by Poe, S. B.
“We were out scavenging and found it just after things went bad. Cotton’s kids are still there. Well, they ain’t kids but they took us in.”
“Took you in or decided to stay with you.”
“Little of both.” Bridger said.
“Where were you before that? Why did you leave South Springs?” Zachary asked.
“Whoa, whoa. We’ll get to that but first let me ask you a question.” Bridger interrupted.
“Alright.” Zachary said.
“Why’d you even bother coming out here today?” Bridger asked.
“Excuse me?” Zachary leaned back in the chair.
“You got more people somewhere. Somewhere close I’d bet but not too close. A place that’s worked from day one and you got no reason to believe it ain’t gonna keep on working. But for some reason you came out here. Today. Why?” Bridger asked.
Zachary leaned forward in the chair and smiled. He took the bottle and drank another swallow. He leaned back as he wiped his mouth.
“Well, we come out here now and then. It didn’t have nothing to do with you, so don’t start feeling special.” He said. Bridger took the bottle and drank a little.
“I don’t.” He said.
“Sometimes this place is covered over with poppers. They just show up. We just turn right around. Sometimes this place has a few living. Like today. In that case we do much like we did today. Introduce ourselves and make sure no one thinks about taking up residence. Except we usually don’t have long conversations about it. But sometimes the living and the dead show up at the same time. We clean up the mess when that happens. Seems folks don’t need all that stuff they packed in all them cars and backpacks once they join the dead. We take it back to our place, cars and all, for safe keeping.” Zachary said.
“Bet you find a real good home for all that stuff.” Bridger smiled.
“Bet you would too. Bet you have. Don’t try that shit with me son, I can see it in your eyes. We’re all a bunch of vultures now. That don’t make us no worse or no better than you, nor you us.” Zachary said. “That’s just the way the world works now.”
“Yeah, it is.” Bridger said.
“Well, maybe the world is starting to change a little. Today has been a bit different for all of us. Maybe that’s a start.” Evelyn said.
“I’ll drink to that.” Zachary grabbed the bottle. “So why’d you leave South Springs? You still ain’t said.”
Ham pushed the limb out of the way and let it go. Whack. It caught Scott square in the chest.
“Hey. Come on now. That’s three times.” Scott said.
“Sorry.” She said. “You see anything?”
“Besides the deadun twenty minutes ago, no.” Scott said.
“We have to find her.” Ham said.
“We can’t just wander around in the woods looking for her. I’m sorry she ran off but we have a long walk back…”
“I’m not going back without her.”
“Come on Ham, she could be miles away. We have to get home.” Scott said.
“She’ll come if I whistle.” Ham started to bring her hand to her mouth.
“No. No whistling. The dead will come and we can’t see anything in these trees. I’ll make a deal with you.” Scott said.
“What’s deal?” She asked.
“Let’s get back to the road. We can see more. We’ll start walking home and you can whistle the whole way.” Scott said. “Deal?”
“Deal. But we can’t go home. Not without her. I’m not leaving her out here alone.” Ham said.
“We have to start heading that way. It will be dark by the time we get there already.” Scott said.
“Let’s just get back to the road. Then we’ll see.” Ham said.
“Good enough. We gotta get out of these woods.” He started walking.
Tall Tales
Evelyn leaned back in the chair. She listened while Bridger recounted parts of their journey from South Springs. She had heard part of his journey from Nashville to South Springs from Tilly but apparently she hadn’t heard it all. She knew about the wreck that brought Tilly, Raj and Bridger together. She had heard most of the story about the old man, his daughter and grandchild at the lonely house in the woods. She hadn’t heard about Bridger’s run in, literally, with the deadun in Nashville and driving off while it crawled down the road after him. By the time he got to telling him about finding Emma Grace surrounded by the dead in the fellowship hall in Collier the sun had turned past the halfway point and began its descent towards afternoon.
“Damn son, y’all been on the move a lot to not have gone anywhere.” Zachary said.
“The jump from South Springs to the first wide spot in the woods was the furthest.” Bridger tipped the bottle up and sipped. “We’re still less than twenty-five miles from there right now.”
“Well that’s twenty five more miles than I’ve traveled so I ain’t gonna say much.” Zachary said.
“So you’ve stayed in the same spot. The whole time?”
“Same spot? Well, it’s a pretty good spot. Got water. Got food. Been living that way since way before this started. Only difference now is got some more folks sharing it with me. Family mostly. Started showing up out here almost from the get go.” Zachary said.
“And it’s been safe?” Evelyn asked.
“Safe as can be. The dead still show up. Times there are quite a spate of them too but we hold our own. We’ve lost a few but we’re still hanging in there.” Zachary said.
“Uh oh, looks like we got company.” Wendy stood from the bench and leaned towards the window. “A couple of poppers wandering around your jeep.”
They all stood and walked towards the window. Bridger leaned into one of the booths and put his face close to the glass. Both of the deaduns were standing in the parking lot next to the hummer.
“We’ll get them.” Bridger said.
“Be my guest.” Zachary said as he stepped back.
Bridger pulled the knife from his hip and Evelyn did the same. They walked out the door and into the lot.
“Over here.” Bridger called.
The first deadun turned and howled at Bridger in a low screech. The other began walking towards him. Evelyn stood still while Bridger shifted to his left. The deadun turned towards him. As it stepped away from the first one, Evelyn stepped up to it and with one smooth motion drove the tip of her knife into the side of the things head. Pop. The other one had begun moving towards them. Bridger sidestepped the deadun Evelyn had just put on the ground and grabbed the other deadun around the throat. The reanimated teenage girl thrashed at him with her hands but he held her head still. He drove his knife into her temple. Pop. He released his grip on her neck and she dropped to the ground.
“Real good. That was real good.” Zachary said as they stepped back inside. “Funny, huh?”
“What’s that?” Bridger said as he sat down.
“A year ago, we’d have all unloaded every round we had at them poppers out there. And kept shootin when more showed up.” Zachary said. “And woulda been shitting our pants the whole time. Now it’s like knocking a snake in the head with a hoe. Not something you wanna do every day but not that big a deal. We all kinda just got used to the blood and guts and opening up skulls.”
“Not sure getting used to it is the right term. Not something you really get used too.” Bridger said.
“Aw bullshit. I watched y’all. Takin out the trash, that’s all it was. Hell, I’m trying to give ya a compliment. Ain’t no doubt y’all dealt with a lot more of them things than we have. I ain’t sure I’ve taken one down any closer than a pitchfork much less that little pig sticker you carrying. No sir, I’ll tell ya, the first time I saw one of them things, I wasn’t about to try to stick a knife in its head.”
“The guy that had the restaurant? Woody?” Evelyn asked.
“Did I already tell ya that one? Getting old sucks.” Zachary said.
“No, you didn’t tell us. You just mentioned he was the first one you saw.” Eve
lyn said.
“You got a good memory there missy, hold on to it.” Zachary said. “Yeah, it was Woody. That morning, the day it all ended.”
“Woody? Woody? Where ya at son?” Zachary swung open the door. The handwritten closed sign hanging in the window replaced the neon one when the power went out. The restaurant was empty but he could smell the food cooking. “What the hell ya doing? Where the hell are ya?”
“Back here?” Woody called from the kitchen.
Zachary watched him come through the swinging door. A short skinny man with hair slicked back from the constant exposure to frying oil and bubbling bacon. Woody Givens had been a short-order cook when he was in high school. He got better wages working the night shift so getting up and going to school had become less important. His momma had died when he was an infant so his grandmother raised him. She kept his clothes washed and his bank account organized. He had saved enough to open his own lunch counter in the back of the gas station by the time he was twenty and by the time he was twenty-five he had rented and remodeled Zachary’s old feed store into a road side diner. He got enough traffic off the interstate and enough local loyalty over the next decade that he had settled into a comfortable life. Then the world fell apart.
“What are you doing son?” Zachary asked.
“Cooking.” Woody said.
“Why?”
“Well they’re opening one of them refugee centers up there at the Stockburn exit. Gonna have ten thousand people there.” Woody said.
“And?”
“Well some of them folks might want to get a good meal before they get there.” Woody grinned.
“You’re daft. Them folks is panicking. They ain’t looking to get no meat and three. You need to shut this thing down and come on up to the Silo’s.” Zachary said.
“I'm shittin ya old man. I’m coming this evening. I figured I’d cook all I could before it goes bad and bring it up with me. Should keep at least a few days. Ain’t gonna let it just go to rot. Ain’t no telling how long it’ll take to get the power back on. Propane tanks about empty anyway. Use it up and be done with it.” Woody said.
“When you get done you want me to come help you tote that stuff up there?” Zachary asked.
“If you like. I should be done by evening. Gonna jerk some meat in the smokers. That’ll take the rest of the day.”
“I’ll be by to fetch you at five. That enough time?”
“Should be.”
“You want me to keep ya company?”
“Nah, I got my radio. I’ll be fine.” Woody said.
“You heard anything else?”
“Folks come through last night before I closed. I guess they were my last customers, maybe ever, huh? Anyway, they said one of them things showed up in Collier. Killed a couple of folks before someone shot it. Said they had to shoot it in the head to get it to stop. You think that’s real? How is that real?” Woody asked.
“I don’t know son. I’d just soon not find out. I’m hoping my youngest boy and his wife are coming, haven’t talked to em since yesterday. Phone’s quit working. My girl said she would come if things got bad but that was two days ago. My sister’s kids left a message but they ain’t been up here in years. Probably won’t be able to find it.”
“So you’re scared?”
“I’m getting there. Before the news stopped, them pictures from Europe were pretty rough. Don’t want to see nothing like that here.” Zachary said. “I’ll see ya at five.”
“Yeah, five.” Woody looked at his watch as Zachary walked back through the door.
Woody stood against the counter for a few minutes thinking about the images he had seen on the tv. He still wasn’t sure if it was true. Those pictures could have easily been faked. Even the live shots could be faked. He knew about the moon landing. His thoughts were broken when he heard the door swing open again in the dining room.
“Forget something?” He said as he came through the door.
“No. I was thinking I could get me some food.” A tall man standing in the doorway said.
“Sorry buddy. We’re closed.” Woody said as he turned back towards the kitchen.
Woody knew when someone was about to rob him. It had happened a time or two. He turned towards the kitchen to stick his hand inside the door and grab the shotgun.
“I wasn’t asking.” The man said as he produced a pistol.
Woody wheeled and pointed the shotgun at the man.
“I said we’re closed.” Woody said.
The sound filled the room in an instant and Woody’s ears rang loudly. The pain and sudden loss of air in his lungs sent him back against the door as the bullet punched through his chest. He pulled the big trigger and let loose both barrels from the shotgun. The would be robber was propelled three feet through the air as the double aught buck shot slammed into his chest, ripping apart all the things that kept him alive. They both hit the ground at the same time.
The autumn air was crisp and the breeze carried more than a few leaves along the ground. The grass had turned that bronze gray color of fall and the evening sun sunk low between the almost bare branches. Zachary parked the truck and walked across the parking lot. He could see the blue sedan with Florida plates parked right next to the front. He glanced inside the window but just saw a map and a couple of empty beer cans. He went to the door and swung it open.
“Woody. Everything good in here?” He called out. There was no answer. The setting sun cast a deep red glow through the windows into the darkened room. He started towards the kitchen. The smell of wood smoke still filled the air.
“Come on son, I thought you’d be done by now.” Zachary pushed open the swinging door.
The glow from the battery-powered lantern Woody hung above the cook-stove threw the shadows against the back wall. The two undead stood at the butchering station, both steadily gnawing on the half defrosted bloody hindquarter Woody had lain out this morning to smoke. When the door squeaked they both turned to see the intruder. Zachary’s eyes grew wide.
“Woody?” He didn’t know why he even asked.
He could see the bloody spot on the front of his shirt and the other ones guts hung from its belt to the floor. Their eyes were opaque and their skin had already taken on the ashy bloodless tone of dead flesh. Zachary stumbled backwards through the door as the two came towards him. He turned and ran towards the front door but slipped and fell in something spilt on the floor. He jumped up and scrambled through the door. When he got outside in more light, he realized he had fallen in blood and it was all over his hands and knees. He wiped his hands on his pants and ran for his truck. He flung open the door and grabbed the shotgun in the front seat. He turned to face the two as they pushed their way through the door.
“You said in the head, didn’t you Woody?” Zachary said to himself.
He pulled the trigger on the one he didn’t recognize. Parts of its skull dislodged and rot filled brain splattered against the side of the building. The dead fell. He leveled the barrel at Woody. Or what had been Woody.
“Sorry son. You ain’t left me no choice.” Zachary said as he pulled the trigger.
Zachary stood and looked out the window into the parking lot. He knew the spot.
“Anyway, most of the family ended up making it here. My youngest boy is still out there, I’m sure of it. My niece’s found me. And a few of their friends. We’re up at my farm. Well, ain’t really a farm. Couple dozen acres. House and barn got a big old game fence around em but we don’t see many poppers out there. The silo’s is a wee bit off the road.” He turned back to Bridger.
“It’s always been a people problem.” Bridger said.
“What’s that son?”
“Just something my friend said. Just being away from where the people are was the only thing that really works. And even that ain’t always perfect.”
“Yeah, the dead still manage to show up from time to time. Been kinda quiet til the last few days. Maybe the cool air got em stirring around but there’s bee
n a spot more of them lately.” Zachary said. “And I ain’t got no intention of being all the way out here when the sun goes down. I expect you ought to be getting on home too.”
“It’s getting about that time.”
“And just remember, we been all cordial and friendly like normal folks should be but I expect you to keep your word and keep away from this place. Whatever I do or don’t do up here is my business, best you stay out of it.” Zachary said.
“You’ll get no argument from me. Long as Collier don’t pop up on your list of places to visit either.” Bridger said.
