The Wild Ones, page 12
“Stay with him, I’m going to see if the phone works.” We’d tried the one at Hoss’s but got no dial tone. Even if the power had gone down in the town, landline phones should have been working as most phone companies used backup generators and landlines were powered using a low voltage that was sent through the line. I found a phone jack in the back room but no phone. Far too many people had moved away from paying for a line when they could just pay fifty bucks a month for a cell phone plan and get a data plan for internet all at the same time. Although our preliminary search of the store had yielded nothing, what we hadn’t checked was the second floor. Hell, I didn’t even notice it or even think to look there when I first entered. The entrance to the upstairs apartment was stuffed in the corner of a small lunchroom. It was barely noticeable because of the mess, and stacks of empty boxes were blocking the way. I tossed them to one side and put my ear to the door, there was no movement on the other side. I pried it open and looked up the steps to the door at the top.
“Eli, you want to give me a hand?” I said heading up. He mumbled a reply, but I didn’t wait around to see if he came. I made it to the top and tried the door but it seemed stuck. There wasn’t much room at the top of the staircase. I leaned back against the railing and gave the door one hell of a kick, forcing it open. That’s when I saw what was holding it in place. A dead body. All I could see was the lower half through the crack in the door. It groaned and moved ever so slightly. Shit! I brought up my machete preparing to kill another one. Eli came bounding up the steps, and I put a hand back to caution him. I put a finger to my lips and motioned to the door.
I placed one hand on the wall and crouched down, waiting for the decayed face to come into view. My pulse quickened and my mouth went dry. I started to breathe faster as the body rose and disappeared behind the door. The handle turned, and the groan grew louder. I couldn’t wait any longer. I burst into the room, knocking the door back and forcing the body to the floor. I was just about to bring the machete down into the skull when I realized it wasn’t a Z.
“Felix?”
His eyes widened and I could see why he was groaning. He was as drunk as a skunk. He slapped his lips and wiped drool from his jaw. Surrounding him were three empty bottles of liquor, and off to the side was an M4.
“Shit, yes!” I said reaching for it.
“Don’t bother, it’s out of ammo,” he muttered before stumbling to his feet. Felix Whitaker was the son of Terry Whitaker. He was often seen serving customers or helping out with the Christmas parade each year. He was set to take over his father’s business and when he wasn’t working at the store, he could be found volunteering part-time down at the firing range.
“Where’s your dad?”
He closed his eyes as if not wanting to answer. “Those bastards got him. Dragged him out of here.”
“So he’s dead?”
He glanced up at me.
“Oh you think the dead got him. No, not them, they weren’t the ones responsible. Those criminal bastards were.”
“Who?”
He staggered across the room and I took in the sight of the mess. There were hundreds of used rounds on the floor from where he’d been shooting out of the window. Felix grabbed up a newspaper and threw it down on a table nearby. It was opened to an article about the Alvarez brothers. Two brothers, and a third inmate who’d escaped from Green Haven Correctional Facility. It was located about three hours south of Long Lake.
It was believed that a security guard had failed to secure a door in the area after a riot broke out inside, and they had escaped through the jail’s maintenance area. There were three mug shots and a headline that read: Armed and Extremely Dangerous.
Of course authorities couldn’t do shit about it as they were now dealing with a threat far more dangerous than armed robbers. I dropped down into a chair and then lifted my head. “They took your father?”
He nodded.
“Why?”
“The third guy, Anthony Vernon. He knows my father. They go way back. Said that he had snitched on him and that’s why he was behind bars.”
“But why take him?”
“Said something about he owed him money. My father has a safe back at his house, mostly used for additional money from the store here, but I’m guessing Vernon knew about that. Anyway, they showed up here just as everything was kicking off. Things started to get out of hand and they left out the back.”
“And the cops?”
He chuckled. “What cops? I saw one cruiser pass through, and I say pass through as they didn’t stop. They just blasted through the town.”
Eli wandered around the room. There wasn’t much to it; a small living room with a kitchen, a shower and toilet and a single bedroom. According to Felix it used to be where his father lived until he got married and moved into a nicer home. He was letting Felix use it, so that there was always someone here just in case anyone tried to break in.
“What happened to all the weapons?”
“Looters. This was the first place people hit when those things out there started killing.”
“Felix, have you seen my brother Nick?”
“Nick.” He nodded. “Yeah, umm…” he went quiet as if trying to collect his thoughts.
“Eli, make some coffee.” I thought that might help to sober him up.
“You won’t have any luck, there is no power. It went out yesterday. Not sure if it’s just this side of town or what but nothing works.”
“About Nick?”
“Yeah, I saw him along with Tom Sanders, one or two nights ago? They came in, Tom wanted to purchase some ammo.”
“Did you see where they went after?”
He shook his head. “No.”
Just when I thought we were getting close to finding them.
“I hate to break it to you, kid, but if they are out there, they are probably one of them.” He pawed his eyes with the back of his hand and yawned. “Until now, I hadn’t seen a single person except those things in over twenty-four hours. I heard people screaming. Saw a woman and her kids getting taken down by a group.” He shook his head and stared at the ground as though suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.
I looked over at the bottles on the floor. “So what? You were going to drink yourself to death?”
“Something like that,” he muttered. He crossed the room into the tiny kitchen and pulled out some coffee and filled a cup with cold water and plopped a spoonful of granules in it and stirred it around. He then knocked it back and winced.
Nasty.
“Felix, you got a vehicle?”
“If I did, do you think I would still be here?”
The sound of boots could be heard coming up the stairs. Alexa emerged. Her eyes bounced between us. “Scott, he’s getting worse. We’ve got to move now.”
“Shit,” I said running a hand around the back of my neck.
“What’s the matter?” Felix asked.
“Friend of ours was shot,” I replied.
Without missing a beat he replied, “Bring him up.”
“What?”
“You want him to live, bring him up.”
I didn’t know what he had in mind but I was willing to try anything. I returned with Alexa and we slung an arm over each of our shoulders and carried him up the stairs. His feet dragged, and he left behind droplets of blood.
As Felix had been unconscious only minutes earlier, I had serious reservations about putting Tobias’s life into his hands but despite him staggering around like he’d just rolled out of a bar, he seemed confident that he knew what he was doing.
“This isn’t a permanent fix but it will help until you get to the medical center — if there is anyone there to help. And, of course, if you even make it.” He burped. “Place him on the table over there.”
Tobias’s groaning increased as we lifted him and set him down. Meanwhile Felix was gathering some water, a towel, bandages and several packets of something called QuikClot. Felix stepped forward, released the tourniquet we had around his legs and with a pair of scissors began cutting up the pant leg until we had a clear view of where he’d been shot. The round had entered his upper thigh and come out the other side.
“What is that?” I asked as he tore the packet open with his teeth and set it to one side before washing clean the wound.
“Hemostatic device to prevent hemorrhaging. Basically it’s a gauze that’s used to treat wounds. It has an ingredient called kaolin which begins to clot the blood.” He laid the pad over the wound and began applying pressure. “Here hold this,” he said to Eli. “Keep applying pressure for about five minutes.”
“Where are you going?”
He brought a finger up to his left nostril and snorted out a string of snot onto the floor. It was gross. I grimaced as he wiped his nose with the back of his arm. “I need a cigarette,” he said. “And I think I’m going to pass out again.”
“What? But I thought you were trained in this?”
“Trained in selling it, not using it.”
He reached for a pack of cigarettes and tapped one out. A few seconds later he was puffing away and looked more relaxed. He crossed the room and pulled out another bottle of whiskey from a cupboard.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” I asked.
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
I shook my head. “Now what?”
“Now wrap the bandages around it to hold that shit in place. Like I said, it’s not going to fix this. But it may stop the bleeding until you can get a doc to stitch him up.”
Glass shattered, and I turned my ear to the stairs.
“Hey guys?” Jamal yelled up. “We need to get out of here ASAP, they’re getting in.”
“Go,” Felix said. “I’ll hold them off.”
“With what?”
“Doesn’t matter. Go.”
“Yeah and how do we do that? We have no vehicle or guns.”
“I guess you’re gonna have to improvise.”
He returned to taking another swig from the bottle.
“No. No, we are not having another person commit suicide. Get your ass down the stairs,” I said. Now Felix was about nine years older than me but clearly, he was not in his right mind. It had to be the drink talking. What the hell was the deal with everyone giving up two days in? That raised a question in my mind. Had this really been going on for two days, or longer? For all I knew it could have started a week ago, and only just made its way up here now. Perhaps it could have been responsible for the riot in the prison? The shooting at the ballgame, and any number of violent interactions around the country? We had little information about what had caused it and who knew if we would ever find out. Quite frankly I didn’t give a crap as long as I survived.
Felix stared back and snorted, then gave me a salute. “Yes, sir.”
He staggered back over to the stairs and started heading down while we collected Tobias and helped him. He wasn’t looking very good, and without a vehicle, I couldn’t see us making it half a mile before we were taken down.
On the ground floor Zs were trying to get in through the front window which was smashed. Ryland and Jamal were stabbing them in the head as fast as they could but there were too many.
“Listen up kid, there are several homes farther down. If you can make it into the woods behind here, make your way over to one of those. There might be a vehicle. That’s your best shot of getting out.”
“And you?”
“Like I said. I’m staying here.”
“No, Felix, you…”
He grabbed me around the back of the head. “I want to live but we aren’t all getting out of here. Now either one of us stays behind and holds them off or we all die. You decide.”
Bad Blood
I damn well wasn’t making that decision for him. I told him if he chose to stay that was on him, not me. I didn’t need any more guilt on my plate He patted me on the back and reassured me if he got out of this, he would come find us.
We all assembled at the back of the house. Jamal and Eli would carry Tobias, leaving Alexa, Ryland and me to ward off any Zs. I didn’t ask Felix how he planned to distract them but he told us not to head out the door until he shouted down.
We formed a line; I was at the front, Ryland was at the back and the rest were in the middle. More glass could be heard shattering at the front. Seconds, and these bastards would be all over us.
“Come on, Felix.”
We could hear something heavy being scraped across the hardwood floor.
“Nearly. Hold on.”
Next came a loud crash and shattering of glass. Some Zs that were attempting to come through the front turned their attention to something behind them. More clanging, and loud noise, and then he gave the signal.
“Move out!”
We didn’t hesitate. I swung that door open and fired the machete into the skull of a Z and kicked him back. There were about ten around the rear but there was such a commotion being made on the far side, some of those were shuffling away. We moved fast, and with purpose, hacking our way through them like we were in the Amazon jungle. There was no time for fear, only action. Kick, swipe, stab. Blood splattered as we pressed forward and hurried up the steep hill and into the woodland. As we weaved our way through a thicket of trees, the front of the store came into view and I could now see what he’d done. Felix must have doused the table in alcohol and set it on fire before breaking the window and dropping it down onto the dead below. Several of them were on fire, stumbling around, gnashing their teeth and howling.
“Where is he?” Alexa asked.
“I don’t know. Keep moving.”
It wasn’t perfect, but it had created enough of a distraction for us to escape. Now we faced the next challenge — trying to find a working vehicle, one that had keys. Under any other conditions, I was convinced we’d be shit out of luck but after the attacks, I imagined that many would have attempted to escape in vehicles and were cut off or killed before they got out of their driveways. The ground was spongy, a mixture of pine needles and moss. We trudged through eyeing our surroundings, recognizing how precarious our situation was. We passed by one huge two-story home but there was no vehicle parked in the driveway, just several dead bodies lying on the ground. We moved on to the second home and I hurried over to the back door and noticed that all the windows were covered with cardboard. I tried the door but got nothing and we couldn’t go around front as there were stragglers shuffling up the street. We heard gunfire in the distance. When we made it to the third house, I saw a vehicle in the driveway, a black Ford SUV. I motioned towards it and we pitched sideways to make it down the steep incline.
“Look, you guys stay in the woods with Tobias. Ryland and I will go check it out.”
“And if you find something?”
“We’ll let you know,” I said without turning back. I’d already broken into a jog.
My throat burned from running, and sweat trickled off my brow. First thing I did when I approached the SUV was to check all the doors. It was locked. We headed over to the side entrance of the home and it was locked. There was no movement, and with the Zs in the distance groaning and ambling their way down the road, it gave the whole place an eerie feeling.
The backyard had hedges that lined it. Even though there was no sound coming from the house, we had to take the risk of breaking in. It would be easy. It had huge windows, and French doors at the back of the house. I peered inside, one final check before I reared back the machete and used the handle to shatter the window.
“Whoa, hold on,” Ryland said taking his coat off and handing it to me. “Use this.”
“For what?”
“To deaden the sound.” He motioned with his head to the Zs as if to make it obvious. Look, we weren’t planning on staying in there. Even if the noise of glass shattering caught their attention, I figured we would be in and out in less than three minutes. A quick search for the SUV’s keys and if we couldn’t find them on a hook or table, we’d leave and go to the next home. I couldn’t see how a jacket would deaden the sound but I went ahead and followed his directions, placing the bunched-up material against the glass and then slamming the handle of the machete on it several times. It took me four times before a crack appeared, it fissured out and I looked back. “It worked.”
“Of course.”
The fifth strike proved him wrong.
We might as well have thrown a rock at the damn window. It shattered and glass hit the ground.
“I thought you said…”
“It worked the last time I tried.”
“On what?”
“A small basement window.”
He brushed past me going red in the face. I rolled my eyes, and we headed inside.
“You check the kitchen, I’ll take the front door.”
I hurried down the corridor, glancing only for a second at the framed family photos on the walls. “Ryland. I’ve got them.” I snagged them up and was about to turn when I felt something hard press against the back of my head.
“Put it down slowly,” came the male voice. I still had the machete in my one hand and the keys in the other. I held them up and felt whoever it was behind me take them. While he still had what I believed to be a gun on me, Ryland entered the corridor.
“You. Over here now!” the voice said.
“Look, man, we just need a ride.”
“So do I, that’s why I bought the damn thing.” His voice was gruff. “Drop the machete.”
I released my grip, and it clattered on the hardwood floor. He shoved me towards Ryland and that’s when I caught sight of him. I didn’t know him, hell; I hadn’t even seen him before. Contrary to what people might think even though we lived in a small town it didn’t mean we knew everyone. The man was in his late forties; a full beard and a hard look to him. For someone his age I expected he’d have a beer belly from drinking too much, and eating one too many pumpkin pies, but he was athletic.
