Chapter 22-7: Almost Dead

Posted: January 29, 2016 in Apocalypse, books, creative writing, drama, Free Online Novel, free zombie books, Horror, horror fiction, killing zombies, living dead, monsters, mystery, novels, serial novels, Survival, suspense, thriller, Uncategorized, walking dead, zombie books, Zombies
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The second floor children’s playroom quickly became a modified armory as both Gina’s group and Rusty’s people gathered up every available weapon they had as everyone was busy preparing for what might be their last night alive.

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘They’re not here’?” Gina nearly shouted in Marcus’s face. “Are you trying to tell me that Amanda and Stephen are outside… out there where the fucking monsters are?”

Marcus sighed and said, “It’s… complicated. Long story short, Amanda’s at the local bar and Stephen went to bring her back.”

“Son, are you talking about The Last Call?” Rusty asked, while scrambling to get his people together. “How the hell did they know about that place and who let them outside?” And then he connected the dots. “Tommy! Where the hell are you?” He was moving before Marcus could explain further.

“Un-fucking-believable! Of all the times…” Gina was bordering hysterical. “And you’re just now telling me about this?” She needed to calm down.

“It couldn’t be helped,” Marcus added weakly. “I’ll explain later.”

“No shit. You just better hope there is a later,” Gina said.

Greg was already grabbing his pack and rifle. “I’ll go fetch them. They can’t be far from here.”

“No!” Gina said. “We need you right here!” She looked at Marcus and finished regrettably, “They’re just going to have to hang tight wherever they’re at. Hopefully, they’re not on the streets.” She couldn’t dwell on it any longer. They had enough to worry about.

Meredith was doing what she could to try to keep the families calm as they struggled to manage their children and not lose their minds with worry.

Gina grabbed her shotgun and loaded it to maximum capacity with shaking hands. From all around her she could hear the others loading whatever extra weapons they had. They all remembered how violently fast and brutal the yellow-eyed zombies were at the Percy Power Plant. There would be no time for reloads.

Fifty of those things… my God! We don’t stand a chance! Gina tried to shake the fearful thoughts away but they kept coming. She looked up briefly and found Greg staring at her. His face was as white as a ghost. He was holding their only automatic weapon. It would help, but it wasn’t enough.

They’re all looking to me to tell them what to do… and I haven’t a fucking clue! She nearly dropped the shotgun when a hand touched her shoulder.

“Relax, Boss.” It was Frank. “Rusty’s already gathering his troops and preparing whatever defenses this place has. It will buy us some time.”

“Time for what?” Gina asked. “We’re essentially trapped in this building… and there are fucking children here!”

“Easy,” Frank said. “We’ll do what we can but you need to keep it together… you need to keep us together or we’ll end up scattering like ants when they strike the building.” He had already loaded his two handguns and was wearing them in his belt like a gunslinger. Frank was presently loading a third.

Gina took a deep breath and nodded. “Thanks for the reality check. I’m cool.” She was anything but cool.

The old man came back. “I have my boys watching the gym. They’re all excellent shots and can snipe those brutes from the track. I was about to fill the first floor with all that barbed wire and razor ribbon by dropping the ceiling trap… but if I do that, your friends will be cut off.”

They all looked to Gina.

Of course. It’s always on me. She took another deep breath and said, “Drop the fucking thing. We can’t risk a single one of those fuckers getting inside… no matter what the cost.”

Rusty nodded. “Agreed. I was going to drop it anyway for the same reason. But since my boys are partly at fault for your friends being out there, I felt you should have a say in the matter.”

“Rusty,” Frank started, “do you have any other tricks up your sleeve we need to know about? We’re going to need anything you have to survive the night.”

Rusty gave him a sly look. “Son, you ever heard of a Molotov Cocktail?”

Frank smiled. “Clever, old man. How many?”

“We have about twelve bottles ready to go. I’ll get them out on the track.”

Frank turned to Gina and said, “I’ll take a rifle and help those boys in the gym. They may be good shots, but they’re still just boys. Who knows how good their aim will be when those monsters set their eyes on them.”

“Agreed… and take Greg with you,” Gina said. “If we can mow them down in the gym, we might have a chance.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Frank said.

“Marcus and I will hold the children’s playroom. We’ll have that sliding gate open just enough for you all to fall back if you’re overrun.”

“I’ll be on the third floor with the families,” Rusty said coming back. “There’s a few of them who can point and shoot a handgun… not as well as my boys… but if those things get close, accuracy isn’t going to be as important when they’re just a few feet in front of you.”

Gina cringed at the thought. “Take Meredith with you. I need her as far from those things as possible. She can shoot a little, but she’s exceptional with a knife. You will need her if it comes to that.”

Rusty nodded and started up.

“And Rusty,” Gina stopped him.

The old man turned.

“Please tell me you have an escape route from this building if we get forced up to the roof.”

Rusty frowned. “Life’s an ironic son-of-a-bitch at times. Before my boys got distracted by your good-looking friend, they were supposed to be picking up some essential items at the hardware store tonight.”

Gina waited.

“On that list of items: a few coils of rope. It would’ve been enough to get us down from the roof if we had it now.”

“There’s no other rope in your storage rooms?”

“Sadly, no.”

“So the rooftop’s our Alamo,” Frank said. “Wonderful.”

“Shit,” Gina hissed. “Alright, Rusty. I guess we know the score now.” When Rusty was gone, she told the others, “I’m not putting the blame on Meredith’s shoulders when I say this… but this is our fault.”

No one could argue the point.

“If we hadn’t come here, these poor people, who have been nothing but kind to us, wouldn’t be in this mess right now,” Gina continued.

“Blame game seems pretty damn irrelevant at the moment,” Frank reminded her.

“My point is this: I’m not leaving these people here to handle this alone, even if there’s a chance we can get out. They have children here, and that means Rusty’s people are in a bad way. We either stop these things, or we die trying.” She looked the longest at Frank.

Frank laughed and said, “Man, there’s just no getting off your shit list, is there? No matter, you’re coming across pretty fucking loud and clear. Don’t worry about me. I’m not planning on bailing.”

She turned to the others. “Are we clear on the commitment I’m asking for tonight?”

“Gina,” Greg said. “I think we all feel the same as you do. We’re in for the long haul.”

“Agreed,” Marcus added, placing his machete on a table. “I just hope Stephen and Amanda have enough sense to stay the hell away from here. With any luck, those things will be too preoccupied with us to pay them any mind.”

Gina sighed. “I hope you’re right, Marcus.”

Something loud fell beneath them, followed by the scratching of coiled metal and razor wire striking linoleum causing them all to jump.

Rusty came back and said, “I just collapsed the whole ceiling on the first floor. We’re effectively trapped up here until it’s over.” He looked grim and finished, “My lookouts on the roof have just informed me that they’re headed this way. It’s like they know exactly where we are.”

Gina thought about Meredith. “How many?” she asked.

“Their last estimate was nearly a hundred strong.”

Gina’s shoulders dropped. We are so dead.


Stephen entered the candle-lit bar and closed the door behind him. He stopped as broken glass crunched beneath his shoes. He was immediately concerned as he looked around and discovered that The Last Call looked like a tornado had struck the interior. Tables were overturned, the liquor shelves behind the bar had been knocked down and the bar counter looked like a thousand shot glasses had exploded upon it. The place reeked of broken bottles of alcohol and stale beer.

His first thought was that Jefferson’s deceased residents had found Amanda and that she’d died a horrible death trying to escape the bar.

Stephen cautiously stepped forward, being mindful of the broken glass, and scanned the shadows for Amanda’s body buried beneath the debris. “Amanda?” he dared to call out.

Something started moving near the back of the bar as Stephen retreated toward the door.

“It’s about… fucking time… you showed up,” Amanda slurred as she stumbled out into the candlelight.

If she hadn’t spoken, Stephen could’ve mistaken her for one of the dead. Her hair hung wildly across her face and her clothes were torn and askew. She almost missed the bar stool she attempted to sit down on but righted herself in time. With an exaggerated motion of her arm she waved him over. “Get… get your ass over here… and have a drink with me. It’s the least you… the least you can do after what you’ve done.” She placed a bottle of whiskey on the counter that she’d been holding the whole time. The bottle fell on its side and she ignored it.

“Amanda… are you alright? How much have you had to drink?”

“Not nearly enough!” she fired back. “Get over here before… before I forget what I was going to say to you… damn it!”

Stephen sighed heavily and approached the counter. He opted to step behind the bar keeping some distance between them.

She looked up at him with blood-shot eyes through damp hair and laughed. “There… that’s fucking… better. Now line ‘em up!”

“Excuse me?”

Amanda slammed her fist against the counter. “Shot glasses, asshole! There must be a few… a few left I didn’t smash to hell.”

Stephen looked beneath the counter and found a row of shot glasses. He grabbed two and set them on the counter.

Amanda could barely hold her head up. When Stephen hesitated, she pushed the overturned bottle toward him and shouted, “Pour us… pour us a fucking drink!”

This is ridiculous. She looks like she’s been mopping the floor with her face. There’s no way we can work things out while she’s like this.

Stephen took the bottle of whiskey and placed it beneath the counter. “Amanda, you’re so drunk you can barely stand. I’m not going to drink with you.”

“Then kill… kill me and get it over with… that’s what you came for… right?”

Stephen was confused. “No, Amanda. I came to talk. Why would I want to kill you?”

“You… you’ve been killing me for the last two… two days. Ever since I found out… since I found out you fucked my little girl!”

Stephen said nothing. As much as he wanted to clear the air, it wasn’t going to happen like this. Amanda was seriously inebriated. “Amanda, it’s not safe here. Let me take you back before you’re too drunk to move.”

“You… you wanna fuck me too, don’t you?” she asked as she wobbled to her feet. “Yeah… I can tell. That’s why you really… came.”

Stephen was disgusted. “Amanda… just stop!”

“No… no… I get it! You… you can’t have my daughter anymore… but having me is almost the same… the same thing.” She pulled her top off over her head and threw it to the floor.

Stephen turned away and held up his hands when she showed him her black bra which did very little to conceal the rest. “Amanda! What the hell are you doing?”

She was already moving around the counter and toward him. “You… you like this don’t you? Get to have both of us… like you’ve always… always wanted.”

Stephen backed up into the broken liquor shelf. “Stop it!”

Amanda thrust her breasts out toward him while reaching behind and unsnapping her bra. She pressed in against his chest and reached around his waist. “Go on… fuck me… fuck me! It’s been so long… I have needs… a woman has needs… ” She reached one arm around the front and grabbed his crotch.

Stephen tensed up and recoiled. He struggled to push her back but she resisted with surprising force for someone who could barely stand.

“What… what… I’m not good… I’m not good enough for you… you fucking pervert!”

He caught on to Amanda’s ruse far too late. She removed the gun from behind his back and forced her knee up into his groin… hard.

Stephen doubled over, the pain was excruciating. He looked up long enough to see her devilish smile.

“Can’t have you trying to shoot me before you get what you have coming, you son-of-a-bitch!”

She wasn’t drunk at all!

She grabbed the whiskey bottle and smashed it over his head. Stephen fell to the ground.

“Lights out, you sick fuck!”


Next Episode 22-8

Previous Episode 22-6


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“Chapter 22-7: Almost Dead” Copyright © 2014, 2015 Scott Scherr. From the Novel “Don’t Feed The Dark, Book One: Southbound Nightmares”.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission by the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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