by Urban, Tony
Even though the fall air had taken on a decidedly winterish feel, Wim drove with the windows down. The sun had dipped near the horizon and he realized it must only be a few weeks until the winter solstice. And Christmas too, for that matter, not that he felt much like celebrating. As he tried to do the math in his head and remember the exact day, he almost missed seeing the figure standing in the roadway ahead of him. When he did see it, he slowed the truck from forty down to twenty but didn’t give much consideration to stopping. Just another zombie, after all.
As he got within five yards of it, he thought it looked almost skinny enough to be a skeleton and he slowed down a little more. He didn’t want to risk running it over and having a bone splinter and puncture a tire, not with another thirty miles to travel. He leaned out the open window and aimed the gun at the thing’s head but waited to fire.
When he got right up next to it, he saw its face was nearly black with dried blood. All that broke the ebony mask were the whites of its eyes and mounds of mustard yellow pus that oozed from around its mouth like lava. Wim had never seen infection on a zombie and he stopped the truck dead.
At first, the figure didn’t react. It stood in the road like a statue. Body motionless. Eyes unblinking. Wim could smell the sickness coming off it but as noxious as the smell was, it wasn’t the aroma of spoiled, rotten meat that typically accompanied the undead. He realized then that this thing was alive.
“Hey.” It was all he could think to say. He considered following that up with something equally useless, perhaps, ‘Are you all right’ even though it clearly was not. Instead of saying anything, Wim pulled the emergency brake and stepped out of the truck.
He looked closer at the person. It was hard to see detail through the caked-on blood but from the slender build he thought it to be a teenage boy or maybe a girl who hadn’t developed yet. Its hair was shoulder length, but dirty and matted, clinging to its head like a mangy cap. Wim eased his big hand onto its shoulder and felt hard bone poking at the skin.
It was at his touch that the person reacted. It turned its head slow, like a rusty wheel which hadn’t been used in ages, and looked up at Wim who towered over it by nearly a foot.
“I can get you help,” Wim said and when the person heard his voice, its eyes grew wide and Wim heard a gasp as it gulped in a mouthful of air. “You’ll be all right.” Damn, he thought as soon as he said that, what a dumb thing to say.
He realized just how dumb the words where when the person opened its mouth, but instead of its lips parting to form words, its entire face split in two from the corners of its mouth to its ears. More pus seeped from the wounds and fresh blood joined in, mixing into a pink fluid that Wim thought had the consistency of sour milk. Through the torn - not torn, cut, Wim thought, flesh Wim could see every tooth in the person’s mouth, all the way back to the molars. He heard air escape from that too wide opening and realized it was trying to speak.
“Stop now. You don’t have to say anything. I’ll take you somewhere safe.”
“He…”
It was a deeper voice. A young man’s voice, Wim was certain. The boy said something else but the words came out in a jumble that Wim couldn’t solve. The boy tried again. “He…”
Wim didn’t want the young man to speak. Every time he tried, more infection and blood broke free of its face, but he could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn’t going to stop until Wim heard what it was trying to say.
“Is someone with you? Are you looking for someone?”
The young man shook his head slowly, like every movement took considerable effort or caused unbearable pain, or both.
“Help me.”
Tears dribbled from his eyes and glistened against the black blood that marred his face. Wim saw his eyes flutter and knew what was about to happen. The young man swayed on his feet and Wim reached out and grabbed him around the waist, catching him just before he lost consciousness. Wim carried the man to the truck bed, thinking he might weigh less than two sacks of feed, then eased him into the vehicle. Wim rested the young man’s head against a feed bag, then resumed his spot behind the wheel. He drove faster now, anxious to get this person help, but also to get away from this place.
As the truck barreled down the deserted road, he wondered who could have hurt this boy so bad and why. What type of monster was out there?
Chapter 2
Harvey Dade, known as Hal to members of the Ark, let the cold water of the lake wash to and fro across his bare feet as he sat on the dock. He’d been reading from a tattered paperback book when he heard tires approaching. He knew the odds were great that it was Clark and the newbies - he still thought of them as newbies even though they’d been in the Ark for months - returning from their supply run, but you could never be too careful. He folded over the corner of the page that had been interrupted and set the book aside as he stood up, wiping his feet against the rough wood of the dock to dry them.
Dust rose in the distance and the cloud blew nearer and nearer until the pickup broke free from it and sped down the dirt and gravel ramp that ended in the water.
“What’s he in such a damned hurry for?” Hal muttered as he slipped on his shoes. He stepped off the dock and onto mostly dry land, wincing as his right knee gave a little pop.
The truck skidded a yard as the brakes locked up, then stopped a few feet from the water’s edge. The engine rumbled to a halt as Wim climbed free of the cab. Hal noticed the passenger seat was empty, then looked toward the truck bed.
“Where’s Clark? And Caleb?” Hal said as he limped toward Wim.
Wim didn’t look at the 55-year-old man whose hair was still so thick and curly that it looked like he’d just received a perm from a salon. The only difference between now and thirty years earlier was that Hal’s locks were gray, not blond.
“Dead.”
“Dead?” Hal asked.
“That’s what I said.”
Hal didn’t like this at all. Clark was one of his friends. And Caleb wasn’t anyone’s favorite resident of the Ark but Doc didn’t like change and liked mistakes even less. If what Wim said was true, and Hal had no reason to doubt him, these would be the first members of the Ark to die and Hal knew someone would catch the blame. And he didn’t want it to be him.
“What happened?”
Wim had moved behind the truck and dropped the tailgate. “I’d imagine they got careless and, out there, careless people get killed.”
When he reached the cab of the truck, Hal peered inside and saw it empty. “What about their bodies?”
“Clark’s missing most of his head and Caleb’s in two pieces back in Jolo. If you want to clean up the mess, help yourself to the truck.”
Hal turned back to Wim, his face screwed up in annoyance. He didn’t know why Doc and Phillip assigned him of all people to help unload whatever bounty the others had gathered. Him being close to an old man, after all. And now he got smart-mouthed on top of it? That’s not right. Not right at all.
“Well that’s pretty rude. Those were our frien—” Hal realized Wim wasn’t pulling a bag of feed out of the truck bed. What he carried was a human being that looked about light as a feather in Wim’s thick arms. “Wim?”
“This boy needs help.”
Wim carried the young man past Hal who saw, upon closer inspection, that he was covered in dried blood. And he smelled like sickness.
“Looks dead to me, Wim. Did you bring back a zombie? What are you trying to pull?”
Wim glanced back at him, his fierce eyes conveying that he wasn’t interested in a discussion. “He’s not dead yet. Now get in the boat.”
Hal’s stomach went sour. This was bad news. This was why they should let him stay inside the Ark.
“Doc’s not gonna like this, Wim. You know no one’s allowed inside except—”
Wim gently sat the boy in the rear of the boat. Then he let his free right hand fall against the butt of his pistol. “I’ll accept the responsibility. All you got to do is drive
the boat.”
Wim took a seat as if the matter was settled and Hal supposed it was.
Hal snuck a look back to the truck. “What about the feed?”
“Drive, Hal.”
Wim extended one of his big, calloused palms and Hal let him help him into the boat. He didn’t like this. Not one bit.
Chapter 3
“I told you. Beautiful, ain’t it?”
Before them, the blue waters of a spring glistened under the cloudless sky. It was the kind of day Ramey knew was coming to an end with winter fast approaching and, although there was a chill in the air, she was loving it. She turned toward Phillip and nodded.
“How did I not know this was here?”
“Almost no one does. I sort of keep it to myself. I like to come here and clear my mind.”
Phillip McKeough was such a typical Irish cop that he would have seemed a stereotype if this were a movie and not real life. He was tall, but not as tall as Wim, with hard muscles that made themselves visible through his snug, long sleeved t-shirt. He wasn’t handsome. He had beady eyes, a soft, receding chin, and oversized teeth that made Ramey think of the Cheshire cat. His skin was so white that it was almost translucent and that made his curly hair, which could only be described as ‘carrot’ even more dramatic. Freckles covered his flesh but they had started to fade now that the days were shorter and less sunny. Nonetheless, he had a certain charisma that made spending time with him enjoyable.
“Clear your mind and seduce naive, young girls,” Ramey said. Her eyes blazed as Phillip’s white face flared a mottled eggplant color.
“No. I. No. You don’t—“
“I’m just busting your balls, Phillip. But if you get any redder I’m going to start to think I was right.”
He turned away from her, back toward the cerulean body of water. The lake surrounding the Ark wasn’t visible from here. It was only untamed devil-grass and occasional rocks that burst up from the ground like it was giving birth. That made the water even more impressive.
“Let’s swim,” Phillip said without looking at her.
“Are you insane? It’s not even fifty degrees. I’ll freeze my pretty little toes off.”
He did turn to her then. The embarrassment had fled his face, replaced with a grin that made him look younger than his 26 years.
Younger than Wim, Ramey thought.
“No. It’s a hot spring. Water’s 110 degrees at least.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m serious. Jump in and you’ll see.”
He was already stripping off his shirt and as it came up, Ramey could have sworn he flexed his abs to make the muscles pop even more. Such a showboat. Unlike Wim.
Phillip dropped his shirt into the grass and started on his jeans.
“Phillip! Stop! We don’t have any suits.”
That was stupid, she thought. She knew exactly what this man was doing and it didn’t require bathing suits or swim trunks.
“I won’t complain,” he said as he deftly unzipped his jeans and pushed them down in one smooth, practiced motion. His walkie talkie clattered against a rock and gave a short gasp of static. “Come on. I wouldn’t lie to you. This is like Mother Nature’s hot tub. You’ll love it.”
And then Phillips fingers were in the waistband of his black boxer briefs. Ramey thought about turning her head but he was too fast and they too hit the grass. His long, flaccid penis was even more white than the rest of him and it was topped off by a shock of that same carrot-colored curly hair. The vision of it made Ramey think of a circus clown. ‘Hey Ramey, watch me pull of rabbit out of my hat!’ She almost laughed and bit her lip to stop herself.
Phillip didn’t notice because he was spinning around and flashing his bare buttocks at Ramey (who noticed that they too were covered with freckles) as he took a swan dive into the spring. Water splashed back against her flesh and she could tell instantly that he was right, it was hot. And it felt good.
He disappeared for a moment before bursting theatrically back to the surface. His curls had gone limp under the weight of the water and clung to his forehead in random streaks. Small rivulets trickled down his chest, over his toned pecks, and Ramey again mentally compared him to Wim, noting that Phillip was much harder than the man who had saved her life several months earlier. Yet on the mental check list she’d been compiling, Phillip still lagged far behind.
She’d loved Wim after that, at least as much as she’d ever loved anyone and as much as a teenage girl could. But things changed when they got to the Ark. Wim changed and Ramey supposed she had too. Here she had her father. She made friends fast too, friends like Phillip who was, from as far as she could tell second in command even though no one in the Ark talked about a hierarchy. And while she made friends and got to know these new people within the safety of the Ark’s walls, Wim worked. From sunrise to sunset and most days before and after too. Often, it seemed like he’d rather spend time conversing with the cows and pigs than her and if that was who he’d rather surround himself with, maybe she should move on and let him be. After all that had happened, Ramey was ready to live.
It didn’t help matters that the tension between Wim and her father was as obvious as the noses on their faces even if neither of them admitted it. Her father aka Doc aka Douglas Younkin, had been her world growing up and losing him had damaged her in ways she still didn’t quite understand. After all this time, he was back in her life and she wasn’t about to foul that up.
It was her father who encouraged her to get to know Phillip. The young man had been a beat cop in Albany, where her father had been the head biochemist at the Miner & Zito Research Facility before his sudden departure. Phillip moonlighted as a security guard at the lab and, as Doc explained it to her, “Was a man of rare character and like mind. The kind of man the world needs more of.”
From afar Ramey thought Phillip to be comprised mostly of bluster and bravado but as weeks became months she saw that there were other, more appealing, aspects of his personality. It helped that he was one of the few younger people on the Ark. And she enjoyed the way his tongue became tied in knots when she teased him about one thing or another. While many on the Ark thought he was too strict, too quick to remind others of the rules, she understood that their safety here was almost entirely dependent on men like Phillip and her father. This was a paradise amid a fallen world and they needed to protect it. To protect themselves.
“Come on, Ramey! Don’t make me get wet all alone!”
She opened her mouth to say no, but stopped herself. Why shouldn’t she? She was one month past her nineteenth birthday and she wasn’t married to Wim. On many days, they didn’t speak a hundred words to one another. If he wanted her, wanted to be with her, he’d done little to prove it and after six months, maybe it was time she take a hint and move on.
Ramey lifted her hands to her waistband and unbuttoned her low-rise jeans. Phillip’s eyes grew wide in either surprise or excitement, Ramey couldn’t tell which and supposed it didn’t make much difference. They were two sides of the same coin, after all. She pushed the denim downward rocking her hips as the rough fabric slid across her thighs.
“Phillip! Come in! We’ve got an emergency at the gate.” The voice crackled through the speaker of the walkie talkie which had been discarded in the high grass. Ramey jumped at the sound of it and pulled up her jeans as she looked from the radio to Phillip and back again.
She heard water splash as he worked his way to the edge of the spring. Grunting as he lifted himself from the pond.
“Phillip! I need you!” A garble of static obscured a few words. “brought someone with him. Someone— “More static. “Dead. Where are you? Doc’s gonna freak the fuck out!”
Ramey didn’t realize Phillip was at her side until he pushed past her, still naked as the day he was born, and grabbed the walkie talkie from its holster on his discarded pants.
“Vince, this is Phillip. I’m on my way but only got about half of that. What did you say?”
&nbs
p; The voice resumed, “Wim brought someone inside. Threatened to shoot me if I didn’t let him in. The guy or kid or whoever he brought, he looked sick as fuck and about ready to die.”
Phillip glanced at Ramey who thought she saw blame -Your guy did this! - in the look he cast her way, or maybe it was her own guilt.
“What about Clark and Caleb?”
“They’re dead.”
“Shit!”
“Yeah. Shit is right man. Oh shit.”
Phillip spoke as he redressed. “Don’t let them past you, I’m coming.”
“He’s already on his way, man. He took my four-wheeler and tossed that sick fucker on the back and took off. He’ll be in the village any minute.”
Phillip didn’t respond as he shoved the radio back into its holster. He looked at Ramey again. “We have to run. Can you keep up?”
“I’ll try.”
He ran, his long legs outpacing her in just a few strides. As she watched the distance grow she couldn’t stop wondering, what has Wim done now?
Chapter 4
“Did you see that birdie?”
Mina had been so caught up in reading the bible, or trying to read it, that she’d almost forgotten Emory was there. She sat slouched back in a wicker chair which would have been comfortable if she had more meat on her bones so the hard seat wouldn’t have pressed into her hips. She’d always been slim, but she’d left slim in the rear-view mirror months ago and now skeletal was the more appropriate adjective.
Emory had been the one who saw her wasting away, or at least the first one to mention it to her, and he suggested she read the bible to try to find some sense in everything she’d gone through. That they’d all gone through, she knew, but in the aftermath of Bundy, the only man she’d ever loved, blowing himself to bits in order to save her, she grasped hold of her grief like it was a life preserver and wallowed in the selfishness of it. It was, after all, the only thing she had left.
