Uncertainty owned Sheriff Dells after Henry asked for his only set of keys. He couldn’t even be sure why the zombies weren’t attracted to Henry or if they would stay uninterested once the half insane teenager was clear of his cell. Then, even if he remained unnoticed by these walking dead, could the youth be trusted to free them?
“I’m waiting,” Henry said, adding being annoying to his already long lists of faults.
Becca snapped him out of his indecision. “Maybe we should trust him. If my brother can make it through, it could be our only hope of breaking free, and if they tear him apart, he was already bitten, and may be becoming one anyway.”
“Such sisterly love,” Henry sneered. “But she’s right. If these bites do kill you, this could be my last chance to be a hero and do something right before I die.”
Mickey groaned behind him as he laid his bleeding face on the stiff jail cell cot. “You okay Mick?” Dells asked.
“Yeah just great. I love having a chuck of my face bitten out.”
“Well sheriff,” Henry said with an inappropriate smile. “You’re either going to have to let me go or shoot Mickey in the head right now.”
“Screw you, turdball,” Mickey snarled, but Dells could she the man was already breaking into cold sweats and shaking.
Dells looked at Becca and at once felt stupid checking in with a girl still in high school. As if reading his mind, she said, “I don’t think we have a choice.”
Dells let loose a low growl which could barely be heard over the throng of undead clinging to the bars along the edge of the cell. “Alright, I had better be able to trust you.”
Henry only nodded.
He shook his head, but then handed the keys through the bars into the next cell.
Henry grabbed them with a chuckle and said, “I’ll be right back.”
Despite what he had seen, Dells still more than half suspected that Henry would be torn apart once he exited his cell, but the zombies continued to ignore him. He walked through them easily. An elbow here and push there and he had already neared the gun cabinet.
“It is like they think he’s one of their own,” his sister whispered.
“As long as this works, I don’t care if they think he’s the pope.” Dells muttered.
Henry made it to the guns and started throwing rifles over his shoulder and stuffing pistols in his pockets.
Maybe this punk isn’t going to let us down, Dells thought.
A minute later the youth was once again, inexplicitly, walking through the gathering masses of undead. Henry had quite a time pushing through the twenty that had gathered outside of their jail cell, but after thirty seconds of effort he made it to the cell door.
“Okay hand me that pistol,” Dells started to say.
But instead of handing over guns or ammunition, Henry filled his hand with the cell key and stuffed it into the lock.
“Wait, what are you…?”
But it was too late. Even over the loud moans, Dells heard the ominous click of the cell lock being activated.
Drawing his pistol, Dells yelled, “What the hell are you doing?” But Henry had already dashed back through the growing horde. He ducked down as he rushed toward the front door. When he reached it, he called back. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but these zombies seem to love me which makes me king of this fucking shithole. Be good and maybe I’ll come back with a TV dinner for you,” he laughed.
Dells took a few shots at the retreating figure, but only hit the zombies congregated before them.
Becca looked over at him, and said, “I’m so so sorry.”
“Yeah, and we’re so so screwed.”
Check in next Saturday for the final chapter of Lock Down Bite Down!