Ground Zero: A Zombie Apocalypse (9 page)

Glenda turned back to Cutter. She sighe
d. “I don’t blame her…” she began, and then shook her head and started again. “You know, we think we’re civilized. We think we’ve evolved in the thousands of years man has walked the earth. Women have more independence and have been completely empowered – and yet – within twenty four hours of the world going to hell, we revert back to those base animal instincts that we’ve always inherited but learned to suppress,” she said. “Like the instinctive need to find a mate, and to reproduce, the instinct to survive is the strongest one mankind has, and Jillian is just doing what women have done for thousands of years. She’s drawn to the strongest male because it’s her best chance of protection and survival – and she’s appealing to him in the one way men are instinctively created to respond. She’s offering him her body, in the hope he will want her and will protect her. It’s what every woman instinctively craves,” Glenda confessed.

“Including you…” Cutter said again, this time not asking the question. Just stating the fact.

Glenda sighed. “I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t jealous,” she admitted. “Like you said, Hos is the one person in this room who is prepared for what is happening. It makes him the dominant male. Instinctively, he’s drawing every woman in here towards him.”

“And so why are you talking to me?” Cutter as
ked. His tone had suddenly become harsh. “Why aren’t you lifting your skirt to Hos and throwing yourself at him? Or did you realize Hos would choose one of the younger girls, and so you thought maybe I would be your second choice?”

Glenda
turned away for a moment, and when she looked back there was a flicker of venomous anger in her eyes. Cutter saw the conflict in her expression flare brightly and then turn cold.

“Would it make any difference?” she said flatly, grinding down on her urge to stalk angrily away. “You decide. If you want me, you can have me. You can take me right here, right now. You can take me up against the wall and I don’t care if everyone else in the room sees.” She snatched at his hand and the look in her eyes was urgent and primitive. “I want to survive this,” she said. “I’m too young to die. I’ve got my whole life ahead of me and I want to live it, no matter how horrible the world becomes.” Her legs fell apart, and she slid Cutter’s hand up under her skirt and held it
pressed against the soft damp silk of her panties. “Take me with you, Jack. Promise you’ll protect me, and I’ll be yours any time you want. Every time you want. That’s what I’m prepared to pay for you to get me out of here and keep me alive.”

Cutter recoiled. He dragged his hand free and glared, his
expression appalled. Glenda started crying soft tears of despair and humiliation. She jerked away from him. “I’m sorry,” she said in a tiny choking sound. “I… I’ve done this all wrong…” She covered her mouth and began to sob. Cutter sat frozen, watching the woman’s pain. Over her shoulder, in the gloomy distance, he saw Hos take the young redhead by the hand and lead her away towards one of the small storage spaces. He hunted the darkness with his eyes until the couple disappeared.

When his eyes flicked back to Glenda, she was hunched against the wall, her bod
y shaking and heaving with the depth of her desolation. Finally he reached for her. Drew her close to him and she looked up into his face with meek, fragile hope.

“Thank you
, Jack,” she whispered urgently. Her hand went to the front of his jeans in a desperate flurry to please him. “I promise I’ll be everything you want,” she said. “I promise you can have me whenever you say.” Her fingers were practiced, and with quick movements she unbuttoned the denim and began drawing down the zipper. She felt the hardness of him.

Cutter grabbed her wrist. “Not that,” he said
, and shook his head firmly. “Not anything.” Glenda’s head was nestled against his chest. She looked up at him, her eyes wide in alarm and renewed fear. “But –”

Cutter shook his head
again. “Just lay still, and get some rest,” he said. “I’m sorry. But for now, comfort is all I can offer you.”

* * *

Rough hands shook him awake and Cutter sat up with a start. Hos was standing over him, leaning close so that his voice was just a whisper.

“It’s midnight,” the big man said. His eyes drifted down to where Glenda was laying with her head resting in Cutter’s lap. The woman was breathing steadily, but shallowl
y, her brow creased into a furrow as she slept. Hos said nothing, but there was a knowing look in his eyes. He grunted. “You’ve got sentry duty at the steel door. I’ll relieve you at 4am.”

Cutter nodded. His hand went to the bulky shape of the pi
stol that had jammed itself against his hip as he had slept. “Okay,” he said.

Hos leaned an inch closer. “Stay the fuck awake,” he warned, his voice pitched low, but full of menace.

* * *

Cutter climbed the stairs and
sat on the cold concrete of the landing with his back against the locked steel door. He felt numb with the weary fatigue of exhaustion, and his thoughts were chittering and inconsequential.

It was as though hi
s mind had finally shut down, denying him the ability to think clearly. The enormity of the peril – America on the brink of Armageddon – had forced his conscious mind into denial.

Or maybe it was simply that there was no point in thinking, or planning for anything beyond the first few moments
after they pulled open the steel door…

But
Cutter was used to that. He was used to living one moment at a time, and staring into an uncertain future that seemed to have no consequence and no reason.

Ever since his wife and son had died…

* * *

He heard the soft shuffle of cautious steps, and for
a split second he wondered whether the sound was vibrating through the thick steel door. Then he saw Hos at the bottom of the stairs. The big man had the semi-automatic cradled in his arms, and the black nylon bag strapped to his back. His eyes were bright and alert.

He looked up at Cutter and touched at his wrist; signaling that it was time. Cutter came down the steps. Hos put his hand out for the
Glock.

Cutter felt strangely disquieted relinquishing the gun. There was some tangible sense of safety in its weight and when he gave the weapon back to Hos it was with a pang of reluctance.

“It’s 4am,” Hos said. “Go and get some sleep. You’ll need it in the morning.”

Cutter nodded. He stood at the bottom of the steps for another moment, watching the big survivalist take the stairs up to the narrow landing, and then finally trudged back into the gloom of the warehouse wher
e the rest of the group slept fitfully on the edge of nightmare.

* * *

“Jack! Jesus, Jack! Get up. Please get up!”

Cutter
came awake resentfully, aware of someone tugging and shaking him – aware also of some dull sense of brooding remorse. He felt agitated hands plucking at his arm until he came alert blinking and ill-tempered.

He dragged his hand
across the unshaven stubble of his jaw. “What time is it?”

“Almost seven am,” Glenda’s face hovered above him. Her eyes were huge and haunted.

Cutter blinked again. Other women were crowded around where he lay, peering over Glenda’s shoulder. Cutter sat up.

“It’s Hos,” Glenda said, her voice trembling with outrage. “He’s gone. He must have left in the night,” she said in a rush of words. “The bastard has abandoned us.”

* * *

They
were assembled in the lunchroom. No one sat. They were too fraught and too distressed by Hos’s betrayal. Instead, they lined the wall like timid victims awaiting the blade of the executioner.

Cutter strode into the room. He had left Jimmy on sentry duty at the top of the landing, armed with the fire axe.

John Grainger was slumped nearest the door. His features seemed to have sagged with the strain, so that the flesh around his beefy cheeks and eyes hung in soft grey pouches. He glanced up as Cutter entered, and the two men exchanged brief glances.

“We have no food left,” Cutter said simply. “What little there was is now gone. We have fresh water, a few wooden spears and an axe. That’s it – and it’s not going to get any better,” he said.
He glanced at John Grainger again and it seemed clear to the women in the room that the two men had talked before this meeting, and that they were of differing opinions.

“I think we
should leave now,” Cutter said. “Mr. Grainger thinks we should wait another day or two.” He shrugged. “The choice is your own to make.”

Cutter went to the small refrigerator and snatched up a plastic bottle of water. “I’m taking this,” he said. “I suggest anyone else who decides to leave take
s all the water they can carry. You’ll need it.”

Around him the women erupted into sudden heated panic. “Grainger is right!” he heard
someone cry out, loud and plaintive. He recognized the voice. It was the woman who had fainted yesterday. She was one of the older women in the group, a small, frail shape with lank grey hair. “We should wait it out. We’ve contacted the police. They’ll come for us! I know they will.”

Other voices joined the call, but Glenda shouted them down. She stood defiant, her hands on her hips, turning on them, her eyes cold as ice. “No one is coming for us, Jennifer. No one. You know it. I know it. We all know it. We can’t wait here and pray for rescue. If we do, we’re as good as dead already.”

John Grainger shook his head. “We’re safe while we stay here,” he challenged Glenda, his voice wilting a little under the force of her defiant glare. He plowed on, like a train running out of steam. “They… the infected can’t… and in a few days, who knows what might happen…”

Glenda’s lips drew back into a thin, pale sneer. “We can’t wait,” she said again. “There’s no food, and there’s something else you’ve forgotten,” she said archly. Before anyone could take up her challenge, she strode to the wall and flicked off the lights. The entire basement was plunged into heavy, terrifying darkness. One of the women cried out, and after a few seconds Glenda turned the lights back on. She glared at them all. “Any moment, the power is going to fail,” she said. “Think about that, and decide whether you can spend two or three days hiding down here in the pitch black.
Because I can’t. I’m going – not because I want to – because there is no other choice. And if we wait another minute, it won’t get any better. But it might get worse…”

The uncertain amongst the group turned towards Grainger, looking for guidance and reassurance, but the store manager had been shaken by the few seconds of total darkness. He buried his hands
in his face and sagged forward, and when he finally drew himself upright again, his eyes were red and watery. He nodded. “Okay,” he said and took a deep breath. “Okay. It’s time to make a break for safety.”

Cutter
nodded. He set the bottle of water down on the table and cast his eyes around the room once more. “When we get out onto the street, you should look for a way to reach the outer suburbs,” he said. “You’ve all heard the broadcast warnings. The infected will be worse in the city, so get away as far as you can. There will be hundreds of abandoned cars. That might be your best chance…” but then his voice faltered. He shook his head in bleak despair. “I honestly don’t know what’s best,” he admitted. “I just know what I’m going to try to do.”

“You’re abandoning us too? Just like Hos?” one of the women a
ccused, her voice made small by her fear.

Cutter shook his head. “I said yesterday that I wasn’t the man to lead,” he replied. “I’ve never fired a gun,
and I’ve never been in the military. I’m not the person you should put your faith in. I’m sorry,” he said.

Glenda grabbed his arm. “You’re our best chance!”

There was a long tense silence. Cutter frowned, feeling the crushing weight of people’s expectations that he knew were impossible to live up to. His eyes searched the faces of those around him and he could see their desperate need for hope. “I’ll take four of you,” he said at last. “As far as I can. If Mr. Grainger and Jimmy agree, they will each take four women in their group as well. That makes three teams – three chances of surviving.”

All eyes turned to John
Grainger, desperate hopes pinned on his answer. He nodded reluctantly.

“
But I’m going first,” Cutter said, “and I’m going now. At least in small groups we have a chance of finding a vehicle and getting away,” he was talking aloud, making desperate plans based on nothing more than instinct. “And I want the fastest runners – the fittest women,” he said. “With any luck, if there are zombies still out there, we can lead them away.” He turned to John Grainger again. “Give me thirty minutes, then take your group out,” he said. “Tell Jimmy to do the same. Tell him to wait thirty minutes after you leave here before he takes the last group out.”