The Orphans (Book 2): Surviving the Turned (28 page)

              Shaun stared around. “You know, this place seems to be empty and could be secured. It has already got security cameras. They have a kitchen and freezer in the cafeteria and water and probably a back up generator. There’s no way they would have this much stuff and not have a way to keep it going, right? What do you think, Clary?”

              “I think this place would be great. My only fear of it is the possible looters who will feel the same way, and the fact that we don’t know if any of the stuff your dad’s assistant conjured up is still in here. I have no interest in finding some of that on accident, either.”

              Shaun said, “Well, can we at least smash open the vending machines and take all the water and meal bars that are in there?”

              They left, finding all the vending machines that each floor offered and packed the items onto a cart from his dad’s office until they found a laundry bag large enough to stuff them into. By the time they were done, they could drink and eat meal bars for the better part of a month. Aslin came in, seeing this and said, “What are you doing? It looks a lot like we are staying here for a while. Did you make plans without me?”

              He grabbed Clary, pulled him into an office, and slammed the door, knowing that a little privacy when a disagreement is at hand isn’t always a bad thing. Clary shrugged. “You know what? These kids have connections. They know the town, they know the layout, and they probably would be one of the reasons that we stay alive. If you want us to go at it on our own, we can cut our ties right now. But you think about the fact that we packed for a day mission. We were to be in and out at this point. We have a truck that needs hot wired and nothing else to our names but a depleting amount of ammunition, and a sadly slowly diminishing amount of explosive devices.”

“You don’t think we could go to a military base for refuge?”

“You think anyone left is going to worry about letting any fellow soldiers in? I’m sure if we get within fifty feet of a base, there would be anything but bullets flying our way. You know they’ve gone to a ‘shoot first and ask second’ policy. But worse, what if they sent all the troops out to try and stop these things? There’s little chance that martial law isn’t completely in effect if there is anyone left in town to enforce it with.”

“So what? We stay here and babysit some kids until we get word that it’s safe to try and move through the United States somewhere safe?”

“I could think of some much worse things that are possible, but you can do what you want. I think we got a chance in this town. Hell, I’m kind of loving the idea of a houseboat right now. I can only pray God didn’t make these things smart enough to swim.”

“God doesn’t have anything to do with today.”

Clary nodded, “Yeah, if I was a religious man, I’d say this is nothing but the devil’s hand.”

“So what? We stay? We go? You really think we can do something with these kids?”

Clary shrugged, twisting the handle to go back out. “We stay, we hope we don’t die, and we go back to wherever that hardware store is so I can get some things. I have an idea if we need something.”

“What do you mean?”

“The kids said they react to the noise. If there’s anything around, I say we make homemade pipe bombs. We can toss them down the street and try and keep those things away.”

Chapter 12: Andy’s

Clary walked out into the hallway. The teens were resting against the wall in one manner or another. “You now, I hope you guys get some endurance, eventually. I think you need a nap more than needing to go to a gun store.”

They stretched, getting back up to leave. Ellie said, “What do you mean ‘a nap’?” She reached into the bag and pulled out a handful of five-hour energy shots, untwisting one and slamming it back like a pro. The others did the same and they went back out to the truck, loading up all the junk food that they’d taken from the vending machines, as well as some chemical ingredients that Clary insisted he could not live without. Aslin disappeared in the truck cab and it came to life in no time. Clary climbed into the back, putting his machine gun up on top of the cab’s top, extending the bipods mounted underneath the barrel and was ready for war. Shaun and Ellie climbed in too, settling against the bed of the truck, and the other four climbed up into the cab. Greg sat next to Aslin. “You sure you don’t want to let one of us drive so that you can get set up to shoot if we run into anything?”

“No, if we see anything, we are going to hang back. There’s only two of us left and I’d prefer to keep it that way, kid.

“Oh, I think I stopped being a kid the first time I blew a cheerleader’s face off with a twelve-gauge shotgun.”

“Was that day one?”

Greg nodded, trying to not remember everything about the day all at once.

“So, not one of you has any family left?”

Greg shook his head no. “Everyone but Ellie, Shaun, and me lost their parents at the welcome home rally. It was a feeding frenzy, and the single most disturbing thing that I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t help but watch in awe when the first bus door was opened to save the girls inside. The firefighter on the outside was pulled in, and minutes later, all hell erupted from the bus.”

Kristy spoke up in the backseat. “You know, even though we are young, I promise we will do everything we can to help. We want to learn; we want to make sure that we are safe and that you two are also. We know you could go off on your own and probably make a go of it, but I think that a small group is going to pay off big time. The more you teach us, the less you two will have to do, right?”             

              Aslin looked in his rearview, seeing a seriousness he’d usually only seen on a soldier's face. “You got it, kid… I mean, Kristy. We will teach you how to shoot, how to not be seen, and how to hopefully blow some serious shit up.”

              Greg, with nothing but seriousness said, “I would absolutely love to learn how to blow shit up.”

              Aslin said, “You know, I can’t tell you what a shock that is to hear coming from your mouth.”

              Patrick asked, “So if you teach us how to shoot, does that mean I get to upgrade from something that only holds four or five rounds in it for something that I holds a lot more rounds?”

              Aslin stared at Patrick for a second, trying not to judge a book by its cover. He said, “How old are you, Patrick?”

              “Fifteen. Why? What does that have to do with anything?”

              “Are you a smart fifteen year old?”

              Patrick answered cautiously, “Yeah, maybe… why?”             

              Aslin held up one of his brass rounds. “You see this? I can teach you to hit something with it from a mile away if you are good at math and thinking on your feet. You seem like someone who might want to keep as much distance from zombies and yourself as possible.”

              “Yeah, I’m great with math. And, yes, I’m all about not being within a hundred yards of one of those things. You can teach me to shoot like you, then?”

              Aslin shook his head no, holding back a smile. “You won’t ever shoot as good as me, kid. But then again no one shoots as good as me, but you’ll be the shit with a high-powered rifle, son.”

Patrick sat back, feeling a little better about his future, staring at the heavy rifle that was resting next to Greg’s head.

Greg gave Patrick a thumbs up. “Man, things are looking up for us.”

Aslin made a turn onto the street that Andy’s Surplus Goods was on. He slammed on the brakes and a thud from the back came, along with a slew of curse words from Clary. “Learn to drive, asshole. What the hell’s the problem?”

Aslin leaned his head out the window. “Look for yourself. My driving is impeccable. You’re the one on the outside. Do you want me to try and drive through that?”

The lights of Andy’s shop were off and Clary gazed at the street. There were hundreds of Turned in the street, not moving. They were just standing still, sniffing, and looking absolutely braindead. Shaun saw this and said, “Whatever we do, don’t make any noise. We don’t need those things rushing up here before we’re ready.”
 

Clary looked around; his eyes stopped on a diner with an old-fashioned sign, declaring it to be
Dee’s Place
. “Shaun, how big is that diner down there? You been there before?”

“Of course. I probably would have starved without that place. It’s pretty big. You want a hamburger or something?”

Clary was shaking his head, looking at the brick structure, and thinking about it intensely. “No... No, I want to blow the hell out of it.”

Shaun said, “You realize what that will do, right? Every—”

“Yeah, Shaun, exactly. Every single one of those things will come this way and let us get into the old guy’s place, which is exactly what we want to have happen, isn’t it?”

Shaun thought about it, agreeing but still unsure how the outcome was going to come to fruition. “You think blowing up the building is going to get their attention? I mean, hell, I blew up a little van. I didn’t do any real estate demolition.”

Clary had a wide grin spreading across his face. “We aren’t going to draw their attention by blowing up the building. We are going to get all of those damn things inside of it and drop the roof on their fucking heads.”

Shaun stared at the building for a second and then shared in the smile, liking the idea of taking out as many of those things as possible. Clary said, “Those things are hunters; they want to eat and kill and they want nothing else. We want to live; therefore, we are enemies and will kill every last goddamned one of them. And if they come up with a cure, they can take care of who is still left.”

Clary bent down, knocking on the back window of the truck. Tina slid it open. “You got an idea to get rid of those things down there? We aren’t ever going to make it inside the shop if they are around.”

“Aslin, back up to that diner. It’s too structurally sound right now.”

“You going to blow it up, aren’t you? God, I love it when you blow shit up.”

Greg about jumped out of the truck. “I’m going with Clary then. I want to learn how to blow up shit; please let me come with you.”

Clary said, “Get your gun. We don’t know if the place is empty or not. Aslin, come back and get us in ten minutes.”

Greg smiled. “You didn’t have to tell me to grab the gun. I’m not leaving this thing behind for the rest of my damn life.”

He jumped out, getting into the back of the truck. They reversed quickly, stopping in front of Dee’s Place. The two got out and checked the door; it was locked. Clary punched a hole through the front glass door and reached his hand in cutting it on the glass. Greg watched the fresh blood on Clary’s hand and grabbed a handkerchief handing it to Clary who tried to refuse it. Greg shook his head no, insisting that he take it. “You don’t get it. They can smell blood like nothing else. We might need to have this in a few minutes.”

Clary let Greg walk in; the space was dark. Greg felt around the entrance, looking for a switch. The light coming in from the outside was dim because of the writing on the windows for the team’s return. Greg said, “I can’t see shit. Why don’t you have a flashlight on that thing?”

“Just find the damn switch.”

There was a growling that neither of them liked hearing. Greg said, “What the hell is that?

Clary reached into his pants, finding a small flashlight, and he shined it around the room. He didn’t see anything on the first pass with it. He went back a second time, and his heart skipped a beat. Standing in the middle of the room were three Turned, swaying back and forth. They were standing in small puddles of what was most likely their own blood. Greg walked back slowly toward Clary who had the flashlight trained on the trio. He read the back of the jersey. Clary said, “You know a kid named Giles Batchelor?”

Greg said, “Yeah, I know all of them. He’s a foreign exchange student from the UK. That’s Lisa Williams; she’s a cheerleader. And the other is DeBryan, he’s a football star.”

“You got any issues taking them out?”

“No, not if they are going to try and eat me, I sure as hell don’t.”

Greg raised the rifle, pointing at the three. Clary whispered, “You can’t shoot them.”

“Uh, yeah I can. Are you crazy?”

“You forgot about the mob down the street. You fire that gun before Aslin comes back for us, and I don’t care what we do, we aren’t going to be able to hold those things off.”

Clary set down his rifle and pack slowly, looking at the wall. He walked over, punching the light switch. When he looked back, the three who hadn’t given him any of their attention were now staring straight at them. Giles was sniffing wildly. Clary looked down at his hand, realizing what it was that was enticing them. The football player twisted his head sideways and leapt into the air. Clary pulled his folding shovel from the bag, pushing Greg back up against the door and out of the way.

Clary flipped the shovelhead down as the Turned teen came within inches of him. He took a knee and extended the shovel up as hard and with every ounce of power that he had in him. He slammed the shovel into his neck, slicing directly through it and sending a slew of blood in every direction. Clary turned his head, getting painted with the blood. The Turned landed on its feet, hands ready to attack before it collapsed onto the ground. Its head rolled under the table, cut clean off from its neck.

Greg watched in awe as the other two Turned came running for Clary. He didn’t have time to duck underneath the two teenagers left and ran towards the football player
,
picking him up with an iron grip and running back toward the counter, slamming his skull against the steel top repeatedly until his head cracked open and his brains spilled out.

The girl who used to be Lisa came up growling, pouncing on Clary’s back. He could feel the saliva from her mouth running down his back. He screamed, gripping her hands but only able to catch her thumbs. He pulled her over his head hard and fast, twisting the digits in his hand and snapping them both clean off. She screamed in rage, flipping back up, only to meet a boot in the face that sent her sliding backward. She got up one last time, running and jumping at Clary, who caught her midair and twisted her around, slamming her onto the ground as he unsheathed his machete. He jammed it through her chin, not stopping it until the sharp blade stuck out of the top of her skull.

Greg got up off the ground, picking up Clary’s rifle and pack and carrying it to him. Clary was breathing heavy and pulling a smoke from his pocket. He looked at the three on the ground, nodding. Greg said, “Holy shit. You need to quit smoking those things.”

Clary nodded. “I think these are the least of my concerns.”

He lit one and sat at the table for a minute, staring at the teenagers on the floor while he tried to catch his breath. “God, I hate those things. We need a silencer. We aren’t going to be able to get lucky like that every time. We need something better.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, but if there’d have been more of them, I’m pretty sure that I would have needed the gun.”

The two of them walked into the kitchen, staring at a ancient stove. “What are you going to do?”

Clary pointed at the back of it and said, “It’s gas. I was praying that it was going to be gas. We are going to fill this room up and let those things in and light it on fire. Even if it doesn’t kill them, it is sure as hell going to slow those things down. I’m going to drop the roof on their heads.”

Greg and Clary lifted the ancient oven, sliding it far enough away from the wall to loosen the gas valve. “What do we do now?”

“We jump in the truck and give it twenty minutes to fill up. After that, we need to get those things to come into the building.”

“How do we go about that then?”

              “I am going to take the blood you think they want so much and hang it like a flag on the antenna of the truck. Once they start chasing, I jump out on foot and run into the building. We have the truck waiting in the back and then I run through the back and into the alleyway where everyone’s waiting for me. We can trip a grenade through the back once we leave and run like hell.”

              The two walked out after making sure the door was rigged so that when it opened, a grenade pin would come out ready to blow. Clary was using his mic to tell Aslin that he needed to come back and pick them up when a Turned came, walking slowly. Greg pointed. “Shit. Great, there’s another one.”

              Clary raised his pistol, taking sights on it. Greg jumped on his arm saying, “Remember the mob down the street.”