Mateo’s brow furrowed. “You can use my help,” he insisted, “and my guidance to the warehouse.”
“Can you fight?” Calvin asked.
“Look around this room,” Mateo said, and spread his arms. “Do you see anybody that looks capable of handling themselves against the dead? Other than myself?”
The duo scanned the room, scrutinizing the rest of the family, not seeing anyone they would really want to put out in battle.
“Guess not,” Zion admitted.
“I am the reason my family is alive,” Mateo declared. “And I would like to be a part of the reason the people who took us in make it through the winter.”
Calvin held up his palms in surrender. “I have one very important question for you, buddy,” he said.
“Yes?” Mateo cocked his head.
“If we get this stuff,” Calvin began, taking a deep breath, “can someone here make me some tamales? I’ve had a craving for weeks.” He patted his belly.
The group chuckled, and Mateo grinned.
“I guarantee it will be the best you ever have,” he assured him.
Calvin nodded. “All right, I’m sold.”
Zion chuckled. “Go on, get your stuff and meet us outside.”
Mateo nodded and ran off, and Monique took Zion’s arm, pulling him out onto the porch. He looked around the street, seeing dozens of people milling about in the open, looking casual, happy even.
“Amazing the difference a few weeks makes, huh?” she asked.
Zion nodded, but took a deep breath. “Those things coming over the bridge still concern me, but I think you’re in a great spot here, sis.”
“We wouldn’t be anywhere close to this built up if it wasn’t for what you’re doing, little brother,” she said, running a hand over the back of his neck.
He wrinkled his nose. “Really wish you wouldn’t call me that,” he muttered.
“Baby brother it is, then,” Monique teased.
He put up a hand. “Little brother is fine,” he said.
She chuckled. “So are things going well at the complex?” she asked.
“Everybody seems to be happy,” Zion said. “And we got those college kids ramping up our defenses.”
She smiled. “Well, tell them once they get you squared away, we wouldn’t mind borrowing them for a bit.”
“I think that can be arranged,” Zion replied with a nod.
Calvin, Wendy, and Mateo emerged from the house, the latter wearing a makeshift holster with two blades dangling on either side.
Zion raised an eyebrow. “Those are your weapons?” he asked.
Mateo pulled out one of the glittering blades, at least a foot long with a slight curve. “Butcher quality, cuts through bone like butter,” he declared. “Especially those of the dead that have begun to rot.”
“If it works for you, I’m all for it,” Zion replied with a nod. “Let’s load up.” He gave Monique’s shoulder a squeeze and led his men to the truck. He opened the door and let Mateo clamber in to the middle seat.
“If you want to clear it out and do a brief inventory,” Wendy said from the steps, “I can send some of my guys down tomorrow to finish clearing it out.”
Zion nodded. “We’ll also load up what we can and bring it back,” he assured her.
“Appreciate your help,” she replied.
He gave her a little salute. “It’s what I do.” He threw his sister a smile who beamed back at him with pride.
CHAPTER FIVE
The trio drove to a rundown neighborhood. There were bars on the windows, overgrown grass, and broken-down cars in the driveways. As they crawled along the street, there were a few zombies around the houses that shambled out from the side yards, attracted to the engine noise.
“It’s about three more blocks up to the right,” Mateo instructed. “Just a regular brick building.”
Zion nodded. “Shouldn’t be too hard to find.” He coasted up the road, a few zombies reaching the asphalt and beginning to tail them. When they passed a few more intersections, Mateo pointed to a building at the end of the block.
“That’s it!” he exclaimed.
There were a few dozen zombies around the building, a few pawing at the front door lazily like a kitten against a fish tank.
“Looks like someone was alive in there at one time,” Zion mused.
Mateo pursed his lips. “Could be the owner and his family,” he said.
“So how do you want to play this?” Calvin asked, rubbing his hands together.
Zion glanced in the rearview mirror and watched the dozen or so zombies spread out and lumbering after them, though still about fifty yards away. “Mateo and I will clear out the zombies in front,” he said. “Anything behind us gets to that last intersection, you put it down.”
“Not a problem,” Calvin replied.
“All right,” Zion said, glancing at Mateo, “let’s see what you can do.” He cut the engine, and they slid out of the truck, quickly surveying the immediate area for threats. Other than the pack to their friend and the stragglers behind, there was nothing else coming out of the woodwork.
Zion reached into the back seat, pulling out his makeshift two-by-four that Tori and her friends had crafted for him, the handle covered in duct tape, still covered in dried blood on the business end.
Calvin walked to the back of the truck, hopping up into the back. He knelt behind the tailgate, resting his rifle on top of it. He looked through the scope, getting a read on the closest zombie, what had once been a woman missing an arm.
“Looks like a zombie got a to-go order,” he muttered to himself, and then shook his head at the groaner of a joke. He refocused, dialing in his sights, waiting for the zombie to cross the threshold up the block. As soon as its foot touched the intersection, he squeezed the trigger.
Its head exploded in a satisfying array of blood, sending the body to the ground in a heap. He chambered another round and continued to wait, the next zombie about fifteen yards behind her.
“Easiest detail I’ve had in a while,” he murmured, and then he pulled back from his scope, checking his immediate left and right just
