Reavers (Z-Risen Series Book 4) (21 page)

“Oh lord. This is not good,” Ms. Cromeenes said.

Fast Freddie’s attention was pulled to the opposite hallway because an unholy racket had started up.

“That’s not good. Looks like another horde.”

Jerry grabbed Fast Freddie and pointed. “Shit. We’re surrounded. How are we going to get our asses out of this mess?”

“Hold on, you goofballs. That’s just the bridge club.” Ms. Cromeenes said.

“Oh, so it is.” Freddie quinted.

The three pushed themselves to their feet. Fast Freddie McCalister leaned on the rickety table and shook his leg out. Jerry Winfield put his hand behind his back and groaned before stretching to his full height of a stunted five foot eight. Ms. Cromeenes, for all her spit and fire, massaged her neck, adjusted her glasses, and pushed back the gold chain that kept them secured around her neck.

The three groaned.

The new visitors groaned.

The bridge club groaned and turned heel.

“My place or yours?” Freddie asked.

Jerry didn’t answer and moved to the hallway.

The sterile white walls, floor, and ceiling, reeked of disinfectant and mothballs. Not much to do about the later smell since it was the prevalent cologne in Shady Vale. His grand kids have given Fast Freddie some Aqua Velva back in the eighties but that shit had offended even him and he’d once spent a night in a foxhole surrounded by the dead and dying.

“’bout like today.” He grumbled to himself.

“What?” Jerry said.

“Nothing. Just thinking about my time in the shit.”

“We’re in the shit now, ya old fart.”

“You’re older than me, ya old fart.”

The two men stared daggers at each other for the zillionth time.

Gunfire came from the direction of the East wing. A body dropped and then another. The second zombie wasn’t down for the count, though, and crawled, guts dragging along the floor. Another shot echoed and the dead guy’s head snapped forward and hit the ground.

The rest of the residents had risen to their feet and were proceeding in a non-orderly line in the general direction of their rooms. Mr. Clark, who was at least ninety-five years old, wandered in the direction of the dead before. He was halfway to the mass of zombies when one of the ladies caught up and grabbed him.

Mr. Clark looked confused before a shot erased the look as well as most of his head. Another shot took out his would be rescuer. More rounds took out part of the horde and sent the residents scrambling.

“Ah shit. We gotta haul ass.”

“The last time I hauled ass it was with this little Vietnamese girl named…”

“Shut up and get your damn legs moving, Jerry Winfield, unless you want to get shot.” Ms. Cromeenes grabbed Jerry’s ear and twisted.

“Ow, Christ alright already. Not like I never been shot at before.” Jerry sniffed and .

“This’ll probably be the last time if you don’t get your legs moving.”

A pair of men in green military uniforms stormed into the room. They took down the rest of the little horde and then spun to shoot back down the direction they’d come. Both were covered in webbed straps, weapons, and grenades. The pair made hand motions and advanced back down the hallway, firing as they moved.

“I said goddamn,” Fast Freddie breathed as he tried to do as Ms. Cromeenes had suggested, haul ass. Wasn’t easy when you were old as dirt and tired all the time. He took enough blood pressure pills, cholesterol pills, pain pills, gas pills, constipation pills, and stomach acid pills, to choke a healthy mule.

Jerry got a step ahead so Fast Freddie sucked it up and swung his cane into action to hobble-catch-up with his friend. His legs and feet ached. His back sang with pain, and his hip, replaced fifteen years ago with titanium, groaned.

Three more military types burst into the hallway perpendicular to them.

“More. Aim for the heads.” One of the men called to his comrades.

“Wait!” Ms. Cromeens yelled. “We’re not zombies.”

The three army guys exchanged glances.

“Sorry, ma’am. For a second I thought you were dead.”

“Well, you little shit, I don’t think your mother would be very happy if you came in and gunned down old ladies, now would she.” Ms. Cromeenes turned her acid tongue on the man.

“I said I was sorry, sheesh.”

The three moved out.

“Damn. We got zombies behind us, and idiots with guns who think we’re zombies ahead. We need to find a place to hide and quick.”

“Rec room.”

“It’s probably locked.”

“Then get the keys off Ms. Herman,” Jerry said.

“Anyone got a better idea? Rec room does have a pool table and television.” Jerry said.

“It’s also got food and water and I need to take my pills. Shoulda taken them an hour ago but all the excitement.” Ms. Cromeenes said.

“I know, doll. I say we try it. That or one of our rooms.”

“Rooms are tiny. Damn things are too small for one person let alone three. I ain’t got no food.” Jerry said.

“Me either.” Ms. Cromeenes said.

“I had a few cans of prunes and some V-8 in mine,” Fast Freddie grinned.

“Well I’ll be dipped. That sounds like enough food to hold us over for a few days.” Ms. Cromeenes said. “Got any mustard greens or baked beans while you’re at it?”

“Oh pipe down. It’s not much but it keeps me going,” Freddie said.

“And going and going and going,” Jerry quipped.

Ms. Cromeenes snickered.

“Fine. We’ll go get the damn key while you wait here. Don’t let anyone shoot us.” Fast Freddie said.

“I’ll keep the bullets from flying.” Jerry said and took a seat along the hallway.

“You’re going to keep the bullets from flying from that comfy chair?” Ms. Cromeenes asked.

“I’m tired. Should be down for a nap now. Give me a minute and I’ll be good.”

Freddie looked Jerry up and down, decided he wasn’t about to keel over, and grabbed Ms. Cromeenes parchment skin lined hand.

Fast Freddie looked back down the hallway to the body of the big nurse he’d hated. She wasn’t moving now but she might be if one of those things had bitten her.

“Come on, Ms. Cromeenes,” Fast Freddie said. “You yell at soldiers while I grab the key.”

“Have fun storming the castle.” Jerry said and sank back into the chair.

“Back soon, Jerry. Don’t die on us.

“What a morbid fucking thing to say. So, same to you, buddy,” Jerry said and winked.

They made it twenty feet when the first obstacle presented itself.

It was bright one moment and dark then next. The lights went out in the building and that’s when Ms. Cromeenes stumbled. Freddie wasn’t quick enough to catch her arm but she managed to recover without going down. That would have been disaster. As Freddy McCalister well knew, a fall at that age could shatter a hip like glass.

The second obstacle was approaching from the direction of the entrance.

A group of zombies moved into the hallway and regarded the couple. Fast Freddie considered turning on his heel and hauling ass.

“Walkers,” Ms. Cromeenes said and pointed.

“I’ll hold them, you grab the key.

The fleeing residents of Shady Vale had left behind an assortment of assistance devices. Freddie grabbed a pair of walkers and hoisted the aluminum devices in the air. He moved as fast as his shuffling feet could carry him, somehow avoiding blood splatters and limbs.

Something reached for him from the floor but he kicked the twitching hand aside.

Ms. Cromeenes rushed to the side of poor Nurse Herman. Fast Freddie tried to keep an eye on her but he was about to have his own problems.

The pair moved on him in some semblance of a two-step shuffle. Not exactly a dance, not really a proper crawl. They were damaged but ambulatory and came at Fast Freddie with hisses and moans. He didn’t wait around and leaned into the walkers, hauling them up to waist level. He got his feet going and let out a howl.

The two zombies continued to approach.

Fast Freddie continued to attempt an interception.

“I got it.” Ms. Cromeenes said.

She jingled keys and backed away from the mass of bodies.

“That’s great, doll. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Ms. Cromeenes backed up a step because the shuffling arrivals had caught sight of them and they were moving faster. One was a man dressed in the remains of a three-piece suit. His companion was a kid about sixteen years old and dressed in a pretty yellow floral print. Her hair was short and done up in blood and gore. The man was missing an ear and an eye. His mouth hung open and his tongue, partially severed, hung and flapped against his chin with each step.

“Oh shit.” Ms. Cromeenes said.

She’d stepped on one of the orderly’s hand and stumbled backward. She got her hands around and managed to plant her ass on the corpse of Mr. Colthurst. Being dead didn’t agree with the old fart, because he reached for her.

“Damn zombie!”

“I ain’t one yet.” Mr. Colthurst gasped for breath.

Freddy tangled up the two zombies but it was a slow fight. He pushed and they pushed back. But he had some momentum on his side and managed to make them trip over each other.

Fast Freddy dropped one of the walkers, lifted the other in the air, and smashed it into the pair. He lifted it again and when he struck again he drew blood.

“We gotta go.” Ms. Cromeenes said and hauled herself to her feet.

The younger of the zombies crawled toward her. Mr. Colthurst rolled to his side but he wasn’t fast enough. The little monster grabbed his sweater, pulled herself on top of him, and ate his face like bread pudding.

The hallway filled with shambling figures. The dead snarled and groaned. They shuffled and hove toward the pair.

“That them or residents?” Freddy leaned over, hands on knees while he sucked in breath.

“I don’t think it’s the bridge club. Let’s shake a leg old man.”

Freddy and Ms. Cromeenes grabbed each other’s hand and walked for it.

The soldiers entered the hallway, got a look at the zombie mess on the floor and opened fire.

“Not us, we’re not dead yet.” Ms. Cromeenes screamed, echoing the words of Mr. Colthrust who was probably one of them now.

Fast Freddy raised his hand in the air and attempted to duck then when he realized he wasn’t about to get one in the head, pointed back down the hallway at the approaching horde. The pair of soldiers moved around them and blew the mess on the floor into an even bigger mess. Bullets ripped up the tiles, struck windows, and walls, and shattered the glass frame around the award winning baby blanket from years ago.

Then the military got a look at the fresh bunch of zombies shambling into the hallway and opened fire in that direction. Bullets flew. People screamed. Zombies moaned. Things flopped around on the ground. It was a big goddamn mess, as far as Fast Freddie was concerned. A real goddamn mess and then some. Wouldn’t he have stories to tell his grandkids if he managed to make it out of here and they ever managed to visit?

“Over here!” Jerry leaned around a corner and gestured with one palsied hand.

“You okay, buddy?” Fast Freddy McAlister slapped his friend on the shoulder and then held on for dear life because his energy reserves were completely depleted. It was time for a nap, not time to run from goddamn zombies. He’d barely finished his breakfast and they’d been planning to drain the dregs of coffee when their high stakes game of Go Fish ended.

“I’m alive. Couple those assholes ran by and waved a gun in my face.”

Ms. Cromeenes took out the keys and started trying them on the lock.

“They’re doing cleanup in the hallway.”

“They took out most of the bridge club and then they got Roger O’Dell.”

“Roger’s gone? Sonofabitch!”

“He dropped his cane and was trying to pick it up. They just gunned him down.”

Someone screamed and called for backup. More pounding of feet in the semi-dark hallway as the soldier’s regrouped.

The three put their hands in the air and started babbling that they were alive. A small group of men and women dressed in military gear ran past. A woman pointed a gun at them and Fast Freddy was sure they were dead. She snapped her gun barrel into the air and nodded at them.

“Thanks!” Freddy called.

“Run!” The woman called and the troops were gone.

“Oh. My. God.” Ms. Cromeenes said.

“That ain’t right,” Freddy said.

“I need to go pee,” Jerry moaned.

Fast Freddie grabbed the keys and started trying them all. Screams and moans filled the space as the two armies met less than thirty feet away. Guns answered groans.

“Idiot. Now I lost my place. Had about half of those tried out.”

“Why do they need so many damn keys and not a one of them labeled? I hope this goes on my tombstone. Died while trying to find the right fucking key.”