State of Decay✔️

Chapter 18: Pest Control

"This is kind of awkward," Marcus said as they walked down the street.

"Yeah," Maya replied softly.

It was getting to be mid-afternoon, the sun high in the sky but mercifully hidden behind a thickening gray cloud cover. Marcus thought that it might rain tonight. That would be pleasant, peaceful. It had been a while since he'd enjoyed a rainy day. Of course he might change his tune once he had to fight zombies in the rain, or move a bunch of crap in it. Or both at the same time. He took another quick look around.

A few zombies milled about, stumbling around front yards. They didn't seem to notice the pair as they made their way down the center of the street. What Lily referred to as the Kirkman residence was a house on the right side of the street very close to the church. All they had to do was walk down the soft dirt incline to the left of the church, cross through a yard and come out onto the very road they were now walking down.

The house they were making their way towards had a stonework privacy fence built around it. Someone was standing behind the fence atop something, not a watchtower like theirs, but definitely something. Their torso was exposed and they had a rifle in hand. They were covering Marcus and Maya as they approached.

"That's close enough," the person said.

Marcus studied him. He was scrawny and white, his face covered in several days' worth of stubble. He wore a black t-shirt with KoЯn scrawled across it in severe white lettering. Marcus recognized the shirt, a friend of his had had one like it all through high school. The hands with which he held the rifle weren't entirely steady.

"Okay," Marcus said, stopping with Maya. "We're here because of the call on the radio. I understand we have a deal to clear out a gun shop?"

"Yeah...hold on. Don't move an inch."

He turned around and dropped down off of whatever he was standing on. A moment passed in uncomfortable silence, then he suddenly reappeared. At that same moment, the black iron gate that served as an entryway to the property opened up. Two people emerged. One was a tanned woman with brown hair pulled into a tight, functional ponytail. She wore jogging shorts and a plain white t-shirt and held a long-barreled silver revolver. The other was a man in jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves ripped out. He seemed younger than her, with pale blonde hair and a friendly, open face. He carried a pump action shotgun.

"Hi," the woman said. She resembled the man standing behind the privacy wall. Marcus suddenly realized that they were siblings. "My name is Linda Porter. This here is Tucker. The nervous guy with the rifle is my brother Daniel."

"Hello. I'm Marcus."

"I'm Maya."

"Pleased to meet you. I trust you're ready for all the shooting we've got to do? No quiet way to deal with an infestation, so we're likely going to draw in others," Linda said.

"Good to go," Marcus replied, patting his pocket with the two spare magazines.

"Same," Maya replied.

"Excellent. Let's get going, it's just around the corner."

They began walking down the street, now four of them, four young survivors of the zombie apocalypse. Or was it? He still had no idea how widespread it was. Though the fact that the Army was here in force and quarantining them all made him think that it might be a local thing. And that gave him hope. Not exactly a personal hope, because he wasn't so sure about making it out of this place alive, but a broader hope.

Maybe they could stop and contain it here.

As they reached the end of the street and began turning right, Marcus spied movement across the street, behind the windows of a local mini-mart, the Tartan Mart. The movement didn't look listless or stilted, like the zombies, it looked human.