Albert shook his head no. “We do not need blindfold. Even with eyes open, I cannot see what is coming.”

  Cody’s smile disappeared and the plane shook slightly as the Fasten Seatbelts sign dinged on. Conversations quieted again. Smoke swirled inside the plane like the clouds passing outside. Albert silently passed Cody a small flask of vodka. Cody took a long pull and handed it back. He would be going in blind but not going in alone.

  Chapter 7: Limited Time Offer

  “What the hell are you doing, Albert?” Cody watched as Albert went from bed to bed in the hotel room looking under the blankets and mattresses. “D’yu lose somethin? Maybe a marble or two?”

  “Bed bugs, my friend. You must always to check for bed bugs. They are most horrible things ever. I would rather have zombies back trying to tear my flesh from my body than be eaten slowly by horrible bed bugs.” He continued checking around the seam of each mattress. “You look for signs. Brown or red spots.”

  “Hell, Albert,” Cody said as he sat his suitcase on the bed next to the M4 issued to him by The Bank. “Them things woulda starved to death by now. Ain’t been a live human being in this room in pert near six months.”

  Albert stood up satisfied that the beds were clean and then flopped down heavily against the thick mattress. “They can live without food for a very long time. I know this. Many things in nature have way of living for long time with nothing. They are not as fragile as you or me. They can adapt to surroundings. It is true.”

  “Well, that’s true. There’s probably a gajillion cockroaches out there that have been having a field day. Gives me the willies just to think of how many of them there might be. All the bodies and leftover food. It’s like a Golden Corral for bugs.” An imaginary bug brushed one of the hairs on Cody’s leg and he slapped it away with a jerk.

  “Nothing in nature is wasted,” Albert said wisely and folded his hands behind his head. “Everything eats everything. And when something becomes too plentiful, it is eaten.” He sat up with a start and raised a finger. “Even if it is only eating itself, eh? Even at top of chain food, there is much eating of others who are alike.”

  Cody smiled. “Chain food. I like that.” He was exhausted. After the flight, they had been shuffled off to an abandoned Ramada Inn. The rooms on the upper floor, all of the fancy suites and big expensive rooms had been wrecked. But on the ground floor, the rooms with the twin beds remained largely untouched and The Bank had seen fit to station their new recruits there for the evening.

  Cody reached for a cigarette when a loud knock sounded at the door. Cody flicked the end of his lighter and motioned to the door with his head. Albert took the CZ out of its holster and opened the door slowly. Although he looked very serious, Cody knew he enjoyed the dangerous aspects of their job, even if it turned out to be largely imagined.

  A voice from behind the door spoke. “Bossard and Kamenev?”

  “Yes,” Albert responded. He held the pistol behind his back as he spoke.

  “Kennard. I’m your team leader. We’re starting early tomorrow. Oh-eight-hundred. You’re on security detail for team November. We’ll do chow in the lobby, caravan to destination Alpha.”

  “What was your name again?” Albert cocked his head to one side as he asked.

  “Kennard. Mike Kennard. You guys need anything, you come to me. Bossard in there?” Albert let the door swing open wider so that Kennard could look in. Cody waved from the bed and took another drag off his cigarette. “Evening. You two are confined to quarters after oh-dark-thirty. Anyone caught outside the hotel after dark is considered hostile and will be terminated. So if you’re a sleep walker, tie a chain around your leg.”

  “Chain. Yes.” Albert nodded very seriously. Cody smiled as he watched the exchange.

  “Any questions?” Both Cody and Albert shrugged.

  “I reckon we’ll figure it all out as we go,” Cody offered. “Can’t be too difficult.”

  “Let’s hope so.” Kennard turned and left and Albert shut the door.

  “They’ve got the lights on here,” Cody said as he looked around the room. “And the water’s on. Wonder if they got any ice down the hall?”

  Albert smiled and stuffed the CZ back into its holster. “We should explore before darkness. I would hate to have to kill my new employer even if he does seem like asshole.”

  Cody picked up a bucket from the table and the two of them headed down the hallway. The hotel seemed oddly pristine. Cody expected to see blood stains and bullet holes in every inch of what was left of the Infected Zone. Instead, it was as though it had been vacuum sealed and tucked away.

  In a darkened corner of the hallway, the ice machine sat humming quietly. Cody lifted the lid and discovered a few cubes sitting on top of a large chunk of ice that filled the entire bottom 9/10ths of the freezer. “Huh,” Cody said and looked at the iceberg. It smelled slightly of mold and mildew but not overly so. “Guess it refroze when the juice came back on. I reckon the ice on top is safe enough.”

  “We will sterilize it with vodka,” Albert smiled and nudged Cody with his elbow.

  On their way back to the room, a man appeared from his room into the hallway. An unlit cigarette dangled from his mouth. He stuck out his hand as Cody passed. “Hey man, good to meet you. I’m Boone. Holy shit, you guys have ice?”

  Cody nodded behind him. Boone’s eyes were wild and crazy and the leathery skin that hung to his face looked older than his years. He had the look of jail or life on the street. Cody wondered if the homeless were better or worse prepared for what had happened. He spoke slowly as he studied Boone’s erratic body language. “Yeah, there ain’t much. Well, there’s a lot actually but it’s in one big ass chunk. Not sure I’d drink it.”

  “Fuck me,” Boone said and lit up his cigarette. His actions were quick and jerky. He bounced on the balls of his feet as he stood there. Smoke coiled into questions marks from the cherry as he held it in front of him. “Still feels weird being able to smoke indoors. I’m not sure I can do it anymore. But uh, yeah. Shit, man. There’s a liquor store across the parking lot from here. We were talking about heading over there, see if we can get in. Do a little reclaiming this evening before it gets dark. You guys wanna come?”

  Cody looked at his watch. It was strange to have time be of any relevance. It was three in the afternoon. But it seemed very dark for that time of day. The wheels of the second hand ticked a few times before Cody realized that it was later in Indiana than it was in Wyoming. He turned the hands of the watch forward until it said four. Another hour and half of daylight. “Yeah, sure. Let’s check it out.”

  The three of them walked to the far end of the hallway and turned the corner into the lobby. Two uniformed men with submachine guns stood leaning against the counter. They stopped talking as Cody, Albert and Boone approached. The man on the left pushed his rifle around to sit more evenly across his chest. “Can I help you fellas?” he asked. His trigger finger stuck out straight over the top of the trigger guard. Cody noticed this and wheeled around quickly as if looking at something behind him. As he did, he casually flicked the leather thong off the hammer of his Vaquero.

  “Gonna walk over there, get some beer,” Boone said and pointed with his cigarette. “You guys want anything?”

  “Can’t let you do that,” the man replied. The other man slid his submachine gun off the top of the hotel desk and held it at his side. “Can’t leave the building.”

  Boone turned and looked back at Cody and Albert. He held up his hands and shrugged with a jerk. “I thought we couldn’t leave after dark. And besides, we’re just going across the parking lot. Right over, there.” He pointed again with his finger and ran his hand across his back as if he was tucking in his shirt. The butt of a small revolver stuck out of the waistband of his jeans. Albert stood calmly, not seeming to take notice of the rising tension.

  The first man lifted his hand from the forearm of the rifle and clicked the button on a radio attached to his collar. “Kennard. This is front desk, do you copy?” The radio chirped back an indiscernible reply. “We’ve got three guys trying to leave. They say they want to go over to the liquor store. Advise.”

  The radio was quiet for a moment. Down the hallway, a door opened and slammed. Quick footsteps thudded up the hallway. Kennard appeared from around the corner with a toothbrush hanging out of the corner of his mouth. His body was chiseled and Cody took note for the first time that he must be a full foot shorter than any of the other men. Dog tags swung from around his neck and his hair was cut very close. Kennard tucked in the white t-shirt he was wearing and spat on the floor as he turned the corner. “What the fuck is the problem here?”

  “Ain’t no problem here. Just thought we’d walk over and get a beer,” Boone said. He turned to keep the two men at the desk in view. “Be happy to bring some back for everybody. Just need to get out the door real quick.”

  “Beer?” Kennard said. He removed the toothbrush from his mouth and rolled it menacingly between his thumb and forefinger. He stood without saying anything for several seconds. His gaze was leveled at Boone but he seemed far away, lost in thought. “You three aren’t going to be trouble, are you?”

  Boone raised his hands out to his side. “Just want a drink. Aint’ look’n to get wasted. Just thought it’d be nice to have a drink.”

  Kennard turned and began walking back towards the hallway. “15 minutes,” he said as he walked away. “If it takes longer than 15 minutes to get the beer, you’ll be drinking them in Hell.”

  The two men moved out of the way to let the three of them pass by. Cody looked down at the ice bucket he was still carrying. After a quick deliberation, he finally decided to put it down on a chair although there was a good chance it would be gone on his return.

  Outside it was raining steadily and the three of them jogged at a quick pace over to the liquor store. The glass doors were locked and heavy metal bars covered the inside. Boone pressed his hands and face up against the glass to look in. “Looks like there’s plenty of stuff in there,” he said in a low voice. We just gotta figure out how to get in.” Before Cody or Albert could say anything, the little revolver was out of Boone’s pants and cocked and pointed at the door. Cody and Albert jumped to the side as Boone pumped three rounds into the door lock. Glass shattered and the sound of the shots thundered through the silent town. “Goddamn, man,” Boone said as he shook the doors. “Fuck’n thing…” he mumbled as he brought the little revolver around again. Two more rounds went into the door lock. “Now that’s what I’m talk’n about,” Boone yelled to Cody and Albert. The door swung open and Boone walked in as he reloaded. “Fuck’n .357 magnum. It looks little but it’s got a helluva punch to it. Loud as hell though. I can’t hear shit now.”

  Cody and Albert followed him, Albert holding the CZ and Cody following with his hand on the butt of his .45. As they entered the store, Boone stood surveying the room with his hands held wide. The empty revolver hung empty off one finger. “This,” he said and turned slowly keeping his arms held wide. “This is where I wanna live.”

  Albert walked to the vodka aisle and began inspecting the bottles. “They even have Russian vodka,” he smiled.

  Cody left the store and reappeared moments later pushing three grocery carts he had spotted around the corner from the door. “We got 15 minutes,” he reminded the other two. “And the clock’s runn’n.”

  Each took a cart and began putting in cases of beer, bottles of liquor and whatever else happened to be interesting. Nuts, chips, cokes, smokes and mixers all found their way into the carts. “I love this job so far,” Boone shouted from the back of the store. “I could see doing this for a living forever.”

  “We’ve got five minutes left,” Cody told them. “Let’s take what we’ve got and get back.” It took a minute to push the carts out the door and across the shattered glass. Once outside, the three men ran and laughed and swerved wildly behind the heavily laden and unmanageable carts.

  A bottle of cheap apple wine slid off of Boone’s cart and shattered in the middle of the road. “Shit,” Boone yelled but didn’t stop. “That was gonna be my breakfast.”

  Curtains were pulled to the side as the other Bank employees watched the three men skittering across the road with their plunder. Boone waved and clasped his hands in victory over his head for a second. Curtains fell and Cody figured they’d have quite the reception at the lobby. Numbers were good he figured. If they had the goods and the people inside wanted them, they’d have to let them in. Come 15 minutes, hell or high water.

  One of the guards stood at the door holding it open and looking at his watch. “10, 9, 8…” the guard counted down. Boone raced ahead and in the door, almost upending the entire thing. Albert hurried in behind him.

  Cody slowed and calmly walked the last few steps all the while staring at the guard. When the guard reached zero, Cody was still outside the door. The guard looked up and smiled. “You’re late.” Cody stopped in his tracks and leaned against the cart. He didn’t smile. He locked eyes with the guard and waited to see what the man would do. The guard nodded, “I’m just fuck’n with ya. You had another three minutes.”

  Cody moved past the man with his shopping cart full of booze and smokes. As he passed the door, the guard leaned forward. “You had another three minutes. And then I would have shot you.”

  Chapter 8: The People in Your Neighborhood

  “I should go back down there and put one in that son of a bitch,” Cody said as he and Albert made their way to the room. Their loaded down grocery carts dug into the soft carpet of the hallway, the bent wheels pushing the carts to the left and right. “Another three minutes, my ass.”

  “It wasn’t personal, I think,” Albert offered. “He is following orders. I have met many men like him before. They are conditioned to follow orders and not to think. They are taught to kill and not value human life. Especially their own.” Albert slid the key into the lock and the tiny green light above the handle lit up. “Besides, I would have killed him before he had the chance.” Albert smiled and started wedging his cart into the room.

  Behind them, people were poking their heads out of their rooms to see what was going on. Boone was passing out bottles and cans like Jesus feeding the masses. As his cart reached the last case of beer he put his hand down over the top of it, “This one’s mine. You guys want a drink, you’ll either have to go get your own or talk to these guys.”

  “Hey man,” someone called out from behind Cody. Cody put his weight into the back of the cart and pushed both his and Albert’s into the room. The voice grew closer as Albert started to swing the door shut. A skinny blonde kid in a white t-shirt and jeans slid himself between the door and the frame at the last second. “Hey, hey,” the kid said and smiled. “You guys care if we uh, like, can I have some of your booze?”

  Cody looked at the kid’s vacant smile and glassy blue eyes. It was amazing that some people had managed to survive as long as they had. Better to be lucky than smart, Cody thought. He looked down at the grocery cart in front of him. He had grabbed more than he’d needed for two months on the road but he thought it would be good trading material. But trade for what? And to who? Favors were probably just as valuable as anything in this environment. Cody addressed the kid without smiling. “Whadya want? Beer? Whiskey? That’s all I’ve got.”

  “A few beers would be awesome,” the kid said and stepped further into the room. “If that’s alright. I mean, if you guys wanna hang on to everything I understand. It’s just that the other guy…” Cody cut the kid off by handing him a 12 pack out of the cart. “Ah thanks, man. I owe you. I’m Brandon by the way.” Brandon stuck out his hand as he shifted the 12 pack under his arm. “I guess I’m a reclamation agent. What are you guys doing?”

  “I’m Cody. This is Albert.” The three took turns shaking hands. “I guess we’re some kind of security. But I don’t know why they’ve got us here as security when it looks like they’ve already got people in place.”

  “Yeah, right. Like they’ve totally got enough guys with machine guns running around. I saw those guys up front and I was like, ‘What?’ cuz you know, it feels like, I don’t know, we’re under lockdown or something. This is like when I went to jail when I was like 13. Except way nuttier, right? Cuz like, everything is… gone.”

  “Everyone,” Albert corrected. “Every thing is still here. Every one is gone. It is like what you call? Neutron bomb. All assets still intact.”

  Brandon looked at Albert and smiled. His head bobbed up and down slightly and he appeared to not have understood a word Albert had just said. “So, like, right on, bro. And thanks for the suds. I’m gonna take these back to my room to divy up with Dylan and Corey. They’ll be totally stoked. And bro, if you like need anything, I totally owe you.”

  “Yeah, no problem,” Cody said and studied the hole in the cart where the 12 pack had been.

  A very soft knock came from the door and Brandon pointed at it with his thumb and smiled. He opened the door and walked around a man and woman standing in the doorway. Behind them stood several others. Cody took two bottles of Woodford Reserve out of the top of the cart and pushed the rest out into the hallway. ‘Thank you,” someone said. “Oh this is great. You guys rock,” said someone else. Hands reached and plucked and grabbed and left until only the cart remained, sitting like a carcass picked clean. Cody took a plastic cup from the table in the room and removed the outer plastic covering. “Shit,” Cody said and sat the cup back down. “Left ma bucket of ice in the lobby. It’s probably long gone.”

  “I will be happy to get it for you,” Albert said and made for the door.

  “Nah, I got it,” Cody said and stood up. “You stay here, keep an eye on the stuff. I only got two bottles left and I don’t want them to go miss’n before I get back. I think I’d lose my mind if I ended up with ice and no whiskey at this point.” Cody picked up the M4 he had been handed as they arrived and checked the magazine. Empty. “Figures,” he said and put the rifle back down on the bed. He took out his .45 Long Colt Vaquero and rolled through the cylinder. All chambers were full. He returned it to its holster and headed out the door. “If ya hear shoot’n, Albert, you’ll know that somebody’s three minutes is up.”

 

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