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Authors: Brian Keene

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BOOK: Entombed
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“Sorry.” I lowered my weapon. “I thought they’d killed you.”

“No. Chuck was really pissed, but he let me go after I told them I’d help look for you. I was just coming to do that now. Here.” He held up a bottle of water and offered it to me. “I thought you might be able to use that.”

Nodding eagerly, I took the bottle from him. It was still cold and the plastic was covered with condensation. It felt wonderful. I rubbed it against my sweaty forehead and then unscrewed the cap and drank greedily, gulping it down. Water dribbled down my chin. I drank it all and then sighed.

“Thanks. I needed that.”

“You’re welcome. Are you okay?”

I nodded.

“So where have you been?” Drew asked. “They went ape-shit when they figured out you’d escaped the incinerator room. Chuck sent Jim, George and Clyde up here to look for you, along with the Chinese guy.”

The Chinese guy—we called him that because none of us knew his name. He didn’t speak a word of English and none of us spoke Chinese. His communication with our group had been accomplished through a series of hand gestures and grunts. He was nice enough. Middle-aged, slightly overweight (at least, when we first came here), but with a full, thick head of hair. He hadn’t bothered anybody and nobody bothered him. I’d often wondered how he ended up at The Pocahontas. Had he been a guest? Had he been there with anybody else, and if so, how come they hadn’t made it down to the bunker with him? Were they among the zombies now, or had he come alone?

“I didn’t run into the Chinese guy,” I said.

“He came back down a little bit ago,” Drew explained. “To be honest, I don’t think he completely understands what’s going on. I mean, he voted and everything, but who knows if he understood what we were voting on. Chuck sent him up here with the others but then he came back down again, looking confused. He kept saying ‘Dui bu chi’ or something like that.
Whatever that means. That’s when Chuck sent me up here instead.”

I grinned. “Good for Chinese dude. If we ever get out of here, I’ll have to remember to buy him a beer. Where are the others?”

“Waiting downstairs.” Drew glanced over his shoulder at the door, and then turned back to me. “Did you see Jim and the others?”

I nodded.

“What happened?”

“They’re dead. Well, Jim and George are dead. Clyde’s still alive, but he’s hurt. I fucked him up pretty bad, I think.”

“You killed them?”

“I had to. They would have killed me if I hadn’t.”

Drew nodded slowly. “Yeah, they would have. Jesus, what’s become of us, Pete? This whole kill or be killed thing really sucks.”

“Yes, it does. But I don’t see that we have an option, Drew.”

“No, I guess we don’t.”

“I was thinking about trying to reason with Chuck. Make some kind of deal. With Jim, George and Krantz all dead, it’s not like they have to eat me anymore. If they’re so set on eating each other, they can start with them.”

“Do you think Chuck and the others will agree to that?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. You saw them last. What was their temperature like?”

“Chuck’s pretty damned livid. He’s never been your biggest fan to begin with. This hasn’t helped.”

“We got off on the wrong foot. Maybe he just needs to get to know me better.”

It took Drew a moment to realize that I was making a joke. When he did, a slight smile crossed his face. He seemed uneasy and nervous. I chided myself for being so inconsiderate. Here was my one friend, the one person I could count on not to stick me in the back, and I was making him stand out here in the open while the hunt was still in progress.

“So,” Drew asked finally. “What now?”

I shrugged again. “I guess I go and face the music. If they won’t listen to reason, then we’ve got a fight on our hands. But I don’t want to endanger you any more than I already have. You should stay here. I’ll confront Chuck by myself.”

“No, I’ll go with you. He’s in the lunch room, with most of the others. If you go by yourself, there’s a chance someone might see you and attack first and then ask questions later. If I’m with you, I might be able to get them to hold off.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Drew.”

“You didn’t ask me to. I volunteered. Besides, I told Chuck I’d look for you. This way, I can show him that I did as he asked. Might buy me some slack with him.”

“Okay,” I agreed, albeit somewhat reluctantly. I don’t know. Maybe it was my conscience trying to counterbalance the murders I’d just committed, but at that moment, I was more scared of Drew paying the consequences for my actions than I was of losing my own life. Drew was a good guy. He was my friend—the only real friend I had down here in the bunker. Allowing Chuck and the others to punish him for something I’d done would be a form of betrayal, and I couldn’t do that to him. Not after everything that had happened.

We started down the stairs. When we reached the door on the lower level, Drew paused, eyeing my spear.

“I’d feel a lot better if I had a weapon, too.”

“Here.” I pulled the screwdriver out of my back pocket and handed it to him. “Use this. It ain’t much, but if you stab somebody, it should do the job. Hopefully, it won’t come to that.”

“Let’s hope so.”

I put my ear to the door and listened. It was quiet. Drew had said that Chuck and most of the others were in the lunchroom. Given the silence on the other side of the door, there was a good chance that the hallway was currently unoccupied. If my luck held out, maybe we could make it to the lunchroom without an altercation. If I approached Chuck with deference and respect, maybe this whole thing could be turned around before it went any further.

“So are we going, or what?” Drew whispered.

Nodding, I opened the door.

Chuck and five others were waiting on the other side. With him were the Chinese guy, Emma Straub, Mike Blazi, Jeff Antonio, and Dave Lombardo. I’ve already told you about the Chinese guy. Emma was a young woman who had worked upstairs in the hotel’s candy shop. She’d been very pretty before starvation had begun ravaging her face and body. Mike, Jeff and Dave were documentary filmmakers who had been staying at the Pocahontas and playing lots of golf, until the zombies showed up and ruined their game. None of them were armed but there was murder in their eyes.

Chuck grinned. “Hi, Pete. Welcome! So glad you could join us.”

“Shit.”

I let go of the door. It started to swing shut, but Dave reached out and grabbed it with one hand. I backed up, not wanting to turn my back on them, and felt the flat, hard edge of Drew’s screwdriver press into my shirt, right above my kidney. I stiffened.

“Sorry, Pete,” he said. “I’m really sorry. Just don’t move, okay?”

“Drew, what the hell is going on?”

“They were going to kill me if I didn’t help find you. I’m sorry, dude. I really am. But I didn’t survive those walking fucking corpses just to end up being killed down here.”

“You stupid motherfucker…”

“Enough of that,” Chuck said. “Good job, Drew. Now do me a favor? Run upstairs and tell those other worthless ass-clowns to get back down here.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re dead,” Drew told him. “And before you do anything to Pete, I think we ought to hear him out.”

Dave and Chuck stepped toward me. I tried to move away, but all that did was drive the screwdriver harder against my back. Any more pressure and the tip would break my skin.

“It’s true,” I said. “George and Jim are dead, and Clyde is hurt pretty bad. I left him upstairs. He needs medical attention.”

“So,” Chuck said, “in addition to Krantz, you’ve murdered two more of my people.”

“They’re not
your
people, Chuck. They’re just people—survivors, trying to stay alive. Yes, I killed them, but it was in self-defense, and it was no different than what you plan to do to me.”

“We’re doing what we have to,” Emma said. “To survive.”

“Well, now you don’t have to. Don’t you guys see? Krantz, Jim and George—that’s enough to feed all of you for months, if you prepare their bodies now, before they start to rot. You don’t have to kill me. You don’t have to kill anyone! I’ve done all the hard work for you. There’s no reason this has to go on a minute longer. Let’s just all calm down and take a deep breath, okay?”

Behind me, I felt the pressure from the screwdriver tip ease a little. Drew’s breath tickled the back of my neck.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

I ignored him.

The Chinese guy looked at each of us, trying to figure out what was going on. Emma, Jeff and Mike paused, seemingly surprised by this revelation. They glanced at each other, and then at Chuck, who appeared nonplussed. He was still grinning. Dave was not. Dave stared straight into my eyes, unblinking. I glanced down and noticed with some unease that he had a bulge in the front of his pants. Dave liked what was happening, and that made him my first target, should things not play out the way I’d hoped them to.

Chuck turned to Jeff and Mike. “Go upstairs and get Jim and George’s bodies. Put them with Krantz.

They nodded, and then stepped toward me. Drew backed up so that I could move aside, and in doing so, removed the screwdriver from my back. Dave had to step aside, as well, so that Jeff and Mike could slip past us and up the stairs. Mike couldn’t meet my eyes, but Jeff did.

“It was nothing personal,” he told me. “I hope you understand that.”

I shrugged. “The bodies are down near the blast door, where the forklifts are parked. That’s where you’ll find Clyde, too.”

“Okay.”

They started up the stairs, leaving me at the bottom of the stairwell with Drew, Chuck, Dave, Emma and the Chinese guy. Emma and the Chinese guy were still in the hallway. The others were crowded around me, close enough that I could smell their stink. Above us, the echoes of Mike and Jeff’s footsteps quickly faded. I heard the door open and close as they entered the power plant.

Chuck’s grin returned. “Dave, take Pete’s weapon, will you?”

Flinching, I tightened my grip on the spear. “Are we cool now, Chuck?”

“Oh, we’re very cool. You’ve done us the favor of providing food for the group. I’ll repay the favor with a quick death.”

Dave and Chuck lunged at me simultaneously. Dave grabbed the spear and tried to rip it from my hands, but I held on tight. Behind me, I heard Drew cry out in surprise. Without looking, I stomped hard on his foot. He yelped, and I heard the screwdriver clatter to the floor. Chuck grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked hard as I kneed Dave in the balls. The big man grunted, and the air whooshed from his lungs and into my face. It reeked. He stumbled backward, cradling his groin, and slammed into the wall. The door slammed shut, blocking Emma and the Chinese guy from view. I hollered as Chuck pulled my hair. He twisted, trying to force my head down.

“Let go of me, motherfucker.”

“This is my bunker,” Chuck spat. “My people.
My fucking people!
You don’t question me and get away with it, Pete. You made me look bad.”

I realized then that for Chuck, this wasn’t about survival. It wasn’t about starving to death. It was about power. With a scream, I jerked away from him. A fistful of my hair ripped free. I thrust my spear blindly, jabbing Chuck in the side. Dave moaned on the floor. Chuck yelled something unintelligible. I spun around and with my right palm, I slammed Drew’s head against the wall. Then I ran back up the stairs.

“Get him!” Chuck’s enraged cry boomed, echoing in the stairwell.

I heard footsteps pursuing me, but rather than turn around to see who it was, I ran faster, scrambling up the stairs two at a time. My scalp felt hot, and I was pretty sure I was bleeding, but I didn’t care. I rounded the corner and fled up the second flight of stairs. I half expected the door to the power plant to burst open as Jeff and Mike returned to investigate the commotion, but then I remembered that they wouldn’t be able to hear us over the generators.

Fingers grasped at my shirttail, pulling me backward. I swung the spear like a club, lashing out at whoever was behind me. The spear whistled through the air and then I connected with my pursuer’s head with a loud, solid whack. They grunted, and slipped. I heard them scrabbling on the stairs, along with Chuck’s cursing and commands and Dave’s moans. I reached the door, yanked it open, and bolted into the power plant. There was no immediate sign of Jeff and Mike. The door slammed shut behind me, then banged open again a split second later as Drew charged into the room. I turned and faced him. He was panting hard and his face was red. His eyes widened and he held up his hands.

“Pete, listen to me…”

I charged him, my face twisted with rage. Drew’s eyes got even wider. Then he turned around and fled. My spear thrust clanged uselessly against the closing door.

My first instinct was to chase him, but instead, I shoved my spear through the door handle so that they couldn’t open it from that end. Then, keeping an eye out for Jeff and Mike, I raced over to one of the work stations I’d spotted earlier. I grabbed a can of gasoline, twisted off the cap and poured the contents into the mop bucket. Then I stuffed an oily shop rag in my pocket and wheeled the bucket over to the door. Using my lighter, I lit the rag on fire. Then, as it slowly burned, I pulled the spear free and opened the door.

BOOK: Entombed
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