Wicked Page 2

  “Derick Wesley,” he replied. Choking on the truth for several moments. “I help people breathe.”

  “Well, that dude looks like he could use your help.” Lamar said. Smiling.

  Grinning, Derick turned to his newly-found friend.

  “I think we're going to get along just fine,” Derick turned to the woman from Los Angeles. “Ma'am, want to join us inside?”

  She remained silent but shook her head.

  “It'll be a lot safer for you in there, just stay away from the meatloaf.”

  Lisa grinned just a bit.

  “I almost ordered the meatloaf.” Lamar admitted. Feeling duped.

  “Just be glad you didn't.”

  “That bad?”

  “We may have been dragging your body around back, too.” Derick smiled.

  “Bunch of pantywaists.” Murphy said under his breath. Holding his revolver steady on the man in shackles.

  He enjoyed the meatloaf.

  “Pam, did you guys find out anything about-” Derick began.

  He stopped suddenly as news continued to broadcast through a small television resting on the counter near the cash register. The type of TV that was usually found in the bargain bin of a local pawn shop. Small and hard on the eyes, but reliable.

  As the rest of them slowly entered behind Derick, they also stopped. Listening to the newscaster deliver the unthinkable. Zombies.

  Though she hesitated when using the words on TV, it was pretty obvious that they were dead – yet living. Charlotte had been overrun, as had most of the United States. Various reports had also come in from around the world, and while they were sketchy at best, the same thing seemed to be happening. Some sort of global epidemic that was unexplainable.

  Charlotte had been overrun, but pockets of the United States Army remained – fighting their asses off. The news lady warned residents to stay indoors or risk being shot on sight by the military out of precaution. Lock your doors and do whatever you can to stay alive until this passes – her words.

  “This some kind of damn joke?” the prison guard asked. Grabbing the remote control from the diner's counter, he began flipping through channels. Most were pure static, but a few still managed to tune-in. Each with a various newscaster that looked scared shitless, delivering the same news.

  “What the fuck is this?”

  “Zombies.” Lamar said.

  He watched the small television like a child watching Santa stories on Christmas Eve. As a nerd for science fiction, this was a holiday to him.

  “You mean dead people who come back?” the guard asked. Rolling his eyes for a moment. “Ain't no such thing.”

  “Looks like.” Lamar said. Watching footage of dead hordes smashing their way into various businesses in downtown Charlotte.

  “This can't be right.” Derick said.

  “They're zombies. I'm kind of an expert.” Lamar confirmed.

  His comment drew stares from everyone in the Hometown Grill. How could someone be an expert on something that, up until this point, was complete fiction?

  “Well, an expert may be a little much. I mean I collect the comics and prep-”

  “Comics?” the prison guard asked loudly. Shaking his head.

  “Yea, comics,” Lamar fired back. “You have any other explanation for this shit? Because if you do, we're listening.”

  The guard looked puzzled, finally trying his radio once more.

  This time, after several long moments of feedback, a dispatcher answered. He was quick to walk back outside and that was enough for Murphy to hoist his revolver onto the convict once more. Daring the incarcerated man to move.

  “You got a name?” Derick asked.

  The convict stared into his direction for a moment. “Carlos.”

  “Murphy. You want to pull that damn revolver down before you accidentally shoot Carlos?” Derick asked.

  “Piss off.”

  “Well, you tried.” Lamar said.

  Turning to Pam, Derick's voice changed to one of comfort.

  “You OK?”

  “Just uh,” she began. “A lot to try and process.”

  “There's a reasonable explanation. Just calm down with all the chatter. It's probably just an elaborate attempt to bust this shitbag out of prison,” Murphy said. Holding his revolver on Carlos with a steady hand. “I knew something like this was going to happen after those damn Democrats legalized weed.”

  “Zombies,” the guard confirmed. Entering the diner again as the bell jingled throughout a room of silence. “Dispatch says the prison is pretty much overrun except for C Pod. What's left of my people are holed up.”

  “Charlotte?” Pam asked.

  “She didn't know a lot but it has to be bad. Alexander Correctional Institution was heavily fortified. It would have taken a damn army to bust through.”

  “What do we do?” Lisa asked – shaken.

  Several of the people began to exit the diner and find their own vehicles. Fleeing like rats from a sinking ship. They would eventually leave out in a cloud of dust. Some checking on family members, while others hauled ass as far away from the diner as they could get. Hoping to the leave the entire nightmare behind them.

  “People please.” Derick began. Trying his best to sway the reasoning of the final few to leave out.

  “Let 'em go,” Lamar said. “Whenever something like this goes down, panic always sets in. People tend to lose it.”

  “How many times have you been through this?” Derick asked with sarcasm.

  “The comics, man,” he replied. “Movies and prepping websites.”

  “Again with the comics,” the prison guard said. “You keep talking about that childish shit and I'll gag you.”

  “Whoa,” Derick stood up with a handout. “The last thing we need is to start arguing. We don't know the specifics of what's going on, but people are still free to go as they please. This isn't a prison. He can speak his mind, just like the rest of us. Anyone who wants to leave is welcome to go.”

  “But I wouldn't.” Lamar said.

  Derick shot him a look of grit.

  “Well, I wouldn't.”

  “Those of us who're staying need to put our heads together and figure out how this is going to work.”

  “Lost it.” Pam said. Trying to get a signal back to the television. Even with several clicks of the rotary dial on the old television – nothing.

  “The men with the guns make the big boy rules. That's how it works.” the prison guard said, flashing his revolver.

  Murphy nodded with approval.

  “Not in my grill,” Raymond said. Reaching beneath the counter, he pulled a shotgun to the ready. “If you plan on staying it's by my rules.”

  Neither revolver-toting man liked the terms, but they both accepted with a nod. It was awfully hard to miss with a shotgun.

  For several moments, there was silence. Not the typical quiet that happens in everyday life, but a nerve-shattering silence. Making everyone uncomfortable.

  “We need to figure out what we have here and how we can fortify this place,” Lamar finally said. “Unless anyone has a better idea?”

  “Nope.” the guard replied.

  “Officer-” Derick began.

  “He ain't no officer,” Carlos said fast. “He's a prison guard. Out here he's just the same as the rest of us.”

  “Shut up, you!” the guard replied.

  Finally, he turned his attention back to Derick.

  “A.K. Moses. And while I may be a prison guard now, I was on the force for eleven years. Right in the heart of Charlotte.”

  “Well A.K. I think we need to consider letting Carlos loose.”

  “What?”

  “We've got an entire city full of... zombies, or whatever in the hell they are. If it were me, the last thing I would want is to be sitting in some roadside diner with my hands cuffed. I can't think of a worse way to go.”

  “Oh, they're zombies.” Lamar boasted.

  “That's not an option,” A.K. R
eplied sternly. “This man's a killer and officially the property of North Carolina.”

  “Then take him on out there into North Carolina.” Raymond said.

  “Look,” A.K. said. Edging his way to Derick. “I'm not trying to be hard to get along with,” he whispered. “But this man is a killer. There's a reason he was with a 2-guard escort and chained up like a damn monster.”

  “You and Carlos have a history?”

  A.K. stared back at the convict for a moment. “No. Hell, I was supposed to be off today. He's normally not even in my pod, but we were short-handed.”

  “Then give him a chance.” Derick reasoned.

  A.K. thought on it for several moments. Finally, he nodded. “He doesn't get a gun. If that happens, I walk and you can deal with him.”

  “Fair enough,” Derick said. “Raymond?”

  “Fine by me. No man deserves to be run down by zombies, or anything else, for that matter while he's cuffed.”

  “Zombies,” A.K. said with a laugh. The term itself was still completely unbelievable. Kneeling in front of Carlos, his grin turned to a stern look. “I'm gonna let you go free. You and I have no beef, right?”

  “I've only seen you around the prison. You and I are cool.” Carlos replied.

  “From this point forward, at least until we find out what in the fuck is going on – you're a free man. You want to leave, be my guest. If this all blows over, I'll have explaining to do anyway with a dead officer around back. Truth is, if you run they'll probably pin his murder on you anyway. But if you stay – you walk the line.”

  “Like Johnny Cash.” Pam said.

  A.K. turned to her for a moment. “Excellent.”

  “Finally. Something we all agree on.” Raymond said with a grin.

  “Who's Johnny Cash?” Lamar asked.

  His question drew as many stares as the zombie footage on television.

  “You don't get a gun. Are we clear?” A.K. insisted.

  “I need something,” Carlos replied. “I mean, damn man... you saw that footage just the same as I did.”

  A.K. stared at him for several tense moments. Finally, reaching around to the back of his work belt, the guard pulled a decent knife around. It was military grade, large, and its handle was had been dipped in slip proof rubber.

  “Best I can do.”

  “Rather have a knife anyway. They kill zombies quietly.”

  His comment drew plenty of glances.

  “I read comic books, too.” Carlos admitted.

  Lamar held up his fist for a moment. Perhaps there was some sort of brotherhood between grown men who enjoyed comic books. Then again, maybe not.

  “Calm down,” Carlos finally replied. “I only read them because they frown upon titty magazines in prison.”

  “Either way,” Lamar said. Still happy to no longer be alone with his passion. “You probably know that right now, with every minute that ticks by, we should be getting this place ready for the horde that we know is coming.”

  The diner watched as a computer tech guy and a man convicted of murder conversed about what they'd read in comic books. Unsure of which was more unlikely. What they were watching or the dead walking.

  “I think we're right to stay here.” Carlos said.

  “What do you know?” A.K. grinned.

  “I know that back at Alexander Correctional, with a little time to plan it took eight officers in full riot gear to get my ass out of a cell. And we've got plenty more to work with here. With enough time, I can turn this place into a fortress.”

  “What do you suggest?” Raymond asked.

  “I'd knock the legs from these tables and cover the windows, first off. Nail them over the window frames if you have the tools. Leave just enough for us to see out of, right about the height of our eyes when standing. We need to inventory everything and make sure that everyone here has something to fight with.”

  “I can go outside and check the vehicles. There should be plenty of things out there to help us out.” Lamar said.

  “Do that,” Carlos replied. “Raymond, maybe check the back and see what our food situation is. This is a small diner, but there-”

  “I'm on it.” Raymond replied.

  “I don't like the fact that he's stepping up as our leader.” Murphy whispered.

  “Neither do I,” A.K. replied. “Just keep that revolver close. There's going to come a time when the men with guns take over. Are we on the same page?”

  Murphy slighted his head forward.

  He and A.K. were strangers in every facet, except for their willingness to accept the facts. A plague – a zombie plague, had whipped its way into nearby Charlotte and from they could tell, most of the rest of the world was fighting a losing battle against the virus, too. Both Murphy and A.K. understood that a time would come when the men with experience would need to step up and lead. The old man had military experience and he certainly knew his guns. A.K. had been a patrol officer in Charlotte and then sought out a career as a correctional officer. He knew how to handle people who didn't want to be handled.

  With that, a small alliance was born.

  Chapter 2

  “How are you two doing over here?” Derick asked.

  Taking a seat with both Pam and Lisa, they were quick to let him know with just a couple of hopeless looks. He knew Pam well enough, though Lisa was a brand new face. Even so, he understood how a woman looked when she was defeated inside. He'd watched his own mother carry the same look month after month, doing what she could to raise two young boys while living hand-to-mouth. He'd also seen the look when his brother passed away. The fake smile with no hope behind it.

  Derick knew.

  “That bad, huh?” he asked.

  Derick did what he could to smile, but he'd never quite found a trick to reverse that look in a woman. If there even was a trick.

  “It's just that we haven't been able to get the television back at all. This old radio isn't faring much better. We've heard a little on the AM band, but it's mostly static with some panicked voices in between. They're asking everyone to dig in. I imagine some people were prepared with bunkers and all. You know, some people always expect the worse. But this bad? I mean zombies. I doubt many people had the intuition to prepare for something like this. I still don't know what's going on in the city other than killing, dying and complete chaos. It's safe to say a lot of people who shouldn't be dead – are.” Pam said.

  “It's OK,” he replied with a grin. Again trying unsuccessfully to pick her spirits up. “You're doing your best, just keep trying. All I can say is that we're alive right now and they seem to think this diner will hold up.”

  Stopping for a moment, he watched as the door opened, ringing its small bell. Someone really needed to take the bell down. Lamar, A.K., and Carlos all began dumping supplies onto the floor close to the center. Things they'd managed to scavenge from the vehicles outside. Cell phone chargers, medicines, snack foods and other, more important things. Like flashlights and blankets.

  “That's it,” Lamar said. “That's all we could find.”

  “We went through all of the vehicles. Found a few things worth keeping, but not a whole hell of a lot.” A.K. added.

  “The door is glass so we'll need to board it up,” Carlos suggested. “We can use a few of these table tops and nail them down. It won't hold forever, but it could be enough to keep us all alive for a while.”

  “What if we need to run? How will we-” Lisa began.

  “There's a door around back. It's steel and solid enough. It leads to a storage shed – that's where we normally unload the trucks. Mostly cans of ketchup and floor cleaner, though. Other than that, just a bunch of woods.” Raymond said.

  “In Vietnam, we always had a backup.” Murphy said.

  This ain't Nam, old man. Lamar thought.

  “Good to know.” Lisa replied. She'd had enough of his rambling about long ago wars and political agendas.

  “Shut up and listen!” he blasted. “We always had a back
up cache of supplies close by. That way if the shit got too thick, we could bolt for it and not be stranded with our dicks-a-swinging. Get me?”

  “He's right,” A.K. replied quickly. “We need to fill a bag with some extra things and put them behind this place in the woods. Just in case the military zooms past us again and wants to stop this time.”

  “Or the zombies.” Lamar said.

  “Yea,” A.K. replied. “OK.”

  He still didn't like the term zombies. Yea, people were killing and dying. He'd come to terms with that. But zombies? To hell with all of that comic book fiction. There was a logical explanation for everything.

  “Murphy should be the one,” Derick said. “He's got experience with getting together a backup sack of supplies and he'll know what we can spare.”

  For a moment, even during a zombie apocalypse, Murphy's face lit up like a toy hoarding child window-shopping for Christmas. The once valued soldier again felt duty tugging at his bootstraps. The dead might have been roaming about with intentions of picking the flesh from his bones, but he'd never felt more alive.

  As the old man began rummaging the pile of loot, looking for anything they might need on the run, even Derick caught himself feeling glad for Murphy. He was excited to see the old man invested in something besides politics. Everyone knew that the gig was scripted.

  “It's good that you spoke up for him you know?” Lisa asked.

  She smiled at Derick. They had not known one another for very long, but the woman from California already had Derick pegged as one of the good guys.

  “Yea... I guess so.”

  “What's your story?” she asked.

  “Me?” Derick looked surprised. “I dunno. Perennial underachiever, I suppose. People have always told me to expect more out of myself but I'm hard-headed. If you live in the moment long enough you wind up delivering oxygen for a living, I guess. Oh, and I'm not married. Thanks for not asking.”

  Lisa nodded. Smiling wide.

  It was perhaps the end of the world and there was no time for love to blossom. Still, Lisa ran a finger through a bit of her hair and repositioned it behind her ear. Derick had done a decent job of calming her nerves.