The Rise of Macon: A Zombie Novel (Macon Saga Book 2) (8 page)

Chapter 8

"There’s a million of them!" whispered Billy, as
he sat in the passenger side of Old Ben's truck. "We knew it was bad, but
what can we do against that?'

"Not millions, just a lot," Abe responded, not
caring for the exaggeration. But Abe had to agree with the guy, there were a
lot of diseased out there. His thoughts weren't really on the number of diseased,
but the Tahoe that led them away. Abe watched as the Tahoe drove out of sight,
the disease following as they sat quietly in the truck. There was still a few
diseased outside of the truck, but most had followed James and Kyle.

Old Ben's truck, though a sleeper, still seemed cramped
with six men crammed into it. The group didn't speak as they watched the fading
horde move away, shocked at the size and enormity of the horde.

Abe shook himself, pushing away the fear for his brother,
and decided to get this thing going. "Patrick!  Where's the store?"

"Ah, one more street down and then take a left at the
intersection and it will be on the left."

"Okay, Ben, let's go," said Abe. He wasn't
comfortable calling the shots, but nobody else seemed to be doing anything.

"Yep," called out the old man. "Here we
go." And the truck came to life, everyone cringing at the sound of the big
diesel engine turning over. Old Ben put the truck in gear, grinding the clutch,
speaking to it soothingly and the truck sprung forward, as if waiting for the
call. They soon came upon the intersection and made a quick left, encountering
only a few diseased, those too lame or hurt to follow. Old Ben seemed to make a
point of running those over, his cackling laugh sounding out as the big tires
of the truck crushed them.

"There," said Patrick squatting in the console
between the seats. "That's the front of the store, but we need to go to
the back."

"I'll get you there, or my name's not Old Ben,"

"Your name's not Old Ben, it's just Ben," Patrick
pointed out with a grin.

"Shut your gob, you purple hair punk, I'll tell you
what my name is." responded the Old Ben with a snarl. Despite the banter
with Patrick, Old Ben quickly took the next turn around the small Costco, and
made his way around the shopping center that housed it. Along with Costco,
there was also a laundry mat, a Chinese restaurant and a large Hardware store.

The shiny black truck hit a bump, throwing everyone in the
air, and slowed to enter the docking area of the small shopping center. Two
trailers were backed up to the building, both alone, without a truck hooked to
them.

"There, hook to that one, "Abe said pointing at
the trailer.

"Good catch on that one," Patrick said with a
laugh, referring to the large Costco trailer.

Abe ignored Patrick, and kept his eyes peeled for diseased.

"I'll need eyes outside and someone to back me
in," stated Old Ben as he swung the truck in a wide half circle, putting
the back of his tractor directly in front of the trailer. Fifty feet separated
the two.

"We should all go, set up a security zone around you. And
we should work in twos," said Abe, a little self-conscience about saying
it. He sounded like Kyle.

"Good call," Billy said, "let's go everyone
and watch out for diseased. If you see any, let's try to put them down quietly,
but safely. Ben, as soon as you get hooked up, turn this thing off."

With that, Billy opened his door, looked outside, quickly
took a step down and exited the truck. Patrick and Abe followed, then Billy's
son, who'd been quiet up to this point, but quickly joined his father. The
young college kid, Jack, stayed in the truck with Old Ben in case he needed
help.

Patrick tapped Abe on the shoulder and pointed to the
loading dock. Abe nodded and the two rounded the side of the trailer, heading
for the concrete loading dock the trailer was backed up to. Before the two
could get to the stairs, a white caped woman ran off the side of the dock and
fell directly in front of Patrick, splatting on the black ash vault.

The white cape turned out to be a lab coat, or rather a
white coat from working with meat. She was a butcher. The coat, covered in
dried blood, hung from the large woman in tatters, only being held together by
small pieces. The woman, now pushing herself off the ground with only one
working arm, looked up at Patrick and Abe, growling and moaning as if in pain. Her
face, what was left of it, twisted and shifted as she focused on them.

Abe, taken aback by the sight as he always was, recovered
quicker than usual and pulled the sword Kyle had given him from his belt. It felt
heavy in his hands, unnatural even, but something about it made him feel
medieval, strong. He stepped forward, giving it no more thought and jammed the
sword into the top of the head. To his horror, the sword tip bounced off the
woman's forehead. Shocked, he froze, but was saved from the snarling woman by
Patrick, who stomped on the woman's head. The woman moaned and struggled as her
face was pushed to the ash fault.

Patrick took advantage of the woman's lack of mobility, pulled
his own sword and rammed it into the skull of the woman, ending her movements. Patrick
looked up from her, his face showing no sign of amusement. "You got to
mean it Abe."

Abe nodded his head in thanks, deciding that was the last
time anyone would save his life. He needed to get with the program or he would
die. The two looked around, checking their surroundings once again, then headed
for the stairs that led to the top of the loading dock. They gained the top of
the dock and ran to the back side of the trailer. Apparently, Billy and his son
had done a good job guiding Old Ben, because the trailer moved slightly,
followed by a loud thunk as it settled on the truck. Old Ben got out, connected
some wires and then turned the engine off.

"Cover my six," said Patrick, his voice low in
the dead silence. With the truck turned off the day became eerily quiet. Abe
nodded and turned around, scanning the surrounding dock. On the other side of
the loading dock, opposite the truck, was a wide metal door, which led into the
store. Abe kept his eyes on the door as he heard Patrick unlock the trailer
door, then begin to raise it slowly. Abe saw movement from his side and turned
to see Old Ben move up the stairs, his white hair blowing in the wind.

"Go ahead and open the trailer up," Ben said,
making a crazy hand gesture. "Might be it's loaded with food and we won't
have to go in there."

Patrick grabbed the door handle and slid it all the way up
to the top. Empty. He turned around and smiled at everyone. "Looks like
we're going shopping."

Billy, made his way up to the top of the dock with his son
and Jack, and headed for the metal door, which was partially open. "Let's
clear this place and get this done. I feel like we're on the clock here."

Everyone headed for the door, but waited when Billy put his
hand up and stopped. Everyone froze and that's when they heard it. The sound of
feet moving. It was more than one person and they were making a lot of noise.
Things were being kicked or dropped on the floor inside the store. Everyone
froze.

"Back away from the door, the sounds are coming this
way," Billy said. "Back up against the stairs, we don't want to jump
if there are too many of them."

The group backed up, their guns and swords drawn, as they
waited to see who or what would come out of the dark space in the building. They
didn't wait long. Five seconds later, a group of diseased stumbled out of the
door, those behind slowed at the chokepoint. The diseased stumbled and
floundered in ones and twos through the door. The first two diseased, both of
whom appeared to be shoppers, gave a high shriek, which sent the remaining
diseased into a frenzy. The two shoppers weren't covered in blood or gore, but
both had bite marks in various places.

The shoppers headed straight at the group of survivors who
were huddled together near the stairs. Patrick met the first one that came
within striking distance and placed his sword in the middle of the man's face. The
diseased shopper jerked and wavered for a second before falling back, yanking
the sword straight out of Patrick's hand.

The second diseased didn't get close, as Billy pulled his
side arm out and shot the thing in chest and neck, before hitting it again in
the head and dropping it. With the sound of the bullets, everyone else gave up
the attempt of quiet and pulled their weapons out. The deafening sound of
multiple shots rang out on the dock. Three more diseased went down after
receiving more than ten rounds a piece. Five were down, but the next wave
followed behind, dragging themselves closer, their claw like hands reaching out
in desperation.

Abe tried to focus his Beretta on the diseased, but his
hands shook. He took a knee, like Kyle taught him, but it still wasn't enough
and he found it hard to focus on the sights instead of the blood covered
nightmares trying eat him. He pulled the trigger again and again, each time
blinking his eyes at the sound of the small weapon. He stopped, looked again,
and saw that he’d finally hit the diseased crawling his way. His eyes quickly
spotted another, this one much quicker, making its way to him, its foggy white
eyes aimed in his direction. He raised the Beretta again and squeezed the
trigger. Nothing. He squeezed again, this time harder, more frantic to make the
gun fire. Nothing. He turned his eyes from the broken gun to the diseased that
was almost on him and knew it was all over.

A black form dashed by him, a big blur that smelled of
sweet tobacco. The blur, a man, kicked the diseased so hard it flew back at
least three feet into the legs of another man.

Abe looked up to see a lightly bearded giant of man who
smiled back. "Hey, mind if I borrow that?" He pointed at Kyle's
Beretta that lay forgotten in Abe's hand. Abe, frozen with terror at this
point, could only move his arm a little. The big man took this as a yes,
reached over and gently took the gun from him.

 "Thanks, I'll give it back in a minute." The man
pulled back the slide, turned the Beretta on its side and a bent piece of brass
fell out. He released the slide and advanced on a pair of diseased that were
regaining their feet. They groaned and shrieked as the man closed with them. The
man in black quickly walked up to them and dispatched them one after another. He
turned to look around, shook his head and walked back to Abe, who was still on
his knees.

 "Here you go, thanks. Those things can jam at the
worst times, can't they?" He reached a baseball mitt hand down and offered
it to Abe. "I think we're about done here."

Abe looked around.It was true, all the infected were dead. What
had replaced them were, what seemed to Abe, a bunch of black vested giants with
beards. Abe turned his head back to the big man beside him, still smiling at
him, and grabbed his hand. The big man quickly pulled him back to his feet and
Abe took a minute to make sure he could stand before he did anything else. The
giant bearded men were all standing among Abe’s friends, both groups looking at
each other, tension floating around them.

One of the black leathered men, this one regular size,
stepped forward and nodded his head at everyone. The man carried a knife, which
he wiped off on his jeans, then put back in his belt. He was older than the
others in his group, his beard and long hair completely grey. "Hey guys,
we were coming this way and heard the commotion, hope you don't mind that we
stepped in."

"Who are you?" Billy said, stepping toward the
older man, holstering his Beretta.

A loud, craggy voice spoke up, "Can't you see? He's an
Outlaw," said Old Ben, moving beside Billy.

Patrick moved up, shaking his head knowingly. He put one of
his hands up, as if to calm everyone down. "Old Ben, We don't call them
outlaws anymore, we call them criminals, but I'm sure they're just good
people."

"No, you purple headed canker blossom!  They're
Outlaws, bikers," said Old Ben, pointing at their vests.

All eyes turned to the old man with the grey beard. The
survivors from the fort looked from his face to his black vest, which sported a
skull on it. The skull seemed to be grinning, showing a lot of teeth, and in
his mouth he was biting something that extended to each side of his teeth.

"He's right, we're Outlaws, but not criminals. We own
a bike shop near Raleigh. We were just here for a holiday weekend at the beach,
when all this started. We've been lying low at the beach house for the last two
or three days. The town was flooded and we couldn't get through. Then, we saw
someone lead all the diseased away today and we decided to get some food. We're
near starving. That's why we're here."

"That was our man drawing them away, we needed some
food also," said Billy. "We don’t want any trouble. I'm sure there's
food enough for both groups in this store. Sound alright?"

The man smiled. "Sounds more than fair." He
turned to his bikers and they headed into the store. The group from Macon
watched them enter, walking slowly to make sure there weren't any diseased left
in the storage area.

"Let's get this done," Old Ben said. "Time's
a wasting."

Abe entered the building, the storage area dark, with only
emergency lighting still up, giving it an evil feel. His nerves were already
frazzled from the fight at the loading dock, but he knew the store was probably
being cleared by the bikers. He'd almost died ten minutes ago and was trying to
forget that, to push past it. But how could he?  How did people just forget
about their entire existence almost ending, then keep moving ahead, acting as
if it didn't matter?  He needed to learn and learn quick, but wondered if his
brain just wasn't wired that way.

He followed Patrick, unusually quiet, and Billy, who pushed
through a pair of swinging doors into the front part of the store. The front
was lighter, with natural light flooding through the large glass doors in the
front of the store. The place was quiet. Abe saw the bikers in front of him who
had split up, each taking an aisle and moving down it. He followed his own group,
not wanting to take the lead. Billy motioned them over.