Fountain of the Dead Read online

  “You okay, hoss?” Gerry asked and slapped him on the back.

  “Yeah, find anything?”

  “Some snacks, a bag of jerky, a couple scratchers. I’ll have them pack up everything that’s was left.”

  Tony stepped around the “barricade”; a small man was on the floor in a puddle of blood and gore. His mouth was working but no words came out. Tony nodded at him and put a bullet through his forehead. “You can thank me later.” He surveyed the rest of the storage area and pointed to Gerry.

  “Get your lackeys back here and lug this stuff out, without the brain matter please.” Tony stepped through the door into the aisles. “You three get in there.” Tony went for the door and stalked outside. He finished cleaning his face with the last of the water. Gerry tapped him on the shoulders and handed him the scratch tickets.

  “You’re an asshole, Gerry. Sure as shit stinks one of these is a winner. Now that I can’t collect.” Tony walked over to the pumps and leaned on the back of the jeep. He fished the key out his pocket and scratched the tickets.

  “Old addictions die hard,” he whispered and dropped the first losing ticket.

  * * * * *

  Catherine sat on her couch; the laptop lay dormant on the coffee table. Meredith was next to her and Micah on the rocking chair in the corner. Grace waited for the nod to start up the computer. Catherine looked around the room at all the young faces and sighed, for the first time in a long time, feeling her age.

  “Fire it up.” Grace reached across and opened it up; the cover squealed a little when opened. She powered it on and waited for a few minutes. Grace waited anxiously while the boot screen flashed and the system loaded drivers.

  “Does it have enough battery or do you need me to get the generator going?

  “We should be okay; we only used it for maybe 10 minutes and it was fully charged.” Grace said. When the login screen came up they searched for a server, finding the only available one, Boston and Crenshaw’s. Micah rocked nervous in the chair, tapping his foot with each creak against the floorboards. He took out a journal and tapped a pencil against it.

  “Micah, you’re freaking me out,” Grace said. He shrugged and put the book away and tapped his feet instead. “Micah,” Grace said sharp. “Please stop.” He stood up and sighed and paced instead. “You ever wonder why he doesn’t talk?” He ripped out a page of paper from a random book and scribbled on it.

  “You can ask me, I can understand you, and I can hear you.” He waited until they read it, crumpled it into a ball and threw it at the girls, then went outside.

  “You both need to understand, he was from Boston and he saw his parents killed on Night Storm in the city, so any dealings with them gets to him,” Catherine said.

  “I thought Sharon was his mother?” Meredith said.

  “Sharon ran a canteen truck in the city. She pulled him out of the street and carried him to safety. You two better get me a map before we’re shut down.” Grace’s fingers danced across the keys; she stopped to crack her knuckles and continued typing.

  “Right there, Grace. Save everything.”

  “Can you print that?” Catherine asked.

  “Sure if we had a printer.” Grace looked over her shoulder at Catherine, who grinned. “We have a printer?” Her voice raised an octave in excitement. “Where? How?”

  “We found a Super Wal-Mart in New Hampshire last year. We must have gone back three or four times before we were finally chased off.”

  * * * * *

  “I figure we have about ten minutes to load up and get as much stuff as we can,” Frank said. He tapped at his watch looking at the time. “Those goons we lost on the highway will be after us. Grab a carriage, get anything and everything you can.” Tony, Gerry, and Sharon took off with carriages. Frank hunkered down at the service desk, waiting for the pack of cut throats that tried to follow them on the highway. Seeing the Wal-Mart from the road was pure luck.

  The parking lot was mostly empty, a few burnt out cars and interspersed corpses. They had to cut the trailer loose to get more speed out of the truck. If they could hold the Wal-Mart down just until they get out, then the trip home wouldn’t be too awful. If they could hold the Wal-Mart for a couple years, that’d be a bonus. Take their time unloading the store. Fill their houses and sheds.

  Frank took out two pistols and laid them on the desk. From this vantage point he could see any approaching cars from the main parking lot. The goons weren’t clever enough to sneak up on them while driving. They blared their horns and music letting them know what was coming for them. Frank doubted they’d be any less subtle coming into the store.

  “Tony, run to the back, make sure the receiving doors and employee entrances are locked.” Frank said through the intercom. There was still some power in the store. He didn’t trust it enough to take any of the “fresh groceries.”

  He knew Sharon would head straight for sporting goods, get all the guns and ammo she could find. Gerry would be pillaging the dried and canned foods. If they had a good truck, they could load pallets of cans and hightail it back. The best they were going to do was fill the back of the pick-up and the Explorer.

  He saw the headlights racing through the parking lot; looking like the drivers weren’t going to stop. Three cars headed balls out for the entrance. They’d easily get through the glass and into the store. Frank pulled out the six clips he had and put them on the counter near the guns.

  “There’s no way I can hold these guys off with 2 pistols.” The cars skidded to a stop and turned their brights on. Frank ducked down best he could, he was a target. He heard carriage wheels rattling coming from the back of the store. Sharon ducked down in back of the counter with him and took out the hunting rifle she’d acquired.

  “I can’t believe no one found this place yet!” She was out of breath and tore at the packaging.

  “You any good with that?” Frank asked? He risked a peek over the desk and was greeted by a hail of bullets.

  “Guess they’ll make good target practice.” Sharon said and loaded the rifle. “How many of them?”

  “At least six, three cars and guessing two per. I don’t remember how many followed from the highway.” From the parking lot they heard the engines revving and insane cackling. “What you get?”

  “Some rifles, most are 22’s, some pellet guns, a half dozen shotguns, and some pistols. And a shitload of ammo. Going to need a second trip back for all of it.” They cringed as the front of the store was ripped apart by gun fire.

  “Those idiots are going to keep us pinned down until they run out of ammo, or drive through the store.”

  “I can start taking some shots at them and see what happens.” Sharon said.

  “Let’s wait for another minute. If they keep doing what they’re doing, we open fire. It’s pretty easy to figure out when they reload.”

  “Is it safe to come for more carriages?” Tony called from an aisle.

  “Not so much,” Frank answered. “Park the one you have and start getting boxes.” They heard his footsteps squeaking on the tiles as he took off. The gun fire started again.

  “Are you scared, Frank?”

  “Shitless. You?”

  “I don’t know if I should throw up or pee.”

  When the outside gunfire stopped Sharon and Frank got up and opened fired. Their volley dropped two of the 12 outside. Frank put fresh clips in his gun. Sharon dropped the rifle in favor of her pistols.

  “There’s more than 6, Frank.”

  “I saw that. You know what we need? The cavalry.”

  “They’re a long way away.” Frank looked out past the entrance; on the sidewalk in front of the store were propane tanks, the kind that go on grills. He started thinking of a plan. One that could hurt them all.

  “What are you thinking, Frank?

  “On the next exchange, stay covered. It’s going to get loud.” Frank took the rifle from the floor and loaded it. He handed Sharon his guns and counted down with his fingers. When the
bullets stopped flying, he stood, took quick aim and fired.

  The store shook with the explosion. The fireball enveloped the cars and the people outside them. Sharon screamed as pieces of shrapnel stuck in her cheek and her forehead. Frank dove, covering her with his body. He grunted as his back and legs were peppered with more shrapnel. They heard the screams of the men burning outside. When it was over, Frank stood, wincing at the chunks of metal and glass in his back.

  Sharon stood after and without warning, Frank plucked the metal from her cheek and head. He handed her his bandana.

  “It’s clean.”

  “Little more warning than that next time.” Tony and Gerry came racing from the back of the store.

  “Get more carriages, fill them up,” Sharon barked. She limped from behind the service desk.

  “Where are you going?” Frank asked. He walked slow and gingerly from the back.

  “I saw a pharmacy sign. Going to see if I can get into it. They’re usually locked up pretty tight. You stay there, I’ll get some bandages. Anything specific you want, Frank?”

  “Beer?”

  “I’ll see if there’s any left.” Sharon spun and pulled out one of her guns at the sound of approaching steps.

  “We got to go back for the trailer,” Tony said. “I found Twinkies a fuck-ton of them!” Frank eyed him suspiciously. “And some generators.”

  * * * * *

  “Meredith, go to the hall closet and get it out please.” Meredith padded down to the hall closet. It was packed with boxes. She pulled out the printer and set it up. “Better hurry. God forbid we find some coffee, but electronics were available.”

  “Even if they shut us down now, we’re set everything is in the laptop memory,” Grace said.

  “Even your searching for Mr. Pierce yesterday?”

  “Everything. Not that we got anything on him.” Meredith grinned and plugged in the USB printer. The lights dimmed and flared back up. The printer spewed out pages and then the connection went dead.

  * * * * *

  “Very good, Crowe,” Crenshaw said. Crowe nodded and stepped back. “They should think by now that we’re shutting them down, not giving them small windows of opportunity. That and whatever they find on the servers, we can use.” Crowe nodded, looked at the door. “Oh yes, you can go. Check in when you hear back from Williams.”

  * * * * *

  The “wagon train” headed home, the trailer full with boxes and supplies, the plastic gas containers safe in the bed of the truck. Sam reached across the cab and rubbed his dog’s head. Williams watched their approach from the tree he had climbed. He planned on waiting until they returned, but there were too many zombies on the road and they’d taken too long. The radio crackled with a signal and he reached for the volume knob.

  Williams climbed down the tree to a reasonable level, still high enough to be away from the zombies and low enough to jump. He scanned the median strip, the long grasses might hide him, but not for long. The branches were the better choice until the cars got closer. He thought of his wife and kid, dropped from the tree and took off at a run. His shoes slapped against the pavement; he dodged around the back of a burned out Honda and stepped in front of the Jeep. Williams smacked his hands against the rear bumper and stepped aside.

  “Please, help me!” Williams stood to the side and looked around; the street was clear for the moment. He could hear the median grass rustling, the groans of the undead got closer. He would have been dead if he went into the high grasses. Not all undead had legs, some crawled or dragged themselves with shattered arms or slithered like leathery serpents. Others that couldn’t move just lay in wait. “Please, let me in, I’m clean.”

  “If you can catch up to the truck, you can ride in the trailer,” Sam yelled. Williams started running, pumping his arms and willing his legs to move faster. He’d been an athlete in college over ten years ago; the strain and the burn were evident. Too many years of not running every day, too many other days holed up in Crenshaw’s building. Sam smiled and watched the man run. Williams caught the gate of the trailer and tried to grab on, his fingers slipped off. He forced a burst of speed and pulled himself over the side. He lay on the boxes and panted, holding his ribs. Williams rolled over onto his belly and brought the radio to his lips.

  “Crowe, if you’re there I’m in.” He said and stuffed the radio back in his jacket. He tried to catch his breath and the red glow of the tail lights covered his face like a bloody cloth. His bald head was covered in sweat. Williams tried to control his breathing as the outer gates opened up. Gunshots rang out to clear a path for the vehicles. The inner gate opened and the cars pulled in. Williams hopped out of the trailer and looked into the muzzle of Lily’s rifle.

  * * * * *

  Catherine rushed to the window at the sounds of commotion. She peered out to see a group of armed men, her armed men with their weapons ready and pointed at another stranger in her village. Catherine grabbed the door knob and tugged, glared at the door when it didn’t budge. Then she remembered the boards nailed across the outside and went for the kitchen door.

  “What is it?” Meredith asked.

  “I don’t know yet. Bring me the maps once things have calmed down. Don’t forget to clean up.” Catherine rushed out of the house almost tripping over Micah who sat on the stairs to the small porch. “Come with me, Micah.” Micah stood, still agitated and followed the older woman to the crowd. She pushed her way through; when people saw her they lowered some of their guns, some of them. Williams stood with his back to the side of the truck. Gerry was inside, gun barrel pressed to the back of his head through the window.

  “Who are you and why are you in my village?” Catherine asked.

  “Can I lower my arms?”

  “Ask my sniper,” Catherine said and pointed at Danny waving from the tower he’d just climbed into and a red laser dot appeared on Williams’ belly and travelled up his chest to his cheek. “At this range he can put a bullet through both cheeks. It won’t kill you, but you’ll wish you were dead. It will tear the right cheek wide open and on the way out it will blow out your jaw.” Williams raised his hands a little higher.

  “Pat him down.” She ordered. Tony came from the crowd and patted Williams down from his neck to his feet. He pulled out his gun, the extra gun Crowe gave him, spare clips, canteen, bag of mystery meat, and radio and dropped them in the dirt.

  “That’s all he’s got.” Tony said. Catherine nodded at Gerry in the truck and he lowered his gun and climbed out.

  “Explain yourself.” Catherine said. Williams hesitated. “Are you thinking of an appropriate lie? There’s hundreds, maybe thousands of hungry undead surrounding the village. I have no problem feeding you to them.”

  “Ok, look,” Williams said. “My name is Charles Williams I used to work for Crenshaw in Boston.” Catherine dry swallowed and blanched hearing the man’s name. “I used to arrange his foraging parties. I’m one of the reasons everything in the area is stripped bare. Look, I stole something from Crenshaw,” he paused again to see Catherine’s reaction. “When he found out he exiled me.”

  “So you ran away before he dropped you into his zombie pit.”

  Williams nodded and lowered his arms.

  “Your story is good for now Mr. Williams,” Catherine said. “I seem to have a thing for strange men with bad stories this week.”

  Frank rushed him through the crowd and pushed him in the shed with Pierce. After shoving him into the shed, Frank locked the doors and covered them with the material. He smiled at how easy it would be to shoot through the doors until the disruptions were dead.

  * * * * *

  Grace rushed out of the house with a handful of papers and set them on the hood of the Monte. Catherine looked at the full trailer and nodded at the people; like locusts they swarmed over the supplies and put them away. The fuel was left in the back of the truck until it could be divided up. Dried foods, canned goods were placed in community storage; a few items went home with peop
le. Everything perishable went into the freezers.

  “What do you have?” Catherine asked. Meredith and Grace spread out the papers, trying to keep them in place from the wind. Frank and Sharon came over. Beverly watched from the porch of her house. Micah sat on the hood of the truck; he sketched and took notes.

  “We can’t go down the coast. Virginia, Maryland and Jersey are all hot zones, and there are no settlements that I know of. Not that we have a network to fall back on,” Frank said. Catherine moved the maps around for a better view. Frank waved his hand at Micah and he handed him a pencil.

  “This way has us going to Scranton?” She turned to look at Meredith.

  “They have fuel and a city and they trade,” she said in a small voice. “At least that’s what we saw while connected.”

  “Yes, and it’s also one of the bigger kill zones in the east. Full of outlaws and murder squads,” Frank said.

  “Maybe it’s not so bad, if we can skirt by Scranton without incident, we can hit Pittsburgh, that’s supposed to be a safe zone,” Sharon added as a low groan eased out of the trees, followed by two shots. Sharon poked her finger at the map. “We’re going to need to stop near Danbury and hope for fuel. We can’t go near Bridgeport.”

  “So through Connecticut, the southern tip of New York and in to Pennsylvania. I don’t know what New York is like. I haven’t heard anything,” Catherine said and looked over to Sharon. “I hate to ask this, but could you go through the supplies; I’d love a hot meal.” Sharon smiled and wandered to the supply hut. Micah stood uneasily for a better view of the map; he glanced at Sharon before she disappeared into the hut. A plume of diesel chugged from the generator at the side of the small building, keeping the freezers going.

  “I’ve heard horror stories about West Virginia but I don’t think we have much of a choice. It’s also been years since any decent intel,” Frank said looking at the shed. “We could ask one of them in the shed.” Catherine shook her head at the suggestion.