We Will Rise: An Adrian's Undead Diary Novel (Lockey vs the Apocalypse Book 2) by Carl Meadows (have you read this book .TXT) 📗

Worried thoughts of the warring armed groups entered his mind, but he kept his fears to himself in case the younger ones started to panic.

“Well then we best just get in and get out as we planned, eh?” He tried to keep his tone casual. “Anyway, we’re here now.”

He gestured to a small, glass-fronted store that looked like it was just another house in a small row of terraces. Only the large glass window, and a green and white cross on the small sign jutting above it, signified its difference to the handful of residences.

“Looks like someone already looted the place,” observed Zain as they pulled up to the kerb beside it.

The glass front of the door was smashed, and the door itself was half-open. From her closer vantage on the left side, Sarah moved her head about, angling to look through the window.

“Most of the shelves are actually still untouched,” she said.

“I was half-expecting this in truth,” said Dean. “The main thought on people’s minds will be the strong stuff, like the codeine, morphine substitutes, tramadol, other opiates, that kind of stuff. Addicts and criminals will have taken the opportunity with the new lawless existence to take what they need for a fix. That’s not what we’re here for though, even though they would have been a bonus. We want ointments, dressings, cold and flu treatment, antibiotics, cough linctus, female sanitary products, and every bottle, box, and packet of vitamin supplements you can find.”

“How do we know what’s of use?” asked Zain.

Dean reeled off common antibiotic names picked up from two decades of marriage to Maria. Having a nurse practitioner for a wife lent itself to simple absorption of information over time.

“If in doubt, take everything you can,” said Sarah.

“Hold up!” said Dean as they all moved to get out of the car. “Nobody’s going anywhere until I’ve been in that building and made sure it’s clear of living and dead.”

“It’s tiny,” started Zain. “Can’t we…”

“Complacency kills, Zain,” cut in Sarah, ending any debate before it could begin. “We wait here.”

Dean smiled approvingly at her. You’ll be just fine, sweetheart, he thought with pride.

The police officer swept through the small pharmacy in less than a minute, checking the back office and small storeroom as well. The tiny store was free of living or dead and he stepped back outside, beckoning the three of them from the vehicle.

“Okay, good to go,” he declared. “The shelves behind the counter are mostly swept clean, but in the back storeroom there are unopened deliveries and extra storage boxes. The looters didn’t think beyond the prescription stuff behind the counter, so let’s move and get what we need. I want to be out of here as soon as we can. Sarah, help them for now while I stand watch. If things start to get edgy out here, I’ll holler.”

The young woman nodded and immediately assumed a position of command over the two boys, even though Zain was only a few months her junior. Her confidence was infectious though, and the two boys responded to her without question.

They had been going only fifteen minutes when the chugging of a diesel engine caught Dean’s attention. His eyes drifted up the road they had taken, and he watched in creeping dread as a Humvee rolled into sight, crawling toward them. Thankfully, there was no light machine gun mounted on it, but there was the visible top half of a black-clad man looking his way, a bolt-action rifle in hand. For now, the barrel was pointed up.

“Stay in the store,” hissed Dean, just as Sarah was approaching the door. “Get everyone back. I’ll try and deal with this.”

Sarah said nothing, following his instruction and ushering the two boys to the back of the store.

The Humvee was a military transport, not the commercial Hummer model purchased by those with deep pockets looking for status. It looked like an older model, desert tan in colour, but it was clearly up armoured. Such vehicles could be purchased commercially from surplus by those with pockets deep enough, but the sight of it left Dean feeling cold. The men in the vehicle could be ex-military, or they could just be maniacs with access to money and guns. Neither option was comforting if their intentions were hostile, but if they were, he would rather be facing the latter.

He raised a hand in greeting, trying to disarm any situation immediately with a friendly smile and visible display of non-aggression.

The Humvee rolled to a stop around twenty feet away and Dean sucked in a breath as the man sticking out the roof lowered the rifle in his direction.

The vehicle opened and three more men exited, all of them dressed in combat BDU’s, military boots, armoured in light Kevlar vests and a variety of sidearms at their hips. A couple of them looked to be carrying semi-automatics, but the man who strode to the fore of the group had what looked like a .357 Magnum revolver at his side.

The leader, if that’s what he was, carried no other visible weapon and strode forward, confident his comrade’s Ruger was fixed on Dean from the top of their vehicle. If Dean even twitched in a manner they did not like, a .22 rifle bullet would come his way and there was little he could do about it.

Behind the leader, one man carried a Mossberg shotgun, while the other held an MP5 submachine gun with a folding stock, much like the couple Dean had appropriated from the constabulary locker. The leader probably had a larger weapon in the Humvee but was confident enough that he did not need it. The three junior men all looked to be in their late twenties, while the leader looked to be early thirties. All of them had close cropped hair in a military fashion.

Dean was outnumbered and most definitely outgunned.

“Good morning,” he said to the lead man.

His eyes shrouded by a pair of aviator sunglasses, the man nodded