“Joel!” I yelled louder this time.
“What? I’m keeping watch. Why aren’t you doing the same?”
“Dude. We got trouble. Big fucking trouble.”
“What?”
“Come look.”
“I can’t leave Roz out there.”
“Roz. Shit.”
I didn’t have to think about the stupid shit I was about to do.
I tried to brush past Joel but he stopped me with a meaty Marine hand. I towered over him and could have knocked him aside, but for all the shit we give each other, I’d never had a better friend.
“What’re you doing?”
“It’s bad. There’re so many of them I couldn’t count the first wave. It’s an army and they’re all headed in this direction. We need to get Roz back in here now.” I looked around the yard. “Where is she?”
“In the garage. Please tell me you’re exaggerating a little bit.”
“I wish, man. I wish. Did she flag down that chopper?”
“They took off when they saw her.”
“Damn.”
“You go get her. I’ll cover. No, wait. You cover and I’ll go. You and your busted leg.”
“You’re ten times the shot I am. I’ll go.” And this time I did take his hand, but with more of a handshake grip as I pushed it down. “It’s the right thing to do. Stay here and pop anything that gets close.”
Joel nodded and clapped me on the shoulder.
I did the stupid thing and took a step outside the house.
16:05 hours approximate
Location: Undead Central, San Diego CA — Roz’s Place
The garage wasn’t attached to the house. If it was, this might have had a different ending. As it was, the little building was only thirty or forty feet away from the door and only a few feet from the side of the house, but it might as well have been a mile with me naked and armed with a toothbrush.
I swear I could hear them already, even though they had to be at least a hundred yards away.
The morning sun was nice and high in the sky. I shaded my eyes and crunched across the short concrete patio, down the couple of stairs, and onto the sidewalk. Dead grass in all of its yellow and brown glory spread around me. A lone water sprinkler sat next to a dried blood stain which roughly resembled the shape of a man.
The corner of the house erupted in noise. The moans of the dead had reached us much quicker than I thought and that meant one thing.
Shufflers.
A group came into view from the side of the garage. They were a motley assortment of dead, cobbled together by their need for fresh meat. Men and women, boys and girls. The virus had taken everyone in its path.
“Ugly bastards, all of you!” I yelled.
I hoped Roz heard me. I was already headed toward her, so I drew and shot on the move. I missed. My second shot missed as well, so I stopped, took a breath, aimed down the sights and then dropped the Z that was about to enter the garage.
I spun but more of the Z’s were rounding the other side of the house. I was trapped.
Hobbling on my bum ankle, I got to the walkway. Joel swung into his super Marine mode by moving onto the porch and dropping the first of the dead. His second shot spun another one around but it completed a halfway decent dance move by turning three hundred and sixty degrees. Joel hit it between the eyes with the second shot.
Another pair right behind the first. I gasped and took a shot. Missed. God I sucked. My hand was shaking like a leaf but I didn’t stop firing.
A couple of former soldiers, from the look of their rotted and hanging uniforms. I took out one and hit the other in the chest. He dropped but got a hand out and hauled himself to his knees. I kicked the rotter in the face and dove into the garage.
The bodies from the night before lay in a pile. Roz had executed one at point blank range and most of his head was just gone. Joel’s shots had been neater but the bodies were still that—bodies.
“Oh no! Oh shit!” Roz yelled.
“Can you close the door?”
“Shit!” She jumped and grabbed a rope and yanked but the door didn’t budge.
The former soldier I’d kicked in the face snarled around a dislocated jaw and came at us. I kicked him in the gut before he could reach the boundary of the garage. He was dead, so he needed to stay on his side of the world. I used the best persuader at my disposal by lifting the hand cannon and firing into his face.
I’d made good use of the gun, but in the heat of the battle I’d lost count of my shots. I went over the action in my head and thought I might have seven or eight rounds left.
Roz grabbed at the door again. I got a hold on the rope with her, this time, and we both yanked. The garage door came loose and slid down with a creak.
The old and heavy slab of wood swung down and dropped into place. It clicked when it was flush with the ground, so I tested the handle, but it wouldn’t turn. At least we were safe for now, even if we were trapped in a giant box with no light and four or five bodies. My skin crawled, and that was before I got the first whiff of their bloating corpses.
More gunshots and then they went silent.
“What happened?” Roz asked. She stood close to me, so I reached out to touch her in the dark, just to reassure myself that she was really there. Of all the close calls, this one had been the worst. I was left gasping for air.
“I slipped.”
“No, what happened just now?”
“I was in the back of the house keeping an eye out when I saw them coming. About a thousand of those things. I ran out to warn you.”
“So you went out on a rescue mission? Are you stupid?”
“You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t ask you to save me. I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, and those things would have devoured you. Where would that leave me and Joel? Inside the house, filled with guilt and your food. That’s where.”
“Chivalry’s dead, man.”
“But being a decent human being isn’t. Not yet. Not with Joel Kelly and Jackson Fucking Creed on the case.”
She let out a light giggle, and that was enough for me.
Roz touched my hand, took it in hers and squeezed. I squeezed back. We stood in the dark and didn’t speak for long moments. My breathing was still harsh and came in ragged gasps.
Thumping on the door that grew in intensity. I’d seen this before, the second or third day in the city. The dead had trapped a poor soul in a hotel room and battered at the door and window until both broke. The screams came moments later.
Joel and I had been hidden in a convenience store across the street. The door had probably been busted off the hinges by looters. We crouched and stared at each other with wide, wild eyes. I was scared to death that at any moment one of those things was going to get wind of us.
We managed to keep quiet for a couple of hours while the dead feasted on their prize and then eventually wandered off. Funny how hiding makes you patient. A week ago I would have been going stir crazy from having nothing to do but wait. Back then I had my games and cell phone. I even had a crappy tablet I’d won in a game of spades. I could hang out and read Facebook or surf the web. Being stuck in that store while we contemplated life and death made me shut the fuck up with a quickness.
Roz and I only had one choice and it was in my right hand. Seven or eight shots were enough. I only needed two.
“We’re fucked,” Roz said.
“No back door?”
“Nope. Dad had this thing delivered and mounted on a concrete slab fifteen years ago. It’s not even a real garage. It’s just a bunch of wooden siding held together with bubblegum.”