Nano Z (3 page)

Suddenly the street underneath Mack lit up. Then the dumpsters and buildings that flanked him on either side lit up as well. He turned around and saw fast approaching headlights.

Amber saw the oncoming vehicle early and hid behind a foul smelling dumpster. Mack wasn’t as quick to hide. The headlights, which belonged to a work van, barreled towards him. With only seconds left, he dropped his ax and managed to jump out of the way.

From face down on the street, Mack watched the van go by. Inside were what looked like drunk or blood crazed people somehow enjoying all the chaos in Dallas. Behind the van they dragged what was left of someone’s body by a rope.

That was a little too close.

“You okay?” asked Amber as she walked up to Mack.

Mack was on his hands and knees. After shaking his head he stood up. Amber was ready to catch him as he was a little wobbly upon rising. She didn’t consider the fact that if he did fall on her, he’d probably squash her. Before moving on he retrieved his ax.

Once he regained his bearings, Mack looked down the alley. Like a light at the end of a tunnel he saw neon lights reading “43
rd
Street Pharmacy”. Other than the day Margret Jensen blew him in the back of his dad’s Cadillac, it was the happiest moment of his life.

Luckily the section of 43
rd
street that Mack and Amber emerged into was empty. It was the first bit of good fortune they had all night. Amber got the privilege of breaking the front glass doors.

“We need to hurry,” said Mack as a loud alarm followed the broken glass.

“The name?” asked Amber, moments before hopping the pharmacy counter.

“Digoxin.”

“Di…what?”

“Digoxin!”

“Got it, Dic-ox-kin. Shit, I can’t see a thing.” Amber had to take out her smart phone. With a flashlight app, she managed to generate enough light to read the labels of the shelves full of medicine in front of her.

Mack could see the erratic movement of puppet shadows approaching. The cloudiness in his head started clearing up. His grip on the cold red metal of the fire ax tightened. He was ready for them.

Amber’s eyes darted left to right as she scanned the medicine labels. With smart phone in hand she moved the light to align with her vision. She grabbed some additional medications, oxycotine, zolpidem tartrate, Vicodin and all the inhalers they had in stock. Then she found it. On one of the top shelves was a large white bottle with “Digoxin” printed above a bunch of medical mumbo jumbo.

“You good?” asked Mack. His palms were starting to get sweaty as the puppets got closer. More joined the few that first reacted to the pharmacy alarm.

“In a minute,” Amber ran her hands across a shelf beneath the pharmacy register. They hit metal and wood. It was the double barrel shotgun that her father kept in case another junkie tried to rob the place. Little did he know that his daughter would be doing the robbing and his deterrent would end up in her hands.

Next Amber had to get something to put all the medicine and other supplies she scavenged from the pharmacy. In the aisle that had school supplies, she found a backpack. She stuffed the medicine, box of shotgun shells, some water, chips and candy inside. Then she heard screeching over the blaring alarm.

“We’re out of time, kid!” yelled Mack, right before he almost chopped a meat puppet’s head off. With the pick part of the ax he downed another one. But it wouldn’t be long before he was overrun.

“Here!” Amber tossed Mack the double barreled shotgun.

“Where’d you get…?” before Mack could finish his question, more meat puppets surrounded him. He had no choice but to back up into the pharmacy. When the creatures tried to follow he blasted them with the shotgun. Its muzzle flash lit up the store in an extremely brief but bright orange light.

Out of bullets, Mack threw the shogun back to his young companion and started swinging his ax. The next few minutes consisted of an intense battle between him and eight meat puppets. He cut down everything that climbed through the broken front doors. Each swing was harder than the one before. But in the end he won.

Amber watched in amazement as Mack decimated the puppets. She was both impressed and in awe of his raw power. At that moment she decided that she absolutely needed him if she was going to make it out of Dallas alive.

“My dad kept a minivan out back. He was too cheap to pay for deliveries. Instead he used it to pick up whatever the pharmacy needed. It’s out back. We can use it to get out of here.”

“Let’s go,” said Mack as he breathed heavily, covered in splatters of black goo. “Only way we live is if we get the hell out of this city.”

Not again.
Mack could feel his heart pumping. If he didn’t get his meds, he’d be in a bad way and no help to Amber or himself.

“Did you get the Digoxin?” asked Mack as he and Amber left the pharmacy and headed towards the alley behind it. He had to brace himself with one arm against the side of the building.

“What’s wrong? The van is just back there. We need to…”

“The meds!”

For the first time since meeting him, Amber was truly fearful of Mack. All that power and fury he used to save her could’ve easily been turned against her. She thought it best not to antagonize him.

“Here,” said Amber as she retrieved the big white bottle and tossed it to Mack. He struggled with the top. Once he managed to open it, he took out a handful and shoved them in his mouth. Then he closed it and gave it back to Amber to put in her bag.

The minivan was just where Amber said it would be. All the doors were unlocked. She smiled and got in the passenger seat, Mack in the driver’s.

So how am I supposed to start this…
Amber opened the glove box. Inside were the keys which she handed over. Both of them prayed when he put them in the ignition. They prayed that the car would start. When it did they both gave sighs of relief.
Thank God.

Amber dreamed of I-23. Actually it was more of a memory than a dream. Her family was on their way out of town. Mr. Long, her father, saw the stories about Greenbelt on the news. He immediately demanded that his wife and daughter quickly pack their things. After stopping at the pharmacy and emptying the safe, they made the mistake of getting on the interstate.

Mister and missus Long were arguing in the front seat. To Amber, they always seemed to be arguing. And often their arguments were over nothing. She’d have to sit in the backseat and endure their nonsense.

A barrier made of earbuds and music off her phone usually kept Amber out of her parents’ quarrels. So she’d fully absorb herself in boom bap and 80s hair metal. It worked…most of the time.

With her forehead against it, Amber looked out the window. Some Def Leppard poured into her ears. She stared at the same car for fifteen minutes. It nor any other vehicle budged.

Amber heard her mother’s grating voice through the loud rock. At first she tried to ignore it. But Mrs. Long didn’t give up. Eventually she had to take out her earbuds and hear what the woman had to say.

Mrs. Long reprimanded Amber about something her daughter did. The fourteen year old teen didn’t really listen. Instead she rolled her eyes and half pretended to listen. That didn’t stop her mom. Only her father interrupting stopped the self-righteous chastising.

An explosion shut the Longs up. Both of them looked around to see what happened. Amber’s father got out of their station wagon.

Within a minute after the loud explosion, people started running past Amber’s window. They looked terrified. The whole scene reminded her of the old monster movies she’d watch with her friends. Except the people fleeing weren’t actors. Genuine terror spurred them.

Amber noticed that her father didn’t retrieve the Beretta his dead brother gave to him. Being essentially trapped in the station wagon, she decided to get the gun. She wasn’t going to leave her safety in her parents’ inept hands.

The one good thing that Mr. Long taught his daughter was how to properly handle a firearm. It was a risky move really. If she ever had a hankering to use a firearm on another human being, he’d be first on her list.

***

“You up?” Amber slowly woke up to Mack’s voice. First thing that she noticed was the chill in the car.

“Wha…where…?” Amber was groggy and crumpled up in the corner of the backseat.

Mack glanced at the rearview mirror. Amber was wiping the sleep from her eyes. He didn’t know much about kids, especially teens. But he knew to tread lightly around a recently awoken adolescent.

“Still in Texas. About an hour from the border to Oklahoma.”

“Oklahoma huh?” Amber climbed into the passenger seat. It was a bit clumsy, but she made it the couple of feet in one piece. “I’ve never been.”

Stretched out before Amber, outside the car windows, were fields as far as she could see. They were lit blue by the dawn. On the highway were patches of abandoned cars. She couldn’t see any people.

“Why Oklahoma?” asked Amber as she fiddled with all the knobs and buttons on the dashboard.

“Storm cellars.”

“Expecting tornados?”

“Cellars have doors that lock. And they usually have food and water. I figure we can find one and get some shut eye.”

“Been in a lot of storm cellars, Mack?” Amber mocked.

“I grew up in a place a lot like this. My folks had a storm cellar.”

“You need some rest? I’ll take over.” Amber was only half joking.

That’s not happening.

“Can we stop, I need to pee and don’t see any empty bottles in here,” asked Amber.

“Sure, I mean I was going to wait till we reach Wydell. It’s only about ten minutes away.” Mack hoped that the teen would see reason. He was clueless.

“But I really have to go.” The tone of Amber’s voice subtlety changed. There was a bit more hostility. Most would take it as a warning. Mack didn’t pick up on it. Nor did he heed it.

“You can’t hold it?”

“Stop the car Mack.”

“Wydell is ten minutes away. Wouldn’t you want to use a toilet rather than some bushes?”

Amber’s eyes almost burned holes in the side of Mack’s head.

It’s not worth it.
“Yeah, okay, sure. I’ll pull over.”

The truck came to a slow stop at the side of the road. There was tense silence inside, interrupted only by the sound of tires on gravel. Before Mack could ease the situation verbally, Amber got out.

There weren’t any bushes by the side of the road. The tree line of a small patch of woods was far off in the distance. She wasn’t going to walk that far to take a squat. But there was a barn and a harvested field of wheat.

Amber crossed her arms putting her hands under her armpits. It was considerably colder than Dallas. Since it was morning, the temperature was even lower. Limbs and appendages are the first parts of the human body to go hypothermic. She remembered that little fact from health class.

Upon getting closer to the barn, Amber was disturbed by what she found in severed stalks of wheat. There were bodies, looked like a family. Blood stained the soil around them. Immediately, Amber started to back up.

What’s taking so long?
Mack decided to get out of the minivan. He needed to stretch. Three hours of driving without rest was taxing.

After he was done stretching, Mack checked out his and Amber’s ride. The vehicle was in rough shape. Black blood splatters from the meat puppets he ran into and over back in Dallas covered the grill and hood. Dents, scratches and scuffs from jumping curbs and charging through congested streets covered the minivan. But every tire stayed inflated. And the engine ran. So everything was good, appearance aside.

“Start the van!” Mack just barely heard Amber’s voice but he couldn’t see her. There was a small incline that separated the highway from the surrounding farmlands. In order to get a better look he walked over to the edge.

“Start the van!” Amber almost knocked Mack over as she ran up the incline just as he looked over it. Four meat puppets were chasing after her, but weren’t close. They were the family from the wheat shield.

Mack helped Amber up then ran over to the minivan. Both of them got in. Neither wanted to stick around another second longer.

“Did you, you know?” asked Mack as they sped away. The tires squeaked as he weaved around the abandoned cars on the highway.

“I think I’ll wait till we get to Wydell.”

Mack smiled. Amber turned her head to hide it, but she grinned as well.

***

Wydell, Oklahoma wasn’t a big town. Back in the days of the frontier, it was a rest stop on the pony express. During prohibition it was one of many stash towns in the Midwest. But since then only ranchers and farmers lived there.

The minivan sat idle as Mack and Amber stared at Wydell. They were just outside town near a decaying sign intended to welcome visitors. There was no visible activity. It was spooky, even in the daylight.

Just beyond what looked like a downtown area was a cluster of houses that made a small neighborhood. A small road connected the two. The residential area looked just as abandoned.

“I dunno, that place looks kind of creepy.” Amber gave the town in the distance a suspicious look.

It does look creepy. But there might be some food and somewhere safe to sleep. Plus there might be some people. I can get rid of the extra baggage, leave her with them and not feel guilty about it.

“Doesn’t look like we got much of a choice,” Mack shifted from neutral to drive.

Wydell only got bleaker as the minivan slowly approached. From down the road, Mack and Amber could spot the sun ravaged exteriors and boarded up buildings. There were only a couple of cars, abandoned and parked in front of structures that surely would have been considered condemned in any other town.

All this place needs is some tumble weeds
. Mack scanned the desolate town as they cautiously drove through. They passed a grocery store with broken windows, a hardware store that looked as if no one crossed its threshold in decades and what once might’ve been a one screen movie theater. But there were no people.

Mack turned the wheel at the only curve on Wydell’s main street. Once on the other side, they saw the first buildings that looked as if they may harbor life. There was a restaurant. Across the street from that was a pristine chapel.

The other half of the main street also bared gruesome signs of struggle. Streaks of blood went up and down the sidewalks. A burning body had to be driven around as it was in the middle of the street. Over the stench of burning human, Amber and Mack both smelled the distinct odor of death.

“Like I said, this place is creepy,” commented Amber as she looked out the passenger side window, wide eyed.

“We won’t be here for long. Let’s get some food and we can move on.” Mack had to fake bravery and confidence. Even he had no idea if Wydell was safe or not. It certainly didn’t look the part.

Mack parked the van outside the restaurant called “Mama’s Place”. The small dining establishment appeared to be intact. It also looked just as deserted as the rest of Wydell.

“This is a bad idea,” said Amber as she got out of the minivan. Before closing the door she retrieved her backpack.

“It’ll be fine. Let’s just get in there and eat something.” Mack hoped it would be that easy.

The little bell on the front door dinged as Mack opened the door with the barrel of his double barrel shotgun. He peeked through the crack, into the restaurant. There was no one there. At least he didn’t see anybody. So he used his freehand to open the entrance up all the way.

“It’s safe, c’mon.” Mack kept his shotgun at the ready as he surveyed Mama’s Place.

One of the first things Mack noticed was that all the lights were on. Ceiling fans were spinning. And there was a single television propped up high in a corner. It was on. There was still power in Wydell.

Inside, the décor of the restaurant was plain but pleasant. It was clear that whomever ran the business wasn’t rich. The walls were wallpapered with a pleasant and neutral floral design. There were about fourteen tables, each of them were wooden, surrounded by chairs made of the same. Simple white table cloths covered each tabletop.

At the back of Mama’s Place was a wide window meant for finished orders. Waiters and waitresses would retrieve their customers’ orders and serve them. Through the window, Mack saw a kitchen.

“I’m going to go fix something up,” said Mack as he lowered his shotgun and headed towards the kitchen.

“I’m gonna go pee.” Amber made way for the bathrooms.

Every surface in the kitchen was made of cold and shiny stainless steel. The morning sun shined through the couple of windows in the room, reflecting off the metal counters, shelves and appliances. Mack thought it was empty, until he heard a weak voice from behind one of the counters.

With his shotgun raised again, Mack slowly checked behind the kitchen counter. He saw a Hispanic man sitting on the tiled floor, leaning up against the shelves below the prep surface above. His neck was contorted and bulging to the side. On his chest there was a name tag that read “Gustavo”.

“
Por favor, mátame,” pleaded Gustavo. He didn’t move. Only his eyes met Mack.

“What happened here?” asked Mack with his shotgun aimed directly at Gustavo.

“Mátame. Kill me,” still Gustavo didn’t move.

He must’ve broken his neck.

“Kill me before I turn into one of those monsters.”

“I’m not going to kill you Gustavo.” Mack lowered his shotgun. “At least not in here. Can you move?”

“No.”

Mack put his shotgun on one of the counters. “This is probably going to hurt buddy. But I don’t see any other way.” He spotted a wooden spoon. After retrieving it he put it in Gustavo’s mouth. “Bite down on it.”

Just as Mack predicted, moving Gustavo was very painful for the beleaguered cook. Screams of agony were muffled by the wooden spoon. Mack dragged the man by his shoulders through the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the dining room at Mama’s Place.

“The toilets work. Who’s that?” Amber was coming out of the bathrooms at the same time as Mack was putting Gustavo into a chair at one of the dining room tables.

“His name is Gustavo. I found him in the kitchen.”

“Is he…?”

“No he’s not dead. But I think he’s paralyzed.” Amber gave Mack a confused look when he explained. “He can’t move.”

“Oh. So…what are we going to do with him?”

“Leave him here I guess. We can’t drag him around with us.”

“Mátame,” pleaded Gustavo after he spit out the wooden spoon.

I’m not going to kill you. That’s one thing I don’t need on my conscience.

“What’s he saying?”

“He wants us to kill him.”

“We’re not going to, right?”

“Of course not. We’re not murderers, apocalypse or not.” Mack didn’t notice but Amber cringed at his answer.

“Okay. What are we going to do?”