The Man from Riverside - Chapter 2
The still smoking gun bounced around on the passenger seat. The black Beretta 92 DS had never actually been used until tonight. Dennis got it about four years ago when he heard of people getting run off the road and mugged. They ended up catching the man and woman, stuck in a state prison for 12 years, but Dennis kept the weapon, you just never know.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit!"
Dennis was getting more and more frustrated and confused. The whole event was on loop in his head, the lines between truth and imagination beginning to blur until he could no longer be certain of himself. He gripped the steering wheel tighter as the car careened down the road, the suspension groaning angrily at the rough road, begging for respite from the potholes.
"Fuck!"
The car swerved violently at speed to avoid another car more or less flung to the side of the road, sitting in the ditch. Hitting the soft edge of the road, Dennis struggled to regain control, but pulled it back on the road before the deep drainage ditch could suck the little car in. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and slowed the car down. He was getting desperate and the last thing he wanted to do now was crash.
At least 20 minutes passed, and the road never seemed to end. Dennis figured he must have travelled at least 60 miles now, but that wasn't what worried him. The number of abandoned and crashed cars made the drive very foreboding. Eventually, with the sight of the glow of streetlights behind the trees, Dennis began to relax, feeling the stress wash away in the warm glow of artificial lighting.
Slowly, the glow from the town grew larger, but the road became less and less visible. The town was covered in a thick fog, limiting vision to only about 150ft, but causing the glow from the streetlights to bloom magnificently. Dennis slowed the car as he got closer, he could make out a figure waving in the middle of the road. He slowed the car and pulled over to the side of the road behind a large brown pickup truck. He sat there for moment, staring blankly out the window at the man who was now walking towards him. He reached over and grabbed the gun off the seat and put it inside his jacket, safe from view. Dennis switched off the engine and got out of the car. He shuddered; the air was much cooler now and Dennis regretted not bringing a bigger jacket.
"Hey there!" The man shouted as he jogged towards Dennis "Hold up a sec,"
Dennis watched as the ragged man ran towards him, long grey beard blowing in the wind. Dennis smirked; just what he needed, a regular hillbilly.
"What's going on?" Dennis asked the man casually.
"You can't…" he paused for a moment to catch his breath. "You can't enter town, the cops have closed it down,"
Dennis was confused, "What for?"
"Because of the whole zombie flu thing. Haven't you heard?"
"What the hell are you taking about?" Dennis started getting annoyed, "Don't be fucking stupid"
"No, seriously man, this flu, it's like, zombie apocalypse. It's in all the major cities, CEDA completely closed them off; it's all over the news"
"Bullshit!"
"No man!" The man looked down at the ground nervously, "I… I saw some of them on the way here. I live way to the west, about 80 miles. They were just, like, wandering around like they dunno what to do. Some of them even chased my pickup for a while, I lost them eventually."
"Yeah, sure, whatever. Look, I don't care if everyone is fucking dressing up as clowns, I'm tired, and I want to find a place to sleep, so get out of the way"
"Hey! No, you can't!"
Dennis shoved the man aside and stormed towards town, the man could barely keep up as he followed behind him.
"Come on man, they'll shoot you!" Dennis ignored his pleading.
As he got closer to the entrance of town, the sudden glare of high beam headlights blinded him, causing him to stagger backwards in surprise. A booming male voice sounded through a megaphone.
"Hey! You there! Riverside is closed; go back the way you came!"
Dennis regained his composure and continued to storm towards the glaring headlights.
"I'm ordering you to stop! I've got orders to shoot on sight!" The voice began to sound desperate, which only gave Dennis more confidence. The man following Dennis continued to plead with him.
"You're gonna get yourself killed man, just leave it"
A gunshot rang out, echoing through the hazy mist, the impact kicking up a cloud of asphalt and dirt not more than a few feet from Dennis. He was a little surprised, but did little more than flinch. The man following him was not so composed.
"Fuck! You're on your own man, I'm not getting myself killed," He took off back towards his pickup truck.
Dennis heard the slam of a car door behind him, but continued onwards. He was nearly at the vehicle and could hear a commotion ahead, but was still blinded by the headlights. As he rounded the car, he could make out the local sheriff's deputy car, and so he assumed the officer inside was at least a deputy, if not just a rookie. Dennis walked around to the driver's side of the patrol car and saw the officer fumbling with the radio, which seemed to have been knocked to the floor somewhere.
"Hi," Dennis greeted the officer casually.
The officer turned to face Dennis and stood up from the car, revolver pointed straight at Dennis. Dennis put his hands up and looked the man up and down, noticing the name Coleman embroidered on his uniform. He appeared very nervous, the gun shaking in his hands. Dennis smirked, as green as they come.
"Hey, it's ok. I'm not here to hurt anyone; I just want a place to stay for a while. Ok?" Dennis said, trying to seem friendly.
"Just stay there, I'm going to call the sheriff," He sat back in the patrol car, still aiming the weapon at Dennis, and trying to find the radio on the floor. "And keep your hands up,"
Dennis tried to look tense, but he was too tired to really bother. Just trying to keep his hands held up was exhausting. He sighed as he watched the officer fumble around in the car, wishing he would just arrest him or something, at least then he could sit in the car. There was noise coming from the parked cars and Dennis turned to look, but the fog was too thick, the vehicles were completely concealed.
The sound of a shotgun blast caught both the men's attention. Dennis lowered his hands slightly and the officer scrambled out of the car, still pointing his weapon at Dennis. Dennis considered reaching for his weapon, but decided against it for now.
"What's going on over there?" Shouted the officer through the fog.
The only reply he got was another shotgun blast followed by an inhuman scream. This was enough to make the officer aim his weapon into the fog, Dennis decided it might be time to also arm himself, not that he believed what he was thinking, but it was instinct. The officer caught glance of Dennis pulling the gun out of his jacket pocket and seemed surprised at the sudden appearance of the weapon, but another shotgun blast echoed through the fog, snagging the young officer's attention once again. Through the fog, both men could make out the shape of a figure running towards them, carrying something. It turned around and the sound of another shotgun blast rang out, before it began running towards the two men again.
"Help me!" shouted the figure, which Dennis instantly recognised as the man he met earlier.
Suddenly, several more shapes appeared in the fog, running at the man who fired another shotgun round into the crowd. At least two of the figures flew backwards from the blast, and lay motionless on the floor, but the rest of the crowd continued to rush at the man who was still a good 600 feet away. Dennis raised his weapon and fired two rounds into the crowd, both hitting separate marks. The officer hesitated, beginning to panic.
"Just shoot them!" cried Dennis
With that, the officer fired three shots, only hitting a single woman who fell to the ground violently. Dennis continued to fire, hitting at least three more. The man turned to aim his shotgun when he tripped in a pothole and flew to the ground backwards, shotgun going off as he fell, catching one man in the head and sending him bowling backwards into the crowd. Dennis watched helplessly as the crowd rapidly gained on the fallen man, who was struggling to get to his feet. He fired several more rounds into the crowd until his gun went empty. The officer also fired another two shots before his gun was dry, then diving into the patrol car and pulled a box of rounds out of the glove box, throwing them all over the seat, bullets scattering in all directions. Dennis watched Coleman fumble with the bullets, trying to reload his revolver, while Dennis just watched hopelessly, with no ammo or any clips around. He noticed the officer's police baton attached to his belt and reached over to grab it, startling the officer and causing him to drop the bullet he was loading. The now smaller crowd of people had caught up with the fallen man, he tried to fight them off with his shotgun, but there were too many. They swarmed all over him like ants on food, he disappeared from sight, screaming as they attacked; punching, kicking and biting him. The young officer stood up and fired his newly reloaded weapon, discharging all six rounds and hitting nearly that many. This caught the attention of what was left of the crowd, just two men. They snarled and began to rush at Dennis and the officer, who hurriedly began reloading his revolver again. Dennis prepared himself, raising the baton ready to strike. One of the crazed men was limping from a bullet wound in the thigh, the other one, however, was gaining on Dennis fast. As he approached, Dennis brought the baton down on his head, hard. With the sound of cracking skull, the man flew to the side from the force of Dennis' swing and smashed into the side of the patrol car. The other man was almost at Dennis, but Dennis was bent over, breathless, trying to recover from the strength he put into the first blow. He looked up at the man, his grey face covered in blood, a disturbing contrast; he tried to right himself to take another swing with the baton, but with the booming sound of the officer's revolver, the man flew backwards from a bullet through the throat. Dennis took a step back to avoid the blood spraying from the body, which now lay limp on the floor. Dennis looked over at the officer, raised revolver still pointed at the body, steam billowing from the hot barrel in the cold mist. A scuffling noise could be heard from near where the beared man lay motionless and the officer pointed his gun towards the sound. From out of the mist, a woman could be seen dragging herself along the ground, her legs badly injured from gunshot wounds. She clawed at the ground like an animal, dragging herself towards Dennis; screaming in pain and anger that sent chills down Dennis' spine. The officer aimed his weapon carefully and fired, hitting the woman in the side of the head and her face fell limp to the floor.
Dennis and Coleman stood there quietly, Dennis hunched over, still trying to catch his breath, the blood stained baton still in hand. The officer pondered what had happened for a while, before turning to Dennis and holding out his hand for a handshake. Still hunched over, Dennis looked at him and stiffly stood up, arching his back to stretch. He reached over and shook the man's hand.
"I'm Tim, Tim Coleman"
"Dennis Rary"