Zoey and the Zombies (A Mondamin Court Adventure)

Chapter Fourteen #3

James handed Dontaye a cup of coffee and sat down next to him on the low wall. God, how he craved a good bacon and egg breakfast. He sighed. Oatmeal would just have to do for now.

He spied Brian and David coming down the street, doing their rounds. "Maybe we should—"

"No," Dontaye said. "Do what you like but I'm not hiding from that fucker."

James gave his friend a look but stayed where he was. He understood Dontaye's point; backing down from bullies like that only encouraged them. But there was something about this Brian guy that sent chills down his spine.

"Donald, just the man I wanted to see," Brian called out.

"It's Dontaye," he corrected, "and I can't say the feeling is mutual."

"We've been discussing the, umm, tactical situation when people try to come take what we in this neighborhood have—"

"Somebody is already trying to take what we have in this neighborhood," Dontaye said.

"When they come," Brian barreled on over his protest, "we need a strong person on the corner. In that house." He pointed.

"That's my house," Dontaye said.

"I think Brian should stay in that house," David chimed in. "Be the best for everyone all around."

Dontaye pulled his chin back. "Except me. You want me to just give you my house? Where am I supposed to stay?"

"Somewhere else. There's lot of empty houses these days. You can find something somewhere else."

"Bullshit!" Dontaye spat. "You want to steal my house."

"If we are going to defend this neighborhood," Brian said in his best I'm-trying-to-be-reasonable voice, "we need a strong person at the entrance, which would be your house."

"There is a strong person in that house," Dontaye challenged.

Brian arched an eyebrow. He spread his jeans jacket to reveal the gun he kept shoved in his belt. "Someone with a gun."

James's heart raced. He'd been in the service, but it had been peacetime, and he'd never been threatened directly before.

Dontaye stood and pulled a snub-nose revolver out of his pocket. "Someone with a gun does live in that house," he said pointedly.

For a moment, James thought Brian was going to back down because he'd grimaced and turned away. But he spun back around, a gun in his hand. He fired directly into Dontaye's chest.

Dontaye pitched backward, tripping over the low wall. He fell against the hill and then rolled forward onto the sidewalk. James scrambled to his friend's side. Dontaye's face was ashen and his breathing labored. James tried to remember his medic training from years ago. Judging from the labored breaths and how quickly the color was draining from his face, he guessed the bullet must have hit some critical organ—the heart, the lungs, the aorta.

"You've killed him," he said, looking up into Brian's impassive face.

Brian merely shrugged. "Better go get our stuff," he called down the street at the woman. "Bring it down to our new house."