by Stephens, L.
“You!” Daryl said, raising his gun at Ryan. “You’re a fucking dead man!”
“Now listen,” Ryan said, holding his hand up as if he was trying to use The Force to stop Daryl from coming closer. “It wasn't my fault!”
The Force was not strong with Ryan, and Daryl kept coming at him. Lynne cradled Ava, nuzzling her face into her chest to hide her from what was about to happen.
“I thought you had my back, mother fucker,” Daryl said, cocking the gun. “But soon as you got a chance, you made a fucking run for it.”
“I was trying to help!” Ryan pleaded as sweat dripped from his head.
“Help? I didn’t see you helping! How could you? You were running in the opposite direction!” Daryl screamed, momentarily pointing the gun at the motionless Jill. “You call knocking this slut the fuck out helping?”
Daryl reached down and grabbed Ryan by the shirt, and as he lifted him to his feet his shirt came out of his pants and revealed a glimpse of his stomach. It was only brief, but the red rash was unmistakable, and Daryl instantly loosened his grip on the shirt and took a step back.
“What the fuck is that?” Daryl asked, pointing the gun at Ryan’s stomach.
“What?” Ryan said, running his hands down his shirt.
Daryl ripped Ryan’s shirt open, revealing the decayed and rotting torso, and his eyes widened. It was clear to everyone on the rooftop what was going on. He raised the gun and pressed the barrel to Ryan’s forehead.
“You lying mother fucker!” Daryl hissed. “You're infected!”
Ryan kept his forehead stuck to the barrel of the gun as he stuck out his arm at a ninety-degree angle in the direction of Lynne. Lynne’s blood ran cold as she exchanged eye contact with Ryan. Her eyes pleaded with him not to say anything, but it didn’t work.
“She's infected too!” Ryan said, pointing his boney finger at her.
Ice particles quickly formed and ran through her heart, making it skip a beat. The rat had ratted her out. It was all over. She was next on the chopping block. Daryl looked towards Lynne, and she stood slowly, putting Ava behind her as her eyes filled with tears.
“I'll get to her in a minute,” Daryl said, nodding his head at Lynne.
“Hey!” Sarah yelled as she got in between Daryl and Lynne. “This isn’t going to
solve—”
“Stop, right there!” Daryl interrupted as he pointed the gun at Sarah. “I've heard enough from you.”
Sarah instinctively put her hands up, and Lynne turned to stone. If he was willing to point the gun at his closest and seemingly only ally, she knew she was dead and most likely Ava with her. Daryl and Sarah exchanged an awkward look at each other before Daryl turned his attention back to Ryan and aimed his gun at his head.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Ryan stuttered. “You can’t do this! This ain’t right.”
Daryl put more pressure on the gun, and Ryan let out a little squeal. He was visibly shaking, looking to the ground, sweat pouring from his bald head.
“Look asshole, don’t you fucking start with that Miller’s Crossing shit. I'm doing you a favor. I’m doing all of us a favor, and, in fact, before I pull this fucking trigger, I think you should fucking thank me,” Daryl yelled as he turned the gun while keeping the contact with Ryan’s head. “If I just let you rot, in no time you are going to turn into one of those fucking animals, and I can only imagine what it’s like. I’m sure Hell on Earth is the closest comparison. So, you better fucking thank me asshole!”
Lynne watched as all will seemed to leak out of Ryan. He kneeled solemnly before Daryl, his hands at his sides and his shoulders relaxed. It seemed what Daryl had said had sunken in, and he was ready to for his next life.
“Okay, okay,” Ryan said, sucking in big breaths. “Just do it quickly, please!”
Daryl motioned to pull the trigger, then at the last moment he cocked his head to the side.
“Oh, you want me to do it, now?” Daryl said with a smirk. “Maybe I should just hold off, wait for you to turn into one of those mother fuckers and then put you out of your misery.”
Daryl turned to Sarah. There was fire in his eyes, and there was no doubt he was going to go through with it.
“What do you think?” Daryl said, nodding at Sarah and Lynne. “You think I should put Chester the molester out of his misery?”
“Just make it quick,” Sarah said softly. “Like you said, put him out of his misery.”
Lynne lost her breath and she couldn’t catch a new one. It seemed like Sarah was on his side again, and she was well and truly alone. She turned back to her only ally, her six-year-old daughter, and hugged her tightly.
“Go hide, baby,” Lynne whispered sweetly. “Mommy, will come find you in twenty seconds. Go on now.”
Ava paused for a moment but then did as she was told, slinking away as Lynne pretended to cover her eyes and count to twenty.
“Time to eat shit, asshole,” Daryl said, pushing the gun against Ryan’s head.
“Oh, God,” Ryan whispered.
“He’s not going to help you now,” Daryl said stiffly. “I think you’ve got a better shot with Satan.”
Daryl pulled the trigger. The gun clicked but there was no bang, no bullet tearing Ryan’s head apart. He squeezed the trigger, and, once again, there was a click and nothing else. The gun had run out of bullets. Daryl released the clip from the handle of the gun and inspected it, which gave Ryan the briefest moment to begin scurrying away from him to the other side of the building.
“I guess I'm going to have to do this the old-fashioned way,” Daryl said, grabbing the gun by its barrel.
A look of panic and desperation covered Ryan's face as he crab-walked away.
“You’ve done nothing but lie and cheat ever since I’ve met you,” Daryl said as he smiled menacingly and tapped the butt of the handle against his open palm. “I think I'm going to enjoy this!”
Sarah slipped between Daryl and Ryan, her hands up, gesturing for him to stop. Daryl kept coming and Sarah had her hands on his chest trying to impede him but failing miserably.
“Come on, you have to stop this!” Sarah pleaded. “I don’t like him either but you can’t just bash his head in. Besides, you’re scaring the child!”
Daryl stopped advancing and looked over his shoulder to Ava. She was alone, her eyes were wide and glistening. Lynne wanted to just stop what she was doing and run to her, but she had to make sure Ava wouldn’t have to see her mother in another compromising situation. This time, Ava wouldn’t be witness to a man fucking her mother, she would be witness to her mother’s murder. Simultaneously, this was Lynne’s lowest and highest point in her life.
CHAPTER 120: NEW WORLD ORDER
Through violence, you may ‘solve’ one problem, but you sow the seeds for another
― Dalai Lama XIV
For some reason, a small child by herself on a rooftop didn’t instantly register with Sarah, and before she could swivel her head to see where Lynne had disappeared to, she saw a flash of white out the corner of her eye.
“No!” Sarah yelled.
Lynne had snuck up to the side of them as they argued and found her moment just as Daryl turned his head to look at Ava. She brought the butt of the assault rifle down on the back of his head with as much energy and force as she could muster. The sound of the impact was sickening, and if Sarah hadn’t already cleared out the contents of her stomach, she would have right then and there. Everyone knew, even Ava knew, there was no coming back from that.
The scuffs from Ryan’s feet as he got up from the ground broke the silence. He took a short run up before swinging his foot and burying it deep in to the side of Daryl’s defenseless body. Ryan recoiled and let out a chihuahua like yelp as his thin loafers hit muscle and bone. Even with Daryl incapacitated, Ryan was no match for him. Before limping away, Ryan reached down and pulled the envelope out of Daryl’s pocket and waved the fan of cash over his unconscious body. In one moment, the power dynamic had shifted from a dic
tatorship to a free-flowing democracy. Well, not a democracy; it was more like anarchy. Anything could happen now.
“What have you done?” Sarah said as she got to her knees and reached over to check Daryl’s pulse. “I think you've killed him.”
Lynne didn't respond. She had discarded the assault rifle next to Daryl’s body and was already walking slowly over to Ava, who was hiding behind an exhaust vent.
Sarah took a quick look over her shoulder to see where Ryan was and walked over to Lynne. There was no animosity. She understood, even though Daryl had just saved their lives for the second time, he was an uncertainty, the proverbial loose cannon. She liked him of course, but she liked Lynne better. The last thing she would have wanted was Daryl killing Ryan, then Lynne all while her and Ava watched on. She smiled down at Lynne and waited for her to look up, but she never did.
“He would have killed me,” Lynne said as she cradled Ava tightly and slowly rocked her. “You heard him.”
“Good riddance, I say,” Ryan interjected from twenty yards away.
Sarah’s smile disappeared and she looked back to Ryan. He was re-buttoning his shirt with the buttons that were left.
“When were you going to tell us you were infected?” Sarah said with contempt.
“She’s infected too!” Ryan said, smoothing his shirt and gingerly tucking it back into his pants. “I didn’t see her sharing with the group.”
“Don't worry about her,” Sarah said defensively “She is nowhere near as bad as you.”
“I’m not so sure,” Lynne said quietly as she stood up behind her.
Sarah turned to see Lynne revealing her stomach, which was now littered with large red welts like Ryan’s.
“Oh, no,” Sarah whispered under her breath as chills washed over her.
“I can feel it growing inside me,” Lynne said, tears welling in the corner of her eyes. “You have to keep your promise.”
“Lynne, it’s going to be okay,” Sarah said, trying to reassure her.
“Promise me!” Lynne barked fiercely.
Hearing her mother’s sharp change in tone, Ava started sobbing, and Lynne whispered soothing sentiments in her ear.
“I promise, Lynne,” Sarah said softly. ‘You have nothing to worry about.”
The rooftop quickly descended into an eerie silence, and the sounds from far away came into focus. Emergency sirens and car horns miles away filled Sarah’s ears, and she suddenly felt claustrophobic and trapped. The silence of the rooftop was engulfing her. Before there was hope and now there was no escape, and to top it off, she was alone. The anxiety that she had been keeping away all day began rising in her chest, and her breathing became shallow and frequent. The panic attack was coming back, and she had to stop it.
“Sarah?” Lynne asked, worry clearly in her voice. “Are you okay?”
Sarah heard her but didn’t respond. She couldn’t respond. She was trying to focus on her breathing and was worried that speaking would be the catalyst to the panic attack taking over. She turned to Daryl and darted for him, rifling through his pockets, almost flipping him over trying to find his phone. The task gave Sarah a brief respite from the panic attack. She could have asked Lynne for hers, but that would have involved talking. The panic attack was still creeping up on her, but she was able to focus and pull Daryl’s phone out. Relief washed over her. Jake was close and all she had to do was call. Her breath and heart rate slowed as she stood looking at the archaic phone and all it could provide. That’s when Sarah fell to her hands and knees and began dry retching next to Daryl’s lifeless body.
“Sarah!” Lynne called as she rushed to her.
“This is a fucking bad joke!” Ryan screamed to the sky as he ran his palms over his head. “We’re all completely fucked!”
Sarah felt Lynne’s soothing touch as she held Sarah’s hair back from her face. There was no danger of getting vomit in it, as there was nothing to come out but she appreciated the gesture.
“It’s okay, hon,” Lynne said sweetly. “Don’t worry about a thing.”
It was a beautiful thought, but Sarah knew it was just a sentence that had no meaning or truth to it.
“Thank you,” Sarah said as she caught her breath. “I think I’m going to be okay.”
The dry retching, though thoroughly exhausting, had kick-started her endorphins again, and she actually felt good for a moment.
“Drink this, Miss Giselle,” Ava said as she placed a bottle of water in front of Sarah, like she was a pet. “It’s good!”
“Oh, you’re so sweet, Ava,” Sarah said with a forced smile. “You just made my day.”
Ava blushed as Sarah drank the water. There was barely a mouthful of water left in the bottle, but Sarah took it down like it was a gallon. Sarah could see the concern on Lynne’s face. The one and only person Lynne was relying on just showed she was also not in control of the situation.
CHAPTER 121: MEETING IN THE LADIES ROOM
Jake’s gun lay idle on the clean white tile next to him. The incessant thumping on the door was beginning to get on his nerves.
He had been a little too cavalier after getting into the building. The zombie thrall stuck outside the glass doors made him feel like he was finally safe, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth. He thought using the emergency stairs to get to the roof was a stroke of genius, but again, his penchant for dumb ideas was almost instantly rewarded with death. Most of the doors leading into the building via the stairwell had either been propped open or locked. The first open door he made it past was on the fourth floor. There was a large pool of blood on the other side of the threshold, working as a stop sign telling him not to enter. He hastened his pace, and that’s what really fucked him. Zombies heard his footsteps echoing around the stairwell and came in to see what all the fuss about, trapping him from above and below. They converged on him, the zombies coming from above falling down the stairs to get to him and the ones from below climbing up on all fours like dogs in heat. He had no choice but to shoot his way to the sixth floor, thanking Satan that there were only a couple zombies to get past. The stairwell gang had merged and were still with him as he ran through the maze of hallways and cubicles. He still had bullets left, but he needed sanctuary. He needed to catch his breath, and he needed to wake up from this fucking nightmare.
Cis, trans, genderfluid, non-binary, intersex, pansexual—he didn’t give a fuck whose restroom it was when he barreled through the door. All that he cared about was that he was on one side and the fucking undead were on the other. He assumed they’d get tired of trying to get at him sooner rather than later, but it had been a good ten minutes since he had squeezed his way into the women’s restroom and used his body weight to keep the door from opening. The restroom had a small hallway at its entrance, which enabled him to create a sturdy barricade by laying his legs across the door at a diagonal, with one foot on the floor and the other on the wall. His hands and body held the door in place as the thumps on the door came in even increments. The zombie fan club outside were stuck in a loop, and they weren’t leaving until they had gotten Jake’s signature or, even better, a selfie.
It was muffled but still annoyingly loud when it came, but it didn’t come from the headphones in his ears. The ringtone echoed around the restroom, and like a crowd reacting to the DJ dropping a fat beat in the club, the zombie press to get inside became frenetic. Jake looked down and saw that during the journey to the restroom, the headphone plug had become dislodged from the phone. His body contorted as he tried to squeeze his hands into his pockets to get enough purchase on the phone.
“Fuck these jeans!” Jake hissed.
Tiny shards from the cracked screen dug into his fingertips, but he grit even further through the pain. With the phone almost out of his pocket, he saw that it was Daryl calling him, and, like a salmon launching itself upstream in search of some sexy eggs to inseminate, the phone sprung free. Jake juggled the best he could but his awkward position and his tender hold on the door pre
vented him from getting a firm grasp on it, and the phone spilled across the floor out of reach.
“Fuck me!” Jake cried as he returned to the strongest possible hold he had on the door.
Hearing the dulcet tones of Jake’s voice, combined with the phone tumbling across the tiled floor and the irresistible Tainted Love ringtone, sent the zombies into overdrive, and the door almost exploded off its hinges. Jake’s legs worked like pistons to regain the stranglehold but the torso of the lead zombie squeezed its way between the door and the doorframe. Jake crooked his head up, looking directly into the bloodied and bearded face of the zombie, its piercing eyes almost bursting out of its sockets surveying the man of his dreams. He looked a little like Tommy Chong from the comedy duo Cheech and Chong, and the irony of the weed smoking hippy trying his best to bend down to eat him was not lost on Jake. Jake pushed back on the door, stopping Zombie Chong from getting any lower and began quickly searching around on the ground using his fingers to brush the tile. When his fingers found the gun they swiftly enveloped the handle in a firm grip. This movement of human flesh made Zombie Chong buck like a bronco to free himself, and more hands from other undead fans reached through the door. Jake knew shooting one was not going to be the end of the meet and greet.
“I’m bringing him in closer, Merlin,” Jake whispered. “This better be important, D-Dubs!”
Jake squeezed to the side of the door, and Zombie Chong was suddenly free, bursting into the restroom and sliding headlong into the wall on the other side. The zombies behind him were stunned, and Jake wasted no time in slamming the restroom door shut. Bloody fingers rained down and Jake ignored the grizzly finger food as he pointed his gun at the new guest in the ladies room. Zombie Chong was reassessing his role in the world when Jake pulled the trigger and removed the top half of his head, leaving a bloody mess on the white tile that Stanley Kubrick would have been proud of.
