Читаем Dead Sea полностью

    Runkle told Tony to guard the entrance, and the rest of us filed into the room. Cardboard boxes were stacked against the walls. Mitch pulled out his pocketknife and sliced one open. It was full of D-sized batteries. The next one contained AA batteries. We continued going through the supplies, and found more batteries, emergency flares, portable two-way radios, extension cords, rope, steel chain, shovels, rakes, brooms, and other assorted tools. There were also cases of spark plugs, engine oil and bearing grease, and several marine batteries for a small boat.

    "Haul the batteries out and set them on the sidewalk," Runkle ordered. "The flares, walkie-talkies, and oil, too. We'll wait and see what's in the other buildings before we grab any of this other stuff."

    We carried the boxes outside and stacked them against the wall. There was a stack of magazines near the front desk-months' old issues of Time, Newsweek, and Outdoor Life. I flipped through one of them and sighed wistfully.

    "What's up?" Tony asked.

    "I used to read these all the time. I was a news junkie."

    "Not me, man. I never bought into stupography."

    "Stup-what?"

    "Stupography. Media that makes you stupider the longer you watch it. Everybody talks about how biased the media is. Either for the left or the right. What they don't realize is that it all comes from the same source. They wanted us to stay asleep, and look what happened."

    He went back to work. I dropped the magazine back on the pile. Then I noticed four comic books amidst the stack-New Avengers, Spider-man, The Simpsons, and The Walking Dead. I stuffed the first three in my back pocket, thinking Tasha and Malik might like them. I left the last one lay where it was. Didn't think the kids would want to read about more zombies. But then I changed my mind. Judging by how much Malik liked blowing them up, a comic about destroying zombies might be exactly what he'd enjoy. Wasn't like it would give him nightmares. Real life could do that just as easily.

    Then we moved on to the next building, where we hit the fucking jackpot. It was a bunkhouse and living quarters, and in the rear were a small kitchenette and a walk-in pantry. The metal shelves were lined with cans and dry goods, bags of flour and noodles, snack food, and cases of soda and bottled water.

    "Holy shit!" Tony gaped at the rows of canned goods. "Green beans, peas, corn, peanut butter, kidney beans, succotash, fruit fucking cocktail-we are good to go."

    "I can't believe they left all this stuff behind," Runkle said. "Doesn't make sense."

    Mitch nodded. "I was thinking the same thing. If you knew this stuff was here, and the zombies were on the march, wouldn't you hide out here? Makes sense, right? But it looks deserted. No people and definitely no dead. Can't even smell them nearby. There's no blood, no signs of a struggle anywhere."

    Runkle picked up a jar of jelly. "Maybe the personnel assigned to this station went out to perform a rescue at sea and didn't get the chance to come back?"

    "Could be," Mitch agreed. "Sucks for them. Good for us."

    "Let's check the rest of the compound," Runkle said. "Make sure it really is free and clear. Then we'll start hauling this stuff back to the boat."

    The next building was a small infirmary, and we found a large stockpile of medicine. Since none of us were doctors, we didn't understand what a lot of it was, but we grabbed the stuff we recognized and set it by the door. The warehouse was full of vehicles and equipment-lawnmowers, a forklift, tractor, several old pickup trucks, and a speedboat sitting atop a trailer. Another boat was suspended on jacks. It looked like someone had been working on the hull at one point. Now it would probably sit here for all time. Outside, behind the warehouse, we found skids with fifty-five gallon drums of motor oil, gasoline, diesel fuel, and kerosene, along with propane bottles, a pump, and several empty plastic gas cans.

    "The chief will flip when we bring all this back," Runkle said. "Unbelievable."

    I tapped a drum. "How are we going to get these down to the boat?"

    "The forklift." Tony laughed. "We should have had Chuck come with us. He drove a forklift for a living. But I can run it, okay long as there's keys and fuel in it."

    For a moment, I thought that I heard Turn's voice, calling out for us. When I glanced around, I didn't see him, and nobody else mentioned it. I figured it was my imagination.

    "I got to take a piss," Hooper said. "Be right back."

    "Wait a second." Mitch grabbed his shoulder. "We still need to clear the chapel."

    Hooper brushed his hand aside. "Man, ain't nothing in the chapel. Look around. This place is deserted. Anybody that was here ain't here now."

    "Well," Runkle said, "you still shouldn't go walking off by yourself."

    "I got to piss, and I ain't pulling my dick out in front of Lamar. Fucker might try to molest me and shit."

    "Trust me, Cleveland-I'm not interested."