Storm Horizon Page 16

  Cassandro tilted his head. "Are you going to play golf?"

  Will chuckled. "No, it's just an expression. What brings you out here?"

  The night air was chilly and Cassandro wasn't wearing a shirt over his wife beater. He crossed his arms over his chest and scrunched over for warmth. “Por Dios, it's colder than I thought." He blew out a breath of air and rubbed his hands up and down over his biceps. "Brianna, she mad at me."

  Will was flabbergasted. "What on earth is Brianna mad at you for?"

  Danny flashed an evil grin. "Cassandro and Brianna have been spending a lot of time together, Boss. Keeping each other warm on those long, cold nights."

  "Really? Is that right, Andro? Are you in Brianna…," he paused, trying to find the right word, "… together?"

  Andro squinted his eyes. "Together?" He repeated.

  "You know," Will pulled off his wedding ring and held it in front of him. "A couple?"

  "Ah, together." He made a fish motion through the air with his hand. "Como se dice mas o menos." He considered it for a moment, then his face broke into a smile. "Kind of. We eat together. She help me with my English, she feel safe. She a very nice girl."

  Will turned to Danny. "You and Tara, Andro and Brianna. Are there any other budding relationships I should be aware of?"

  "Probably. So anyway, Andro- why is Brianna mad at you?"

  "She say I should not go on trip for guns."

  "Yeah, there's a lot of that going around," Will said in a dry voice.

  "But I tell her we no have guns, we all die anyway."

  Will raised his eyebrows and sighed. "Well, you gotta give him points for honesty."

  "No shit." Danny kicked at an errant pebbled, then grinned. "I'm the only guy here whose girl isn't mad at him about this trip."

  "That's because your girl will be there to keep you safe. And if she didn’t want you to go, she could just beat your ass."

  "I don't know. I think I could take her."

  They both chuckled, then grew quiet. The trio stood next to one another, each lost in his own thoughts, none of them in a hurry to go back inside.

  Forty-Four

  * * *

  Will imagined the drive would be scenic under different circumstances. They traveled a winding, undulating road through grasslands and wooded areas and over creeks and rivers. Houses dotted the countryside, running the gamut from derelict house trailers to sprawling McMansions. They drove by an exquisite horse ranch with a 5000-square-foot brick Tudor home, surrounded by hundreds of yards of four-rail fencing. Oaks, maples, and elms lined the road, their spring buds green and glistening in the cool morning sun. They crested a long hill; spread across the wide valley on the other side was an old, dilapidated factory. A long double-row of broken and shattered windows ran the length of the main building. A smokestack looming over the complex leaned precariously, and the roof had caved in on the building’s south side.

  They saw deer, wild turkeys, and rabbits aplenty; it was rare to drive a hundred yards without a frantic squirrel dashing across the road in front of them.

  “This looks like heaven,” Jiri murmured.

  They climbed a long hill, then came to a dead end opposite a wide two-lane street. “Here we go,” Justin said. “We turn right, and Joplin is just ahead."

  A half-mile of farmland crawled by outside Will's window. They passed a city limits sign that said Duenweg, population 1,311.

  The farmland dissolved on both sides, replaced by unprofitable-looking businesses with gravel parking lots. Run-down houses with sagging roofs and peeling paint were mixed in among the mini-storages, used tire shops, and salvage yards. They drove past a pet store that looked like it specialized in fish with fin rot and puppies suffering from respiratory infections. A trucking company took up several blocks on the passenger side.

  They left Duenweg behind and drove past a mile of scrub brush and sickly yellow grass. Chat piles, some the size of the car, some as big as a two-story building, loomed over the struggling foliage. They passed over a highway; cars packed bumper-to-bumper carpeted all four lanes plus the breakdown lanes. The traffic snarl extended in both directions as far as the eye could see.

  The roadside businesses grew more crowded on the other side of the highway. They were no less seedy or unsuccessful-looking, but there were more of them. Three corpses swung at the end of ropes attached to the scaffolding on a billboard in front of a brick company on the south side of the street. The occasional creeper shuffled through the parking lots and front yards. Their necks craned as they followed the growl of the Ford's diesel engine and they lumbered after the two vehicles until they were out of sight.

  The cavalcade of small businesses continued and grew denser. Danny read the names on the signs as they passed. "Used car lot, auto salvage, repair shop, diesel mechanic, repair shop, dent repair, repair shop. Man, the people in this town must've needed their cars worked on a lot."

  As Joplin grew near, churches worked their way into the mix. They passed the sprawling Joplin Family Prayer Center, the Joplin Cavalry Chapel, and The Holy Assembly. The ABC Towing and Repair Center sailed by to the south and the business district ended as suddenly as it began. The north side of the street consisted of empty fields dotted with wooded areas; a smattering of houses on two and three acre lots lined the south side.

  Will pointed at the empty fields. "I wonder why there's no development on that side."

  Justin peered out at the open expanse. "I bet it's because of that creek," he said, referring to a small, shallow stream that twisted and turned at a languid pace through the acreage.

  They drove through a large intersection and the surroundings changed on a dime again. Strip malls sprung up on both sides, packed together one after another. There was a marked increase in the number of deserted cars and amount of debris they had to maneuver around.

  There was also an increase in the number of creepers. No longer an occasional sighting in a yard or a parking lot, now they shuffled along everywhere you looked. They roamed the streets and the strip mall parking lots or stood stock still in the middle of the street until the moving vehicles caught their attention.

  The truck swept past strip malls and shopping centers crammed around a Target discount store. "This must've been the town's shopping district," Jiri said in a dry tone.

  Danny looked about, confused. "Are we in the actual Joplin yet?"

  Justin looked up from his maps. "Oh, yes. We have been for a few miles."

  Will chortled. "Look around, tumble-nuts. Do you see cows and chickens out there?

  "How much further to the bank, then?"

  As if on cue, Doc's voice crackled over the two-way. "Will, can you hear me?"

  "Loud and clear." Terrence's had the idea his two-way radio system might come in handy on the trip. It only had two radios and the range wasn't very far, but at least they could communicate between the two trucks without pulling over.

  "Time to look lively." The Doc's voice came across tinny and distorted. "We've got two miles left- down a long hill and back up another one. When we get to the top, we’ll be in the downtown district and only a few blocks from the bank."

  "Got it. You guys pull around and lead the rest of the way since you know the exact place we’re going. Be careful and tell the others not to get out until we leave the truck."

  "Will do, William. Godspeed."

  Will released the talk button on his radio. "Godspeed? What the…?" He gave a rueful shake of his head and turned so he could see the other four passengers. "Did you hear that, you bastards? This shit is about to get real.

  Forty-Five

  * * *

  The business district was comprised of narrow streets lined on both sides with old two and three-story brick buildings. There were no gaps between the structures- the north wall for one building doubled as the south wall for the one next to it- and they hugged close to the street. To Will, the effect was like standing in the bottom of a deep and narrow ravine. "The Shoot Out at Creeper
Canyon," he muttered to himself.

  They had stopped in an empty lot several blocks away to do one last weapons check and don their protective equipment. Wire-mesh gloves, shoulder pads, hip pads and knee pads taped over their forearms and elbows, shin pads to protect against creepers on the ground; each crew member had his own method for shielding himself from the dead. Almost everyone covered their hands and forearms; only Danny and Andro forwent the padding altogether. Danny said if God wanted him to dress like a pussy when he fought creepers, He wouldn’t have made them so easy to put down. Andro said nothing; he gazed at the crate of pads and gloves with an impassive expression, hoisted his machete, and returned to the truck.

  Jax was at the opposite end of the protection spectrum. He wore a football helmet and shoulder pads and used duct tape to secure rolled hip and thigh pads around his arms. A thick chemist's apron protected his chest, midsection and legs, and he wore a pair of wire mesh gloves on his hands.

  "Ol' Jax is going with the full-body condom," Danny whispered, causing Will, Jiri, and Justin to cover their mouths or turn away to hide their laughter.

  If their armor was different, then their weaponry was almost uniform. Everyone had their favorite kind of bludgeoning device and knife. Beyond that, each crew member carried an M4 rifle, a nine millimeter, and as many magazines as they had empty vest pockets for. They carried common guns and ammunition for a reason no one wanted to discuss- if someone went down, those still in the fight could make use of the doomed member's firearms and mags.

  Except for Terrence. The community’s peace officer carried a hatchet in a loop on his belt and a Beretta in a holster on his opposite hip. Beyond that, though, he had a handful of toys from his own private arsenal that he carried in a battle. These included military-grade body armor and a TAR bullpup assault rifle.

  Terrence explained to Will one night why the TAR was his weapon of choice when fighting the dead. "Its shorter length gives me better maneuverability. And the way its designed causes me to hold it close to my body, which decreases arm fatigue and allows me to bring it up faster."

  He'd brought an additional weapon, too, that he readied as the crew prepared to attack.

  The bank sat in the middle of the 400 block of Main Street. They'd parked a little over half a block away, alongside the curb near the end of the 300 block. Terrence was the first team member out, with Andro right behind him.

  A few creepers shuffled aimlessly in the vicinity as they arrived. As soon as they parked, the dead moved toward the vehicles, their moans echoing off the nearby buildings. Terrence and Andro made a beeline down the sidewalk to the bank’s entrance. Terrence pulled a long thin file from his back pocket and worked on the lock; Andro watched his back. It took just a few seconds before Terrence opened the glass door, nodded to himself, and and it opened. The dead in the lobby noticed the activity at the entrance and shuffled to the door.

  Terrence withdrew three grenades from a pouch on his vest. Andro opened the door a few feet; the peace officer pulled the pins and tossed the grenades through the opening, one at a time. After the third, they sprinted for the protection of the brick building next door, crouched down, and covered their heads with their arms.

  The grenades detonated in three-second intervals. Will was unimpressed with the explosions- three dull WHUMPs that sounded nothing like the grenades in the movies. But the effect was electric. The glass panels around the bank’s exterior erupted, showering the sidewalk and street with shards of glass. A creeper limped in front of the bank windows in pursuit of the men crouched nearby. It slumped to the ground in mid-step, a razor-sharp six-inch sliver of window embedded in its brain. A great cloud of dust and smoke billowed out into the street and rose to the sky.

  The grenade detonations cued the rest of the team to move and they burst into action, racing through the street and along the sidewalk to join Terrence and Cassandro.

  Will leaped over a short retaining wall and burst into the lobby. It was mayhem. Blood and gore splashed the walls and pooled on the floor. Severed arms and legs laid all around as if a vengeful four-year-old had torn the limbs off his sister's Barbies and tossed them in her room. One-legged creepers hobbled toward him and legless creepers pulled themselves along the ground with their elbows. A dozen lay motionless; others had wounds so grievous all they could do was flutter their arms and legs.

  They hurried through the chaos to the stairs at the far end of the lobby. Will had his Bowie knife in hand and spiked a pair of creepers as he passed by them, but the point was not to put down his many of the dead as possible- it was to make a mad dash to the fourth floor.

  The seven of them raced along, pounding up the stairs and producing a sound like a herd of bison on a gymnasium floor. Will was third to reach the top. His thigh muscles burned, and he sucked in as much oxygen as he could during the short time it took the rest of the team to clear the top stair.

  "Great job so far," he said, his voice clear and commanding. "Don't relax- there is a lot of work left. Jax, you keep the stairs secure. No dead get up here while we're working. Doc, go find your secret room. The rest of us will clear this floor- put down any creepers wandering loose and make sure all the doors are closed." Five long steps from the stairwell, double doors opened into a cavernous meeting room with exits on all four walls. He jerked his thumb toward the room. "We’ll clear that first, make sure it’s empty. Then me, Danny, and Tara will go left. Andro, Jiri, and Terrence, you go right."

  They clomped into the meeting room and spread out. Will's eyes scanned the area in front of him, tracking left to right and then back again. A table the size of an aircraft carrier dominated the room. It sat twenty on each side and reminded Will of the depictions in old cartoons of the tables where the King ate his meals. It was made of lacquered ebony and had intricate gold designs inlaid in a complicated pattern along its edges. Plush, high-back seats lined each side and a thick layer of dust covered everything. Expensive-looking artwork and mounted animal heads adorned three walls; the fourth held a gargantuan fireplace. A moose head, its massive antlers six feet long from end to end, stared at them from the mantle with glassy eyes and a morose expression. Banks of filthy windows looked out over the town; everywhere else that wasn’t a window was dark oak and looked like money. On one side the room a movie screen overlooked five rows of theater-style seating.

  Walking beside him, Danny took in the view. "So this is what life would be like if I'd gone to college. I bet it beats shoveling manure and wrestling steers out in the heat all day."

  "Yeah, but just think of the things you would miss out on cooped up in an office all day."

  "Like what?"

  Will didn't respond for several seconds. "I don't know, but there's got to be something."

  Danny snickered and looked between the rows in the little viewing area. “There aren't any creepers in here,” he said when finished.

  "I know. But the first time we don't check will be the time somebody gets bit."

  "Yup."

  Satisfied the room was clear, Will sent the teams out their respective exits. He and Danny stood on either side of their door, backs to the wall and weapons at the ready. Tara twisted the handle until it clicked, looked at each man until he nodded, jerked the door open, and jumped back. The hall on the other side was empty.

  Will studied the corridor. It ran about thirty feet long and came to a dead end on the far side. A series of closed doors, presumably offices, ran down the left side. On the right, two smaller corridors extended off the main hall. "Gonna be a tight fit in the smaller halls. Me and Tara will check them; Danny, you stay back and play defense."

  "There won’t be any creepers up here," Danny said in a confident tone. "They can barely walk a set of porch steps- no way they can make it up four flights of stairs."

  Will gave him a baleful look. "We do things the proper way. That's how we make it two years and only lose a handful of people."

  "I know. I'm just sayin'."

  "Just sayin," Will mocke
d as they advanced down the hallway.

  Forty-Six

  * * *

  They secured the top floor in short order- there were no creepers to be found. Will left Jax to continue guarding the staircase; everyone else gathered in the boardroom.

  "Are they still there, Doc?" he called as he approached.

  Doc Joseph had a gleam in his eye and wore a wisp of a smile. "Oh, I'm certain they are here. But I've yet to check."

  Will twirled his index finger in a 'hurry up' gesture. "Well, let's go. Creepers are gathering downstairs as we speak."

  The Doc dipped his head. "As you say, sir." He stood to the left of the brontosaurus-sized fireplace and turned to face the wall. Oak panels six feet wide and running from the floor to the ceiling were mounted on either side of the hearth. Sandalwood tiles were cut into the panels in a checkerboard pattern. He counted four tiles up from the floor and four to the left. He banged the center of the selected tile with the butt of his fist- it reminded Will of Fonzie playing the jukebox on Happy Days back when he was a kid. Everyone waited with bated breath.

  Nothing happened.

  The back of his neck turned red and he mumbled to himself. He repeated the process- four up, four over, and a smack to the center of the tile. This time there was a metallic click and a whirring sound, and a segment of the panel swung out from the wall.

  The group gave a collective 'ooh’, like a passel of kids watching the grand finale at a Fourth of July fireworks display.

  He slid his fingers into the gap and pulled and a hidden five by three-foot door opened. "Light, please."

  Terrence handed him a Maglite.

  The Doc clicked it on, ducked his head, and stepped inside. His voice, slightly muffled, floated back. "It looks as if they are all here, William."

  * * *