Timothy Long - Beyond the Barriers

“Because the Walmart might have some ammo. I don’t think they could carry out the massive stock pile. They’re in a big metal cage in the center of the store. I know how to get at them.”

“They gonna give the stuff up for free? I doubt that.”

He didn’t know.

“They left almost a week ago. The place is empty now. They might have buttoned up and left some supplies. We should make a run before someone else does.”

“Why are they gone?” He looked confused, but he also looked like he was calculating, thinking of what a boon that would be, then his face clouded. “See, I like you, Erik. You seem like the kind of guy that says stuff straight up. I can respect that, especially in the new world. But it is kinda suspicions that you show up and want to lead us to an armed compound.”

Oh.

“You have the wrong idea, Scott. I wouldn’t dream of it, but I see why you would be suspicious. You can go with me, and we can scout it out. I was at the store for a while, but they bugged out, headed for Portland. Did you hear an explosion about a week ago?”

“Yeah, it shook the ground. We thought a nuke had gone off somewhere. I know it sounds stupid, but being cut off means we gotta rely on what we see and hear, and that was a ways off, so we automatically feared the worst.”

“That was me and Katherine setting off the distraction, so a caravan could get out of town and drive to Portland. We rolled a gas truck away from the Walmart and made a lot of noise until the things were all around us. One of our friends died, but we managed to get to my car and make our escape before the truck went up. We probably took out about a hundred of those bastards.”

“Huh.”

“Then we hightailed it back to my little corner of the world—a cabin up in the hills. We hid out until we were found by those fuckers with green eyes.”

He nodded, but he was suspicious. He didn’t have to say a thing; I could tell by the way his brows drew together. How would I feel in his shoes? Would I just trust someone who showed up and claimed to know things about outside events? I wouldn’t; no one in their right mind would. And why did I care anyway? These guys were doing just fine without my help. They had built a small fortified city here. They didn’t need me.

“We really do need to follow our friends back to Portland. Maybe in a day or two. I have a bunch of guns back in the car. Maybe I could give you one for your hospitality.”

“What can always use more ammo especially with guys like Junior there getting in some practice.”

I thought of the rounds we had left behind during the escape. We did have a few boxes of shells, but I needed to hang onto those if we were going to be on our own soon. Then again, without these folks, Katherine would be in pretty bad shape. It would be nice to go back and get more from the store, but I would need to convince them. Maybe a show of goodwill would help.

“I’ll give you a hundred rounds of seven point six two,” I said, watching his eyes. He knew what that was all right, and he nodded.

“We can use it.”

“Great. Now look. Why don’t you go with me? Just a scouting mission, and if it looks too dangerous, we’ll head back. No fuss, no muss. Katherine is here just in case.”

“We don’t take prisoners, man.”

“Fine, then she stays here as an ambassador of goodwill.”

He laughed at that and then, with a pat on my shoulder, he left and went into the house. I stood in the road a mile or so from my house and looked down the street. If I got to the other side of the barricade and I was extra cautious, I could be there in about fifteen minutes. I decided to take the chance, wanting to know how the neighborhood had fared.

I slid over one of the cars by jumping on the hood and then over the roof. A couple of men watched, but they didn’t try to stop me. My car started up easily, and I drove it off the road and onto the sidewalk, in front of an old Volkswagen van that was turned sideways. A wall of bricks was built up under the chassis so no one could get under it. It really did look like someone had driven over a low wall and left it. I could even pick out the mortar between the bricks.

After taking a couple of boxes of ammo from the car, I loaded my pants pockets with a couple of magazines, then strapped a beat-up Colt .45 under my arm. Once I slung the M-16 over my shoulder, I must have made a sight. If they really didn’t care about me coming and going, then I was going to do both.

I stared down the road in the opposite direction of the barrier, watching a pair of rotting creatures shamble across a four-way intersection. One turned to regard me, and then veered off. The other kept going. It was about twenty-five yards away, or so I surmised. I swung the assault rifle up to the crook of my shoulder and took aim. While I wanted a headshot, I would settle for the neck. It seemed like a shot to anywhere near the brainstem or brainpan stopped those things in their tracks. A shot to the body just forced them to fall over, and they’d just get back up. I had yet to nail one of the guys with glowing eyes.

Flipping the safety off without looking at it, I exhaled and stroked the trigger. The shot echoed around me as it left the barrel. It struck just off center, and a puff of pink and gray mist exploded outward, then the thing dropped in its tracks. It fell to its knees, toppling backwards like a puppet with no strings attached. The other zombie paused in mid-step, turned to look at its companion, then dropped to all fours and went for its ex-buddy. She took a huge chunk of cheek in her mouth, ripping upward. I struggled to keep my stomach calm while I fired again. The second one fell forward, and they lay there like lovers.

Mission complete, I headed back the way I had come.

“Nice shootin’, Tex,” one of the men called out. He was older, gray around the temples, and had a pair of thick glasses on. Licking his lips, he spit to one side.

“Thanks.”

“I don’t think you killed the second one. It’s still twitching.”

I looked back, and sure enough, the other was trying to move one hand away from her body, like she was crawling under barbed wire. Putting the ammo on the ground, I slid over one of the cars—a red Ford that looked to be at least twenty years old. I took to the street, which was bathed in pale light thanks to the early morning sun. It was red and pink where it bounced off clouds. I was reminded of an old saying from my father: Red in the morning, sailors take warning.

The only red I was about to see was blood.

Over the last few months, I had faced a number of these things and walked away unscathed. I fought them with guns, knives, and even hand to hand. They had been faceless monsters that I killed with impunity. I had slaughtered them—there was no other way to put it. These monsters that used to be men and women but were now mindless killing machines.

Now I had the chance to get close and study one. I took the handgun from the back of my waistband and checked the safety. Sliding the chamber back a quarter of an inch, I checked to make sure there was a bullet in it. Once I clicked off the safety, I approached the undead.

It was pitiful. The woman’s dress hung in tatters around her body. Her legs looked like fat sausages, complete with a thin layer of casing to hold everything in. Her skin was nearly translucent, and the stuff under it looked putrid and rotten. As she crawled, it jiggled like congealed fat. She reached for me with a clawed hand that grasped in slow motion.

Her hair was coated in grime and blood. Her eyes were dull, white, and one was rotted in the socket. The other swiveled as she tracked me moving around her. Her chin was covered in blood, and chunks of meat hung out of her mouth.