Silencer, p.25
Silencer, page 25
As he struggled to get the roof in place one sheet of wood at a time, someone grabbed the other side and held it up. That made it a whole heck of a lot easier. Sometimes it really helped to have people around.
Glancing over he saw that it was Jose. The man wasn't huge but neither was the structure, so it worked pretty well. He kept it in place solidly while Jake ran around and hammered nails on the lower edge, then they did the other side. They had two ladders and one of them got used to get to the top, where he climbed along the roof beam in order to hammer that down and then the sides into place. It didn't wobble or anything but then he'd used solid beams for everything. Eat your heart out four by fours, you can't beat a tree, not even a little one.
The small man stood holding the ladder for him until he got all the way to the ground.
“Gracias, Mr. Jose.” Jake said simply.
“It's nothing, Senor Jake.”
Smiling happily, the man left him to work on the walls. It wouldn't be finished for a while but the long walls were just a single sheet of plywood high, and two long. In twenty minutes he had them all up, making something that looked a lot like an old-fashioned covered bridge, open still at either end.
At dinnertime he went in and sat where he always did. Dave next to him on one side and Tipper forcing her way in on the other.
He didn't look at her in particular, not wanting to force her to look at his ugly face. Oddly, that wasn’t even done out of anger or pettiness. He truly didn’t want her meal to be ruined.
She kept staring at him, he could tell, but why didn't make any sense at all. She’d lied to him, rejecting him cleanly, and then had taken up with someone else. He’d let it go as much as he could and forgiven her. It had to be enough.
Jake ate quietly but he normally did, so that wouldn't shock anyone. The people at the head table kept looking over at him though. Worried or something.
He'd forgotten to mention to Nate not to tell everyone about his plans. Then again, it probably didn’t matter. Gone was gone. He decided to just let things play out, since it was probably too late to change it anyway.
The next morning he got up and left before most of the people were up at all. He took the smaller cart, the wooden one. Since he didn't want to inconvenience anyone and the large one was used to shift produce around still. He had a ten mile walk or so, and on main streets. There were a few cars to get around but the whole stretch was mainly open. Early on no one had tried to flee Westwood in particular. In fact a lot of people had headed toward them. Small towns were safer than big ones. That was the theory at least. Only, of course, the refugees from the cities had carried the plague around with them. Instead of staying in place, they infected the entire world.
He didn't see anyone at all.
The pickle plant was where he'd left it, and still locked up tight. The exterior looked solid, with no holes or places for anything to get in at all. Grabbing a metal pry bar he'd brought, Jake worked on the padlock securing the front door for a while. That held but the metal clasp gave out after only a few minutes of wrenching back and forth, which let the door swing wide open. It wasn't even that noisy of a process, the screws just popping out of the wood on one side.
The amazing thing about an empty pickle plant was the total lack of interior light. Or it should be. It didn't have windows and even during the day was kind of dark. He didn't have a flashlight of course. Then neither did the zombies in their cages in the middle of the packing floor where the big conveyor belt used to be. Luckily, they had lights overhead, so they could see.
Separate things, the metal cages, looked sturdy. There being ten in all. The look was odd, being that they were made of heavy metal grating that would have held under a lot of stress. Like what they used on bridges sometimes for cars to drive on. The lights over them were electric and the hum he heard was a generator, possibly in the basement. It wasn't loud at least and it gave him enough light to see by, which was handy. There was a single man, a police officer probably, who slept in a chair near the cells. Too close it seemed, for comfortable rest, out of possible arms reach but inside two of the cages were other officers. They were turning, clearly, and moaned a little in discomfort. One of them saw him, delirium on his face, he implored with his eyes.
“Kill me.” He whispered the words, a deep rasp that sounded pained.
The regular zombies went crazy at the human sounds which made the guy in his chair wake up.
“Shut the fuck up you freaks! Can't a guy get some sleep. Bad enough I have to be locked in here with you all. Mahoney better not be late this time. Three more fucking hours of this shit and I don't even get overtime. You either Roberts, you stupid fuck. You knew that the vaccine didn't work but you let that thing bite you anyway. So it's your own damn fault. Now the best thing you can do for us is help take out the resistance. Guerrilla warfare the Captain calls it. Ha! And you're the guerrilla, you sorry fuck.”
That made some sense, they tried a vaccine and it had failed. Making the problem even worse than it would have been without it. Brilliant. He should have expected it though. The government always rushed in with vaccines, then pretended to be shocked when they didn’t work.
On the good side it didn't mean that every second new zombie would be like Roberts. Or Rachel. Jake decided to help him out, since he seemed to have a few hours and the other officer, the guard had shut his eyes again, even though the moaning and noise didn't stop at all.
It made good cover for him, so he just walked over quickly and shot the man in the head. From behind. Then one by one he did the others, just through the mesh of the cages. It was much easier than fighting them out in the open, which was the obvious plan for them all otherwise. Roberts was last.
“Hey, can you hear me? Was what he said about the vaccine true?”
The man rallied after a minute, still sunk down in the middle of his cage, he nodded, and then growled.
“Argh! Yes, sorry, God this hurts. Yeah, vaccine... if you have it and get bit, you turn into a vampire. Not a real one, just a fast zombie. The omega form of the disease they call it on the radio.”
“How many people have had the shot?” Jake had to ask.
The man shook his head and after a second it became clear that he meant to clear it, not say no about anything.
“They promised a million doses but I think they stopped, maybe half that in the U.S.? The government guy didn't know a lot about it, other than what the effects were. Too late, the CDC men got here first. Three months in.” He groaned again and Jake stood.
“Oh, well, um, thanks. Hey, have you seen any pickle jars around here?” It was worth asking right?
“Back room, on the right, Lids along the far wall. Argh! Listen... kill me already will you?”
Jake didn't ask any more questions. Just shot through the bars, the cage being stronger than all but two others. It took three bullets to make sure the man wouldn't come back. He'd been helpful after all. Unless he’d lied.
The jars were where he'd claimed they'd be, safely tucked away in the back. Lids, too. So maybe Roberts was an okay guy after all, in the end. There were a lot of them. Way more than he could take in one trip. In large cardboard boxes of six too, they'd be easy to stack, meaning he could take more than if they were loose and vulnerable.
As he made his way back out of town, pulling the fully loaded wagon, filled with intact boxes of large jars and lids, he felt decent about himself. At least they knew where those new things had come from and that it was an actual attack. They were the resistance now, apparently. To either the police department of Westwood's criminal empire, or the zombies. Both were probably more or less simply the truth.
“I prefer freedom fighter, if it’s all the same.” He spoke, then looked around, in case anything had heard him.
That was one thing that sucked about the zombies, you couldn't even talk to yourself like a crazy person anymore. Those people were all gone because they couldn't manage to keep quiet. A sassy and peppy internal monologue would have to do from now on. It just wasn't the same, though.
He made it in before dark, almost, the house was black already, so everyone but the guards would be in bed. Jake rapped the code out on the door carefully, softly so as to not scare the people upstairs. He just wanted in after all, not to startle anyone. The knock came back and a soft familiar voice came through the door.
“Who's there?” Tipper said.
“Jake. I'm alone.”
The door opened and the shadow stepped out of the way. If she gave him a look, he couldn't tell, from the other side of the room there was a chuckle.
“Get what you went to find?” Dave asked, his voice pleasant.
Jake smiled and spoke calmly.
“A full load of jars and lids for them, large ones. I also found the source of the super-zombies and took out the next attack. What did you do with your day?”
Tipper whispered at him her voice hard.
“Funny... I'm sitting here waiting for you all day and you come back saying crap like that? You were supposed to take a team, not go off on your own like a fool. Do you think this is a joke? I was worried sick.”
Taking a deep breath, Jake stopped himself from shooting her. She didn't have a right to be worried about him, did she? But that didn't mean she wouldn't play at it. The truth was he did better on his own. Not all the time, maybe but better without her at least.
“Tip, two things. First, you don’t get to scold me. Not anymore. I’m not on your team now. I’m on my own. Second, no shit, I really found the source of the super-zombies, and took out the next attack. I had to in order to get the jars. I'll tell Nate in the morning and he can tell you if he wants.” He sounded slightly annoyed. Not too much, but enough it had to carry to her.
Still, she was the one riding him, and had to know that could push buttons right now. It was like she was trying to, for some reason. Maybe trying to force a fight so that she could kill him. In the dark though, if he started it, she probably wouldn't win. Dave chuckled but lately he seemed to think everything was funny. That, or he was laughing because it was awkward.
Carefully, slowly, and as quietly as possible Jake made his way to the stairs and then up, they creaked under him slightly as he moved. He tried to hold it down, since a lot of people freaked now if they woke up to hear the sound of heavy walking. Zombies’ kind of stomped, so the idea of tip toeing had kind of been drummed into people's minds after a while. The first room didn't have a door anymore for some reason, so he worked his way in slowly along the front wall, over to his corner, careful not to step on anyone in the dark. He slipped the forty-five under the edge but it felt funny. It was his mattress, in the right spot but someone slept on it. Two someones.
Jake didn't remember leaving anyone in his bed, and if he hadn't, there shouldn't be anyone there at all. He froze for a second, checking to make sure he had the right place and hadn't gotten confused in the dark. The wall was right there, and the corner when he reached out, so it was his space for sure.
One of the forms stirred, then the other, a male voice spoke softly, a whisper.
“Is someone there?” It said.
Jake didn't really recognize it, familiar but not well known. That happened a lot to him here.
“Jake. You're... in my bed?” He really didn't want to be a dick about it but it literally was his bed, he'd carried it from town on his own back and everything. He hadn't even been gone for a single night... It seemed a little premature to be taking his stuff and presuming he was dead. Really it wasn't even late yet, only an hour past nightfall. Waiting a few days at least would have been polite, to see if he were really not coming back.
“Oh, hey man.” The voice said, as if that explained something.
“Jake?” The other form said, Heather. Meaning the first voice locked into place then, Randy.
Before he could ask what the heck they were doing in his bed the girl explained, her voice soft, breathy, and sleepy sounding.
“I couldn't sleep on the floor, my back hurt, so we came in here when you didn't come back after dinner.”
Well that made sense if you were a certain sort of person. Though, Jake nodded and thought that if she didn't want to sleep on the floor she probably should have sent her boyfriend into town for a mattress of their own. It wasn't that dangerous after all. Jake had done it. He took the forty-five from under the mattress and sighed. It was annoying, but nothing to freak out over.
Then he did it again several times, breathing a bit hard, really feeling like being there was a mistake, all over again. As if no one actually could be bothered to show him even a basic level of respect. He rose up carefully and walked out of the room without a sound. Taking his bed wasn't a killing offense. Just annoying. They were going to have words about this in the morning. He went to the living room but Tipper tried to talk to him.
“Jake... What’s wrong?” Her tone was off still. Angry and clearly the woman was planning, or at least going to, start something with him if he tried to crash there in one of the chairs. Probably due to him telling her he was off her team.
If she’d noted that part at all.
“My bed was stolen. I’m... Yeah. I’m pretty much done with this place. I know it isn’t kind of me, but yes, you’re part of that. A lot of people are. This is just the straw that shouldn’t have been there. It... Can’t be that big of a deal. I know that. I just... You know, let’s do this later? I’ll be outside for the night.”
The night air was too cool to be comfortable and tired as he was, he couldn't do more than doze. Not in the open on the kitchen porch. An owl, of all things, kept hooting not too far away, every time he let his eyes close. Finally, as daylight came, he got up and found some water, cleaned up in the bath house and found his other set of clothes, which were still clean and weren't even being worn by someone else yet. That would have been awkward to say the least. So he could change after a more complete scrubbing.
Tired but clean. That would do. It was loads better than tired and dirty.
He found Nate before he looked fully awake. Nothing he had to say needed to hit the guy this early. Deciding not, he smiled at the man.
“Hey, could we get together after breakfast? I have some things from town, those jars I went for, and some other news.”
Nate waved at him, yawned, and muttered something that sounded a little like yes. Jake considered what to say for a moment and let it go. He could talk about the other stuff in a while. There was no need to rush. Not anymore.
Not if he was just going to be responsible for himself and forget about these other people.
Chapter Seven
A rather worn and tired looking zombie crawled, or more accurately dragged himself out of the woods before Jake could go in to eat. It was going to be a meal of fruit and veggies that wouldn't have satisfied him at all a year prior but now seemed a feast. Jake couldn't wait to get to it but the crawler had to be dealt with first.
Something wasn't right though, the dead man was... familiar. They'd met before. Not when the man had been alive, either. Blinking he realized that the half-rotted face and bullet-ridden old suit was indeed something he'd dealt with already. Nate's old boyfriend, Miguel. The man had damage, but all of it was to his chest, in the upper portion. They hadn’t even thought to take the head off, at the time.
Jake had to wonder what the odds that Miguel would have made it across the entire town to find where his boyfriend lived were. He considered the idea as he took the head and carted the body off, away from the property by a good way. It must be thousands to one at least. The man could have crawled off in any direction from town. The head had popped off easily, and even though the mouth moved in a biting motion still, most of the teeth were gone.
So, not a huge threat.
That meant that everyone else sat at the table eating already and stared at him when he walked in, damp from having washed up for the second time that day. After a few moments it started to make him uneasy.
Jake explained softly. Part of it.
“Crawler. I took care of it.” Without wasting a bullet even.
At the rate they were going through them, bullets, they'd have to find a huge stash of ammunition to get through the winter. The problem there being that they just didn't have anything left in town. People may not have grabbed mattresses, or toothbrushes for that matter but ammo had gone fast at first.
Everyone just nodded quietly and went back to eating. A few kept looking at him but then that happened a lot, scared or angry glances when they thought he couldn't see them. Sometimes they were just blank and shocky. A whole lot of people looked like that, any longer. He tried to smile and seem relaxed and smoother that day than normal. No one responded to that effort at all.
Which was just another thing he wouldn't miss about the place when he left.
The food that day was freaking great. Basically berries and sour apples, today. Not that filling maybe but the flavors were incredible. He'd never gotten how good food really was before all this had happened. It was pretty much the only good thing left in the world, made more special because it wasn't always available. That, and not being too uncomfortable.
Dave smiled at him, shook his head a little and leaned in to whisper.
“Crawler? I hate those things. They're no fun anymore. Those new zombies aren't too bad, at least they move around a little and present a challenge. Are you going to tell us all about that today?” He went into a teasing little kid mode then, playful and light. If Jake hadn't known better firsthand he might have thought that Dave was a real boy and not just a killing machine.
