RecruitZ (Afterworld Series) (4 page)

I stood in the dark alley, staring at the blinking red and blue open sign across the street. At an attempt of Afterworld humor, there was also a blinking ‘No Zombie Vacancy’ sign flashing underneath. I leaned against the brick wall, watching and waiting. I’d been staking the place out for over thirty minutes, and I was fully willing to admit to myself that I was only attempting to buy time. I didn’t really need to keep staring at the front door. I knew everything I needed to know. First, I was at the right place, and second, the crowd looked rough. I only had one shot at convincing them I belonged, and I didn’t want to screw it up with a case of bad nerves. I looked down at my hands and commended myself on the fact that I had gotten them to quit trembling. I wore my diamond wedding band and my mom’s diamond tennis bracelet along with some silver bangles. I was hoping that if I ran into the right sharks, they’d think I was one of the many survivors spending their survivors’ checks on frivolous things, ready to play whatever they wanted to offer that would help take away the bad memories.

The bar across the street was the only business that had reopened in the block, which only made it creepier. The isolated location made it perfect for illicit activities. This once bustling end of town was now full of empty shops and restaurants waiting for owners who would never return. It was one more reminder of the devastation big and small towns everywhere had experienced.

Just as I got up my nerve, a guy in a black leather vest and tight jeans exited the door, letting death metal drift out, along with a bunch of shouts and laughter. A shiver ran up my spine, and I almost talked myself out of crossing the street, but the first raindrop landed on me. Even the Gods were telling me to get the show on the road.

I took a step out from behind the shadows and caught the attention of the guy who’d just lit up a cigarette. He gave me a quick nod and walked down the sidewalk to look at the line of bikes.

I slowly walked to the curb and glanced both ways before dashing across the street toward the bar’s entrance. I pushed on the door to be greeted by a bouncer who was at least a foot taller than me. He had a shaved head and a goatee that was down to his chest.

“Welcome to Shackles.” His voice boomed over the loud music and yelling of intoxicated patrons. I wasn’t surprised that he didn’t card me. Ever since the outbreak, drinking rules had gone out the window.

Taking a deep breath in, I smiled at him and scooted through the doorway. The smell of stale beer and fried food floated through the air. I spotted the bartender flipping some brightly colored bottle in the air and made a beeline to him.

One drink wouldn’t hurt. In fact, as I scanned the crowd, I thought it would be the only way to make it out without losing my mind. I pulled a worn black leather stool from under the counter and sat down.

“I’ve got ten on that one,” a man shouted. I looked behind me to find a guy holding up cash in the air, flipping it between his fingers. He wore a red thermal shirt, and his grey hair was slicked back. His leather jacket hung over the chair, and he was staring at one of the screens above me.

“Double or nothing, Tommy. That’s it. You know that,” a woman’s voice sang from two barstools away.

“Is there something I can get ya?” the bartender asked.

“Greyhound.” I turned back around to face the bartender. His eyes were striking, a sea blue mixed with green, and they were kind. Far kinder than anyone else in this bar, that was for sure.

“That’s old-fashioned.” He grinned at me, sliding a coaster in front of me.

I shrugged. “It’s what I like.”

“Comin’ up.”

“Oh, come on. I’m going in blind on this batch, Brenda,” Tommy argued.

“Marcus is the best trainer around. You know you’ll come out just fine, Tommy,” she laughed. “It’s double or nothing. Take it or leave it.”

Things were looking up.

“This is how I make my living,” Tommy grumbled.

I glanced quickly to my side to see the Brenda person in a tight fitting, red halter. She was smiling widely, but her blue eyes were cool, calculating as she watched Tommy. Her black hair was cut in a short bob, showing off the sharpness of her features.

The bartender slid me the Greyhound and watched me carefully as I stirred the drink and took a long sip from the tiny, red straw.

“You’ve never been in here before.” He grabbed a bar towel and began wiping down the dark, cherry counters.

“Not recently,” I lied.

“Not ever,” he countered, smiling.

“Maybe that too.” I grinned at him and turned my attention back to the two arguing about something that sounded far too perfect to miss.

“You can come out tomorrow an hour before and take a look at the stock. If you want to switch your target before, that’s fine, but the batch can’t be changed,” Brenda said.

“I got it. I know,” Tommy replied.

I watched Brenda hop off the stool. When she returned, she had a wad of cash tucked in her halter.

“Anyone else?” she asked, eyeing the group around me.

Everyone stayed quiet.

“What about you, sweet thing?” she purred, looking directly at me. “You want in?”

“In on what?” I asked casually.

“You know very well what,” she laughed and crossed one leg over the other.

I shrugged my shoulders and shifted my gaze away from hers.

“It’s not my thing.” Not wanting to raise suspicion by acting too eager I turned to look at the television over the bar.

“Have you ever tried?” she cooed, sliding off her stool.

“I like to keep my money.” I smiled, turning toward the bartender.

“It looks like you like to enjoy splurging a little.” She stood next to me and traced her finger along my bracelets, the tennis bracelet and sterling silver bangles hanging on my wrist. The bangles had been my high school graduation present. A sign of happier times, I suppose.

“I wouldn’t know the first thing about it,” I muttered.

“If the girl doesn’t want to do it, leave her alone,” the bartender said, his voice warning Brenda.

I threw him a smile and watched as she leaned over the bar counter and swatted at him.

“You’re bad for business,” Brenda replied playfully.

“How does it work, anyway?” I asked, raising a brow.

“See now? I knew she was interested.”

“You’ve heard of cockfighting, right?” Her eyes gleamed wickedly.

I nodded.

“Well, replace the roosters with zombies and you’ve got a hell of a show.”

“Seriously?”

“Now you’re interested, aren’t you?” She narrowed her eyes at me. “I can tell you, it’s very gratifying watching these beasts get ripped to shreds.”

My eyes dipped to the floor. I was close to getting a pass and didn’t want to screw up.

“I just don’t think it’s my thing,” I replied, after a few seconds. “I don’t want to spend that kind of money.”

“Nuts?” the bartender asked, scooting me a bowl full of cashews and peanuts.

I think he was honestly trying to protect me from Brenda.

“Is that what’s stopping you?” she asked.

“Partially,” I replied.

“Tommy’s a professional. You don’t have to go in that deep. Isn’t that right, Tommy?”

I glanced back at Tommy, and he nodded and smiled, throwing back another sip of his beer.

“I’ll make you a deal. Come out tomorrow, check out the facilities, and I’ll let you enter for half the usual entry fee. I’ll even throw in my two cents on which zombie you should bet on.” A young guy came up behind Brenda and tapped her on the shoulder.

“I’ll be back in a sec, and you can let me know what you’ve decided,” Brenda said.

I smiled and nodded, turning back to my Greyhound. So far so good.

“What’s your name?” I asked the bartender.

He was dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans and his dark hair was shoved back. Judging by his forearms and shoulders, he could crush anyone in here if they misbehaved. His chiseled features were offset by his gentle expression. It was an intriguing combination, especially for a place like this.

“Preston. Yours?”

“Rebekah. Have you ever done this zombie fighting thing?” I asked.

“A few times. Made a killing, actually. But it’s not really my thing,” he paused and eyed me carefully. “It’s pretty brutal.”

“I can imagine.”

“The ring…” his voice trailed off when a customer tapped on the other end of the counter. “I’ll be back.”

I sipped my drink, letting the cold liquid trickle down my throat. I wondered how much longer I should play this card before accepting the invite from Brenda.

Preston returned and noticed my empty drink.

“Another?”

“Nah. I’m good. So about the ring?” I prodded.

“Yeah. Right. The Zombie Pit is in the center of the room and even people that are all the way in the back of the crowd get dirty.”

Queasiness began climbing from the pit of my belly up to my throat, and I forced it down. This was my ticket into the world of underground trafficking, and I needed to take all emotion out of it. It was the only way.

“Dirty,” I repeated and then sighed. “Sounds fantastic.”

“So what’s the verdict?” Brenda reappeared quicker than I expected. I caught her shoving more cash down her halter.

“I think it might be just the release I’m looking for,” I lied, avoiding Preston’s penetrating stare.

“Great. Here’s the address for tomorrow’s event. Come early, and I’ll get you set up, show you around.” She shoved the card in my hand.

“I’m Rebekah by the way,” I started, but she had already walked away to recruit her next payday.

“Don’t go there with much money,” Preston whispered. “And don’t go there unarmed.”

I looked up at him, and his blue-green eyes locked on mine. I heard Brenda’s spiel in the background and exhaled slowly.

“I’ll take another Greyhound after all.”

It was late afternoon and I was on my way to the Zombie Pit. The address was out in the sticks, and I’d already been on the road for what seemed like forever. The rural areas were hit as hard as the cities during the outbreak, but fewer people returned to the outlying areas when it was all over, leaving everything pretty much in ruins. It was trips like these that made me realize how much rebuilding our world faced.

I’d always felt like Washington was protected from the disasters the rest of the country faced. We didn’t have tornadoes, hurricanes, or blizzards to constantly deal with. Sure, we had the occasional earthquake, but that somehow seemed better than the other options…at least until the outbreak. The West and East coasts were hit first, and then the virus traveled inward to the rest of the country. It certainly burst my bubble of living safely in the Northwest.

I tapped the steering wheel of my ’77 Ford truck to the beat of the music. It was as close to anti-autopilot driving as I could get. I would never get in one of those cars that drove themselves again. This thing didn’t even have power steering. It was perfection. Gavin and his dad lowered it, put in a plush bench seat and laid a dazzling cherry red paint job on it, along with a stereo that could make a person’s ears bleed. We used to take it camping, and there were a few times we got it stuck in the mud, but it was worth it. Between how much it cost to fill up the tank and the cost of parts to keep it running, we considered it our splurge. If only we’d been driving it that day. I shook the images from my head and focused on the rumble of the engine. I enjoyed hearing the roar that most cars lacked these days.

I was listening to electronica to psyche myself up for what I was about to encounter. To say I wasn’t looking forward to watching zombies rip each other apart would be an understatement, but I might be able to find out how they were manipulating these creatures. And I had already gotten the name of one of the trainers—Marcus. That was a start.

It was amazing how quickly some humans turned back to their greedy, power-hungry selves. Once the vaccines were administered, apparently this underground stuff started popping up readily. It was cowardly, but so typical of human nature to exploit one another even in times of tragedy.