"Last house, gentlemen,"
Sergeant Leon Romero said, "let's get whatever
supplies we can find and get out before the
residents come back." The four men came around the house from around back, passing the
in-ground pool typical of the suburban neighborhood they were raiding.
"Unless the residents are still alive, you mean," Walter Newman said. "We're looking for
survivors, too."
"What do you think the odds of that are?" Leon asked. It was a rhetorical question, as Walter made a habit of sharing facts and figures with those around him, interested or not. "We haven't found any new survivors in a month."
"True, but I think Walt's point is we need people more than extra
canned goods right now. There is no good reason I should be out scouting," Sonny said. He tried the front door as he spoke. "Designing an inventory database, sure... guys, the door is unlocked." Unlocked doors weren't unheard of since the national guard had retrieved some people from their homes
suddenly. They also happened if the residents had been turned into zombies before anyone could help them.
Leon moved ahead of Sonny and opened the front door, with the others behind him.
"Alright, Leon, you're on point," Walter said, "Sonny and Jonah, check the cabinets for any
non-perishable food. I'll get any toilet paper and linens I can find."
A voice came from inside the house, past Leon (who was now frozen in his tracks).
"Well how about that, Walter," the voice said. "It took you long enough to get here."
"Who is that?" Walter asked, already knowing the answer. The voice was unmistakable.
"Don't you remember me?" the curly-haired man said sarcastically.
Walter walked into the room, with Sonny and Jonah behind him. Kent Law sat in a recliner holding a bottle of
Sprite in his hand. A short African-American man stood nearby in the kitchen. The man held a heavy
shotgun in his hands.
"I remember you, Kent," Walter said. "Glad to see you've made it."
"It took you long enough to get here," Kent said. "I was starting to think you weren't planning to come for us."
"Well,..." Walter began.
"Do you two live here?" Sonny asked. "The place doesn't seem like it would hold up if the zombies come looking for you."
"This was my wife's parent's house, back when people had houses of their own," Kent said. "We don't live here, we..."
A flushing sound came from the bathroom, and a man came out. "We live in a
secure location. The
neighborhood's safe enough during the day, but the zombies come back from the city after sundown."
"Jason, this is Walt," Kent said.
"And friends," Jonah said.
"Very nice to make your acquaintance," Jason said. "Less nice to make the acquaintance of your friend's gun." Jason gestured at Leon's gun, which he still held in both hands. "Why so nervous?"
"I don't see your friend relaxing by the pool," Leon said.
"I," said the man in the kitchen, "did not enter another man's house uninvited."
Leon and the man in the kitchen
stared at each other.
"Well, this is sufficiently tense," Jason said. "
Kunta Kinte, grab a couple of cokes for the gentlemen here."
"What did you call him?!" Jonah said.
"He doesn't mind," Jason said. It was not at all clear that the man didn't mind. "We ran out of
beer about a week and a half ago, but it turns out there's a never-ending supply of
vending machines around."
"You know, we've got plenty of beer at our camp," Walter said. "We'll have to treat you guys some time."
"Where is your camp, anyway?" Jason asked, a little too innocently.
"Not too far," Leon answered. He accepted a
Cherry Coke, but did not put his gun away.
"We need to get back soon, actually," Sonny said. "I've been looking forward to a hot shower."
"Hot shower?!?" Kent, Jason, and the man in the kitchen exclaimed in unison.
"How do you keep hot water?" Kent asked.
"We have electric heating," Jonah said, "at least for the moment. If anything breaks down we don't have anyone to fix it."
"We actually have a couple engineers in our camp," the man in the kitchen said, glancing hesitantly at Jason. "But we haven't had any equipment for them to work with."
"It sounds like we could be of some help to each other," Walter said.
"It sure does. Cheers," Jason said, opening a
Diet Coca-Cola Black Cherry Vanilla. "We should have some of our people see your camp. Where is it?"
"Why are you so insistent?" Walter asked. Outside the window behind him, the sun fell behind the horizon.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Jason said.
"Then you won't mind telling us where your camp is," Leon said.
"Right," Jason said, "so you can steal from us just like you steal from all the empty houses around here!"
"Steal what, soda?" Sonny asked. "Sounds like you guys need us more than we need you!"
"Hold on," Kent said, standing suddenly between the armed men from the two camps. "Things are getting..."
The glass window in the kitchen crashed inward as an arm in tattered clothing reached in.
The man in the kitchen spun where he stood and fired his shotgun at the zombie. More windows began to shatter around them as the commuting zombies returned to their roost. Leon and Jonah slammed the front door behind them just as two more tried to get in.
"We need to get out of here, now!"
The seven men raced for the back door. The zombies surrounded them as they ran outside. One grabbed Walter, pulling him with incredible force. Kent quickly grabbed a shovel and struck the zombie in the head, freeing Walter and knocking the zombie to the ground.
The two men began running to catch up to the others, zombies lunging at them from behind. Walter looked back, although he wasn't sure why. He saw zombie after zombie pouring around the house, with several stumbling into the pool as the men ran by. The zombies sputtered, immobilized in the water.
"They can't
swim," Walter said quietly. "They can't swim! Kent?"
"What?" Kent asked, a few feet ahead of Walter. The
armored transport the raiders had come in was in sight.
"I'm sorry we never came for you."
Kent gave half a smile. "We'll talk about it later."
The men ran.
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