Z-Day Chapter 13 (Austin)

“We really need a new car.” I said to Will, who was driving.

“Yeah, but we’ll take care of that after we hit up the Army Surplus down the street.” he said, without looking back at me in the backseat.

“Alright.” I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I must have. When I came to, Taylor was shaking me.

“Wake up, man. We’re here.”

I grabbed my axe and got out of the car. The Surplus store was standing by itself in the middle of a small parking lot. The windows and doors were covered by a metal gate, which were locked from the inside. I surveyed the area, looking for a weakness in the wrought iron bars. I noticed something unusual and turned to the other two.

“The bars are locked from the inside. So the owner or whoever locked it had to have gotten out somehow. Just search around and see if there’s a ladder or something to climb up to the roof.” I said.

They nodded and readied their weapons. Taylor had taken the crowbar from the car. A few minutes later, after finishing a downed stray zombie, I heard Will shout,

“I found the ladder, but its up too high to jump on and there’s nothing to climb on to get to it!”

I trotted over to where they were both standing and looked up. A rusted red ladder lay against the building, around four feet above my head.

“We’ll just have to make something to climb up on.”

“What do you suggest?” Taylor asked.

“Will, bring the car around.” I said.

Minutes later, we were standing on the roof of the store, the car parked just under the ladder.

“Well that was easier than I thought it was gonna be.” Taylor said.

“Yeah. That’s what happens when you use your head.” I said teasingly.

I strode across the graveled ceiling to the middle and poked the metal grate with my foot.

“What do you think guys? An air vent?” I asked them without looking away from it.

“Yeah.” One of them said.

The grate was double padlocked and was wrapped in chains to prevent people from breaking in. The padlocks I broke with the spiked end of my axe and the chains with the wedge side. Once finished, I pulled on the edge of the grate. It didn’t budge. I removed my  gloves and tried again. Still nothing. I put black cloth back on my hands.

“Hey Taylor, try and pry this open with your crowbar.” I said, stepping back.

He stood up off the ground and walked over.

“What?” he asked.

“Could you pull this open for me? It’s all rusted over and I can’t get it open.”

“Sure.” he said and wedged the bar in bewteen the metal grate and the two foot high concrete pedestal it stood on and pushed down on the bar. The iron creaked and popped open. I took ahold of the grate and pulled it completely away from the concrete slab and set it down next to it. I looked down into the cobwebbed hole.

“Just our luck.” I said to the two.

“What do you mean?” Will asked.

“There’s an exit vent right below the entrance one. A flaw in design, perhaps? Either way, it helps us. Help me look for something we can use as a rope to slide down with.”

“There might be some rope or cable in the car. I’ll be right back.” Will said, disappearing down the edge of the building, down the ladder.

A few seconds later, Will’s head reappeared and he had a tangled mess of orange cable wrapped around his torso.

“An extension cable? That’s not gonna be enough to support our weights.” I said.

“Not unless we wrap three around each other.” Will replied.

“Good idea. Hurry up and wrap them together and tie them to the sattelite near the hole,” I said, walking over to it and pulling on the pole, testing to see if it’ll hold my weight.

Five minutes later, I was sitting on the edge of the hole, sitting next to me was a mass of thick extension cable. I kicked the second grate and watched it clatter to the ground below me.

“It’s about a 13 foot drop. Not too bad.” I said, throwing the cable down into the hole and grabbing ahold of it.

I hesitated for moment, for heights make me uneasy, before shifting my weight off the concrete and tightly gripped the wire, while shimmying slowly down it. It didn’t take me long to reach the bottom and once I did, I looked around.

Before I could finish my examination, I felt something metal poking me in between my shoulder blades.

“What are you doing here?” said a young adult male voice, “Don’t move, and tell your friends to not follow you, either or my little friend here is going to make cubed meat out of your torso.”

“Guys, don’t come down yet.” I said. ”and you need to calm down, we’re only here for some supplies. I have money, if that’s what you want. I have an hatchet in my belt, but otherwise, I’m not armed.”

 The pressure on my back released and a tall, red mohawked man stepped into my view. He was holding a SPAS 12 semi-automatic shotgun. He lowered it and said,

“Alright. Show me the money, and you and your friends can take some stuff I don’t need.”

I looked up at the hole in the ceiling and said loudly, “Hey guys, can you grab my bag? Also can you throw down your wallets? After that, you can come on down.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Will asked.

“Just do it, please.”

I waited a few minutes until two leather wallets fell through the hole and landed on the ground next to me.

“I’m about to drop your bag,” Will said, and I stepped under the hole and caught it.

I took all the cash out of my bag, mine, Taylor’s and Will’s wallets and counted it.

“300 dollars. I know it’s not much, but it’s the god damn apocolypse man, show some generosity.” I said to the man.

“Alright. Get them down here.” he replied.

“Come on down.” I shouted up to the roof, moving out from under the hole.

“What do you need? By the way, my name’s Jack. I worked here before this shit happened.” said Jack.

“I need guns, ammo, food, tents, flashlights, rope, two duffel bags, socks, medicine, coffee, gas, canteens, iodine pills, binoculars, bug spray, fire extinguisher, batteries, mess kits, can opener, duct tape, walkie talkies, sleeping bags, flint and steel, soap, and a toolbox. ” I said, and as I listed them off, Jack gathered everything into two big olive green duffel bags.

“What kind of guns are you looking for?” Jack asked us.

“Something with a decent scope, semi-auto, and takes at least a 10 round clip.” Taylor said.

“How about a Vespr-Pioneer? 15 round clip, in .223 Remington. Reversible sight from 100 to 300 meters. Comes with a strap.” Jack said, pulling the rifle off of a rack behind the front counter.

“Yeah, that’s a nice gun. Thank you.” Taylor said gratefully.

“What about you?” Jack said, pointing at Will.

“I’ve got a double barrel in the car. I’ll just take some shells for that and a Python revolver.”

Jack pulled another gun from the wall, this one a black and brown revolver, and handed it to Will, along with six speed-loaders.

“And you?” Jack pointed at me.

“I have a lever action Winchester 1892 rifle in the car, but I’d like a smaller gun, if possible.”

“We could cut it down to a smaller size if you’d like, it’s called a Mare’s Leg.” Jack said.

“Sure, let’s do that. I’ll run out and get it. Do you mind if I use the front door?”

A few minutes later, I was back in the store with the rifle and Will’s double barrel. I handed the rifle to Jack and he walked into the back room, and said, “Just take whatever you like, I’m leaving soon and these aren’t going to be of any use to me.”

I looked around for a while, and got two M1911 pistols from the wall and put it in the bag, along with a Mossberg 500. a Winchester 1887 lever action shotgun and an Armsel Striker semi-automatic shotgun complete with strap and put them all in the duffel bag.

After zipping up the bag and putting it by the back door, I sat down near against a wall and waited for Jack to finish my gun. Taylor called me over and I went to stand up, but my head banged against something metallic above me. Blinking the stars out of my eyes, I looked up at what I hit my head on. It was a revolver in a glass case, resting on a metal platform attached to the wall I was leaning against.

The revolver had an abnormally thick barrel and a cherry wood grip. There was an engraving on the side of the barrel, the words “Carpe Deim” and image of four playing cards, which was a royal flush in the suit of hearts. Jack walked into the room with a gun inside of a leg holster and asked me,

“You like it?”

“Yeah, its a nice gun.” I said.

“It’s a Dan Wesson PPC .357. I made it custom for someone a few weeks ago, but I don’t think he’s gonna show up.”

“May I take it?” I asked.

“Sure.”

I smashed in the glass with my elbow and took the gun off the rack.

“I had a key,” Jack said, laughing.

“Eh. That was more satifying. I feel like I earned it now. Will, get me six more speedloaders and some more ammo.”

Before he was finished retrieving the supplies, we heard a van door slam.