Chapter Seven

Chores

The next few hours passed slowly for Brandon as he worked on cleanup detail for the store. With Sam’s assistance, the menial task of taking out all of the trash and debris from The Club went quicker than expected. As an added surprise, Ally came along, but her participation was limited to holding Bailey and providing colorful commentary.

“One more store to go,” Brandon said. “Priestly has some work going on in the Home Base. Not quite sure what’s up, but he’s had five guys working there over the last couple of weeks. For some reason, he’s had the store off-limits to the rest of us. Don’t know why.”

They crossed the compound that separated The Club from the Home Base store. This compound—the same one with semi-trailers used as barriers—was not more than fifty yards across and, as Sam had noted before, littered with varied items. The three of them finally entered through a side door. Out of well-practiced habit, upon entry, Brandon immediately went for a set of nearby flashlights.

“This place doesn’t have power and is quite a bit darker than The Club. It does have a few skylights, but with all these clouds, it’ll be really dark in here, so keep close to the flashlight beams.”

Brandon led Sam and Ally into the enveloping gloom, which grew darker as they went deeper into the store. As they walked, they passed high, metal racks still containing varied home improvement materials. Rounding a corner, they approached a large area where the kitchen appliances and carpet samples had been pushed back to provide an extra large space. In the midst of this space was a flat-bed semi trailer.

“What the…?” Brandon exclaimed. “What in the world are they doing in here?” The trailer appeared entirely normal other than its load. It was covered with large speakers. “These look like stereo speakers and sub woofers. There must be…thirty or so of them. I wonder why? What are they up to?”

“Who knows? Maybe a new surround sound system for The Club,” Ally said. “Maybe somebody wants to play some good tunes.”

“Ah…somehow, I don’t think so.” Brandon continued down the length of the trailer to its front, where it would connect to a semi tractor; however, he found little more to explain its purpose. Completing the mysterious set-up was a large, Honda generator strapped to the trailer, complete with power cables running into an adjacent box.

“I wonder what’s in there?” Brandon asked.

Putting aside any risk of the unknown, Ally just pushed right up to the box and threw open the lid. “I was right. It’s a big stereo!”

“What’s a…steer-e-o?” Sam asked innocently.

“You serious?” Ally asked, looking for any indication of humor or deceit, but she relented, seeing that the question was honest. “You play music through it. From an iPod or CD…um, compact disc, that is.” Sam just stared, still not quite understanding.

While Ally explained, Brandon did one final walk around the trailer, but no clarity of purpose was revealed. Finally, he gave up. “Why would they put all this stuff on a trailer? I’ve got no clue! Oh, well…I’ll have to ask about this later. C’mon. The trash is back by the rear roll-up door.”

In the dim light of the flashlights, Sam and Ally left the trailer behind, following Brandon toward the rear of the building. After only a few steps into the darkness, he ran into a chain link fence.

“What the…?” Brandon exclaimed. “This wasn’t here last week. Hang on a sec…let me check this out.” Using his light’s beam, he walked toward the left along the length of the metal fence and soon was obscured by the dark with only the flashlight’s beam giving his location away. Meanwhile, Sam and Ally stood at the fence, awaiting his return.

The dark of the store unnerved Ally. It bothered her so much that she generally avoided going anywhere in the dark. Of course, this was a difficult goal in a world without electricity. With her brother disappearing into the darkness, all she could do to compensate for her growing unease was to put her back to the fence while constantly panning her flashlight’s beam in the shadows.

Sam, less prone to being spooked by the dark, stood quietly at Ally’s side. Quietly, that is until Bailey began growling. Ally carried Sam’s dog throughout the store with the small dachshund tucked under the crook of one arm. For the most part, the dog had slept, enjoying the close contact with this new admirer; however, Bailey’s nose was up, and a low, rumbling growl emerged.

“What you smellin’, girl?” Sam asked. The growl became a staccato bark. Sam’s hand naturally dropped to her gun belt but found it empty.

Damn fools took away my guns, she thought. Think, Sam. Think!

Her hand found Cal’s large buck knife. It wasn’t a gun, but in the right hands, it could be very lethal. She drew the knife and held it out at the ready.

“Ally, honey. Something’s wrong. Bailey can smell it, and I trust her nose. So, stay behind me, just right where you are. Okay?”

“Um…sure,” the girl responded tentatively, her eyes constantly searching the unwelcome dark. “What do we do?”

“We take on all comers.” Sam stepped forward, knife held out, and looked into the shadows for a target.

Behind Sam, her dog’s bark became almost frantic. As dogs will do when agitated, Bailey kept trying to wiggle herself free from Ally’s hold, so much so that Ally dropped the flashlight as she fought to keep her hold on the dog. The flashlight hit the floor and rolled to the right, its light beam still shining and illuminating the smooth, concrete surface.

With both hands free now, Ally finally got a good hold on the wildly barking dog. “Come on, Bailey. Calm down.” However, the dog seemed to bark even more, further unnerving Ally and prompting a need for distance between her and Bailey’s unseen adjutant. With the unruly dog still in her arms, Ally continued to retreat until her back firmly pressed against the fence’s metal mesh.

“Bailey,” she pleaded, trying to control the dog, but the relentless barking prevented her from hearing an approach from behind. Between the relentless barking, and the jerking and heaving of the dog’s body, Ally finally gave in and put the dog on the floor. It immediately turned and began barking toward the fence. Ally could only stare at the overly excited dog as it continued its vigorous barking. Suddenly, fingers reached through the mesh and grabbed her hair. She screamed as the bony fingers tightened their grasp on her long hair and slowly pulled her toward the fence. Even as she fought to pull away, she glanced over her shoulder and caught site of her attacker—a decayed, old man. Large chunks of flesh had been torn from the zombie’s hand, exposing the white bone within the fingers. The creature’s face and torso weren’t much better preserved. The thing’s smell was nauseating; however, its ravaged condition and horrid odor did nothing to diminish its hold on the young girl’s hair.

Brandon was near the far side of the fenced enclosure when he heard his sister’s scream. Ally! God, no! He spun and raced back toward where he left his sister. As he rounded the fence’s final corner, he brought his flashlight beam up and saw his worst fear. A zombie had a hold of his sister. “Ally! Hold on, I’m coming!”

The zombie’s strength overpowered Ally’s small frame. Closer and closer, it pulled the girl toward its snapping jaws just on the other side of the fence. With the length of her hair, the zombie’s relentless pull would soon have her up against the fence. Although there was metal mesh, there was enough space in the fence’s mesh to allow rotten teeth to take a bite. A single blood contact would ensure certain death followed by endless, walking lifelessness.

As Ally continued to scream, Brandon saw the zombie’s mouth open as it anticipated its meal. “Noooo!” he shouted, but he was still too many steps away to intervene.

Suddenly, Ally felt a strong arm wrap around her waist, and from the corner of her eye, she saw a glint of metal. Her mind, overwhelmed with terror, could only think that this was another attacker. As a result, Ally screamed and struggled even more.

“Hold still, there. It’s only me,” Sam said. With one arm, she easily pulled Ally away from the fence while the other arm held the buck knife with its considerable blade high in the air. Without another word, the blade flashed down, severing all four of the zombie’s fingers, which dropped to the floor. With the zombie’s grip gone, Sam caught Ally as she fell forward and eased her to the floor. She turned, ready for any other attacker, but found none. From the other side of the fence, the zombie still tried to reach through the fence, but now without fingers on one hand.

“Ally, are you okay ?” Brandon asked as he reached Ally. He pulled her into a close, heartfelt hug and tried to console the terrified girl.

Ally’s response was almost unintelligible amidst a staccato of sobs, “Oh…it…held…grabbed…couldn’t…get…away.”

While Brandon calmed his sister, Sam picked up her dog—still agitated from the creature’s presence—and tried to quiet her. “Shush, girl! It’s okay.” Even as she held her dog, Sam continued to search her surroundings for an attacker but found none. Regardless, she knew that staying here just wasn’t smart.

“We got to git from here. Don’t know if any more of them buggers are around. Don’t want to find out. Let’s go.”

She pulled Brandon and his still-sobbing sister to their feet and double-time marched them back across the store to the exit. Interestingly, only as they emerged into the damp and dim daylight did Brandon observe to himself that it was Sam who led them to the exit.

Wow! She led us right to the door, he thought. No mistakes or double backs.

It was notable enough that as they crossed the compound to The Club, he had to ask. “How’d you do that? I mean, wow! You’d never been in the store before, yet you were able to lead us right to the exit. Even in the dark! How did you do that?”

“Don’t know. Just always seem to know which way to go.” Sam glanced over at Brandon as they neared The Club’s door. “You know, that zombie wasn’t in there for no reason. It was being kept there like a critter in a barn.”

“You sure?” Brandon replied in surprise as he grabbed the door handle.

“Yep. If it was loose, it woulda’ been on us like flies on…well, you know. Nah, it was caged up. That means…well, someone put it in there.”

As he considered her observation, Brandon saw the logic in it. She’s right, he thought. Why the hell would Priestly or his sidekicks keep a zombie?

* * * *

When the sun finally set behind the thick clouds, the occupants of The Club all retreated to the secured, inner confines of their store-home for their nighttime routine. Each evening, a group dinner was observed with cooking duty rotated between the occupants. Amongst long banquet tables, they would all sit down for their group supper with Priestly occupying a position of honor at the head of the table.

At this evening’s dinner, Priestly insisted that Sam sit to his right hand side with Ally next to her. When Brandon attempted to sit next to Ally, one of Priestly’s assistants shoved in front of him, relegating Brandon to the far end of the table.

Excused from the group dinner was Sam’s dog. After returning to the store, Bailey began whining for food. As she was hardly a demanding companion, her request for food was not only tolerated but quickly accommodated. With a full stomach, she fell soundly asleep on a pile of blankets not far from Sam—close enough to hear her voice.

With all of the men seated at the table, Priestly kicked off the meal. “Well, Jim and Gerald…you had kitchen duty. What have you prepared for ustonight?”

One of the men spoke while the other set out large pots of food on the table. “Ah, we tried to make Jambalaya. Only had canned chicken and vegetables, so we had to improvise some.”

“Hmmm, sounds…interesting,” Priestly replied. As always, he was served first and what they put on his plate did not look very appetizing—a gray and brown mixture that looked congealed, served on top of rice. He grimaced as he took a spoonful and tasted the mixture.

This tastes like snot, he thought in disgust. I think these two deserve patrol duty for a month for bringing us this. Oh, well. Time to keep up appearances.

“Jim, Gerald, thank you for your…creativeness. This meal is an example to us all. Even with limited resources…we can still enjoy variety in life.”

Sam tasted the food and mentally shared Priestly’s private opinion. This tastes terrible. Don’t these folks know nothin’ ‘bout cookin’?

For the next half hour, small talk ruled throughout the table with topics ranging from what they did that day to what they wished they could have done. Sam could easily detect an underlying anxiety in the room. From what? she wondered. The critters? Nah, they all want somethin’. I wonder what? Could be as simple as wantin’ out of here! Don’t know for sure.

Sam, quiet during most of the dinner, finally asked a question to Priestly, “Did y’all git my horse back here?”

“Oh, yes. My apologies. I should have mentioned it as soon as I joined you. My men brought your horse in just before sunset.”

“That’s just wonderful. Thank you, sir. Can I go see her?”

“No, not after dark. We have your horse safely secured next door…at the Home Base. You can see her tomorrow morning if you like.”

The thought that her horse was in the same building as the zombie immediately put her on edge and caused her face to flush just enough that Priestly noticed the response.

“Why, my dear, your horse is perfectly safe. There’s no need to worry.”

“Safe? You pullin’ my leg? You got her where you fenced up a critter. I mean, one of them dead!” Sam raised her voice in growing anger. Both her emotion and the mention of a dead man next door brought almost complete silence to the forty-eight diners that filled the tables.

“Oh, don’t worry at all. Your horse is penned up in the garden department. I guarantee that it is safe.”

“Yeah, Priestly!” Brandon spoke up from the opposite end of the table. “What the hell are you doing with a zombie caged up in the Home Base?”

Momentary anger flashed across Priestly’s eyes as everyone at the table stopped their meal and turned toward him.

That little bastard! How dare he challenge me? I should feed that little shit to that thing. He’s just showing off in front of the girl. I should…Priestly finally caught hold of his rising anger, knowing he had to control his response.

“Well, I was saving this for dessert, but since you so rudely disturbed our dinner…I’ll share it, now.” He got up and began to pace along the length of the table, relishing the quiet that ensued. Quiet that he took as a reflection of the great respect everyone had for him. Everyone, that is, except for Brandon, he thought.

“Ten long years…we’ve been here in what we collectively call The Club; however, this…place…has become more of a prison than a home. Look at the way it makes us live.” He gestured boldly with his arms to their surroundings. “We have beds…on racks! The same racks where flour, fertilizer, or TVs were stored. No privacy, no place of our own.” He turned his back to the assembled group, as if gazing across The Club’s interior. This was only for dramatic effect, as silently, he was counting to allow just the right length of pause in his speech.

“A place of our own,” Priestly repeated as he turned to again face the tables. “Word is often spoken by our ancestors as they came as immigrants into this country. Words that became more than a goal but a cornerstone of our country. Words that became synonymous with a right to spread out…to establish our own home. Our right to establish a society where we do more than just live. Where we do more than just exist.”

As he spoke, Priestly slowly walked down the length of the tables and stopped directly behind Brandon. He placed his hands on Brandon’s shoulders and continued his speech.

“Some people ask me why I like music from the past. Well, the 1970’s music reminds me of a simpler time. We didn’t have MP3 players or computers…heck, we didn’t even have flat screen TVs. Think of it…a time before smart phones. Back then, in the ’50’s, ‘60’s, and ‘70’s, they didn’t…need that technology. They had family…they had hearth…they had a place of their own. They had homes.

“Unfortunately, then came the plague of the twenty-first century. The zombie virus ended everything. No government…no military or police…nothing but relying on yourself. It was a hard time, no denying it; however, you…my friends…you survived these last ten years based on your wits…your courage…and your willingness to support each other. Grab your glasses, please. Take your glass and raise it high.” The whole room paused as glasses of water, soda, beer, or wine were raised. Some enthusiastically, and some reluctantly, but all raised their glasses.

“To you…my friends. To our band of brothers who have held forth so…courageously…over these last ten years.” Priestly raised his glass in toast and took a sip.

“Hear, hear,” several yelled as they all drank, even if some didn’t know exactly what they were drinking to.

Putting his glass down, Priestly continued. “So, where now, my friends? Where do we go, now?” He let the question hang in the air. Everyone but a select few had no idea where this was leading.

“Well, let me tell you. For years, we’ve held up in here. My father…God rest his soul…brought us all here, and we all owe him for the charitable chance at life this place gave us. Why here? Mostly because of the solar power collector on this store’s roof. It gave us some modicum of normalcy—power for some lights and a few appliances. In the following years, he led us as we made further improvements. Even with these improvements, this place, this Club gave us only a shadow of what we had before.

“As we’ve sheltered here, think of all those things we’ve forgone. Homes of our own, privacy, the ability to raise a family in a safe, secure environment. All those things they had in the ‘50’s, ‘60’s, and ‘70’s. All those things they had even in the era of disco music. Don’t you desire those things? Don’t you want…a place of your own?

“It’s time, my friends. Time to take those things back.” All eyes were on him. All were waiting for his next words. “Tomorrow starts the beginning of our retaking this world. Our world! Tomorrow starts our future!

“For the last few months, you may have wondered about some of our patrol actions. Not just scavenging food, but actions with a purpose. With Carl’s help…thank you, Carl.” The man he referred to briefly stood then sat down, again. “As I said, Carl showed us the way. You see, the Hoover Dam is still generating electricity….power, and it will as long as there is water in Lake Mead. Power that can let us return to some semblance of normalcy. Power that can let us start, again.

“When society fell, and the zombies took over, the power was still flowing…mostly going to California with only a little coming to Vegas. When the other power plants in the area stopped producing electricity, the load—that is, how much power was being consumed—became more than the system could handle. You see, the houses, the businesses all still had lights, televisions, and other power draws left running. With more load than power flowing into the city, the circuits ultimately tripped, shutting off power all over town. As I said, power still flowed from the dam. We just needed to redirect it, to send the power to where we live. To where we are going to start living, again!

“So, our patrols have been systematically shutting off breakers at the substations all over town. With these breakers shut down, we can direct the remaining power from the dam to wherever we want. All that stands in our way is one last substation. One more, and the power will flow back to this store. Hell, the power will flow to this whole area. You know what that means? Lights, air conditioning. One more step back toward normalcy.

“Then again, just having power on…that’s not enough. So what if we have power, if we are still relegated to bunks on the racks here at The Club. No, we have to want more! We deserve more! We deserve a place of our own !”

He paused again for dramatic effect, and then resumed the speech. “That, dear friends, is Part B of our Plan. We’ve located a housing development nearby that has high walls, not just the usual six-foot walls. This development has ten-foot brick walls completely surrounding it. Inside are forty of the most luxurious houses you have ever seen. Think of it, friends—a house for each of you. A house with lights and water. A house…a home all to yourselves.”

He chuckled for effect. “Think how nice it will be to sleep without listening to Thompson’s snoring. To go to the bathroom without someone pounding on the door and asking you to hurry up. Sounds nice, doesn’t it?” Heads nodded enthusiastically around the tables.

“So, tomorrow is the day for one last operation. One operation that will restore power and put us on the road to rebuilding our lives. This operation requires everyone. I’ve got to be honest…it’s going to be dangerous. Nevertheless, as they say, with great risk comes great reward. So, is everyone willing to place their trust in me for this one last operation?”

Many in the room said yes, others just silently nodded, but only Brandon spoke. “Sounds great, Priestly. Just what is this operation? What does it have to do with your pet in the Home Base?”

Priestly again bristled at the not-so-subtle challenge to what he was sure was a brilliant plan. “Even you, our voice of conscience. Even you have got to want more, don’t you?”

“Skip the platitudes, Priestly. What’s the op?”

“Well, to provide for our liberation…we have to reset power at one last substation—the Spring Valley substation. Go in and reset several racks of breakers. Throw several master panel switches…and voila! Power will flow to this section of town.”

Again, lots of heads nodded. It was clear that many of the men in the room longed for normalcy, but even with the near-unanimous and positive response, Brandon chimed in with further questions.

“Uh…just where is the Spring Valley substation?”

“I won’t lie to you. It’s in a difficult location. That’s why we are tackling it last.”

“That’s not an answer,” Brandon replied.

Priestly just shook his head. First chance I get, he thought, this little shit is going to have a tragic accident. I have no idea why Dad liked him so much. Always wanted to spend time with him. It was clear the old fart liked him more than….He let the poisonous thought retreat back into the deep reaches of his mind. Got to stay focused. “It’s where the most power draw in Vegas was. It’s in the middle of the Las Vegas Strip.”

“Are you freaking insane! The Strip? You know, I know, and everyone in this room knows that the Strip is zombie central. It’s where most of them are. They own that area.” Brandon got to his feet, standing toe–to-toe with Priestly. He tapped Priestly on the chest, using his forefinger to emphasize his words. “Going to the Strip is suicide. Suicide!”

Priestly chuckled then stepped around Brandon, acting as if the man didn’t even exist. “You’re right. Our dear friend Brandon is right. The Spring Valley switch and substation is located on the basement level of the Fashion Row Mall. Some bright mind in the 1980’s decided to build a mall right on the top of the substation. Probably because of land value, but no matter. Either way, that’s where they built it. As Brandon points out, when the zombie apocalypse came, and they took over most of this town. Not surprisingly, they were predominantly located on the Strip. So, there’s the problem. How do we get past all the zombies to a substation on the Strip? Then, it finally came to me. We use their own reactions against them.”

“We’ve all known for some time that sound attracts them. That’s why we hide and stay quiet at night. Then, it came to me. We could use the sound against them. Intentionally play sounds at a level and frequency that would draw them out.”

“What are you talking about?” Brandon asked.

“Shut up,” someone yelled.

“Let Priestly speak,” yelled another.

“It’s okay. I’m used to him disagreeing with me. To continue, we came up with a plan that will draw them out, far away from the substation. A plan that will let us safely work.” He paused again for effect.

“Brandon and our young lady mentioned our guest in the Home Base. We caught a zombie lurking around and have been doing a few experiments to see what works the best. What sounds are like…catnip…for zombies. Something they can’t refuse. Something that will draw them out every time. We’ve found it. Believe it or not, it’s the bass and tempo of disco music from the 1970’s. They love it. Well, maybe love it is too strong, but if you turn it on, they ignore everything else and move toward the sound. Our test subject in the Home Base proved it works.

“So, here’s the plan. We’ve wired a trailer with speakers and sub woofers, the whole sound system. We’ll wheel it down near the mall, right onto the Strip, and kick on the sound. We then fall back and let the zombies come out. I figure they will all just gather around the trailer. While they’re there, we’ll go into the mall down to the substation, flip the switches, and we’re done. In and out quickly…that’s the plan.

“To do this will require everyone. No other patrols, everyone on this single operation. Only a handful will be assigned for the substation, the rest will be stationed in different places for security…making sure there aren’t any zombie stragglers that ruin the party.

“So, that’s it. That’s the plan. Are you with me?”

Most of the table quickly jumped to their feet led, of course, by Priestly’s ten closest friends. Only a handful of men at the table were slow to rise, and of those men, only two were who Brandon would consider his friends. The rest of the men at the table were older, some ten to twenty years older than Brandon, and they clearly sided with Priestly.

From there, the rest of the plan was quickly outlined, including the assignment of each of them to a specific team, and each team’s objectives and responsibilities. “We’ll even use this lousy weather to our advantage. With the heavy cloud cover, we’ll be able to lure the zombies out during the day instead of having to do this when it’s nighttime. So, we go tomorrow. Truly, this should be a piece of cake. The sound system will clear the way, so there won’t be a zombie in sight.”

“Any questions?” Priestly asked. Several hands were raised and clarification provided, but Brandon was still completely unconvinced. “Tonight, Jeff, Ryan, and I will get with each of you to go over in detail your tasks, set you up with equipment you’ll need, and answer any further questions.”

Priestly finally wrapped up. “I know some of you may have reservations, but I ask you to put aside those concerns for the benefit of us all. Remember, this isn’t about me. This is about a better future for all of us. Working together…we’ll all succeed together!” Amidst applause and congratulations, the dinner was finished, and the group slowly dispersed.

Even with all the positive energy that filled the room, Brandon could only smile and shake his head. I can’t believe they’re buying this B.S., he thought. There are a dozen reasons why this plan could fail. In his mind, Brandon knew that failure would likely be fatal.

Ah, man! We are all so totally screwed!