Word Count: 1292
I looked in my bag. Sure enough, there were little packages hidden in the bottom under my clothes, filled with drugs. There was maybe an ounce of heroin in there, a handful of cocaine wraps and a bag of weed. I was gonna need it. Silently, I thanked Rayn for knowing me so goddamn well. While I was there, I got changed into some normal clothes. They were a bit baggier than they used to be, but it didn’t matter. Jeans would do more to stop those things clawing at my legs than white hospital pants.
I stashed the drugs back in the bottom of my bag, stacked the ammo and hand guns on top of them, and packed a couple of shirts over the top of it all. I wanted to find other people to find out what was going on, and then get on with finding Rayn. But my first stop would be the casino, just to make sure he was actually gone. My cell phone was telling me that Rayn had left that message two days earlier, but I had to know. I couldn’t just head off without checking, could I?
At the casino, it was deathly quiet. It was surreal and pretty fucking unnerving. I’d never seen that place quiet, or shut, for that matter. It did make me laugh to see someone had stolen as many chips as they could, though. Did they think money was going to matter after this? Because this was not under control, and this was not going to just blow over.
“Rayn?” I shouted, making my way out the back. “Phil?” My shouting did attract something, but it wasn’t Rayn, or Phil. Which in this case wasn’t a bad thing, because this thing that heard me was a long dead, falling apart ex-human. I could see its teeth where it should’ve had a cheek, and it was making this horrible growling type noise. And it wasn’t exactly slow. Once it saw where I was it rushed at me, as fast as its rotting legs could take it. I shouted out in surprise as it ran.
This, I suppose, is where having a background of violence and crime comes in handy. Getting my knife out into my hand quickly is a reflex to me, not just a habit or a skill. I blinked and the zombie was on the floor with a hole in its head. I think I’d just gathered it was the brain to go for from all the ones in the hospital that had holes in their heads too.
I was kind of anxious, though. I managed to kill that one, sure, but I didn’t wanna face a crowd of equally determined killing machines. That, and I still didn’t know if Rayn and Phil had gone yet. Id’ know when I got into Phil’s office. If his gun was gone, he was gone, and he would have Rayn with him.
I turned his desk out and every filing cabinet in there, scattering paper and pens across the room. I couldn’t find the gun anywhere, so I consoled myself with the fact that Phil was out of town. There was one last thing I wanted to do before I found someone that knew what was going on and how long it had been going on for. I wanted to find Rayn’s dad and make sure he knew his son was alive and well and happy. Before putting a bullet in the cunt’s head.
“Mr. Walker!” I yelled, buzzing on a few lines of coke as I walked down the road where I knew the old man would still be living. It was a shit part of town. The rundown houses and even more rundown people that lived there never actually moved anywhere. Ever. They were the kind of white trash inbreds that managed to get houses. And they would sit there in those houses waiting for the walking dead with shotguns cradled in their laps. “Mr. Mark Walker!”
He came outside eventually, gun at the ready. He was older and fatter than I remembered him, but then it had been a lonely thirteen years on his own, I’m sure.
“Who’re you?” he drawled, suspicious and as ready to kill me as I was to kill him.
“A friend of your son, Rayn. I just wanted to let you know that even in the face of an impending apocalypse that Rayn is happy and healthy and enjoying his life so much more now you’re not in it.”
“Just who the hell do you think you are?” he demanded, angry. His face was getting red, the color filling his face from the neck upward.
“Oh, you don’t remember me? I told you I was gonna come back and kill you for what you’d done to him one day,” I smiled. There it was. That look of recognition and fear. He cocked his gun, but his hand was shaking. “I’d hate for the zombies to kill you before I do, it’s just a shame I don’t have the time to make you regret everything you did more.”
“No one calls me that anymore, Mr. Walker. They call me Cancer,” I smiled coldly, walking slowly towards him. The hand holding his gun shook more, the closer I got, and his finger tightened on the trigger, but I’d seen that look so many times before – he wasn’t going to shoot me, no matter how much he wanted to. “Any last words?” I asked, closing my hand around his, slowly forcing him to point his own gun at himself. “No? Get it nice and snug under your chin, then, that’s it.” He struggled for a second, then, thinking he had a chance to get away from me. I jabbed him in the side with a finger and he jumped, which was his last mistake. As he jumped, he pulled his own trigger.
He crumpled at my feet in a bloodied mess, leaving a smile on my face as I kicked him aside. I picked up his gun and let myself into his house. “Let’s see what you’ve got in the kitchen, then,” I muttered, shutting the door behind me. I put the TV on in the background, abandoning it on whatever channel it was last on to go find something to eat.
“The threat has ended. However, if you know anyone who has been bitten or infected in anyway, you must isolate them immediately to avoid further outbreak. There are several refugee camps being set up around the affected areas.If you are infected please make your way to the refugee camps immediately. You will be treated promptly.” An official sounding voice came out of the TV.
“Well that’s the biggest clusterfuck of a lie I’ve ever heard,” I snorted to myself. I’d be happy to bet those refugee camps weren’t treating them at all. In fact, I’d put all I owned on these places being death camps, if what I’d seen was anything to go by. Shrugging it off, I finished eating my way through his kitchen and made my way back towards the motel. I didn’t really know where to start from. I figured I’d just look for a big group of people and hope someone there could fill me in a bit.
I walked up the road towards the IHOP, thinking maybe y’know, going somewhere there was food would be the first thought people would have.
Clearly the people around here have no survival instinct. There was a pretty big group in the lobby of the Quality Inn, all standing around something. I knocked on the door, but I was ignored, and it was locked. Time to find another way in, then.