Dead of Night (Dead of Night 1)

Despite everything, JT smiled. “You have a real way with people, Dez. Charm and poise and—”

“We’re one half sentence away from me kneecapping you and leaving you here for those dead fuckers to eat. ”

“Point taken,” he said, and they kept running. They didn’t speak again until they reached Bell’s parking lot. The rain was hammering them now and in the distance they could hear the angry growl of thunder. JT collapsed against the tailgate of a black Ford F-150. “I’ll … I’ll wait here. Keep an eye out…” He flapped a hand toward the door.

Dez lingered for a moment, “When did you go and get old on me, Hoss?”

He tried to grin, but it was a ghastly attempt.

Dez burst through the door and stopped inside. The store was bright with fluorescents and country music was playing on bad speakers mounted high on the wall. Thom Bell was behind the counter ringing up a purchase of black pipe for a construction worker. He and the customer both stared at her in surprise.

“Thom!” Dez snapped. “Listen to me. We have a problem. There’s been some kind of outbreak. Very, very bad stuff. A bunch of infected people are on their way here and whatever they have is making them act all schizo. Help is on the way, but we need to keep everyone in here and lock this place down, and I mean right now. ”

Thom Bell asked only one question. “Is this some kind of terrorist thing?”

“Yes,” lied Dez. “Now come on, I need you to—”

Bell was already in motion. He reached beneath the counter and flipped a switch to kill the music, and hit another to turn on the public address system. He told everyone in the store almost word for word what Dez had told him. One woman screamed, but the rest merely ran to the front of the store and started asking questions.

“Okay!” yelled Bell, “Now everyone listen up. We have a situation here. A terrorist situation. Officer Fox just told me that we need to secure this place and that’s what we’re going to do. I want all of the customers to go into the back. There’s a staff locker room there with some chairs. You all just go in and sit down, and we’ll secure the building. Nothing or no one is going to get into here, I can promise you that. ”

He spoke with absolute command; Dez knew that he had been a two-tour sergeant during the first Gulf War. He was a big man with a wind-raw face and calm eyes beneath the brim of his Snap-on Tools cap. A man to be taken seriously.

Dez watched the faces of the patrons and staff as Bell spoke. She saw the shock, the first wave of surprise and doubt, saw their eyes flick toward the door, but she also saw how Bell’s commanding voice held them in place and, at least for the moment, emotionally in check.

“Chip,” Bell said to one of the clerks, “you show everyone where to go. Scott, make sure the back door’s locked. Drop the bar, too. ” Bell clapped his hands with the sound of a gunshot. Everyone jumped. “Let’s go, let’s go. ”

And they went, just like that. Bell told another employee to roll down the shutters.

“Thanks, Thom,” said Dez, closing on him and lowering her voice.

He nodded, but his eyes probed hers. “Is help really on its way?”

“Yeah, and JT’s outside. ”

Bell looked her up and down. “You’re covered in blood, girl. ”

“I know—” she began, but he cut her off.

“No … I mean, is that infected blood?”

Dez opened and closed her mouth. “I…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t get too close to anyone. ” To emphasize this he took a step back. “Now … tell me what’s really happening?”

She shook her head. “I really don’t know. ”

“Tell me what you do know. ”

She did, moving through it in quick, clipped sentences. As she laid it out, the whole thing sounded impossible to her and she’d lived through it. She watched for, and saw, the doubt grow in Bell’s eyes.

There was a moment of pursed-lipped silence as he considered it. He went to the door and called out in a hushed voice. “JT … what’s happening out there?”

Dez heard JT say, “Still coming. I can’t see them but I can hear them. ”

“Better get inside,” suggested Bell, and he held the door as JT hobbled inside, limping on his bad knee, and Bell closed the door behind him. The door was steel with only a small wire-mesh window the size of a piece of loose-leaf paper. The lock was a heavy dead

bolt. Bell pounded his fist against the door to show how solid it was.