement in the gloom and was glad he could send a few more of these bastards to hell.

Thorton threw the bomb in through the door, the flames bursting on an aisle of crackers. He could see several zombies milling about and a few actually came over to the flames to become engulfed. As he walked back to the truck, his anger was starting to mount.

He was infuriated because he lost three men to this nothing town and had very little to show for it. He was angry because he knew that what Talon had said would eventually creep through his men, undermining him and forcing him to take measures.

But worst of all, he was frightened by the implication of what had occurred in the town.

The zombies were showing signs of rudimentary intelligence. If it continued, that meant the end of every living thing on the planet.