“Good distance there, my friend,” Mateo said with a grin.
Zion returned it as he turned around. “Yeah, golf was never really my game,” he admitted, “but my sister did take me to the driving range a few times before all this.”
“Did you enjoy it?” Mateo asked.
“Oh yeah,” Zion said, nodding, “great way to let out frustration while still being competitive with the guy next to you.”
His companion chewed over the words. “Never thought of it like that,” he admitted.
A few more shots rang out from behind them in rapid succession, and they turned towards the truck just in time to see Calvin hop down and head towards them.
“Okay, that’s the last of the stragglers,” the sniper announced. “Doesn’t look like anything else is too close by, at least not in numbers we need to worry about.”
Zion clapped him on the shoulder. “Then let’s hurry up and get what we need before that changes,” he suggested.
They headed briskly towards the building, hopping over corpses, and Calvin checked the front door first. He tried the knob, but it was locked. He shook the door a few times, a clanging metallic sound coming from the inside.
“Locked up tight,” he said, stepping back. “And sounds like it’s chained, too.”
Zion turned to Mateo. “Is there a back entrance?” he asked.
“There’s a small loading dock in the back,” his companion replied.
Zion nodded and led the trio around the side of the building, slowing at the corner. He peeked around to make sure there was no gaggle of undead back there and saw the area empty.
There was a four-foot high concrete slab against the back of the building, and a metal rolling door that opened to the side.
Calvin tried the door, but it was also locked. “Ideas?” he asked.
Zion looked up at the horizontal windows above and motioned for the others to get out of the way. Once they were clear, he swung up with his weapon, smashing one of the panes of glass.
“Okay,” he said, “which one of you wants to go?”
Mateo holstered his blades and raised a hand. “I’ll do it,” he said. “I know the layout in there, so if there is company, I know where I can go.”
“Hell, I’m not gonna argue that,” Calvin quipped.
Zion smirked at him. “You just don’t wanna go.”
“And?” Calvin shrugged.
Zion chuckled and laced his fingers together, creating a step for Mateo to vault upwards through the window. “Get in and get the door open,” he instructed. “We’ll sweep it together.”
His companion nodded and placed his boot into Zion’s cupped hands. As the strong man boosted him up, he grabbed on to the edge of the window, careful to avoid jagged glass, and hooked a leg up into the frame. He rolled his body inside and then landed with a thud on the floor.
“You okay?” Zion called from outside.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Mateo replied, and looked around to make sure there were no threats in the immediate area. When he was sure he was alone, he clicked the lock on the sliding door and dragged it open. After about eighteen inches, it snagged, and he noticed a chain along the ground. “Looks like it’s secured with a padlock,” he reported.
Mateo bent down to unlatch it, taking a knee.
“Stay down!” Calvin suddenly cried from the other side of the opening and raised his weapon through the hole. He fired once, taking out a zombie that had been lumbering out of the shadows. He scanned the area. “I don’t see anything else.”
Mateo quickly popped open the lock and tossed it aside, opening the door. “Got it!” he said and then clapped Calvin on the shoulder. “Thank you, friend.”
“No problem,” the sniper replied, and he and Zion crossed the threshold.
The trio turned towards the main part of the warehouse, staring wide-eyed at pallets and boxes full of goods.
“Jackpot,” Calvin breathed.
Zion raised a hand. “Clear first, then shop,” he reminded them.
The trio moved quickly but carefully through the space, checking every corner of the building and stacks of boxes. As they reached the other side, they all yelled out that they hadn’t found anything, and converged together on the far end.
“Calvin, keep watch on the door while Mateo and I see what we got,” Zion instructed.
“On it,” the sniper replied, and headed back off towards the sliding door.
Zion studied the labels on the nearest boxes, seeing everything was in Spanish. “So,” he drawled, “you tell me, did we do good?”
Mateo studied one stack of boxes and then moved on to a few others. “Dried beans,” he murmured, “this one os masa flour… this one is canned tomatoes…”
“At the very least we should get a few weeks of meals out of these,” Zion said.
His companion nodded. “Without a doubt,” he replied. “My grandmama grew up dirt poor and knows how to stretch every bean. You’re in good hands, my friend.”
Calvin reached the door and scanned the area, keeping watch on the back lot for movement. There was none, but in the distance he heard a low, metallic roar, and his ears perked up.
“What in the hell is that?” he muttered to himself, as the sound grew louder. It soon became clear that there were multiple roars, competing with each other for noise. “Zion!” he called.
“What is it?” Zion asked, heading to the doorway.
“Something’s up, man,” Calvin replied.
His friend reached him, brow furrowing. “Well, what is it?” He stopped at the noise and glanced at Mateo with a questioning gaze.
“Where’s it coming from?” Mateo asked as he approached.
“Can’t tell,” Calvin replied.
A moment later, the roar was so loud it was almost deafening. They looked up and their eyes widened at the sight of several tomahawk missiles flying overhead.
“What the fuck?!” Calvin screamed.
Seconds later there were several loud, ferocious explosions in the distance, rattling the building. The men shared looks of panic and concern.
