Guns, Rations, Rigs and the Undead Page 7

  Lincoln chuckled shaking his head. Samuel elbowed him, “I told you. God I love that woman.”

  Nine

  L incoln pulled out the spare tire and tools to switch out the flat one. Samuel walked the small perimeter in the back guarding Lincoln with too much enthusiasm. Renee’s eyes were peeled for trouble but she couldn’t help peeking at Mrs. Fleming every few minutes. The mountain of fat was an eyesore, and she wondered how the hell she would get rid of the body.

  Tightening the lug nut, Lincoln paused in his effort to peer around as soon as he heard it. Samuel and Renee both glanced at each other at the same time. He hauled ass to guard his wife scanning the area for the noise. It was coming from the side of the building.

  Samuel and Lincoln simultaneously aimed in its direction. The rounded front of an electric car eased forward slowly with a terrified man behind the wheel. Wyatt stopped short placing his hands in the air seeing the two guns aimed at him.

  Both men lowered their weapons surprised at the sight of Wyatt. Lincoln wiped the sweat from his brow and continued to put the lug nuts on. He wanted to get the job done as quickly as possible, it wasn’t safe to be out in the open anymore.

  Wyatt parked his car, not bothering to move it from the side street and trekked toward Lincoln, greeting Samuel and Renee on his way over. Deathly pale, Wyatt stood next to Lincoln watching him finish up the tire change.

  “You don’t look so good Wyatt,” Lincoln huffed.

  “I-um, I-I didn’t know if you had left so I thought I’d look for you.”

  “Nope. Just changing a tire,” Lincoln had finished and was picking up the tools to place them back where they belong. “All done. Go home. Stay there, and don’t come back if the alarm goes off. Let it be,” Lincoln instructed Samuel and Renee making sure they nodded in agreement.

  “You boys take care and be careful,” Renee said concerned. “Give us a call if you need anything Lincoln, or just come on by.”

  Samuel motioned for her to get in the car opening the door for her. He stood in front of Lincoln and offered his hand, “Don’t be a stranger. Come by or else she’ll be the death of me. And I’ll let you shoot the KSG.”

  Lincoln took his hand answering, “Be careful. You still have the Ham Radio?”

  “You think it’s time to pull it out?”

  Lincoln replied grimly, “I do.”

  Samuel’s eyes fled to Wyatt, “You really need to get your car looked at to see if they can do anything about the wheezing noise.”

  Lincoln chuckled, “No, that’s just the way it sounds.”

  “Really?” Samuel asked bewildered. “And you still bought it?” he asked Wyatt.

  Lincoln was outright laughing as the color in Wyatt’s face came back in a bright red.

  “It’s a good car and it saves us money on gas,” Wyatt said defensively.

  “If you say so,” Samuel mumbled. “I’m off. I can feel the missus burning a hole through my head with her eyes. Take care, get home safely the both of you.”

  They all waved goodbye as Samuel raced out of the lot. Lincoln started for Wyatt’s car but didn’t hear him following. He glanced behind him at Wyatt standing motionless in a daze with his shoulders slumped in defeat.

  “Let’s go Wyatt,” Lincoln was half way to the car before he stopped and turned around.

  Before Lincoln had to try and coax him to the car, Wyatt blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “I’m sorry that I didn’t try to help you earlier when that-that, thing almost bit you.”

  “I can’t fault another man for being scared,” Lincoln replied, a headache making its debut. Wyatt was terrified but he didn’t leave. He didn’t leave Lincoln back at the farm either. Not a bad ally to have around in a time of need, Lincoln thought. “I’d rather be in the car having this conversation.”

  “Lincoln, I need your help. I have to go to the grocery store. And I really need your help. Please,” Wyatt admitted on the verge of begging.

  “That’s if there’s anything left at the grocery store,” Lincoln sighed wearily and rubbed his face in disbelief because he was actually considering helping the man.

  ☢

  Wyatt pulled into the full parking lot and raced down the aisles searching for a spot. Detecting one he sped past the parked cars and almost crashed into the person who beat him to it. Cursing, Wyatt almost sped off to find another spot but slammed on the brakes when Lincoln threw his car door open shoving the cooler into Wyatt’s side and smashing his fingers on the steering wheel.

  Out of the car in an instant, “I dare you to park there and go inside that store,” Lincoln hollered furiously over the roof pointing at the culprit stealing their spot.

  Lincoln watched an overweight man struggle to get out of his car. He avoided Lincoln’s gaze pretending to be completely oblivious to the threats shouted at him. Like a scared animal he ran for the front of the store as quickly as he could. Lincoln watched him jiggle in between cars in a crisscross style, disappearing and reappearing in the full parking lot. His fist landed hard against Wyatt’s car as he yelled in frustration.

  Slamming the car door shut he jogged over to the green sedan that stole their spot, pulled a knife from his pocket grinning like a crazy man and stabbed the back tire. He didn’t hesitate to stab the other back tire before jumping back into Wyatt’s car satisfied.

  “Go around back,” Lincoln instructed him.

  Wyatt smirked, weaving through the parking lot to the back of the store where there were only four empty cars. He peered at Lincoln as he parked, hesitant about what was going to happen next. The loading dock had the giant sliding doors up, with an eighteen wheeler parked in front. A forklift sat abandoned, its prongs already under an empty pallet as if the person had stopped abruptly.

  “Give me the chicken,” Lincoln took the cooler shoving it behind the front seat trying to hide the container the best he could. The last thing he needed was to find it stolen while he’s in the store. Desperation would be peaking soon because the nationwide government demands had unlocked the fear in people. It’s only a matter of time before people start making excuses for their primal behavior. The basic human instincts that lies dormant—until the need to survive—claws its way to the forefront of the human brain, making room for nothing else.

  Not compassion.

  Not kindness.

  Not consideration.

  No hesitation.

  Just the pure need to survive.

  Something Lincoln’s only witnessed in wild animals. In a trance he stepped out of the car walking straight for the back door of the grocery store. Opening it, he peered over his shoulder startled to find Wyatt still sitting in his shitty car staring at him blankly, “What the fuck are you still sitting in the car for?” Lincoln asked exasperated.

  Wyatt lunged from the vehicle on Lincoln’s heels catching the back door before it shut. It was empty. The back room had a few vacant boxes inside flipped on their sides. Not one employee was around to ask why they were back there, or to tell them they didn’t belong. Their steps echoed, squeaking across the floor in the giant warehouse picked clean. The smell of sweat and cardboard mixed in the stale air. Lincoln tried several doors and finally opened the correct one.

  The roar of voices crashed down on them like a wave in the ocean, all of them competing to be heard. Pleas and accusations and insults and requests were all trying to be louder than the person next to them. Not a word could be understood over the massive amount of noise from people searching for items and yelling over each other. Carts were flung as weapons hitting anything in its path, not that they could get far with the amount of people in the vicinity. They weren’t trying to keep space between themselves and their neighbor. It was like watching a traffic jam on the freeway only with metal carts and the temptation to run someone over no longer appealed to anyone because they were actually doing it. Taking out limbs with the cart was the goal, separating the strong from the weaklings.

&
nbsp; Chaos.

  Rooted to his spot, Lincoln never moved from the doorway. His foot took a step back and then another until he bumped into Wyatt behind him. Letting the door shut, Lincoln moved to the side allowing Wyatt access to it, the roar of the crowd muffled by the wall between them.

  Wyatt had his hand on the doorknob ready to fling the door open but hesitated surveying Lincoln, “I need supplies.”

  “Go right ahead.”

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  “I have my supplies at home.”

  “Two people are better than one,” Wyatt said sighing in resignation knowing Lincoln wouldn’t step one foot inside the store. For as long as Wyatt has lived in the neighborhood he has watched Lincoln prepare for catastrophic events. Delivery trucks were always at Lincoln’s house. He’d watch his neighbor hauling boxes inside without a care in the world.

  “If you buy me fruits and vegetables and some cookies,” Lincoln countered breaking Wyatt’s train of thought.

  Wyatt burrowed his eyebrows confused, “Yea, no problem, but those won’t last very long.”

  “Nope. That’s why I want to enjoy them now.”

  “How do you know they’ll still have them?”

  “Because I plan to steal it from other people if they don’t.”

  “I’ll buy if you pick up things you know my family will need too.”

  “You have a deal Wyatt,” Lincoln scanned the back room for a small box he could carry. Picking up one off the ground, Wyatt followed his lead. After checking the boxes sturdiness, Lincoln gave a nod to Wyatt and put his hand around the doorknob, “Keep your eye on the time, you have an hour and then we meet back here.”

  “How am I supposed to pay if we meet back here?”

  “You only have to pay if you survive,” Lincoln said gravely with a tight grip on his box. The second he cracked open the door, noise leaked inside the empty warehouse echoing off the walls making it sound like they were in a sold out arena. Lincoln anxiously stepped inside trying to make sense of the pandemonium. He couldn’t decide which direction to move in and as he lifted his foot finally making a decision, a cart slammed into his box. The force was enough to make him stumble off balance.

  Scanning for the culprit, he found the oldest woman he’d ever set eyes on, from her flowered cardigan, khaki pants and special, brown walking shoes. He growled in warning but she hissed right back at him with a ferocious glint in her eyes. She was sweating with gray disarrayed hair matted to her forehead and a white knuckled grip on the cart she was pulverizing people with.

  The second his eyes left her to examine the dented box she maneuvered the cart back ruthlessly slamming into him again. The box protected him from being hit, but shoved him violently into the people beside him. Voices rose and heads turned toward Lincoln as he was shoved a third time. She actually caught the edge of his fingers and he couldn’t stop her because she was on the other side of the cart.

  He howled in pain for a second before clenching his jaw and lifting the box in the air to squeeze into a small space out of her way. The fourth time she tried to ram him he moved just in time and watched her fly by hitting another patron causing a domino effect.

  Carts clanged while people screamed and hollered as they stood upright to yell at the person behind them. Tempers flared and hands were shoving while others kicked. Lincoln shuffled around with the box on his head as the people converged on the old lady with nowhere to go because she couldn’t leave her cart. An evil smile spread across his face as he watched them surround her with their backs to him.

  He started rifling through the carts abandoned out of rage to get revenge on the old woman. Quickly he peered at the top layer of objects people had hoarded throughout the store. One by one he took canned goods, batteries, and snacks out of them, slipping them into his box. He’d reached the end of the line and started sifting through the contents eyeing a can of beans. Right as he tipped it over into his box someone yelled across the room, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  In his peripheral vision he could see the angry person. A white male with a pink face was stomping in his direction almost a few feet away. Lincoln pulled a flashlight out of the cart and eyed the man coming at him. The pink turned into a shade of red as the short, portly man shoved and kicked obstacles out of his way as fast as he could. Trying to pull in his gut and failing, the man started using it to push people out of his way.

  Lincoln was ready for the man, reaching out with his new commandeered flashlight. He kept the flashlight between them waving it from side to side in a hypnotic motion, and made sure the man’s focus was on the flashlight and not him. Then he reached out with it acting as if he was going to give it to the pink faced man. Instead, Lincoln snatched the flashlight back before the other man’s fingers grazed it. He raised it in the air yelling over the noise as loud as he could, “Who needs a flashlight?”

  Heads turned to Lincoln’s question, searching for the person attached to the voice. Everyone looking for Lincoln found him, but not because he did anything to get their attention. Their eyes followed the short, portly, pink man reaching for the flashlight above him, jumping as high as he could. Lincoln almost wanted to see how long the pink man could keep at it, but he didn’t have time to waste.

  With a flick of his wrist the flashlight flew in the air, people’s heads followed its path, trying to move with it so they could catch it midair. Surprisingly it actually landed on the ground and people dove for it. Squeaking across the tile floor and sliding to it like a baseball player trying to get to base. Even the pink man dove for it, trying to salvage the flashlight to stick it back in his cart. Lincoln turned his back on the ruthless crowd and slithered in between people to getaway.

  Keeping his eyes on the carts he realized the crowd was thinning and lifted his gaze. Being at the back of the store there was only one way to look and while he was right in the middle of all the chaos, the shock was still genuinely expressed across his face. Entire aisles were empty. Completely empty. Nothing was left for him to even consider if he should just take it because he was desperate.

  Ahead of him was another throng of people. Aisles people were clinging to, to find something they could bring home for their efforts today. Realizing the freezer section was in front of him, he turned down an empty aisle to see what was on the other side. The fruits and vegetables were at the front of the store where he was headed. He’d already pillaged the carts behind him. If he’s going to have to fight his way to the front, he wanted to see what else he could find.

  It didn’t take long for him to find the next massive crowd of people clawing and shoving at each other for what was left on the shelves. Lincoln slid and squeezed between people and carts carefully so he wouldn’t bring attention to himself. Every once in a while when a back was turned a canned good would stealthily find its way into his box.

  In an empty aisle Lincoln took the box off his head and placed it on the ground. His shoulders and neck ached from the weight and he checked his watch. It’s been seventeen minutes. It’d be faster to leave the box, but it’d be risky, and all of his stolen goods would be for naught if he came back to nothing.

  Taking only a minute to rest he groaned, lifting the heavy box back onto his head. He bullied his way through the next horde of people, kicking carts out of his way with his boots, making people move or get hurt. Lincoln’s patience had run out and he wanted something to show for it. People were whispering with their eyes on his box as he made a path.

  His mind swirled with thoughts that fed his paranoia, and while his hand wanted to land on top of his gun for comfort, it couldn’t, or the box might tip over flinging all the supplies out igniting a free for all. So he clenched his teeth and moved forward, trying to hear anything threatening over the roar of voices surrounding him. When he reached the middle—or what he thought was the middle—a hand firmly placed itself over his ass and squeezed. Turning automatically to the sexual assault he was met by no one in particular. Everyone was stil
l shouting and yelling, trying to move the person in front of them out of the way.

  Grumbling, he forced himself to move forward with the motivation of almost being to the end. Once out of the crowd, he decided to rest for a minute in the next empty aisle. Wiping his brow he caught several people emerge from the mob after him. Two women and a teenage girl stopped near the edge of the crowd all gazing at Lincoln before their eyes fell to his box. When their eyes trailed back to Lincoln’s face he made eye contact causing them all to immediately turn away.

  He took the opportunity to walk as quickly as he could down the empty aisle, and slip into the next big horde of people. Beyond the mob was the section for fruits and vegetables. Not a lot of variety was left, but Lincoln was determined to take everything he could. Swiping a can of spam from a cart, he held it up and yelled, “Who wants spam?” and threw it in the opposite direction of where he was headed. People started moving out of his way and he formed a path through the rest of the carts and bodies blocking him.

  On the other side of the crowd with fewer people to compete with, Lincoln started grabbing leftover produce and stuffing it into his box as he moved around the refrigerated sections. He had to balance the box between one hand and his head, moving slowly so it wouldn’t tip over. Lettuce, cabbage, yellow zucchini, he stopped in his tracks as he spotted kale. He skipped over the kale moving onto the fruit sections.

  Stretching his arm out to reach a bruised apple near the back, his fingertips grazed it tipping it forward. Wrenched out of sight, his eyes followed the quick movement to a woman standing beside him.

  “You want it? Come and get it!” she placed the apple in her shirt stuffing it between her breasts. Lincoln watched as her boobs became three instead of two. Before he had a chance to reply the woman started screaming, “Don’t you dare! Don’t you touch me! Help! Sexual harassment!”

  Her voice was drowned in the clamoring noise surrounding them. Not one person looked their way and if someone was paying attention, they’d clearly see Lincoln’s hands were on his box holding it steady. In a bored voice Lincoln sighed, “I’m not even touching you.”