We couldn’t have got in safely without Zack and his crazy gadget. He called it his EMP-ing bitch, and he’d bought it off eBay about a year ago. Why he would have taken it into a chemistry exam, I didn’t know, but he said that it could neutralise alarms.
It was shaped just like a pen, but with a pair of buttons on the side, where it thickened. It was all finished off in what looked like the same stuff you’d find on a blackboard. It exuded a sort of sinister aura, with its black finish, gleaming silver buttons and slight hum. It looked dangerous, but Zack had assured us that it wasn’t.
“Let me at her then, ladies,” proclaimed Zack, and we all moved apart to let him have a look at the door. Quite a way apart, come to think of it. If something went wrong, nobody wanted to be anywhere near.
Zack moved up to the back door of the Hunter’s Lair, the EMP thing clasped in his right hand. Everybody was holding their breath; their future could hinge on the workmanship of Zack’s wild gadget.
Zack moved towards the door slowly, and even more slowly, pressed the side of his head up against the door so he could look into the gap between the door and the frame. He moved his head around until, about five centimetres below the top of the frame, he stopped.
Without taking his eyes off the area, he called, “Somebody get over here and give us a hand.”
Heads turned around the group, everybody looking at somebody else. I sighed in resignation and moved up to the door.
“When I say go,” said Zack, still looking at the area, “I want you to open the door like you normally would. Don’t go too fast, or the EMP won’t be any good, and don’t go too slow, or the alarm might overcome the effects. The door’s already unlocked; I picked it a minute ago.”
I had no clue what Zack was going on about, or how he’d picked it, but I braced my hand on the cold steel handle anyway and held my breath, waiting for the go. Zack had pointed the end of his EMP pen at the area he had been staring at, and had his thumb resting on the top button. Slowly, he applied more pressure onto the button until it was fully depressed. Then he waited, and slowly depressed the second button.
“Go!” yelled Zack, and I opened the door, eyes screwed shut in case anything did happen. Like it would have helped anyway.
But nothing did happen. Not a noise, apart from the click of the lock on the door and the collective release of breath by around twenty other people. The door slid open smoothly on its hinges like any other door would.
The back room was a shambolic affair, with shell casings spread all over the floor, bullet crimps on most tables, and a lathe in the corner. Several beer cans lay in a corner, and a rifle was set out on the cleaning rest, barrel on the table beside it. There was a lingering smell of cordite around the room, mixed in with the stench of full-strength whiskey.
However, there was no time to check out anything else, because Zack was talking again.
“The batteries on this thing could be running out, so I want you to close the door”, he said in a rush. I obediently closed the door, because batteries running out are never good. There was a slight beep from the alarm as Zack stopped doing what he’d been doing for the past couple of minutes.
He hadn’t stopped talking, however. “Go into the main office and try to find something that turns off the alarm. Hurry, man.”
I ran past the lathe, nearly slipping on a small shell cartridge, and into the office. It was tiny and cramped, but it wasn’t hard to notice the single small remote with an “ARMAGUARD” keyring attached to it. I swooped it up and ran back to the door.
“Zack, man, you still there?” I asked quietly.
“Yeah, still here. You got the key?”
“Hang on, I’ll just disarm the thing.”
I fumbled around with the remote, and when I’d got hold of it, pointed it up at where the alarm was, and pressed the small button on the front.
The alarm responded with a satisfying beep, and I tentatively opened the door. Again, nothing happened, and we all entered the store.
The back room was a fair size, and we all fit in fairly comfortably. Fitz and Dave were examining the gun on the cleaning rest, and Marie had gone into the office to check for power on the computer. It seemed that there was still power, as the sound of the Vista start up tune could be heard above the chatter.
Typically, Jacob got up onto the table with the lathe on, and shouted for us all to shut the hell up. Trust Jacob, not to worry about if any of them hear us.
“Look guys,” he said. “We’ve made it this far on our skill. I think it’s time we got ourselves in a nice situation here.
“It’s safe here, and secure. There’s a bloody big latch on the back door that the previous owners neglected to use, an even bigger one on the front door, and solid bars on the windows.” He rattled one of them for emphasis.
“We’re only a couple of minutes walk from the Jarrandup shops, so we can get pretty easy food, and we’ve got the largest store for high-grade weapons here for at least fifty kays.” Jacob paused for effect, and looked back up, his head not held as high as usual. For all his flaws, he’s one hell of an actor.
“I hate to have to do this, but I think we have to have a leader, a figure of trust and leadership around here, a Captain. Somebody’s gotta hold the centre down. Like I said, I don’t want to have to do this, but I’m putting my name forward. If anybody else wants to stand up for this, please do. For all I know, I might end up a crap leader, but better something than nothing. A whole lot of you guys would probably be heaps better than me at this, but somebody’s gotta do something.”
Jacob raised his head again, and sounding more confident, he continued. “In the cadets, I was taught that without authority, you’re just like a ramble. A riot with guns. My captain’s probably dead now, but I remember his words. So let’s ask. Anybody else wanting to try for leader? I won’t stop you.”
The room was silent, and predictably, nobody raised their hands. I didn’t blame them. Jacob was tall, handsome, clean cut and had an outstanding record at Army Cadets. Plus, I bet his speech helped his case a bit. As much as I wanted to raise my hand, I knew it would be pointless. Nobody was going to vote for me against Jacob, pride of the Cadets.
Jacob waited a good couple of minutes, before starting his talking again. “I guess that’s it then. I can’t say for sure that you’ve spoken well, but mark my words, I won’t let you down.
“While you’re still listening, I think we need some more roles. Fitz is gonna be my 2nd, my Lieutenant. When I’m out, he’s gonna take my place. I want to ask you to respect him like you would me when I’m out. Zack.”
Zack raised his head in surprise, and we all looked at him, then back at Jacob as he started talking again. “You’re the smart guy here; you know mechanics and stuff, yeah?” Zack nodded. “You’re gonna be Chief Engineer here. If we find mechanical stuff, it’s all yours. Also, this place is a shithole, and I bet half of the machinery here wouldn’t work for God. Can you take a look at it all for us?” Zack nodded again, and Jacob moved on.
“Another thing we’re gonna be needing is soldiers. I’ve been in Cadets for years now, and so I’ve got fair experience with guns, so I’ll fight too. However, I don’t think it would be wise for me to be overall leader and leader of the soldiers; the Sergeant. Whoever’s had shooting experience, please hold up fingers comparative to the years you’ve been shooting.”
I held up two fingers. I shot down at the range a few kays up from where we lived and I’d gotten fairly good. I’d even won Juniors a few times. However, there was no way I was going to get chosen as leader of the soldiers, or Sergeant, as Jacob had put it.
Sure enough, “Mitch, you’ve had most experience here, with five years, so you’re our new Sergeant. If everybody with over a year of shooting experience can go with Mitch later and get a rifle, you’re gonna be a soldier.”
That pissed me right off. Mitch was almost a carbon copy of Jacob, and I knew for a fact that he had only fired a few times between his first shoot five years ago and now. I was sure that several of us were better shots than him. Although, it does help being in Jacob’s good books.
“One more role to go. Lisa, you’re gonna be our medic. Your parents are nurses, aren’t they?” A nod gave him the answer. “Right, if you’re okay with that, I’d like you to take care of our injured.”
“Fine by me,” replied Lisa with a smile on her face.
“Okay, I’m just going to do a head count, and then we can all go and do what we gotta do. Afterwards, everybody who’s not got a specialised role, wait around here and we’ll find you something to do.”
Jacob done a quick head count (there were 24 of us), and then let us go.
Shithead. I could see what he’d done. He’d constructed a fully military regime; make it look like he knew what he was doing. This was screwed right up. He’d set himself up nicely at the top, and surrounded himself by all his mates. Plus, if anybody tried to stand up to him, he could kick them right out and say it was a necessity. Shithead.
I had no way out of this. It was a situation I didn’t want to be in, stuck under the command of a lunatic doing a role he decided. I didn’t want to be a soldier; I just wanted to be a survivor. For now, though, I had to go with the flow. After a quick chat with Zack, we went off to do our separate roles.
Zack loved his role. Chief Engineer. It even sounded cool, so no wonder. He was rambling about it, saying he’d talk to Jacob about letting me share his title. He wouldn’t ever do that. Zack was my best mate, but he’d never share such a glorious title. Nobody would. He assured me that it’d all work out as he walked over to Jacob to pick his workers. That’s what he and Lisa were doing; picking the people they wanted to work with. Christ.
I headed out to the front of the store and checked it out. It looked exactly the same as last time I’d been here. The green carpet was stained with oil in some places and burnt in others. However, the store was really a beautiful place. The stained wood supports glistened from the varnish, as did the front of the counter, which stretched the width of the store. Behind the counter were all the guns, lined up in a rack. There was every kind, bolt-action, lever-action, shotguns, .22s, the lot, except pistols, which were out the back. There was a rack of fishing rods along the side of the store, and a large, square distressed pine table in the middle. Next to the table was a smaller glass cabinet which housed the various knives they had in stock. It was the kind of place that kids loved to come and look at, even though they’d never buy anything. I’d bought my own rifle from here, but that was kept at the club.
All the soldiers were assembled around the table in the middle. I headed over and found myself next to Claus again. The blonde boy was slouched out on his seat, isolated from the rest as he knew nobody. I came over and sat down next to him. He’d lost the scraper in the fight at the school, and there was a hell of a lot of blood on his work shirt. Strangely, I felt more at home with him than I did with any of the guys from my school that had been selected as soldiers.
I was about to ask him his opinion on Jacob when Mitch jumped up into the table and began to talk. There was an eerie sense of déjà vu.
“Alright boys, so you’re my men? There’s twelve of you, so we better make us all count. I’m your Sergeant, so I expect you all to pay me some respect. Ryan, you’re my Corporal. Same goes for Ryan, respect.”
Mitch jumped down from the table and headed over to the counter, leaping up on that as well, and continuing his speech. “Behind me are a heap of rifles. You’re all gonna choose one, and make sure you choose well. If you’re a good shot, pick one with a nice scope. I want at least two snipers, and two shotgunners, but no more than three of each. Off you go.”
Mitch jumped down again and headed straight for the biggest gun he could find, a massive .375 lever-action. There was a mad rush for everybody to get the gun they wanted. Ryan smashed the cupboard containing the pricey shotguns and picked a flashy O/U, Benelli by the looks of it.
I picked a synthetic-stock .243 bolt-action, like the one I have at the club. I tested the action, and found it to be smooth as. It reminded me heavily of my old one, so I stuck with my choice. I also noticed that it had no scope, so after a quick root through the scope box, I grabbed hold of the biggest one I could find, a wide field-of-view hunting scope. If possible, I wanted to be as far away as I could get from those things.
We all regrouped over at the table, and sure enough, Mitch was back up onto the tabletop, rifle in hand.
“Now that’s over and done with, we can get down to more serious stuff. I’m dividing us up into two teams; the outside team and the inside team. I’ll lead the inside team, coz my gun is more suited to it, and Ryan’s leading the outside team. We’re dividing it evenly though, one sniper in each team, and one shotgunner. Looks to me that Ollie and Dave are gonna be our snipers, so...
Please inside. If he sticks me on the outside team, my plan will have totally backfired. I’m not a coward, I’m a survivor. I don’t wanna get stuck outside with a sniper scope.
“I want Dave with me. Ollie, you’re our outside sniper.”
Fuck. That’s messed up, man. Messed right up. This bullshit shouldn’t be happening in the first place.
“The rest, Ryan can pick who he wants for the outside team. I’ll take the remainder for in here. After that, we’ll start makin’ plans.”
Mitch stepped down, leant against a post and checked out his rifle. It looked like a brick, and was probably about as heavy. Idiot.
Thankfully, a God exists, as Ryan had chosen Claus for his team. It would be an unliveable hell stuck outside with the bunch of jerks Ryan had chosen. We sat down at the bench as, for the first time this day, Mitch took a seat at a bench.
“Plans. There’s no point waiting around, as the longer we wait, the more zombies there’ll be.”
Zombies. That’s the first time somebody had used that word. It was only ever going to be a matter of time, but it still hit home. Zombies. When I thought of zombies, I thought movies. I thought video games. Not once did I associate it with real life. It was scary.
“We need food desperately. Apart from the bit in the fridge, there’s none. We gotta go out today, guys.
Jesus Christ. I knew he was gonna jump into it, but I didn’t think that long. Although...it does make a bit of sense. Maybe he’s smarter than he looks.
“Ryan, your boys are gonna go out straight from the off, make a beeline for Jarrandup. The faster we get in, the faster we get out. If you meet anybody in there, use your initiative. If they look useful, bring them back. If they don’t leave ‘em. Now, I don’t want you lot dying on me, so be careful. And remember, fellas, we don’t know if you just die when they bite you, or you become one of them. Don’t try and find out.”
With that, Mitch got up and walked out the back, summoning the inside team with a wave of his hand.
Ryan also got up, but he walked the other way, towards the knife cabinet. He examined the glass, and then, without word or warning, raised his gun and shattered the top glass with the butt of his gun.
I flinched, and expected far, far worse, but luckily, no alarm went off. Still, the sound of shattering glass was deafening, and if there were any of those things around, they would have heard it for sure. I was incredibly tempted to rage there and then at Ryan for his idiocy, but there was no way I was going to make my life more difficult.
“Grab one,” said Ryan, the tinkle of glass still audible. “If you ever run out of ammo, you’re gonna want to have one of these on you. Take good ones, but save some for the guys out back. Off you go.”
Ryan instantly went for a large, saw-toothed machete, as I expected he would. Claus grabbed the other machete, so I had to settle for a seven-inch hunting knife. I attached the sheath onto my belt, for the second time today wishing that I’d worn a smaller buckle. The large DG buckle got in the way, digging into my skin. However, I could change it for an ammo belt soon, there was some hanging up over near the fishing gear.
I took the opportunity to talk to Claus for a bit. We went over to a post and leant on it whilst the other soldiers were sorting out their knives.
Claus started off before I could begin to talk. “What’s this Jacob bloke like, Ollie? I don’t know shit all about these kids, who to trust, who not to trust, all of that. Fill me in a bit, man.”
“I honestly don’t know,” I began. “He’s a bit of a jerk at school, you know? Drives around with overloud music on, too fast, hangs around street corners, you know the type. But here, I don’t know. He’s got a great record in Army cadets from what I hear, and on the surface he looks like the type who actually could pull this off.
“Personally, though, I don’t trust him. He just acts too much like an idiot, and we can’t trust him to think rationally, if at all.”
“What about these other guys, Mitch and Ryan?” Claus asked. “What are they like?”
“Mitch I’m also unsure about. He’s either gonna pull this off, or he’s gonna crash and burn. At school he’s just like Jacob, but some of the stuff here leads me to think that he could do this alright, you know?”
“And Ryan?”
“He’s a total cock. Look at the way he acts in a situation like this, grabbing the biggest shit he can find, establishing himself as a dictator-type guy. I was seriously hoping to stay away from him, but now that I’m under his command, I wonder if it’ll be better off asking for a swap out. He’s not going to be able to do anything without-”
“Get back over here, you two!”
Ryan was shouting us over to the table. He’d unclasped his belt and slung it over his shoulder so that it draped across his body diagonally. The huge machete swung by his left hip, the handle glinting where the blackened coating was rubbing off.
We walked over to the table and sat down, but nearly fell back off our seats as Ryan pulled out a map of Jarrandup he’d seemingly conjured from nowhere and slammed in into the table with his machete. Ryan sniggered, and turned back to the map.
“We’re here right now,” Ryan explained, pointing to a small square across from the main entrance to Jarrandup shops. “Likely is that the shops are gonna be crawling with the things, unless people have already cleared things up. I’m going to be hoping that they have, coz it’ll make our jobs hell easier.”
Ryan extracted the knife and turned the map over, revealing a floor plan of the shopping mall.
“Alright. The closest food store is here, just down from the main entrance. We’re going to head to there; chances are we’ll encounter fewer zombies by not straying too far into the store. We’re gonna need a couple of trolleys to carry the food about in, so Liam; Dillon, you guys grab some trolleys as soon as we see them. Also, if we get hit, we’re going to need a fast escape plan, so grab some hessian sacks from out back before we head out. Load the food into there, and if we need to run, just grab the sacks out and leg it.”
Not bad, Ryan.
“We’re going to travel in a formation. Ollie, me an’ you are gonna stick together. I’ve got a shottie, so if you get caught up, I’ll cover you. Reese and you, kid, err...Claus. You two stick with Liam an’ Dillon so you can cover them when they’ve got their trolleys. The time now is half eleven. We leave at twelve.”
Ryan got up and walked off, the other three following him out to the back, me and Claus a little behind. I moved to sit on the counter, but jumped back up when the sound of Zack’s “Yeah, bitch!”, could be heard.
I came out the back to see Zack standing next to the pistol safe’s open door with an incredibly satisfied smile on his face. He must have been trying to crack the lock, and just succeeded. Jacob made his way through the crowd and stood next to Zack.
“Soldiers! Come over here and pick a pistol first, but we’re all gonna have one of these. Protection shouldn’t just be available to soldiers.”
Jacob quickly swiped up what looked like a .45 magnum and left again as we all shuffled forward to grab a pistol.
I was one of the last in, and so I had to make do with a .357 magnum. It was a six-shot revolver, and I saw a spare cylinder lying on the bottom of the safe. I swiped it up and stuck it in my pocket, grabbed a holster and headed out the front of the store to grab ammo.
I found Claus out there doing the same thing. He’d grabbed enough to fill his three magazines in the .44 Colt, and was now filling the magazines for the .277 rifle he’d got. I walked up to stand beside him. He looked around, then back down at the rounds and began talking.
“You realise that in half an hour’s time, we could be dead?”
What?! Of course I realise it, but that’s not the kinda thing you say! We’re about to go out on a run for food and you’re asking me if I know that I could die?!
“Dude, don’t say that.”
“Why not? We’re all thinking it, so why can’t we say it?”
“Because...just because, man. You don’t say them kind of things at a time like this.”
“Okay then.”
That was it? This guy is really a weird one.
I decided to let it drop. We both finished collection the ammo we needed, and I headed over to the gun belts. I found one that fitted my rifle’s ammo, so I grabbed it, slung it on in the same manner that Ryan had his belt, and began to fill it.
“Fifteen minutes now.”
I looked at Claus, and then at the clock. He was right, the digital display read exactly 11:45.
“Yeah, mate, you’re right. We should check over everything before we head off.”
“Good idea. Don’t want a cock-up out there, do we?”
We both headed out back and grabbed some cleaning tools. I stuck my rifle on one rack, Claus on another, and I started to clean it. It was such absorbing work that I barely noticed Zack come up beside me.
“You only got ten minutes left, bro.”
I jumped a bit and knocked my rifle. Irritably, I picked it up again and looked over to Zack.
“You scared the shit outta me, man.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t stress.”
There was a pause, and then Zack said, “You want me to have a look at the mechanism for you?”
I thought about it for a bit. Zack was good with machines and stuff, maybe it would help with him looking over my gun.
“Sure, man. Thanks for the help.”
Zack dismantled the bolt and started squinting at it. After only a few seconds, he looked up.
“This thing’s got about as much oil as an orange. Chuck us the bottle from over there.”
I threw Zack the bottle in question and he began to apply the oil as I finished on the barrel. We had barely finished when Ryan could be heard shouting, “Alright then, fall in!”
Zack looked up. “Good luck, Ollie. Make sure you come back.”
“Seeya soon, Zack.” I slapped him on the shoulder, picked up my newly cleaned rifle and walked out to the front with Claus.
The group was clustered around the doorway, but there was an opening where the rest of our group were standing. Jacob was talking to Ryan, wishing him luck, Lisa was crying in her boyfriend, Dillon’s arms, and Reese looked like he was about to be sick.
We all grouped up around the door as Jacob clapped Ryan on the shoulder, much like I had done with Zack a minute earlier.
“Good luck,” said Jacob to all of us as we walked past to join Ryan at the door. I walked up to stand by his shoulder, as we’d agreed. Everybody else was in formation, Claus and the slightly green Reese flanking Dillon and Liam. Mitch and Dave were also standing by the door; they would be providing us cover fire until we reached the car park.
Ryan looked at me, then at the team. Everything was silent as Ryan held up his fist, then uncurled three fingers.
This is it.
Shit, I was scared.
Ryan folded down his fourth finger slowly...
Shitshitshitshitshit.
... his middle finger went down next, even slower...
The room’s atmosphere was taut as a drum, everybody waiting for the final finger to fold down...
And it did, with a sharp action nobody expected. Ryan’s hand slammed down on the handle and we moved out of the store. Mitch and Dave also left the store, but only to kneel down at the doorway and watch us through their scopes.
We run across the car park outside the Lair and the other three stores that shared the bays. I got a good look around the place, and already, several of the things were moving in that shambolic walk, some faster than others. Their moans could be heard, the eerie sound mixing in with their shuffling footsteps to create a literal scene from a horror movie.
I had slung my rifle over my back and instead was holding my revolver in one hand and a quick loader in the other. We had made it about twenty metres when, a zombie grew close enough to prompt Liam to raise his pistol. Before he could shoot, however, Ryan shouted out.
“Use your knives, guys. Save ammo, and if we make too much noise, they’ll hear us.”
Liam responded by drawing his hunting knife and making a swipe at it. However, before his arm had barely left his side, the thing’s head exploded from out of nowhere. I looked back to see Dave’s rifle smoking from a recently fired shot. He moved to reload and I noticed the silencer on the end of his gun.
Zack must have just got that safe open as we left. I thought he might try to get that one.
The mall was still a good 300 metres away, and so we picked up the pace. The zombies had taken notice of us, but once they got within a few metres, either Dave or Mitch picked them off with a silent shot from one of their rifles. The slightly audible crack from Mitch’s .375 preceded most of the missed shots, but Dave must have been one hell of a shot, because the smaller impacts of the less powerful .303 had always met their mark with precision. I could only say that I was glad he was at my back.
We only needed the knives once. We had just crossed the road dividing the Lair’s area and the mall’s parking lot when a faster zombie came from the front, at just the right angle so that Dave and Mitch couldn’t see it. The thing was a horrible sight, a mid-thirties man who, judging by the uniform, must have worked at the chemist. His white shirt was ripped beyond belief, and his whole left cheek was missing, presumably bitten off. I felt like retching, but there was no time to. It drew within a couple of metres and made a lunge for Ryan. He was far too quick, however, and he made a deft sidestep and slammed his machete into the thing’s head with a disgusting squelch. Ryan turned and yanked the huge knife out, span around and continued running. I noticed he was pale; it must have scared the crap out of him.
It was not too long before we reached the doors. Dillon and Liam had grabbed hold of a pair of trolleys and were running along with both hands gripping the trolley, revolvers sandwiched between the bar and their right hand. The doors were large and made of glass. It would have once been crystal clear, but now the outside was stained with bloodied handprints. A pair of half eaten bodies lay inside, dressed in the barely recognisable garb of security officers.
That must mean there were some inside...or there still are.
Reese moved up to the doors and grabbed a crowbar from his belt. He seemed to have calmed down a bit, which was unusual. He inserted the flat end into the doors and leant against it. The two doors slowly began to prise apart as he applied more weight. When it got to a certain point it got easier to push, and Reese put the crowbar back into his belt and pushed with his hands instead. The doors opened enough to fit the trolley through, and we were in, doors slamming shut behind us.
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