The Demented Z (Book 1):The Demented (20 page)

Stepping over to one of
the bodies lying on the floor, Tom pulled a knife from the dead man’s belt
pouch. Working quickly, he cut the ropes that bound the woman. He then handed
her the pistol and said, “Shoot him if he moves.” Tom then raced over to Hank
and used the knife to cut him loose as well.

He was glad to see that
Hank had regained consciousness. “You look like crap.” Tom said.

Barely audible, Hank
mumbled, “Feel like a million bucks.”

Leaving him for now, Tom
sprinted back over to the woman and used the ropes to tie the two men to the
same table she had been tied to. He wasn’t
sure what they deserved, but now that his anger had subsided and the woman was
safe, he knew he could not just kill them in cold blood. Not wanting to give a
big speech, Tom said, “We’re leaving. I imagine you have a few hours, maybe
more before your dead friends turn and come over to feed on you. They may not,
and either way it’s more than you deserve.”

Fear in his eyes, the man turned
to look at the bodies lying around him and began to say, “Please don’t, you
can’t leave me here with them. I will…” but Tom had already tuned him out and
moved on.

Looking to the woman, “I
am going to find my friend that was with us, and then head
north to my family. You can come with us.”

She shook her head while
putting her clothes on. “I'm going south. I
have family there.”

Not sure how to put it,
Tom instead went with the straightforward approach and
said, “They're likely dead…or worse.”

“I could say the same
about your family.”

Tom simply nodded, unable
to argue.

Sprinting over to the
guns that now lay scattered at the base of the wall, Tom quickly grabbed a
couple AK47s and a few spare mags from a pile on one
of the tables. “I’m moving out. Good luck to you and your family.”

She nodded. “Thank
you…for everything.”

Not using up any more
time, Tom raced over to Hank and found him right where he left him. Holding
out one of the AK47s Tom said, “You going to make it?”

“Yeah…I’ll be alright.”
Reaching out he took the AK.

Pointing in the direction
of the front, Tom said, “You head out front and round up a vehicle, I'm going
for Rachael. Keys are in them.” Without waiting for a response, he headed
off in the direction of the offices.

Reaching the hall, he took
a left, continuing to move farther away from
the closet they had locked him in. After having been in the gym with plenty of
light from all the high windows, it now seemed incredibly dark in the long
hallway. Not seeing any movement in either direction, he was not too worried
about others being in the building, figuring they would have surely heard and
been drawn to all the gunfire.

Just a little farther
down the hall he saw what he was looking for. There was an intersecting hallway that appeared to lead to the
front parking lot and along the wall a large opening was cut
for the front reception
desk. Figuring any offices would lie somewhere behind
this, Tom ran and leapt through the opening,
sliding across the counter on his hip. “Rachael! You here? Rachael!”

An excited voice came
from somewhere down a narrow hall at the back. “I’m here, I’m here.”

The
first door he came to had a bronze colored name plate and tag above it
that read “Principal.” Opening the door he found a large desk sitting in front
of a window that faced the front parking lot. On the floor lay a mattress with
a heap of blankets scattered across the top. Behind the desk sat Rachael,
hands and feet bound to a large black leather chair.

Her eyes glistened, tears
running down her cheeks. “Thank God…thank you…Tom, I’m so glad you are okay.
He was…Lincoln was going to…” Rachael stammered out
in a rush.

“Stop. It’s alright now,
we’re okay.” Tom said while racing around the desk. Pulling
his knife out, he cut her free. She stood and wrapped her arms around him, sobbing. After a few moments he decided she would
never let go, so he peeled her off and said,
“Hank should be out front with a car by now…we gotta go.”

“They are headed for your
house.” Rachael said with a worried look on her
face.

His stomach knotted
up, chest aching with worry. “I know.”

Rushing out the front
doors, they saw Hank just pulling up to the curb,
driving an old rusted out orange truck. Looking out past the truck, Tom saw
that the thugs had fortified the already
existing fence with a bunch of junk and cars. Following Rachael onto the bench
seat, Tom said, “What, you couldn’t find any better
cars?”

“The Pumpkin…don’t knock
it.” Hank said.

Nearing the edge of the
parking lot they saw a huge steel gate finalizing the security perimeter, while
also blocking their way out. Pulling to a stop before
the gate, Tom hopped out to open it and noticed a couple undead standing
on the other side, staring in at him. Their bloody clothes were in tatters,
barely clinging to their emaciated bodies. They made no agitated movements or
noise, but instead just stood there reaching through the bars, grasping at
empty air. Tom stood there debating whether or not to use
his rifle, possibly drawing lots more, or use some other method to
dispatch them. Looking back, he saw the young woman climbing into a sporty
little hatchback, making his decision easier.

Taking a few steps toward
the gate, he raised his AK and fired off two quick shots, dropping both undead
with headshots. Running over to the gate he pulled back the metal slide and
swung the gate wide open. In the distance he could see movement between cars
on the side of the street. Gunfire for the demented was like blood dripping in
a shark tank.

Driving
through the opening they saw several demented and hordes of undead all
along the fortified fence – not just for show…it was a necessity.

Pulling through the open gate Hank veered away from the groups of infected. Looking in the rear view
mirror he saw the little hatchback speed through the opening and turn down the
road in the other direction. Continuing to watch, he saw several demented
trying to follow them, several chasing after
the hatchback, and a large group racing through the open gate toward the
school. Tom almost felt sorry for the dirtbags inside...almost.

Time had taken its toll
on Spokane. Every street they passed was filled with debris, wreckage, bodies,
and infected. Nearing the edge of the city, entire blocks were burned to the
ground, only blackened shells remmaining. Infected were everywhere, most of them
were undead. The few demented they saw grouping up and not
interested in chasing their vehicle.

“Looks like they are
learning. Most don’t chase after us.” Rachael said from the middle. “Even
the undead seem to have it a little more together…maybe.”

Tom could barely focus on
anything. Thoughts of his family, his home, and the thugs that were headed
their way swirled through his mind, consuming him. Up until now he was able to
mostly block it out, knowing he was too far away to do anything.

Fidgeting with his pants, Tom said, “Let’s just get there…this thing have more speed?”

They were already driving
exceedingly fast, but Hank hammered down on the gas pedal. The throaty engine
roared, floor panels vibrating with its effort. “That’s all she’s got.” Hank
said. Reaching out and pounding on the dash he added, “Pumpkin’s got it.”

Reaching the highway that
lead north out of Spokane, they found full speed was rarely an option due to the
volume of wrecks and abandoned cars. It was helpful that someone had cleared a
narrow twisting path through the wreckage. They likely had the thugs to thank
for that. Tom hoped they were clearing it on their trip, slowing them just
ahead. With each turn and a motionless road stretching out in front of them,
his hope diminished another notch.

“Turn right up here.”
Tom said.

Speeding right up to the
turn, Hank feathered the brakes, and with a squeal of tires, cranked the truck
through the turn. Finding the side road mostly clear Hank stomped on the gas,
engine roaring in response. The forest was getting thick, trees flying by in a
blur.

“Not much farther.” Tom said while leaning right up against
the windshield. “This’ll turn to gravel, then it’s about another mile.”

In the distance
Tom saw a helicopter flying north away from Spokane. Pointing, he said,
“Another one.”

They all watched as the
chopper circled around and began flying straight toward them, quickly growing
larger. Over the rumble of the engine they could hear the
whump-whump-whump
of the rotor blades as it swooped in at them, flying low and fast. Just before
reaching them it pulled into a hover some forty feet off
the deck. Hank let off the accelerator a bit, unsure what to do.

There was no time to come
to a stop, but they all stared up as they passed underneath. A white helmeted
pilot could be seen in the cockpit and behind him were two men tied off with
harnesses, peering out the side at them.
After passing underneath, the helicopter followed after them for a few minutes
and then veered off, continuing north.

None of them said
anything, unsure what it meant.

Hank eased off the
accelerator as they neared the change from pavement to gravel. The smooth road
noise was replaced by the sounds of spitting gravel.

Tom’s heart raced, the
fear of what they would find nearly making him want to stop. “Turn at the
black mailbox there.” Tom said, pointing.

Double checking that he
had a round chambered and the safety off, Tom picked up his AK47. “This might
get ugly…I don’t expect you guys to stick around.”

“Don’t be a dumbass.”
Hank said.

Pulling up the hill, Tom
could see his house and shop resting at the top. His stomach convulsed when he
saw several of the shuttered windows broken, wood slats hanging limply. In
addition to this, the large truck he knew to be Big Mike’s was backed up to the
shop. There was movement behind the truck. Kelly and Sam were nowhere in
sight.

Hearing their approach,
Mikey came walking out from around the truck, watching them with a confused
look on his face. He shouted something to those behind him. Another man came
around the front of the truck, carrying an AK47, held loosely at his side.
They stared at the easily recognizable truck, trying to
decide which of their pals had disobeyed Lincoln and left the school.

“This is when the Pumpkin
pays off.” Hank said.

Tom had thought he was
crazy, but now seeing his foresight, he put Hank in the genius realm. He was a
bit worried about Kelly and Sam being in the shop, but felt they would be tied
up in the cab if the thugs had found them, so he said, “Turn to a stop short of
them. I’m going guns blazing…shock and awe and all that.”

About thirty yards shy of
the shop, Hank cranked the wheel, skidding to a stop facing the house.

Tom was ready for it and
bailed out the side door. Rushing around the door he pulled up behind the
engine block and quickly put the armed man in
his iron sights. Rapidly squeezing the trigger he fired off several shots, the
first clipping the man in the shoulder and spinning him.
The second shot caught him in the side, and the final round slammed into his
neck, spilling out blood in a gush and dropping him to the ground.

Tom pivoted left and saw
Mikey racing back into the shop for cover. Firing off a volley of shots just
as he disappeared into the darkness, Tom was unsure if he had hit his target or
not.

There was loud shouting
from inside the shop.

To his left he saw
Rachael had climbed out and Hank was following her out the passenger
side with the other AK in his grasp. Rachael hunkered
down behind the rear wheel, while Hank circled
around behind her. Lying prone next to her, he sighted underneath the
bed of the Pumpkin.

Suddenly there was a
cascade of shots from out of the shop,
panging
loudly into the other
side of the truck and some zinging over his head. With each shot the muzzle
flash would give away the shooters location. Tom rapidly fired back.

Hank unleashed a volley
of rounds.

More shots from out of
the shop, one slamming into the windshield with a loud crack, sending shards of
glittering glass raining down on top of Tom.

Tom let loose another
salvo of shots, pulling the trigger rapidly until the weapon ran dry.
“Loading!” He shouted while hunching down behind the front
tire. He grabbed one of the mags he had stuffed
into his cargo pants, dropped the empty mag, and clicked the fresh one into the
slot. Yanking back the slide, he charged the AK with another round and got his
gun back in the fight.

“They’re moving!” He
heard Hank yell.

Looking back at the shop
he saw movement toward the rear of the thug’s truck and saw someone climbing
into the front. The engine roared to life as several weapons began firing
rapidly out of the bed of the truck.

Tom aimed at the driver’s
side of the cab and began rapidly squeezing the trigger, shattering out the
glass. Despite his effort the truck began
pulling away from the shop, flinging gravel into the darkness. He could just
see someone’s head poking above the steering wheel, ducking down,
while trying to see enough to steer past The Pumpkin.

As they accelerated past
, a couple men let loose a barrage
of gunfire from the bed of the truck.

Tom raced around the
front of The Pumpkin and dropped to a knee, firing rapidly at the escaping
truck. Several shots later his weapon ran dry. He could only listen as Hank
continued to fire.

As the truck sped away
, the hillside fell into
an eerie silence. Dust hung in the air. Other than the acrid smell of gunfire
there was no sign of anything having taken place.

“Do you have your spare
mag?” Tom shouted to Hank.

Hank came around the back
of the truck, holding out a magazine. Tom grabbed it, reloaded, and charged
his weapon. Turning, he raced toward the
house, fearing what he would find.

Looking at the house, Tom saw the
front door still stood. Blood stained the door
and several bodies lay
crumpled in a pile at its base. Quickly checking them he found that two
of them were the neighbors and the third was
someone he did not know. All were dead from shots to
the head. Dispatched by the Lincoln and his crew he guessed.

Loud howls could be heard
somewhere in the distance.

Ignoring them, he rushed
around the corner of the house to the nearest window. The remains of the
shutters hung loosely from their hinges and parts lay broken on the ground at
its base. Raising the rifle, he pointed the
barrel into the darkness and peered inside. He could see nothing.

Slinging the rifle, he
climbed through the opening into the living
room. The smell of death filled his nostrils. Scanning the room he saw debris
everywhere. The place had been torn apart. Books, shelves, glass, and nearly
everything else they owned w
ere scattered all about the room.

He heard Hank and Rachael
climbing through the window behind him. “Kelly! Sam!”
He shouted.

Silence.

Holding the AK up at the
ready, he slowly worked his way through the living room, keeping an eye out for
any movement.

He heard creaking from
upstairs, followed by shuffling feet.

Nearing the base of the
stairs he found a pile of bodies, none of them Kelly or Sam. The bodies had been obliterated by shotgun fire. Knowing
this was the weapon he had trained Kelly on for self-defense gave him hope.
“Kelly! I’m here! It’s Tom.”

Turning back to the
others he said, “Keep an eye out down here.” Hank and Rachael both nodded.

Stepping over the bodies,
Tom began climbing the stairs, one at a time while keeping his rifle trained on
the top of the stairs. He could hear noises from upstairs, but no voices.
Reaching the top of the stairs he saw blood staining the carpet and walls, no
movement. His heart pounded in his chest. “Kelly.” He whisper-shouted.

More soft noises from down
the hall.

Heal to toe, he worked his
way down the hall. Reaching the end, he could hear the noises coming from the
other side of his nearly closed bedroom door. The jam was splintered and
broken, appearing to have been kicked in. Taking a steadying breath, he used
his boot to ease the door open while keeping his rifle trained ahead of him.

Daylight filtered in
through the window, cascading across the bed. Turning to the left he saw
movement in the dark corner. It was low, down near the floor. Hesitating,
waiting for his eyes to adjust, he kept his rifle trained on the movement.
“Sam?” He whispered.

The
thing made a shuffling noise.

As his eyes adjusted he
could see this was not Sam, but instead a person, their legs a mangled mess.
Blood pooled underneath him as he tried to shuffle around. A hideous, scruffy
face stared back at him, mouth opening in a
snarl.

Tom squeezed the trigger,
putting the thing down for good.

Where were Kelly and
Sam?

He raced around the room
looking for any sign of them. Stepping over to the window he found it open.
Looking out, he saw a couple bodies down on the
lawn, neither of them Kelly or Sam. Lifting his gaze across the lawn, he
followed an imaginary path that lead to a short section of field and then the
darkness of the thick forest. He had to believe they got pinned down in the
bedroom and escaped out the window. There was a huge
relief believing they were still alive. He had spent many hours picturing the
horrors he would find on his return. While this was not them safe at home, it
was the next best thing.

Coming back down the
stairs, he found Rachael and Hank staring back at him, worry in their eyes.
Neither of them said a word, unsure what to say.

Tom shook his head.
“They’re not here. Looks like they got
trapped upstairs and made a break for it out the window. It’s a long drop, but
neither of them were at the base. They're still alive...I know it.”

Hank stepped over to him
and rested a hand on his shoulder. “We will find them.”

Rachael
stepped over and wrapped her arms around
the two of them. They stood
in the darkness embracing each other. They were happy to have made it home, still be together, and know that his family still lived. They all new their journey together was far from over.

THE END