Zombie Dawn Exodus (14 page)

They were approaching the area of the supermarket,
Road Hog in the centre with a truck in front and behind. From the
raised position of the RV, Bruce and Dylan could already see a
large pile up of cars up ahead at the junction for the supermarket.
They wouldn’t be able to get the vehicles within five hundred yards
of the building with the huge line of cars between the crash and
supermarket. Bruce picked up the radio set.

“That looks like a cluster fuck, let’s head on to
the next target, at least its quiet around here,” said Bruce.

They drove on down the wide open road, heading ever
closer to the city and reaching the suburbs where they would hope
to find a fair quantity of food and drink. The streets were still
lined with cars parked up as they always had been, but litter and
debris were strewn everywhere. The occasional cat ran across the
road, foraging for any food it could find.

The streets were empty of zombies, a surprising
sight. Bruce, just like the others, wondered where the hordes of
creatures had gone. This was the largest centre of population they
had ever ventured near since the beginning of the zombie
outbreak.

“Where do you think the zombies have gone?” asked
Connor.

“I have no idea, but I doubt they’ve gone far,” said
Bruce.

“Maybe they’re all home watching TV,” said
Dylan.

Bruce chuckled, but it was also a sad reminder of
the fact that they could never return to their homes, never relax
in the knowledge that civilised society allowed them to live
without fear of death every minute of every day.

They could finally see the food store up ahead.

“Connor, stop thirty feet short of the place,” said
Bruce.

The vehicles slowed to a stop just shy of the
building. Bruce and Dylan jumped out of the vehicle with sledge
hammers in hand. They walked up to it, constantly looking around
for danger. There was nothing and nobody of note in sight. They
reached the doors, still sealed, that was a good thing. There was
nothing more disappointing in this world than to travel all the way
to a food store and find it had already been emptied of everything
useful. The two men brought up their hammers and smashed the door
through, before walking back to the Hog.

“Take us up alongside,” said Bruce.

This was their standard operation, never risk
transferring supplies from shop to vehicle. Always close the
distance, sealing off the area. Connor manoeuvred the vehicle just
inches alongside the shop until Bruce told him to stop. They pushed
the door out, it swung in through the demolished doors. Bruce
looked cautiously into the shop, it being fairly dim due to the
lack of lighting.

“Right, this looks good so far, grab your bags,
we’re going shopping,” said Bruce.

The four men aboard cheered, Connor staying at the
radio to maintain communication with the others. The foragers
always worked as pairs, purely for security. Bruce and Dylan headed
down the far left aisle, Drake and Gordon down the far right. It
quickly became clear that the shop was much larger inside than they
had realised.

“Bruce, this place could keep us going for months,
but we’ll need hours to clear it,” said Dylan.

“We may not have that long,” said Bruce.

“Then get more people in here,” said Dylan.

“You know what a risk that is,” said Bruce.

“Yeah, and how much risk it would save us not having
to do this for a while?” asked Dylan.

Bruce thought about the idea, it broke the routine,
but then they rarely seemed to keep to the systems they had set up
anymore. Still, the idea of being overrun after such a hard year of
survival was a horrible one.

“Head back to the Hog, tell Connor to get in here
and help us,” said Bruce.

“That’s it? Just him?” asked Dylan.

Bruce looked back at his friend, now far more
serious.

“Fair enough we need extra help, but we can only use
what we have, and I will not take away our lookouts. That’s bloody
suicidal. Now get to it!” shouted Bruce.

“Alright, no problem,” said Dylan.

He jogged off down the aisle back towards the
vehicle. Bruce continued on, he was walking along the lines of
freezers, all had their lights off. He stopped and walked closer to
one and opened the door. Before him were bags of thawed out and
rotten frozen pizzas, he picked one up and simply looked at it
gormlessly. The photo of the juicy hot pizza which was displayed
across the cover made his mouth water, remembering the joys of
convenience food. The shop truly smelt bad, but they had grown used
to ignoring such smells, all he could think of was the pizza he
used to order every Friday night.

Bruce dropped the box down into the freezer from
where he’d got it from and carried on down the aisle. Up ahead of
him he could already see the glisten of alcoholic beverages, his
heart was immediately warmed. He missed a lot of the food they had
to go without, but alcohol was the staple which had kept them sane.
Alcohol was both a distraction from current events, as well as a
reminder of the good times that everyone used to have.

As he was walking down the aisle Bruce considered
his old life, the boring visit to the supermarket, his brain cell
killing job, all of it now sounded so appealing after a year of
desperate survival on the road.

“Bruce, Bruce!” shouted Dylan.

Bruce jumped around, expecting the worst.

“Hey, mate. This place is fucking awesome!” said
Connor.

Bruce relaxed, being glad to have been surprised by
the lack of the violent threat that he had expected. His friends
looked so excited by the sheer quantity of food and alcohol before
them. A year before, a well stocked supermarket was the most boring
place a man had ever seen, but now it was more appealing than a
kebab to a drunk.

“Right, well you’ve got twenty minutes, clear this
place out!” said Bruce.

The men set on the shop like locusts, taking
everything of value. The sheer quantity of canned food was enough
to keep their group fed for a month or more, let alone the booze
and soft drinks. Road Hog was filling up, they wished they’d
brought another vehicle to stockpile supplies, but everyone
understood the risks involved.

As Bruce and his crew cleared out the supermarket,
Walter and Bart were sat outside in their truck, a Toyota Hilux.
Walter was smoking a cigarette as the two of them sat bored in the
cab of the vehicle.

“How about some music?” asked Walter.

“How many fucking times do we have to go through
this? No! We’re here as lookouts, anything that distracts us is a
problem, is it that hard to understand?” asked Bart.

“Alright, alright,” said Walter.

The two men sat for several minutes longer as Walter
smoked and Bart relaxed, increasingly bored of sitting around.
Bruce’s raid on the supermarket was taking far longer than any raid
they had ever done, and no matter what you were doing, sitting
around in a truck got boring very quickly.

“Fuck this, I’m taking a piss,” said Walter.

“No, stay put!” shouted Bart.

Bart grabbed at Walter’s coat to stop him from
getting out of the vehicle but Walter shrugged him off, opening the
door and stepped outside. He slammed the door behind him, taking
one last puff of his cigarette before throwing it to the ground.
Walter took a large gasp of the relatively fresh air around him,
and then set off around a corner to relieve himself.

“Stay in sight!” shouted Bart.

Walter didn’t reply, he simply put up his middle
finger as he walked away. Bart didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t
force his partner back into the truck, nor reason with him. He sat
in the driver’s seat in an uncomfortable silence. A minute later a
scream rang out from the direction that Walter had gone. Bart
grabbed his shotgun and jumped out of the truck.

With his gun at the ready, Bart ran around the
corner to see his worst fears realised. It was a long lane running
between the shops, Walter was crawling towards him, a zombie
holding onto his leg, and a blood trail running twenty feet back.
An uncountable number of creatures were shambling towards him.

“Help me!” shouted Walter.

Bart did exactly that. He lifted his shotgun and
fired directly into his friend’s skull, killing him instantly. He
raised the shotgun at the creature that had been attacking his
friend and fired the second round, the head nearly exploded as the
body was thrown to the ground.

“What a fucking idiot,” said Bart.

He was kicking himself for having lost a friend, but
more angry at Walter for being such a moron. Getting yourself
killed in this world affected all of those around you in more than
just emotional ways. He ran back to his truck and threw the empty
shotgun in. Bart slammed the door and immediately picked up the
radio.

“Come in all units, we have a Code Red, I repeat,
Code Red!” shouted Bart.

The receiver sat unattended in the Hog, all of the
survivors being inside the shop, filling their bags and trolleys
with supplies.

“This is Black Dog, where the hell is Road Hog?”
asked Jerry.

Jerry was on the radio in the second truck at the
opposite end of the street to Bart.

“Come in Road Hog, this is Big Brewski,” said
Bart.

The radio remained silent.

“Bart, what the fuck do we do?” asked Jerry.

“We have no choice, there are hundreds of zombies
bearing down on us, if we wait any longer we will be swamped,” said
Bart.

“What about Bruce and his crew?” asked Jerry.

“If they can get into the Hog they’ll be fine, if
they can’t then it’s too late for them anyway. Let’s get the fuck
out of here!” shouted Bart.

As he said it the horde of zombies began to pour
from the street. Bart turned the engine over on his Hilux and put
his foot to the floor, the wheels spinning as his vehicle lurched
forward. His roo bar clipped one of the zombies as he raced down
the street the way they had come. The second truck reached the
horde and rammed ten of the creatures square on, knocking their
speed by half as bodies were thrown aside. It was lucky they got
moving when they did, as with large numbers the vehicles could be
brought to a standstill.

Bruce was filling his rucksack with tins of tuna and
corned beef when the little light they had began to dim. He looked
down the aisle, already suspicious. He ran to the end of the aisle
and his heart nearly stopped as he could see the silhouettes of
countless zombies at the windows of the shop.

“Fuck! Dylan, Connor! Everyone to the Hog now!”
shouted Bruce.

Connor appeared at the end of the aisle that Bruce
had come from, looking at his boss in surprise.

“What’s going on?” asked Connor.

“Zombies, everywhere, get everyone back now!”
shouted Bruce.

He dropped the bag that he had in his hands and ran
towards the door of their vehicle. The sound of the creatures
beating against the glass was already getting louder, a frightening
resonation. Across the shop Bruce could hear the sound of his
friends shouting at each other, he could only hope they were
sensible enough to know danger when they were told so.

Bruce was just ten yards from the doorway of the Hog
when a window broke and cracked beside him. The security glass was
breached but didn’t completely disintegrate. Bruce drew his .45
Colt as the beast’s hands had pulled the glass apart, with a hole
already big enough for one at a time to get through. He took aim
and put a round into the first creature’s skull. As the first
casing hit the ground, Dylan ran past Bruce.

“What the fuck is going on?” asked Dylan.

“Looks like we’re getting fucked!” said Bruce.

“What do you want me to do?” asked Dylan.

“Tell me when everyone is in the Hog!” shouted
Bruce.

The .45 rang out a second and third time, each a
killing shot. It was hard to have anything else at this range that
was a better instrument of combat. Connor ran behind Bruce as he
fired his seventh and final shot. With no time to reload, he
slammed the gun back into its holster and drew out his trusty
machete.

“That’s it boss, all aboard!” shouted Dylan.

Bruce smashed his machete down on one creature that
was part the way through the hole in the glass, the heavy blade
cracking the skull. He turned around and made a run for it as more
of the glass was smashed apart and the horde broke through. Bruce
leapt onto the Hog as Dylan yanked the door shut and slid across
the three bolts. Just seconds later they could already hear their
enemies beating on the door. The five men relaxed a little, Bruce
sat on the floor of the vehicle.

“What the fuck just happened?” asked Connor.

“I would say it’s quite clear, we just got hit by a
fucking army, get on the radio and find out what the hell is going
on!” shouted Bruce.

Connor looked sheepish, having left the radio to
forage for supplies, but it was Dylan who was kicking himself for
suggesting it.

“Big Brewski, come in, this is Road Hog, over,” said
Connor.

Bruce got to his feet and went to a window looking
out onto the street. They were entirely surrounded by zombies
already fifty deep in every direction, the numbers growing all the
time. He went to the driver’s seat and started up the engine.
Applying power, they moved just a couple of inches and came to a
halt. Bruce tried reverse, and then forwards again, they were
stuck.

“We’ve got big problems,” said Bruce.

“Come in Brewski, this is Road Hog, over,” said
Connor.

“This is Big Brewski, we had to bug out. There was
no response from you. Walter is dead, the area is flooded! Can you
get out?” said Bart.

“Negative, the horde is too large, the Hog isn’t
going anywhere,” said Connor.

“Are you safe for now?” asked Bart.

“Yes, all aboard and locked down,” said Connor.