Got me another story.
MEN'O'FIVE
An old blue ‘69 Ford F-150 pulled up to a large, two-story Grocery store, stopping a few dozen yards away in the dusty parking lot, the passengers inside well-prepared for the excursion. Very few windows lined the buildings outer walls, and it seemed to have been deserted for quite some time since the incident of the outbreak.
Five men stepped out of the vehicle, two with pistols, two with semi-automatic rifles, and one with a shotgun. One with a rifle took point, leading the others to the glass front door of the store, and he kicked it open, gun at the ready for anything that might just pop out of the dark.
“Morrison, I’m going to check out the upper section of this crap-olla.” Nash jokingly said, racking the bolt-carrier of his modified civilian AK-47 assault rifle back as he pointed it towards the staircase, he switched on the flashlight mounted on the leapers front rail system, and he began signaling two other men armed with pistols; Mason and Johnson, to come along. Mason wielded a Glock 17 with a convenient light attached to the bottom rail, and Johnson carried a Springfield GI model M1911A1, the sights a dark grey hue, hardly visible in the dark lighting of the stairwell. It was a poor choice for where such close indoor combat with any mistake literally translating to a fatality. “You take Wilson and clear the basement, if you up, we’re all screwed.”
“Alright Nash.” Morrison said, chuckling as he looked down the sights of his Beretta Cx4’s Holographic sight, the light attached underneath the barrel clearly outlining everything he pointed it at. Wilson pumped a new shell into his Mossberg 500. “Radio me when you’re sure it’s clear.” Morrison said, “Me and Wilson are going to close up the windows after we’re done, we expect you to do the same.”
“Don’t worry comrade!” Mason laughed, “In soviet Russia, windows close you!” Johnson was the lone man to chuckle at Masons ill-conceived joke, and after an embarrassed shrug of defeat, Mason took point as the three men climbed up the stairs. Morrison and Wilson vanished down the hallway.
Mason steadily climbed the stairs, and as soon as he reached the top of the flight, he scanned the corner with his Glock 17; the light beam flickering as he cautiously glanced back and forth. The shelves of the second-floor of the department store appearing nearly vacant of food and supplies. The store seemed to be the victim of multiple lootings. “Hey, Nash, do you see that?” He asked, pointing towards the bare shelves, “this place is ghost.”
“Well I’m sure there is something here, maybe some poor sucker got his ass bit off when looting it.” Nash said, walking up into the room with Mason, Johnson close behind. “Johnny boy, you’re getting the privilege to cover the stairwell, if someone comes up, blow their balls off unless they got a gun.” He looked to Mason, “You cover me, take my back.” He said, “I’ll take point.”
Mason shrugged in agreement, “Works for me.” Nash walked ahead of him, and he followed close behind, making sure Johnson’s area was safe, he pointed the flashlight behind him to see the bare walls, he seemed safe and sound.
“I wish the damn power was still on.” Mason said, as he scanned back and fourth at the different obstacles they left behind them, weaving into the aisles of shelves, seeing nothing but emptied cans of food and the occasional bag of trash left behind by someone deserting the store.
“Don’t worry, there’s got to be something somewhere.” Nash smiled, holding the AK out in front of him as he scanned another aisle, and then, he heard a light sob. “Now what in the is that?” He asked, quietly pacing toward the area of the sound. Mason quietly kept up, and kept watch of the area behind him as he followed him through the aisle.
“Well I’ll be damned.” Nash said, smiling, as he pointed the gun and light at someone.
“What?” Mason asked, glancing over at what Nash aimed at. A girl, no older than 23, was sitting crouched on the ground, crying.
“Well would you look at that,” Nash said, “what do you think?” He asked, his voice deeper as he concentrated down the lined up sights.
“It’s a witch.” Mason chuckled, waving his Glock down to his side, the flashlight illuminating the blood stained floor.
“We ain’t playing’ left for dead, so what I’d like to say is we see if she’s human, if not, then we get to play who makes her smile most.” He grinned, an evil crack in his face.
“No, bro, you’re going to have to play that game by yourself. Zombie syphilis ain’t on my menu.” He smiled, taking another step, which landed his foot right on top of a tin can, crunching it in a crispy sound.
Suddenly, the girl turned around, letting out one more sob. “Are you here to help?” She asked, her voice raspy with fear, as she turned her body, revealing the dead corpse of a young man her age where she had been mourning.
“Hell...” Nash sighed, pointing his gun slightly away from her.
“There goes your plan, bro.” Mason chuckled, playfully popping him in the chest with his shoulder. He turned to the girl, and walked ahead of Nash. “It’s ok, yes, we’re here to help out, but can you tell us if there are any more survivors or anything here?” He laid the gun on the counter, the light aimed on them as he caressed her shoulder, looking down at the dead man. She was younger than he was, and he was 25, Nash and Morrison were at least 28, Johnson was around 22, and he did not ever figure out how old Wilson was, but however much, couldn’t have been past his late forties. Either way, he did not look at her like someone to save, more like the bride of a lucky man, whoever that might be in the group. Then she answered him.
“No, we were the last two of a big survival group out of Florence, him, and me. I loved him, but I had to do it.” She sniffled, pointing at a hammer lying on the floor across the room.
“Florence?” Nash asked, lowering the rifle to his hip as he looked over at Mason, “I thought that place would be safe?”
“Damn, I’m sorry you had to lose your boyfriend.” Mason frowned, crouching closer beside her and caressing her long, blonde hair across her ears.
“No, he was my step-brother.” She frowned, “He went crazy, it wasn’t even the bite that did it, he just lost all hope, even tried to kill me.”
“Listen, we need to know if there are any of those zombies in here, we can talk about this later, when we regroup with our own team.” Mason said, as Nash turned around, shining the light down the aisle.
“No, maybe the basement, but not here or the first floor.” She said. “My name’s Tasha, by the way.” She smiled, wiping a tear from her eyes.
He grinned, and then shrugged. “It’s ok; we do not need to get on that much of a personal basis. What’s your last name?” He asked her.
“Staten.” She said, quietly. “But please, if you ever want to, call me Tasha.”
“Ok, Tasha,” Mason smiled, “do you or him have any guns? And where’s the rest of your group?”
“We didn’t have anything but the hammer, and everyone...” She paused, sniffling as she took a breath. She wrapped her arms around him, and buried her head into his chest. “They’re all dead. Whatever these things are, they aren’t just crazy people, something changes them, and I don’t know what.” She sobbed, as he regretfully wrapped his arms around her; a violation of one of Nash’s four rules of conduct; don’t get personal. He looked back at Nash, who in the dim luminescence of the flashlights had a look of sympathy, for once.
At the sight of the squad leader’s approval, Mason hugged Tasha tighter. “It’s ok.” He said, as he ran his hand down her smooth back, the blood stained green sweater smooth to touch. “We’re going to get you to safety, but we need to know a little more about where your group died at, and if they had any guns.”
“They died somewhere outside; I don’t know how far, all I know is there were six of them, not including Bobby and me. Like, 20 of those creatures tore them apart. My cousin was in that group, and he’s really strong, but they took him down like...” She broke down into a whimper, and he just held her.
“It’s ok.” He repeated, caressing from her hair down to her back with his hand as he whispered, “Hush,” into her ear, as gently as possible.
“Hey, since there ain’t any up here, I’m going to go check on Johnson, then get on the radio. Pretty damned suspicious that there ain’t been no gunshots.” Nash said, Mason just nodded, and at that, he parted from Mason and Tasha.
“I love you.” Tasha said, quietly, as she looked up, teary eyed at Mason, still clinched onto him. “We’ve got to get out of here.” She said, “I’m afraid that they may break out of the basement, please, we got to get out of here.”
“What do you mean break out of the basement?” Mason asked, surprised by her raw emotion.
“Bobby and I, we, we locked a whole bunch in the basement.” She said, “I don’t know how many, but, I’m not sure how much longer the door can hold.”
“Damn it...” Mason said, “I’ll be back.” He said, quickly clutching onto the Glock as he stood up. He almost got started en-route to the stairwell, but a feeling of shock overtook him, and he looked back down at Tasha. “Follow me to the stairwell, there should be two guys, if they ain’t there, run out the door as fast as you can unless there are a bunch of psychopaths in the stairwell, I don’t see why there would be because I ain’t heard nothing, but if there are, just run like hell.”
“Ok.” She said with approval. She stood, and took his hand. He winced at first, but a smile crossed him, and he started down the aisle in a trek towards the staircase. The Glock light flickered as he aimed it, but then it balanced out, and he continued walking, making out two figures standing still at the stair case.
“Guys?” Mason said, as one of the figures quickly glanced over at him.
“What?” Johnson asked, leaning back against the doorway to the staircase.
“Thank god.” He muttered, and then he looked at Nash. “Any word?” He asked.
“Still on radio silence, they ought to have reported in by now.” Nash said, looking down the sights of his AK once again as the beam of light shone down the stairs.
“Well, just found out they had locked a whole load of them in the basement, I’ve got a feeling that we’re going to have to pack up and haul ass here, pretty quick.” Mason said, frantically jittering as he slapped the light on the Glock, trying to prevent it from flashing anymore.
“Well, I guess we can...” Nash managed, before he was interrupted by the radio’s abrupt call to life.
“Wilson to Nash, Wilson to Nash, over.” The radio cackled.
“Thank god, listen, just heard there was a bunch trapped in the basement; get the hell out of there.” Nash yelled as he pressed the speaker button on the radio.
“We, we know there are zombies.” He replied. “The door’s busted down, something got out, either a whole lot of little something, or a whole lot of big something, whatever it was, it don’t seem to be here anymore.” He finished.
“Well hell, head on out A.S.A.P.” Nash said, “It just ain’t secure, we ain’t taking no chances.”
“Fine, fine, we’re on our way, over and out.” Wilson ended, and the line went out.
“Well, that solves that problem.” Nash said, “I’ll take point, Mason you get rear. Comprende?” He asked.
“Loud and clear.” He chuckled, and they started down the staircase, guns trained in all directions, as they descended back to the first floor. The radio hissed once more, and then it ended. “Hope that wasn’t them dying.” Mason said.
“It probably wasn’t, Wilson would ‘a got off a few rounds before then. I’m sure Morrison would have shot too.” Nash said, reaching the bottom, as he strafed around the corner with his sights tame and lit by the lighting of the sun outside the front doors. He saw Morrison and Wilson rounding the corner, and in relief, stopped as Tasha, Johnson, and Mason caught up.
“Figured you guys were dead.” He cackled, proudly raising the rifle over his shoulder.
“I almost pissed my pants when I saw that door.” Morrison said, holding the Beretta Cx4 in a similar stance. “But, uh, anyways, whatever was in there, it’s gone now.”
“Weird.” Johnson said, as he looked at his Springfield GI, caressing the sights as he waited for more action.
“Well, we don’t want to stand around and wait to be eat, so lets go outside, it’s a warm, sunny day.” Mason smiled, as he opened up the door.
Morrison looked at Tasha, “Who’s the girl?”
“She’s Staten, but she likes to be called Tasha.” Mason smiled.
“Well, we can’t be sure she hasn’t been bitten, so why don’t we do a strip search?” Morrison giggled, Tasha smiled in a polite way, thinking well of his joke.
“Nah, if she’d been bit, she’d have turned by now. She was forced to resort to killing her step-brother, so give it a break.” Mason said.
“Alright, man.” Morrison said.
Mason walked out the door, Tasha followed close behind, along with the rest of the group. They stepped out onto the dusty parking lot, looking around, the truck sat still, and all was quiet.
“This is damn spooky.” Nash said, “Come on you cowards, where are ya?” He yelled. The wind was the only reply, and the parking lot didn’t even stir.
“We had a pretty good haul today, so let’s keep it that way.” Wilson said, patting Nash on the shoulder as he pulled his keys from his pocket, and headed towards the truck.
“Haul?” Tasha asked.
“He means we found someone else, it’s not just men of five still alive anymore.” Mason smiled. “Now, can you tell us where your group went down? We might be able to salvage what they may have left behind...”