Chapter Three
The annoying tune that was a default on every iPhone, began playing, loudly under Sammy's pillow. She groggily reached a hand under her pillow, having every intention of chucking the technology at the wall. When she saw the time, she paused, realizing after a moment that she was officially late for work. She had promised Martha to take over her shift which started at 3:30pm. Her phone read 3:15pm. Sammy had forgotten to change the time to cover for the earlier shift.
"That stings, woman!" a muffled yell of protest was heard from the bathroom next door. Sammy frowned, throwing herself out of bed. Her grandma Marge was usually out shopping around this time, especially on a Friday when the sales begin on the weekends. Sammy slipped from her bedroom to the bathroom doorway, seeing her grandparents bending over a first aid kit.
Clive was sitting on the toilet seat while Marge was pouring some rubbing alcohol on a cotton swab. "It's supposed to sting! It's alcohol! Now, just sit still, Clive!" She brought the soaked cotton ball over a wound on his right arm, near his wrist.
Sammy watched as a small amount of blood trickled from the wound, grimacing as Clive sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth. "What happened?"
Both her grandparents looked up at the sound of her voice, but it was Marge that spoke up. "Jenny Johnson's mom, Cathy, was in the women's hygiene section of the grocery store. I guess she was going for the toothpaste sale we were, but she passed out. A few of us went to check on the poor woman, but she suddenly jumped up, grabbed Clive, and bit into his wrist."
Clive reached over Marge, grabbing a gauze pad with taped edges, and slapping it on over his wound, taking advantage of the distracted Marge. He stood up from the toilet, ignoring the glare his wife sent him, trying to usher the women out of his way. "She didn't stop with me, though. She went for a few others that came by to check on her. She got one of them biker boys, Bobby Joe, I think." Sammy and Marge moved out of his way as he left the bathroom to sit in his favorite spot on the couch.
Marge followed after him but gave up trying to play nurse. She disappeared in the kitchen, grabbing him a cold Sprite from the fridge. Sammy leaned over the back of the couch, staring at her grandpa. "So, what happened? Did the police get called?"
Clive turned to her, waiting patiently for Marge. "Yeah, when the police finally showed up, she had bitten a few more people. Anyone who got too close to her mouth got a chunk missing. They ended up putting a muzzle on her; the crazy old hag." Sammy laughed as Marge handed over his cold drink.
"Don't you speak that way about the townsfolk, Clive. They got ears everywhere in this town." Marge scolded. She checked her cute little old-fashioned wristwatch before looking at Sammy. "Aren't you covering for that nice girl at the bar, dear? You're late, you know." Marge hustled over to the accent table that held the bowl for everyone to put their keys and lifted the spare set to her car, gifted to Sammy when she got her license.
Sammy took a moment to lean over and kiss her grandpa on the cheek before going over to her grandma. She also gave Marge a kiss and took the keys from her. Marge followed Sammy to the door that led out into the garage. "I'm worried about him. Make sure he doesn't do too much today." Sammy ordered. Marge gave her a loving smile as Sammy peered behind her toward her grandpa. He was sipping on his Sprite, flipping through the channels on the TV, and already acting like nothing happened.
The patting on her shoulder brought her attention back to Marge. "I'll worry about Clive; you just worry about those Dixon brothers. Especially Daryl now that Merle's in jail. We don't want the poor boy to run off back to his worthless daddy. You tell him he's welcome here with or without Merle." Marge folded her arms under her chest as they moved into the garage. "When he gets back from huntin' this weekend, we can get him set up here as his permanent address. He won't have to do anymore couch hoppin' while Merle's strung out."
Sammy chewed on her bottom lip. Clearly, Daryl didn't share who he went hunting with, with her grandparents otherwise, they probably wouldn't have let him go without getting a lecture. Though, Sammy also knew that Daryl would be grateful for the permanent home but wasn't likely to leave Merle to his own devices. "I'll pass it along, but remember, Daryl does what Daryl wants." Marge hit the garage opener that was nailed to the wall, watching as Sammy climbed into the car.
Slipping the shoulder strap across her chest and securing the seatbelt in the lock, Sammy started the car. She backed out of the garage, giving a small wave to Marge as the older woman hit the garage door button again. Sammy looked over at her own vehicle, an M923A2 5-ton cargo truck, promising herself that she was going to take it up to her bunker later this weekend. The large black storage containers, nine in total, sitting by the tires were full of supplies that would last a few months for her and one other person.
Timmy was supposed to come home from the military the following weekend, just a small visit before he was stationed somewhere else. He promised to visit her bunker and help her figure out where to put things. He stayed on the couch if he ever slept over at her grandparents' house, never staying long enough to need a room. He only ever came to check on Sammy, show slight disproval of the Dixon brothers, and check on his collection of weapons stashed in the basement.
Sammy paused at the end of the driveway, quickly thumbing through her playlists before selecting one of her favorites. She tapped her thumbs on the steering wheel to the rock music playing through the upgraded display system before continuing to work. She drove for a few minutes before coming to a stop sign. Sammy checked the four-way stop before digging in the glove box for her hidden stash of cigarettes. The package of Marlboro reds was half empty as she shook one loose, lighting it quickly and pulling a long drag through the filter. She blew the smoke from her lungs and moved from the stop sign.
Realizing the lack of busy people and cars on the normally rowdy streets, Sammy frowned. She watched the sidewalks and houses on Willow Street, a small street in tandem with the small town it only had a few houses on either side of the street. A good number of the houses had their doors left wide open, papers scattered in the doorways, newspapers left at the end of the drive, one house had a trail of clothes going from the front door to the street where a car must have been parked. The last house at the end of the street was slightly smoking, light grey tendrils of smoke wafted from the half open windows in the front room. A car was still parked in the driveway, so Sammy assumed someone was inside. Besides, she didn't hear any smoke alarms going off.
Even though she found the street odd, she didn't stop on her way to work, she was late as it was.
Finally arriving at the bar, Sammy parked her grandma's car behind the building. She locked the car and slipped into the back door that was for employees. Jake's office was the next closest door which she unlocked and tossed her things on the desk, noticing a familiar Ziploc bag full of pill bottles. Upon taking a closer look at the bottles, she realized it was Merle's stash. She didn't know how it got there but decided to hide it out of view. The very bottom drawer in Jake's desk, on the right side, had a handful of thick folders brought to the front and made to look like it was full. Sammy slid her hand behind the last one she could reach and pulled them toward her, finding the rest of the drawer empty. She quickly stuffed the full Ziploc bag into the empty space and closed it.
Sammy locked up the office behind her, not risking anyone else to snoop around. If Jake had been there, she wouldn't have bothered, but since he wasn't, she wasn't willing to risk it. She continued her way into the bar, not expecting the harsh looks of the Savage Sons. They were all huddled around the bar, pouring their own shots of hard liquor. "I mean, I know I'm late, but you couldn't have asked Marco to pour your drinks until I got here?"
"Marco ain't in the kitchen." The hollowed, hard-edged voice of Earl, the leader of Savage Sons, told her. Earl was a larger man, he had a healthy beer gut, a bandana covering his bald head, and a long greying beard that touched the top of his belly. He was behind the bar, right hand on the neck of a tall scotch bottle, left hand nursing a glass. "Somethin' is happenin' in this little town. People are attackin' people, no matter what, no matter the reason." He loudly gulped the scotch from his glass, slamming it back down on the counter and tipped the bottle to it once again.
Folding her arms under her chest, she frowned at him. "You're sounding like Merle when he's taken one too many drugs of his. Now git from behind that bar or I'll be calling Jake." Sammy moved around a few of the gang members, slipping behind the counter and placing her hand on the rounded bottom of the Scotch bottle Earl was still trying to cradle.
Earl looked up at her, his normally bright and observant eyes flickered over her, seeming blank and haunted. "If ya don't believe me, Bobby Joe is in the bathroom. Half his arm is missing from some crazy bitch." He dragged his eyes over his glass of scotch, finally lifting the beverage to his mouth and finishing it off.
"Have you ever heard of bath salts? People turn into crazy flesh eaters on that stuff." Sammy put the Scotch bottle back on the shelf, turning around and slightly pushing Earl out from behind the bar. "In fact, Merle has been trying to get his hands on that stuff."
Riggs, Earl's right-hand man, gave her a glare. "We ain't talkin' about Merle, Sammy. Bobby Joe is missin' half his arm." Riggs was built the same as Earl, though his beard barely reached his chest and he favored wearing dark sunglasses no matter the time of day. "I'mma go check on him, Earl." Riggs slipped inside the multi-stalled bathroom.
Silence took over the bar, making Sammy squirm in discomfort. She was used to the bar being loud, even when locking up for the night Marco would be playing some house music while he cleaned in the kitchen and Sammy would move along with the beat while doing her own closing work. Even when they both were done, had all the doors locked up tight, and were going home they played loud music.
The silence didn't stay for long as a deep guttural yell came from the bathroom before Riggs threw himself backwards, into the bar. Bobby Joe, who was a skinny thing trying to grow his own beard like Earl and Riggs, had a hard grip on Riggs' shirt, his teeth gnashing together trying to take a bite out of Riggs. Riggs was already bleeding from a wound on his collarbone, trying to cover the wound with one hand and fighting to keep Bobby Joe back with the other.
Taking in the scene, Sammy realized that Bobby Joe's left arm was wrapped horribly. It was drenched in blood, the bandages slipping loosely from his arm as he swung it at Riggs. He was trying to barrel into the bigger man, not showing any discomfort about his arm, which really was torn up and had flesh missing. He shouldn't have been able to move it without being in agony, but he kept trying to use it as if it were fine. It was clear that pain wasn't registering with him.
Half the men in the bar were standing and scooting back, afraid of what they were seeing. Only a few were brave enough to try to help Riggs. Earl wasn't one of them, he was frozen beside Sammy, watching just like she was. The little shit that stole Daryl's crossbow had grown a spine, deciding to fire off the weapon. The bolt embedded itself in Bobby Joe's spine, but he didn't go down like they thought he would. His legs crumbled under him; the grip of his right hand snagged into the top of Riggs' jeans as he swung between the man's legs. Riggs had abandoned his collarbone, trying to pry Bobby Joe's fingers off him, but let out a cry of agony as Bobby Joe took a mouthful of jeans and bit into the back of his calf.
Once a few of the Savage Sons successfully helped to remove Bobby Joe, they all tried yelling at him to snap out of whatever he was on. The normal hue of healthy skin took on a pale complexion as Bobby Joe was only growling and trying to drag himself to the nearest body. Nothing worked to get his attention. He hadn't even howled in pain when the bolt from the crossbow hit him. "His blood is odd," Sammy mumbled, looking at the smears Bobby Joe left behind. The color wasn't the normal deep red, it was black and thick, clumping together.
Finally, the kid who was waving Daryl's crossbow around, decided to end Bobby Joe's suffering. He ripped the bolt from the man's back and fired another shot in the back of his head, Bobby Joe's rasping stopped as his head fell forward with a heavy thud. Everyone stared as the only noise left in the bar was Riggs' panting and groaning. "Sammy, go get some cloths from the kitchen." Earl told her. She glared at him, not moving. "Get your ass in the damn kitchen!" The sudden shout startled a few of the guys as she finally did as he asked.
Sammy slammed the kitchen door open, letting it swing closed behind her. She looked around the kitchen, finding the clean cloths by the sink. She turned on the faucet and wet some of the cloths she grabbed, wringing them out enough that they wouldn't drip. As she shut off the faucet, she heard a hard tapping by the small walk-in fridge. "Marco?" She listened for a moment but didn't get a response back. "Hey, if that's you, there's something weird going on in town. Would you care if I slipped out for a few minutes to talk to my grandparents?" Again, she listened but there was no response. Sammy frowned at the walk-in fridge. "Did you lock yourself in the fridge again? I swear, I don't know how you do it. You're lucky I'm here and not Martha or Jake. You'd be in there until next week!" As she was talking, she moved toward the fridge. She pulled on the horizontal handle, the seal making her tug a little harder as a breeze of cold air rushed her.
Groaning from the floor of the fridge made Sammy look down. Marco was sitting against the door hinge, the tone of his skin looking a little blue as he stood up stiffly. Sammy watched him, a little hesitant at his movements as they seemed slow, slower than he normally was. When he lifted his head, she saw his once vibrant blue eyes were now a pale and milky color. She barely had time to yelp as he launched himself at her.
Marco's cold fingers twisted in Sammy's long hair, trying to pull her closer to his mouth. She screamed as she lifted her hands to push his face back, the wet cloth covering his mouth. She quickly shoved another into his mouth, successfully keeping him from biting her. She shoved him back into the fridge, his fingers taking strands of her hair as he landed on his back. Sammy shut the fridge door and placed the small chain lock in the slot.
The kitchen door swung open as a few of the Savage Sons thundered in. Sammy twirled around as Marco tried slamming into the fridge door, probably knowing she was still close by. "We heard you scream. Everything okay?" Sammy didn't know who spoke to her, her mind still reeling from the blank look in Marco's eyes.
"Marco is in the fridge. Don't open it." She grabbed the dried cloths she dropped and slipped between the gang members back into the bar. She dumped the cloths in Earl's arms and moved toward the employee section of the bar. She shakily unlocked Jake's office door and slipped inside, locking it behind her.
Sammy sat in Jake's chair, grabbing the office phone and dialing 9-1-1. The call wouldn't go through. It played a busy tone until she hung up. Next, she tried her cell phone, digging it from her purse. Again, the busy dial tone. She tried to call her grandparents but got the same result. She gave up when she tried to call the little flip phone she gave to Daryl a while ago, though instead of a busy tone, it took her straight to voicemail.
For the first time in her life, Sammy felt scared. Earl was right, something strange was happening in their little town. All she wanted to do now was go home, get her grandparents, get Daryl and head for her bunker. She had one about forty miles east of town, big enough for all of them to fit comfortably. She had her grandpa to thank for getting one. If he wasn't a conspiracy theorist, she wouldn't have turned into a small-time prepper. She should also be thankful to Daryl for taking her hunting, foraging, developing survival skills she otherwise wouldn't have.
Tears streamed down her face as loud banging on Jake's office door startled her. "Sammy! There's something goin' on out in the streets. Earl wants us to lock this place down, get out here!" Sammy wiped the tears from her eyes, leaping up and leaving the office, still locking it behind her.
"I can't stay. I have to get back to my grandparents." Sammy said as she rejoined everyone in the bar. They were all huddled by the doors and windows, watching the streets. "What are you doing now?" They motioned her to join them, which she did, peering out one of the windows.
The sun was low, barely leaving a hue in the sky as the weak flickering lights on the street gave a pitiful attempt. Dark figures were running in the streets, cars were rolling into other cars, people were hunched over others who had fallen. Sammy couldn't look away as a woman stumbled and rolled into the street, people that Sammy thought were there to help her up, held her down and bit into her. The woman's screams were barely heard over car horns and sirens. Sammy watched her legs kick out until another figure dropped next to them and began tearing into her.
Sammy stumbled back toward the bar, feeling sick. She grabbed whatever alcohol that touched her hand first, not even bothering with a glass. She tipped the drink back and downed as much as she could. She knew she couldn't leave the bar now, not when things were crazy like that out there. Sammy slumped on the ground, pulling her knees to her chest as she cradled the bottle of Vodka. "What the fuck? Like, what the fuck?"
At some point in the night, the Savage Sons threw out Bobby Joe and Riggs, even though he wasn't showing symptoms of eating others yet. Most of the guys hadn't wanted to take a chance after seeing a few people get up after they should have died. Whatever was happening out on the streets, Earl wasn't going to risk any more lives. The rest of the night was spent boarding up the windows, minus a few spots for a lookout. The doors were kept locked and bolted, even the more difficult one that needed to be fixed.
Not long after Riggs was thrown out, the power went off. A few guys tried resetting the circuit breakers, but nothing worked, not even the streetlights. There were only a handful of candles available behind the bar, but Jake never expected for the power to go out, not even during the worst storms.
Nursing a different bottle, Sammy watched the sun rise, not letting herself fall asleep all night. She was scared to wake up with someone trying to eat her, she was scared to make noise, and she was scared to be alone. She wished she went with Daryl on his hunting trip, not caring who he went with now.
If she was going to be eaten, she realized she needed to drink more. She reached up for another bottle, but her hand was suddenly slapped away. "No more, Sammy. A few of us are going out for supplies now that things have quieted down. We need you alert." Earl came over from around the bar, bending down to take the tequila she took after finishing the vodka.
Sammy shook her head, the room spinning a little as she did. "I can't Earl. I don't want to end up like that. I don't want to watch that happen to anyone else." Tears fell in streams down her cheeks as she whispered back to him.
Earl wasn't having it; he grabbed her arms forcefully and lifted her up to her feet. "Times are changing, Sammy. We don't know what's happening but were going to fight to survive. Everyone is going to help, even you."
Wiping the back of her hand under her nose, Sammy sniffled and let out a breath. "What do you need me to do?"
"Raid the kitchen. Collect whatever you can find. Bring it back here in the bar." A few of the Savage Sons came through one of the side doors, giving Earl a nod. Outside must have been good enough for them to go out. "I'm going out with a few of the guys. Some are posted on the roof, keeping watch. I'll keep a few here if you need help. And, uh… Don't worry about the fridge… Sorry about Marco." He didn't meet her eyes, but she knew he never liked Marco. The Savage Sons were the towns biggest gay bashers, among other things. It was why Merle fit in so well with them in the beginning.
For the moment, Sammy found a reason to keep going. She didn't look back at Earl, she just went into the kitchen like she was told, a man named Ash, quietly following her. He was on the skinny side, his left arm covered in tattoos, his shirt had the sleeves ripped off, and he wore his black biker helmet. She didn't know if it were habit or if he thought it would protect him somehow. Either way, she didn't ask.
She started as far away from the fridge as she could get, opening cabinets and putting canned goods on the counters. She checked three large lockers that were placed as far from the oven as they could be, finding some energy bars and a few bottles of Gatorade. In the last locker she found a stash of candy bars, Marco's favorites, and put them in the back pockets of her jeans. They were Milkyway, just plain milk chocolate. 'I like my candy like I like my men; a good mix of chocolate and caramel.' Was something Marco always told her.
Knowing the fridge was where everything was normally stored, Sammy piled the cans in her arms, leaving a few for Ash to carry before going back to the bar. She placed the cans on the bar top and spun around to head towards the back. "I'm going to check Jake's office, I'll be back." Ash didn't follow her, getting the hint that she would be fine in the office alone.
Once Sammy slipped inside the office and locked the door again, she went for her cell phone first. She tried dialing her grandparent's landline, her grandma's cell phone, and Daryl's before she realized she didn't have a signal. She tossed the useless technology back in her bag, deciding to rummage through Jake's drawers. She came across a few protein bars, some protein powder, and a case of water bottles. She left the bottom right drawer alone, knowing Merle's stash was still there.
Sammy suddenly wondered if she would ever see Merle again. Or Daryl, her grandparents. She wondered if the police or the military was working to get people out of here, look for survivors, or had any answers to what was happening. Timmy was in the military; he might know something. Sammy hoped he would be able to reach her.
Suddenly, an idea came to her mind. Looking under Jake's desk, by the left side, there was an old portable radio that ran off batteries. Sammy grabbed it, attempting to turn it on and find a station that might be working. Though, she grew frustrated when she checked the battery compartment and found it empty. She searched the office for batteries but couldn't find any and decided to check in the bar.
After locking up the office, out of habit at this point, she placed the radio on the bar. She went through a few drawers and successfully found the large batteries she needed. Why there were some in the bar, she didn't know, but was grateful for them now. She switched on the radio, turning the volume almost off as static filled the bar. She carefully turned the tuning bar, watching the red strip move from one end to the other, not picking up a single thing. Sammy gave up, turned off the radio, and pulled the batteries out to not waste them.
"Nothin', huh?" Ash was peering at her from his post by one of the windows. Sammy shook her head at him. "Try AM? They usually have an emergency broadcast playing if need be. This seems like the perfect time for it."
Sammy shook her head again. "I tried. Nothing. We can check again if Earl gets back." She was being pessimistic even though she was honest. She didn't have high hopes of anyone coming back through those doors. "I'm going to the bathroom." Her bladder was full, but she really didn't want to be in the room with him anymore, his eyes following her and making her uncomfortable. Ash was one of the guys that knew better than to try anything with her but only when Daryl, Merle, Jake, or Earl was around. No one was now.
She locked the women's bathroom before closing one of the stall doors. She dropped her pants, quickly doing her business, pulling her pants back up and was pleased when the toilet still worked. Sammy stayed in the bathroom awhile longer after washing her hands. There was a small window closer to the ceiling that, if she tried hard enough, she could squeeze through. She didn't have anything to climb on though, promising herself she would bring a stool if she needed to make an escape.
Sammy paused, finding it a little funny she was planning escape routes. A few hours ago, she had been drinking herself dumb. She was thinking about how easy it was to let them get her if she was drunk enough to not feel her flesh being ripped from her body. She assumed her change of thinking was due to her grandparents, Daryl, and Timmy. Giving up when she didn't even know what happened with her loved ones would have been stupid. She had to believe they were alright and, in Daryl's case, looking for her.
After splashing some water on her face, Sammy left the bathroom feeling a little more awake and refreshed. She wanted a shower and her bed, but she still smelled nice enough thanks to her deodorant. She wandered back behind the bar, grabbing a glass and the waterspout, pouring herself some water. She wouldn't waste the bottled water until the running water stopped.
Jimmy Stevens, the little shit stain that stole Daryl's crossbow, came walking into the bar after Ash let him in. Earl had him posted on the roof as a look out since he looked like he could handle the hunting weapon. "Earl and the guys are coming back with some good stuff. Be ready to let them in." Sammy frowned at him, noting how he tried to carry himself with authority. She knew he was only acting like that because he got away with taking the weapon in the first place.
"Why don't you do it, shit stain?" Sammy crossed her arms over her chest, her pre-apocalyptic attitude coming out.
For a moment, Jimmy stared at her, unsure of himself. The next minute, he slung the crossbow over his shoulder, slightly around the back of his neck, and moved towards her, threateningly. "The hell you say to me, bitch?" He got up in her face, an awful glint in his eye as he looked her up and down. "Someone ought to put a bitch like you in her place."
Sammy coughed, waving her hand by her nose. "The hell did you eat? Dog shit?" She laughed, "You are what you eat. As the saying goes." The doors burst open behind Jimmy, causing him to whip around and step away from Sammy.
Earl and the men he took with him on the run, came through the doors, one guy lagging behind to close and lock them. They all dumped a few crates of food, water, medicines, and hygiene products on the tables. Earl had a large duffel bag strapped to his shoulder, taking it off to place it neatly on the top of the bar. Sammy decided to check that one first, since Earl thought it was more special than the rest. He unzipped it, silently showing her its contents. It was loaded with weapons like guns, bats, knives, batons, and ammunitions. "Take your pick." Sammy looked up at Earl, feeling odd about openly carrying a weapon. "Times are changing, Sammy. Got to defend yourself."
Peering inside the bag again, Sammy ignored the guns and grabbed three daggers and a small hunting knife that she slipped in her front pocket. Earl handed her some kind of belt holster for the knives. "Where did you get all of this?" She asked, tightening the belt around her hips and sliding the knives into the attached sheaths.
"The hunting store about a block from here. Going on foot took some time but with the numbers we had, we were able to raid cars and the dollar store for supplies." Earl nodded at her new equipment. "We're going out again to pick up more food, you should come with and get some experience with those."
Sammy shook her head. "No thanks. I'll keep them for safety, but I know the military will come sweeping through here soon. The town will go back to normal; you'll see." She knew her voice had a desperate undertone to it, but she was grateful when Earl didn't say anything back to her.
With orders to keep the bag behind the bar and to make rations with the supplies they had, Earl and his scavenging team headed back out with a promise to be back before dark. Ash decided to help her while Jimmy "Shit-Stain" Stevens posted himself by the door, holding the crossbow in his arms and sending Sammy sly smirks.
They carried the organized crates to the wall across from Jake's office, setting them down in a neat row. Once they were back in the bar area, gun shots and shouting were heard from the roof as Shit-Stain suddenly yelled. The door he had been standing in front of suddenly burst open, pushing him back into one of the tables. A gun shot rang out, Jimmy stopped moving, and Sammy started screaming as blood seeped from the hole in the middle of his neck.