Resurrection apocalypse.., p.8
Resurrection (Apocalypse Chronicles Part II), page 8
Harrison stepped away from the door to position himself directly in front of me. I slid around him.
We were going to need all the help we could get.
Beverly, Mei, and Doc were in the middle of repositioning when the first Infected emerged, her hair matted to the point I thought she was bald, her wet dress clinging to her emaciated body. She looked small, easy to handle, but she showed how much hunger can be a reckoning force when she went for Harrison.
He met her halfway, blocking her with his arms, but she jerked her neck out and snapped once, dangerously close to his face. His hands slipped up to her jaw and were already twisting when more Infected began streaming out.
I took the next one, another woman who could have been a housewife at some point. Now, her sweatpants were shredded and the ponytail she’d been wearing at the time of her transformation was sagging to the side. Loose strands ran down the side of her neck. She was dirty but there was no blood on her, which meant she hadn’t eaten yet. And she proved it.
Her mouth opened to a gurgled snarl and she lunged at me. I was ready for her but my roundhouse kick landed oddly at her hips which sent a bolt of pain through my shin. Her momentum in getting to me didn’t help much either.
My mind screamed at me to shoot her but logic intervened. I had one bullet left, and I refused to waste it on an Infected I could handle.
She stumbled back from my kick but the next Infected behind her shoved her forward, directly into the butt of my rifle. Her body shot backwards again but this time she collapsed.
Harrison was freed up by then and stepped calmly over her to snap her neck before moving on to the next Infected. With this one, he did his best to use the man’s body to block the others, and it worked until the large Hispanic man shot through the door. His force sent the rest of us spiraling, all but Harrison.
Once I got my feet under me again, and saw the man heading for Harrison, I raised my gun at the Infected’s head.
“No!” Harrison shouted, his hand darting up to face his palm to me. “Save the bull-”
The man hit Harrison hard, taking him to the ground.
Seeing Harrison on his back was terrifying for me, enough to steal my breath away.
Screw the bullet, my mind reasoned, and I aimed my gun at the man’s head.
My finger moved into the trigger guard and I began to squeeze when Harrison did something I least expected. He dropped his head to the ground and paused. My throat closed in terror as I tried to understand what he was doing, because it looked oddly like he was giving up, letting himself be taken, again sacrificing himself for the rest of us. Then his head snapped up so fast it was a blur, and he slammed his forehead into the Infected hovering over him. The man’s neck was strong, the muscles protruding in steep, thick lines from his jaw to his chest, but Harrison’s force sent the man’s head back and a loud crack echoed across the lot. When it fell forward again, it drifted heavily to the side until it ultimately slipped down to dangle loosely from his body.
Two emotions flowed through me, relief and astonishment. They were quickly followed by a need to run for Harrison and make certain he was all right.
Harrison rolled the man off and I stepped forward.
“Help the others,” he said, standing. “I’m not bitten.”
I turned, my sight moving quicker than my body. I was about to take my first step when I realized they no longer needed me. The three of them were finishing off the last of the Infected, each one ending their attacker’s life with knives they had pried from Doc’s victims.
When they stopped and dropped their arms to brace themselves against their knees, they were breathing heavily. But they were alive and standing among the motionless Infected.
I was in absolute disbelief.
Normally, it takes months, sometimes years, of instruction and exercise to prepare for the kind of assault they just faced, yet they stood uninjured. My dad’s voice ran through my head as I watched them, uttering the words, “Adrenaline is a powerful tool, Kennedy. If you harness it and manipulate it to your will, it will make you stronger, give you an edge and it will make up for lost training or no training at all.”
I felt a smile rise up as I realized that was exactly what our team had just learned.
Harrison approached them, stopping beside me. “Nice job,” he said casually, as if he’d been expecting this result from them.
They nodded their appreciation as they worked to catch their breath.
“Those were some good throws,” Harrison remarked, strolling to the doorway which was propped open by a fallen Infected whose neck bulged at one side where a bone was protruding into the skin.
“Doc?” Harrison called out.
He was inspecting his work and didn’t bother to look up. “Yeah?”
“What position did you play on the team?”
Leaning down to wrench a knife from an Infected, he grunted, “Defensive tackle.”
As Doc and Mei began the wonderful chore of dislodging the knives from the heads of the Infected, I gave Harrison an inquisitive look but he only chuckled curiously to himself.
“Really?” Harrison persisted.
“Yeah, really.” Without seeming to understand the significance of it, Doc added casually, “I was second string quarterback too.” He stopped to narrow his eyes suspiciously at Harrison. “Why?”
“Well, it’s up to you, but I think we’ve now found your weapon of choice…”
Harrison gestured down the hallway as the others caught on.
They broke into smiles and then laughter. We were enjoying our success, reveling in the comfort of knowing we had regained some control over our lives when we heard the girl’s voice call out from inside the store. It was apprehensive, a little scared, and on the verge of disgust.
“Who are you guys?”
CHAPTER 6
NONE OF US MOVED.
The owner of the voice appeared at the end of the hallway, just inside the store, confirming that we hadn’t all experienced a delusional group episode.
She was petite, pale, and filthy, but had a spirit in her eyes that challenged us.
“I said-” she began, impatience evident in her voice, but Beverly cut her off.
“We heard you.”
The girl’s eyebrows lifted and she cast an insulted expression in Beverly’s direction.
This girl was the first non-Infected person we’d met since leaving Chicago. Of course, we hadn’t strayed far from the Nielsen’s property but it had been weeks with just the five of us.
We looked at each other as the realization we were coming to hit us at once:
We’re not alone out here.
“Were they chasing you?” Harrison asked, changing the subject.
The girl snuck a cautious peek around the edge of the door, but from her distance she couldn’t see much. “Yeah, are there any more?”
Beverly stepped over an Infected as she began to enter. “Not in this back lot.”
“Wait,” the girl shouted.
“Keep your voice down,” Beverly hissed.
“Are you bit?”
“No.”
“What about you?” She pointed her chin at Harrison.
“He’s fine,” I said.
“I asked him,” she replied.
The girl had spunk.
“I’m fine,” he muttered, beating Beverly inside and heading back into the store.
I followed as Doc and Mei also cut off Beverly’s path, and I heard her sigh in irritation.
When we made it to the front of the store, I got a closer look at the girl. Standing just under five feet, her body was oddly proportioned with the majority of it being legs, which helped explain how she’d outrun the Infected. She was clothed in white, blending with her environment as we had, which told me that she had sense. Her eyes were a clear blue, as sharp as the looks she was giving us, and her hair was dirty blonde, both in color and in the literal sense.
“What’s your name?” Mei asked.
“Christina…Helmsworth,” she replied. “Do you… Do you know anyone named Helmsworth?”
Apparently, she was looking for someone but we shook our heads and she simply looked away, biting her lip.
Harrison observed her before asking, “How old are you, Christina?”
“Thirteen.”
Mei’s eyes widened. “How long have you been alone?”
“I’m not alone,” she replied bluntly.
All of our eyes widened at that response.
“I’m with a group at WillMart.”
Beverly sneered. “At what?”
“Will…Mart,” she replied as snidely as Beverly was prone to doing.
Beverly, to her credit, only chuckled.
“How many are with you?” Harrison asked, cautiously interested.
“Twenty-four,” she blurted and then realized her error. “Twenty-two. Twenty-two…n-now.”
We gave each other an inquiring stare, which Christina watched with interest, before I asked, “Do you have a medical professional in your group?”
Christina immediately stepped back, dread slipping into her expression. “You said-”
“Not for treatment. We have questions.”
She let her shoulders drop slightly. “About the virus?”
“Yes.”
She took time to assess us, taking the longest with Beverly.
“What are your names?”
I introduced us, finishing with, “Do you have a medical professional in the group?”
She looked to her right, where the hallway was filled with bodies and I knew she was contemplating something. “Are you guys some kind of commando unit?” she asked.
I had a feeling my answer would mean the difference between her being truthful with me or not, and while I don’t particularly like to stretch the truth, this meant the difference between life or death, for all of us. “You could say that,” I replied, keeping my answer as general as possible.
“Then, yes,” she said, “I’ll bring you.”
“Finally…,” Beverly muttered as she turned to the front door, but she stopped as quickly as the rest of us. “Well that’s just great.”
The front window, as tinted as it was, gave us a clear view of the street, which showed we wouldn’t be going anywhere. In the middle of our negotiations, the sky had decided to throw us a small gift.
Christina moaned. “I thought I could beat it…”
Doc shrugged. “It’s just a little snow.”
I silently disagreed. It looked like more than a few flakes, with a nice dusting already piling up on the windshield of the sedan.
“It’s a blizzard,” Christina argued, keeping her attention on the snow.
“And how would you know that?” Doc countered.
“Lou,” she muttered. “He knows when storms are coming, and he warned me about this one. Says he can feel them in his knee.”
“Arthritis,” Beverly declared offhandedly.
“Whatever,” Christina replied, drawing out an amused expression from Beverly. “It’ll keep us from seeing the Skin Eaters so I’m not going anywhere until it stops snowing.”
“The what? The Skin-” Mei repeated, but Christina cut her off.
“Skin Eaters. That’s what Lou calls them so we all started calling them…You know what, who cares.”
“She’s right,” Harrison said, disregarding the name Christina gave the Infected in favor of returning to the more important topic of whether to leave. “The sedan can’t make it through the whiteout. Not with the roads being unplowed. It was having a tough time getting down the street before the storm. I say we stay here for the night.” He swung around, surveying the store. “We have everything we need right here.”
He waited for the rest of us to agree, and then we went about prepping our new humble abode. I retrieved the ammo from the car to fill cartridges while Christina helped me, insisting on it actually. She seemed interested in learning about the weapon, which didn’t surprise me considering what she’d been going through. Then there was the wonderful duty of dragging and dropping the Infected from the hallway to the back lot. No one else seemed interested in doing it so Harrison and I begrudgingly volunteered. I’m still not sure why. Doc and Mei set up inside, laying out beds and prepping the food, while Christina propped boxes against the window to form a curtain between us and the rest of the world. Beverly helped by acting as sentry, although I had the idea it was because she didn’t want to get her hands any more dirty than they had been.
Night came fast with the clouds blocking out the sun early and the storm continuing into the night. Before long we were sitting on sleeping bags centered around a lantern acting as our provisional fire pit. We kept the light low to avoid drawing attention, allowing it to cast only to the edge of our toes and leaving our faces scarcely exposed. Doc and Mei had prepared rehydrated chicken chili for us, which actually wasn’t bad, all considering. Only Harrison chose not to eat, deciding instead to load ammo into empty magazines. That was Christina’s first clue that something was off about Harrison.
“You’re not hungry?” she asked while chewing.
Harrison glanced up briefly and went back to work. “No, thanks.”
I braced for the inevitable question to come.
“How can you not be hungry?”
Doc and Mei were noticeably uncomfortable, staring at the windows blocked with boxes to avoid the can of worms Christina had unwittingly opened. Beverly observed the conversation with a smirk.
“Are you vegan?” Christina pressed.
“Hmm?” Harrison grunted, giving her half of his attention.
“You only eat vegetables, right?”
I nearly laughed out loud but somehow kept it back.
“Well,” she snickered, shaking her head. “You’re gonna have to get over that, you know. We’re in survival mode now. You know what that means? It means you’re going to have to eat meat.”
When he didn’t show any signs of responding, she continued.
“Meat gives you protein, which builds muscle, which you’re going to need to fight for your survival.”
She was making excellent points, but the irony of it was too much. A fleeting look at Harrison made it clear that he had plenty of muscle.
I broke into laughter.
“What?” she asked innocently. “It’s true. He has to get over his issues.” She snapped her head in his direction. “You have to get over your issues.”
This sounded oddly like her mantra that had helped her through whatever she’d faced. Get over your issues and get on with it, seemed to be what she was insisting. I appreciated the effort but it was in vain. Harrison had no problems with meat, or much of anything else that didn’t involve the Infected.
She was expecting him to argue back, oppose her, or simply ignore her altogether, but he picked up on the irony of her test and turned it on her with humor.
“Are you saying I’m scrawny?” he replied casually.
At that, Doc, Mei, and Beverly broke into smiles. I was already laughing through my nose.
Christina’s skin darkened to a fine blush then. “I’m…well…I don’t know…”
Harrison’s head fell to his chest and he chuckled to himself over the joke she was clearly excluded from understanding, and it didn’t sit well.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded.
The rest of laughed quietly.
“What’s so damn funny?” she said.
But we kept to ourselves, knowing it was up to Harrison to deliver the news in his own way and at a time when he decided.
Christina must have realized she wasn’t going to get an answer because she sighed, rolled her eyes, and returned to her chili.
“So what’s a WillMart?” I asked, both to move the conversation along and to satisfy my curiosity.
“You’ve never-?” she asked before letting her jaw fall open. “I mean, you’ve never…”
“No,” Beverly muttered sarcastically. “She’s never.”
Christina paused to narrow her eyes at Beverly before answering me.
“It’s a store that has everything, and I mean everything. Food, clothes, furniture, everything.”
“Does it have a cure?” Beverly asked, not bothering to look up from her bowl, and received another frown from Christina for it.
“No, do you have a mouth filter?”
Beverly kept her head down but from her profile I could see her smile, which gave me the impression that she was enjoying having met her match in sarcasm.
“It was owned by the Williams who were trying to compete with WalMart. My mom and I were going to get my birthday present. We were in the parking lot when…”
As her voice trailed away, we silently filled in the blanks for her…when the outbreak hit her small town and she fled inside. Given that she was here and her mother wasn’t, we could also presume that her mother hadn’t made it.
Christina pinched her lips closed, making me think she had warned herself not to talk about it. To help her through it, Harrison asked, “So, Christina, why did you leave WillMart? If you had everything you needed there, why risk your life to come into town?”
It was a legitimate question, one that successfully retrained her thoughts on something other than her mother’s demise.
“We need weapons, something to fend off the Skin Eaters.”
Her response should have triggered an awareness in us that something wasn’t right about WillMart, but hers was such a broad answer we collectively overlooked it. I mean, who wouldn’t need weapons to defend themselves? It just didn’t occur to me that they needed them immediately.
“So that’s why the lock was broken?” Mei asked.
“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” Harrison added.
“Yes.”
“You broke the lock?”
“Lou did. I just carried stuff, but we didn’t have time to get everything so I came back.”
“For what?” Harrison pressed.
“The knives,” she said tipping her head at Doc, looking to where he’d reinserted the blades around his waist. “I came back for the knives.”
Simultaneously, we fell silent, understanding that scarce resources created conflicts before we even knew they were conflicts.
