“No, because I won’t blow my cover over this. Let’s head to Huntsville, we’ll skip the gun show, if there even is a gun show now. Somehow, I think things are gonna get weird. Once we’re well away from this area, you can call. I just don’t want to be in North Carolina when you make the call.”
Zahara sat back and looked out the window as Xander pulled away from the truck and zombies. She nibbled at her bottom lip, her mind flashing with thoughts. This was some serious business here. She scanned the passing countryside with purpose now. They passed more abandoned vehicles, here and there they saw a body in the road or hanging from the vehicle. Xander slowed down and they looked at the bodies, but they didn’t get out of the truck. These bodies seemed fresh, the blood not as thick and dried.
“Should I shoot them in the head?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at Xander.
“Yeah sure, that’s a good idea. I don’t know if these things infect the healthy or if it’s a virus like the cold or flu, but I don’t think it helps anyone if they get up and walk around. I’m not saying they’re zombies, but, damnit. I just don’t know.”
Zahara grunted her agreement and pulled her Sig Sauer and shot each of the bodies in the head. She sat back and they resumed their drive. It was eerily quiet and empty along the road. She wondered how extensive this thing was?
Ž
Bobby “Wheeler” Dealer stood in the large lot, cars as far as the eye could see. He’d built his car dealership from his father’s humble beginnings. He’d been a man on a mission when he’d taken the reins of the dealership and had built it into four dealerships all over Alabama. He had commercials going night and day and he’d amassed a fortune. He’d not gotten all of that by being weak. He’d also changed his last name from Dale to Dealer, just for the bragging rights of being Wheeler Dealer. His father had thought that he’d lost his mind. Twenty years later, Bobby was a millionaire and made sure everyone knew it. The millions didn’t do shit for him now, with all these damned zombies wandering around, unless he could hire someone to get rid of the damned things. He spit a long stream of tobacco out and watched as it landed on the head of a zombie. He’d shot the thing between the eyes. It stunk to high heaven.
He’d been on the phone all morning, threatening, cajoling and begging his employees to come to work, all to no avail. It didn’t matter, no one was stopping by, the streets were empty, but for the brave soul out and about. He cursed under his breath, guess no one wanted a new car with prime financing in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Damn. He dug down in his pocket and pulled out a small case and extracted a cigar. He clipped the end of it and then lit the cheroot, puffing and watching the end glow. He shifted the Glock 19 in his holster under his arm. He’d have loved to have worn a waist holster, but his girth was too large. He looked about his beloved lot and frowned. It was dotted with bodies, zombies. Damnit. He had to think, he had to salvage this, it had only been a week for Pete’s sake.
“Well shit, I forgot to swing by Reg’s place. Ah well, I’m sure the little wife is fine. Damnit. That was two days ago? I’m sure Reggie is home by now,” Bobby muttered and checked the magazine. He had a spare in his pocket. Damnit. He needed his people to drag the bodies away. No one was answering at City Hall, didn’t they have a plan for this? Shouldn’t someone be cleaning this mess up? Hell, he paid enough taxes and glad-handed enough of the local politicians.
Bobby was a man who loved and craved attention and power. His set up here in Huntsville had been sweet for so many years. He had money, women when he wanted them, power and the respect from the local yokels. He was a big man and this pesky zombie bullshit wasn’t going to knock him off his self-made pedestal. His watery blue eyes scanned his parking lot and landed on one of the Hummers. He only had three of the beasts, they didn’t sell well, only to the indulgent rich. There weren’t many of those in Huntsville. He walked along the cars, running his fingers lightly over the shiny hoods and roofs of colorful vehicles. The scent of car infused the heated air, it was one of his favorite scents. But the stench of rot ruined it because he could get no one to come and take the dead away.
Where are the police? he wondered. Last week, the streets were heavy with police presence and the National Guard, now, not a uniform to be seen. He grunted and rubbed at his nose. The damned reek of these bodies. He shook his head as though dislodging flies and then realized that there were flies all around him. He batted angrily at them. He headed to the office to get the keys of the Hummer. Well, if the employees wouldn’t come to him, he’d go to them. He needed an army if what was happening was really happening. Now was the time to strike, when all the world was in confusion. Here was a rare, mighty rare opportunity! If this was a zombie apocalypse, then he could be king here. No police, no military? Shoot, he could make Huntsville his kingdom and rule all. He needed to secure the food and weapons. If this was the real deal, then in order to be top turd, he’d need to control everything and for that, he needed people.
Ž
