The Hunt Chronicles (Book 2): Revelation (6 page)

We finished off what little food we had over the next hour.  Boomer whined from hunger as the small bowl I filled with dog food was chomped away in seconds. 

“We should have filled our water bottles while it was raining,” Karina commented.

“Should have?  Nice for you to throw in that idea now,” I grumbled. 

I walked over to the linen closet and grabbed a stack of towels.  After, I went to the bedrooms and checked the dressers for socks.  Ours were soaked from walking for hours in the rain.  We would be lucky if we didn’t already have Trench Foot.

“Go in the bathroom and dry off the best you can.  And change your socks.”  After giving her a towel and a pair of fresh socks I looked outside and saw rays of sunshine peeking through the clouds.  “We might be able to leave if the sun comes all the way out.”

“Where are we going, anyways?” she called through the bathroom door.

“I think to where Fish and I were staying before we joined up with you guys,” I replied as I dried Boomer off.  He loved it, squirming around and burrowing his face into the towel.  It was like one massive petting session for the canine.

“How far is it?”

“Um, not sure.  A few more miles I think.”  I started drying myself off after relieving the weight of my gear onto a nearby couch.

“Why there?”

“I think we left one of our radios there.  Plus, I know there is a vehicle we can take.  If we can get ahold of everyone else, maybe they can help get us out of the city.  Plus, there is always the chance Fish and the others went back there to get all the supplies we left.”

“Why did you guys leave supplies there?” she asked.  I was starting to get annoyed with all the questions.

“Because we were leaving your compound anyways.  We thought it would be a wasted trip to bring it all there just to load it all up again.”  I was wringing my shirt and pants out as she exited the bathroom.

“Gross,” she said, looking away from me.  I still had my boxers on, but then again, she was only fourteen.

I was about to make a joke when I noticed her water bottle was full again.

“Where did you get the water?” I asked as I put my pants back on.

“The tank on the back of the toilet,” she responded matter-of-factly.

“Don’t drink it.  Here,” I quickly grabbed all of our empty water bottles and my canteen.  “Fill up the rest.  If there isn’t enough, try the master bathroom.”

She nodded and went back into the bathroom with all the containers.

Leave it to Karina to find water.  I knew it could have been safe, but I had to be careful of bacteria.  I searched through my bugout bag.  When Dave put together his gear, he was pretty thorough.  I scrounged around until I found a small, white, plastic container.  I remember he talked about it as he was doing inventory on the bag.  Inside the little box was a package of pills labeled “Water Purification Tablets” and a small bottle with a dropper screwed on top for the liquid equivalent.

I read the directions and decided I would just add a drop into each bottle rather than overdo it with a tablet.  They were designed for a gallon per pill.  After Karina returned, we purified the water according to the directions on the small bottle, shaking each one for a time and then letting them sit for thirty minutes.

The sun still hadn’t come out.  It was only teasing us with an occasional ray shining through the overcast sky.  We could see a few zombies wandering around the main road just off of the cul-de-sac.  I told her to keep quiet.  We moved to the kitchen so we stayed out of view.

I was flipping through the survival guide I had put into my bugout bag when Boomer lifted his head and ears.  He had been sleeping soundly, but something had startled the pooch. 

“What is it?” I whispered to him, drawing Karina’s attention who had been napping right next to Boomer.

He jumped up on all fours and then went to the edge of the kitchen.

Boomer peered back at me and tilted his head.  I wasn’t sure what he was trying to tell me.  This wasn’t the signs he gave off for zombies or scabs.  This was different.  I was reminded of when he had sensed Judy back in our previous house.

“Stay here,” I told Karina as I rounded the corner into the living room.  Boomer joined me, prowling close to my leg.  My Glock was raised in front of me, ready to be used if the need arose.

I couldn’t see anything outside as I snuck up to the edge of the window.  Boomer moved just under the window sill.  His tail was wagging, slowly going back and forth, and he was making a small whimpering sound.  He kept looking out, then back at me, as if he was asking to go outside.

“What do you see, boy?” I whispered to him.

I peeked around the window.

Walking cautiously down the road was a man.  He was short and stocky and walked carefully, looking around in all directions.  A motorcycle helmet concealed his head and he was covered from head to toe in homemade armor from shin guards on his forearms to pants made of thin, white sheet metal which wrapped around his thighs and calves.  I cracked a grin, the outfit reminding me of a Storm Trooper.

Slung over his shoulders were a backpack and a shotgun, but it was what he wielded in his hands that really caught my attention.

It was a four foot long heavy metal blade.  About five inches in width, one edge was thick while the other was sharpened.  The black, sword-like weapon had a flat top instead of point, which I thought was awkward until I realized what it had been originally.  It was a large lawnmower blade made into some sort of barbaric cleaver.  It was a pretty good idea in hindsight.  The weight of it could probably cave a zombie’s skull in one swipe.

He had turned down into the circle of houses where we were hiding.  The figure walked over to the zombie I had put down and looked at it for a few seconds, and then turned his helmet, observing the area.  I jumped back, hoping he didn’t see me.

After waiting a few seconds, I looked back outside and saw the man observing the house across from us in the circle.  Suddenly, he lifted his cleaver and smashed the zombie’s head, hacking it into two pieces.

“Who is it?” Karina whispered behind me.

“I thought I told you to stay put,” I said irritably.

She ignored me and moved to peer out the window.  I grabbed her and pushed her against the wall behind me.

“Is it a dead-head?  A scab?” she said after a moment.

“No,” I said as I looked back out the window.  “It’s another survivor.” 

The man moved warily towards the house that was across from us.  Slowly and deliberately, he examined each window in the front.  They were covered with metal hurricane shutters, and I cursed myself for not noticing it sooner.  We would have been much safer in that house.

“That’s where he’s staying,” Karina said as she poked her head around me.

“I said stay back,” I hissed, but she wiggled out of my hand.

“He could help us,” she stated.

“Or, he could kill us,” I argued as we watched him enter the house.

“Why would he do that?  We don’t have anything.  Besides, you’re better armed.”

She was right, of course.  We were out of food and it’s not like water was hard to come by with the weather we were having.  That didn’t mean this guy wasn’t a sadistic killer.  Or he could have been like Chad, who was quick to jump the gun.

I glanced back outside and saw the man enter the front door and then lightly shut it. 

I shook my head.  “Either way, we should get moving.  We don’t know anything about that guy and we might not like what we find out.  The sun looks like it is starting to come out and I’d like to make it to our old place before nightfall.” 

I turned around and started strapping on my gear.  Karina stayed at the window, staring at the Storm Trooper’s hideout.  I had been a little messy while going through the bugout bag, and it took a few minutes to load everything back up.

“Christian,” Karina said in a shaky voice.

“What,” I asked irritably.

“There’s someone else out there,” she said nervously.

I froze as I heard a familiar rumble coming from Boomer’s chest.

Chapter 5

Mexican Storm Trooper

April 23
rd
, Evening

I ran back to the edge of the window.

“What is it?” I asked, knowing full well what Boomer’s signal meant.  I put my hand on the canine’s neck in an attempt to calm him down.  I didn’t want him to bark and alert the new arrival of our presence.

“On the side of the home next door to that guy’s house,” Karina whispered as she moved from the view of the window.

I pushed Boomer back next to her, and slowly peeked around the edge of the window.  My heart started racing before I even confirmed what I knew the canine had alerted me to.

It was a scab.

He was about six feet tall with a beard that had to be two or three weeks old.  Chunks of hair were missing from his face and head where he had self-inflicted wounds, both old and new.  The hair on the head was especially disturbing.  I could tell he had ripped it out himself, pulling chunks of his scalp along with it.

His skin was an ashy grey, with an ominous, purplish hue.  Dried, brown blood was splattered across his bare chest and arms.  His pants were shredded to almost nothing.  In his hand he carried a long, black metal rod.  Whatever it use to be, it was now wielded as a weapon.

He didn’t make a sound as he snuck over to the Storm Trooper’s house.  I saw him lift his nose and sniff as he approached the first window.  He did the same at the front door and then moved silently to the side of the house where a window led to one of the bedrooms.

He sniffed around the edges of the hurricane shutter.  Something was different about the way he investigated that window.  He would sniff, step back in confusion, and then sniff again.  He then caressed the metal, and although I couldn’t hear him, I was sure he was making grunting sounds.  Each time his chest heaved, Boomer perked up a little more.

I briefly thought about taking a shot at the scab with my Glock, but then dismissed the idea.  He was at least a hundred feet away, if not more.  Even without the oil filter hampering my aim, it would have been a difficult shot.  The AR-15 wasn’t an option either.  Any zombie within range could hear the discharge and I had already made that mistake once that day.

Oddly, the scab didn’t try to get into the house.  He prowled to the backyard and, after a brief survey, he moved again to the front of the house.  With stealth, the scab closely examined the shutters on the windows and the front door. 

Then, as if he were afraid of attracting attention, he scurried away through the maze of houses and was soon out of sight.

I sighed in relief when the scab was out of view.

“Why did it leave?” Karina asked, startling me.  I hadn’t noticed she had slipped from her hiding spot and was standing next to me.

“I told you to stay out of sight!” I snapped.

“I wanted to see.  Why did it leave?”  Karina didn’t see that her curiosity was putting us in danger.

“I don’t know.  If last night told us anything, they sometimes hunt in packs.  Maybe it went to get friends.”  I turned around and quickly started loading the rest of my gear.

“We have to warn him,” she said, turning towards me.

“You’re crazy.  We might get trapped over there if it returns.  Which, I’m pretty damn sure that scab will, and probably with a couple of friends.”

“Which means we need to hurry if we’re going to help that guy,” Karina persisted.

“I want to help,” I said as I hooked the AR-15 to my sling.  “But if we knock on that door, he could shoot us before we get to say a word.”

“There aren’t many of us left,” she said slowly.  He eyes welled up with tears.  “We… we have to help each other.”

She’s right
, a voice whispered in my head.

History showed how evil man could be.  And though I knew there had to be some real rotten characters out there, something told me that the threat of not only zombies, but scabs, would more likely bring most people together.  There weren’t that many living people left, and every one of them counted. 

The good and selfish parts of me were wrestling each other.  Warn the Storm Trooper man about the scab or run and save our own asses.

The memory of the day Fish and I rescued DJ and the others behind the Walmart crept up in my thoughts.  Those people shot and killed Jared and were going to kill DJ and the rest of our friends if Fish and I hadn’t intervened.  Our intervention led to me shooting and killing someone.

Goosebumps rose on my neck as I remembered that day.  The man with the motorcycle jacket was screaming in agony from the gunshot wound I had inflicted. 

“Well?” Karina persisted.

Karina was staring at me, holding the MP5 submachine gun at the ready.  That weapon was my reward for murder.  But was it murder?  That was a wrestling match I had been having with myself since that fateful day.

No
, I thought, murder or not, what I did that day was right.  DJ and the rest are alive because of me and Fish.

I let out a heavy breath, completing my thoughts.  “Okay.”

“Okay?” Karina asked.

“Okay, we’ll warn him.  But if I get a bad feeling, we are out of there.  Do you understand me?”  She smiled and nodded, wiping her eyes.

“And,” I continued, “you do everything I say this time.  Okay?  And enough with the crocodile tears.”

“Gotcha!” she said as she grabbed the MP5 and slung it over her shoulder.

The three of us exited the front door and carefully made our way across the cul-de-sac.  I held my Glock low as I moved, but was poised to bring it up if needed.

“You know, Fish wouldn’t approve of this,” I commented as we stepped onto the Storm Trooper’s lawn.

“I don’t know Fish that well, but he seems pretty mean,” Karina scowled.

“Yeah, he can be a dick,” I smiled.  At least someone else saw how much of an asshole he could be.

“I heard him tell Campbell to pull his head out of his ass once.  That’s just—”

“Quiet!” I hissed, cutting her off.  We were only a few feet from the front door.

Boomer took the lead and started sniffing around the entrance.  A low grumble came from the canine’s gut as the fur on his back rose from his shoulders to his lower spine.  That was a sure sign of a scab in the area.

“He probably smells the scab that was just here,” I concluded aloud.

Karina didn’t respond.  I glanced back at her and saw she was scanning the area behind us with the MP5.  There were two zombies off in the far distance, but they seemed too groggy and weighed down by the sporadic rays of sunlight to notice us.  I silently commended her on how she was staying alert.

What now?
I thought. 

I wasn’t sure if I should knock or just try the doorknob.  I decided a slight rap of my knuckles on the door was the friendliest approach since zombies and scabs didn’t knock.

Tap-tap.

Nothing.  I did it again.

Tap-tap.

I thought I heard something from inside, and Boomer confirmed it by backing up a step.  He glanced up at me with that curious look he gave when he didn’t want to do something.  Nothing else came from the house after, though.

“I doubt—” I started to say as I tried the doorknob, but stopped midsentence as the knob turned.  That part of the door wasn’t locked.  I was a little surprised but noticed there was still a deadbolt.

I gave a little push and the door didn’t budge.

“Of course,” I murmured.  “Hey, you in there!” I whispered as loud as I thought was appropriate.  Still nothing.

“He’s probably scared,” Karina said as she approached the door.

“Do you blame him?” I said a little louder.  I had an idea.  If he heard us talking, maybe that would convince him to trust us.

“How are we going to warn him then?” she asked.

“I don’t know.  At least we can say we tried,” I said a little too dramatically.  Karina seemed to be aware of what I was doing, and she didn’t approve.  She gave a crossed look passing me a message that I was overdoing it.

“Look, we
did
try.  He’s not coming out.” I dropped to a whisper.  “We did try.  We have to go, Karina.”

“You didn’t try your crowbar,” she said as she tapped the small, flat tool that was strapped to my pack.

“That will make noise.  Besides, he may think we’re trying to rob him if we break open the door.”

“You’re right,” she said as she walked away from me towards the garage door.

“Where are you going?”  I whispered and then followed.

“Think about it.  There’s no power.  If he has used the garage, he would have to disconnect the door from the motor.  And who would think to lock the garage?”

She had a point.  Fish and I never locked the garage at Judy’s house.  Maybe we were just the stupid ones, though.

“Garage doors are noisy,” I argued.

“Not if you’re careful.  Besides, you don’t need to open it all the way.”

“Why are you so hell bent on getting me killed?” I argued, but found myself getting down on a knee in front of the door anyway.  “If it’s locked, we’re leaving, okay?”

“Okay,” she said a little too confidently.

It was then that I noticed the garage door had a handle in the middle of the second panel.  That handle wasn’t turned the way it should have been for it to be locked.  The devious teenager must have noticed that when we were approaching the house and just conned me into losing to an ultimatum.

The garage door creaked louder than I would have liked as I raised it three feet.  I switched on my various flashlights as Boomer sniffed the opening.  He was still wary, but didn’t alert to anything in the garage.

“This is a bad idea, you know,” I whispered as I ducked under and entered the garage. 

Boomer darted in before I was able to stand, and he quickly searched the area.  There was a red sedan parked in the middle of the garage.  I noticed through the driver’s side window that the keys were on the center console.

Boomer ran up next to me just as Karina entered the garage.  “No, a bad idea is leaving the garage door open,” she said, wiping off her hands.

I glared at her, blinding her temporarily with the light on my hat.  She turned her head, shielding her eyes with her hand.

“I’m serious,” she said.

“Then close it.”  I turned from her and approached the door leading into the house. 

Boomer took the lead, sniffing anxiously at the entry.  Behind me, I heard Karina grunt and curse as she pushed the heavy door down.  The wheels squealed louder than when I opened it, and the whole door rattled as it slammed on the concrete.

“That’s nice,” I sighed.  “If he didn’t know we were in before, he knows now.  Along with every zombie in the neighborhood.”

“You told me to shut it,” Karina reminded as she walked passed me to the door leading into the house.

I shook my head.  Arguing with her was a waste of time.  I pushed her aside and reached for the doorknob.  It turned.

“Okay, stay back.”  I looked down at Boomer.  “You ready, Boom?”

He was anxious.  His whole body was rigid as his tail slowly swayed back and forth.  He smelled something, and I knew opening the door was dangerous.

I gave one last careful look to Karina.  She seemed eager for me to go in, the little twerp.

I pushed the door and quickly stepped back behind the cover of the wall.  Nothing.  I sort of expected a blast of the Storm Trooper’s shotgun, but it never came.  I did hear something bump around, but it was deeper into the house.

Boomer jumped in front of me and took the lead as I stepped into the house.  I prowled past a small laundry room which led into a large area that had an open kitchen and living room.

The smell was musty and vile.  Trash was strewn around like the house had been ransacked by looters.  With the hurricane shutters covering the windows, the only point of illumination was a skylight in the middle of the kitchen.  It didn’t light up the whole area, but I wasn’t worried about missing something in plain view.

Karina followed close behind me as Boomer scouted ahead. 

The canine sniffed some blankets that were crumpled on the floor and then inspected a few open food cans.  He was still alert when he walked to the hallway on the north side of the house.  The layout indicated that was where the guest bathroom and spare bedrooms would be, including the one the scab had been studying from the outside.

Boomer didn’t hesitate and stalked right to the room that the scab had been interested in.  He whipped his head back toward me.  I could tell he was anticipating a fight.  Something bad was behind that door.  I didn’t know where the Storm Trooper was, though.  I had never seen Boomer get that skittish over a living person.  Something else was giving him a bad vibe.