by Urban, Tony
“Sounds like a way to take a healthy food and make it practically sinful. I approve.”
Juli looked at him and he saw her eyes were misty.
“I’ll make you some, if you want. We don’t have any cheese and I’ll have to substitute oil for butter but…”
Aben shook his head. He appreciated her kindness but it only made what he had to say more difficult. He considered saying nothing at all. To instead vanish like a coward in the night, which was pretty much all he was anyway. But he’d been with this woman for almost two months, a longer period time than he’d been around anyone in twenty or so years, and he felt he owed her his honesty, for what little value that held.
“I’m leaving with Saw. Mitch is too.”
Juli’s gaze fell from his face to the ground, but her expression remained unchanged.
“You don’t seem surprised?”
“I’m not. I’ve felt it coming for a little while now. Can I ask, why?”
Aben had asked himself the same question and didn’t have much luck coming up with a solid answer.
“What’s so special about Saw and Yukie that you’d choose them over us?”
“It’s not like that. I’m not choosing them.” But he was.
“We’ve been here for going on six weeks. And it’s the same thing day in and day out.”
“So, you’re bored? That’s the only reason?”
“I don’t like sticking around one place to long. Never have. Call it boredom or whatever you want, but it’s time to move on. You can come too. We all want you to.”
“You know I can’t leave Grady alone.”
“But he’s better now.” Aben took a glance at the church. “In a way.”
“He still needs someone to look after him.”
“Why does that have to be you?”
She looked at him again, her eyes narrowed. “Because there’s no one else to do it, Aben. That’s why.”
“But he’s off his rocker. Come on Juli, you see that don’t you? You don’t buy his holy roller ‘I’ve been chosen by geeeee-zus to save the world’ bullshit, do you?”
Juli rolled the tomato between her hands. “He was bit by a zombie— “
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“You told me that. You and Bolivar both. And I saw the bite wound. It was made by a child’s mouth. So, don’t try to rewrite history to fit your new agenda.”
Ouch, that one hurt.
“Grady was bit and he didn’t turn. Isn’t that some kind of miracle?”
“We don’t know how any of this really works. We’re going off what we’ve seen in movies for Christ’s sake.”
“I’m going by what I’ve seen with my own eyes. Everyone I saw get bit by a zombie turned into one. Grady is still normal— “
Aben chortled, derisive.
“Relatively speaking. You asked me if I believe what he’s preaching? The answer is, I don’t know. But considering everything else I’ve seen the last two and a half months, things that seemed so impossible they were silly… Why is it so hard to believe that God is speaking to Grady?”
This was going nowhere. Aben had suspected it would go something like this, but it still disappointed him. “Alright then. We’ll leave in the morning. If you change your mind before then—”
“I won’t.”
“I know you won’t.”
He strode toward the church ready to gather his meager possessions his dog, and be done with this place.
The dump truck, with its bizarre, violent armor, rolled away from the church and into a heavy fog that filled the valley. To Juli it looked like it was being swallowed up.
She felt a deep ache inside as she watched it fade out of view. Aben had become a kind of family. A brother she never had, maybe. And even Mitch, for all his annoying faults, had been with her so long she couldn’t imagine what life would be like without his presence.
Part of her wanted to scream. ‘Come back! I changed my mind! Take me with you!’ She could see herself running after them, her feet smacking against the pavement as she gave everything she had to catch them. Catch them and run away with them.
“I know you’re sad,” Grady said behind her.
She hadn’t realized he was there and she quickly wiped away tears that wetted her cheeks. He’d remained in the church when the others left and, as far as she knew, hadn’t even said goodbye. That had angered her and now she let the anger come back and push away some of the sadness.
Juli turned to Grady. His face was so calm, so peaceful that she almost wanted to hit him. She wondered how he’d react. Would he even react? She could imagine him standing there with the same maddeningly serene expression plastered to his face even after getting blindsided.
“Aben did so much for us. He saved you, you know that don’t you?”
Grady nodded. “The choice was his as we all have free will. In the end, he turned his back on God.”
“He turned his back on you.”
“And I am God’s vessel. He still has time to find salvation, but the longer he sidles up with evil, the less chance he has. I wish I could say I was optimistic, but considering his choices…”
Juli couldn’t stand looking at him. She walked past him, toward the garden, but he grabbed her wrist. His touch was light and harmless, but she didn’t pull away because she felt that same strange electricity she’d experienced earlier.
“We have to look at the bigger picture, Juli. We can’t mourn one man when our mission is to save the entire world.”
Juli glanced back at him. The rising sun poked through the clouds, spraying rays of light downward. One of them illuminated Grady’s face and made him look like he was glowing.
It’s just the sunrise.
But it felt like more than a coincidence or some happy accident. Grady looked like an angel or maybe some prophet straight out of the New Testament. John the Baptist maybe.
No, it’s Jesus. He’s getting lit up like Jesus himself.
She didn’t believe Grady was the Second Coming. She wasn’t even certain he was sane. But she’d made her choice.
Part III
Chapter 23
Doc knew the sedation should be wearing off any time now so he sat by the young man’s side and waited. Eventually his eyelids fluttered and a few small moans escaped his stitched-up face.
“Wake up, my child, and tell me your tale of woe.”
It took a few more minutes, but the teen did awaken and as his eyes focused under the dull green fluorescents, he turned his mangled face toward Doc.
“Hello there, young friend.”
“Hi.” The boy winced as he spoke, as the pain coursed through his face. He reached up and his fingertips traced the sutures that lined his cheeks. “Where am I? Who are you?”
“You’re on the Ark. A compound of sorts which I founded and which is safe. And I am Douglas Younkin, but you can call me Doc.”
“Like the rabbit?”
“Pardon?” Doc thought the boy must be delirious from his pain medication.
“You know. Yabada, yabada, yabada. What’s up Doc?”
“Oh!” Doc chuckled. “Well, yes. Like that. But the rabbit wasn’t Doc. The rabbit was asking Doc what was up.”
“Close enough.”
Doc patted the boy’s hand. “I suppose.”
The teen pushed himself up in the hospital bed so he was sitting somewhat upright. “Can I have a drink or something?”
Doc nodded. He poured water from a plastic pitcher into a cup then dropped in a straw and handed it over. The boy sucked it down greedily. When he finished, Doc refilled it.
“Now it’s your turn.”
The boy finished off another cup of water. “I’m Wayne Supanek. I’m 17 and I was living in Harper’s Ferry when the zombies happened. Everyone died. My mom. My dad. Even my gram. They all turned.”
“Did you have to kill them?”
Wayne shook his head. “I just ran. Took my dad’s Honda and drove away as fast as I co
uld go. Made it a hundred miles or so before I hit a pileup on the interstate that I couldn’t get around so I started walking.”
Doc was already bored. The boy’s story was the same as everyone else. Sickness. Death. Fear. Running. So sad. Blah blah blah.
“Yes, I understand. It must have been quite traumatic.” Doc leaned forward, resting his hand atop Wayne’s. The boy wriggled his own away and Doc pretended not to notice. “One of our men found you. Your injuries were… severe.”
Wayne averted his eyes and gave a curt nod.
“What happened? Who cut you?”
“The Devil did this to me.”
“The devil? Red skin, pointy tail, pitchfork? That kind of devil?”
Doc thought he saw Wayne’s pupils constrict, the muscles in his face tighten. The boy wasn’t amused.
“No. He was a man. But he’s a killer. He asked me to help but I wouldn’t so he cut me. And left me to die. Told me the blood would attract the zombies like sharks to blood in the water. And they almost got me a couple times. I barely got away—”
Doc wasn’t interested in how the boy survived. He wanted to know more about the person who cut him.
“Yes, I understand. But the man you mentioned. Who did he want to kill?”
Wayne lifted his face to look Doc in the eyes.
“Everyone who got in his way.”
The boy’s stare was so intense that Doc broke eye contact. “Well, you’re safe here, Wayne. We’ll take good care of you.”
Doc stood up and walked, almost scurried out of the room. He turned back when he reached the doorway.
“And, Wayne?”
“Yeah?”
“I’d consider it a personal favor if you don’t mention this devil of yours to anyone else. At least for the time being. The people here are… on the excitable side.”
“No problem.”
Doc didn’t like this, not at all.
Thud, thud, thud, thud.
Thud, thud, thud, thud.
Thud, thud, thud, thud.
Doc drummed his fingers against the desk repeatedly. It was one of his nervous tics. Flaws he usually hid well, but which reared their heads under times of duress. Like now.
He checked his watch again. 6:38. The men were late. He despised tardiness in the best of times and this was far from that. It was still dark outside but that would be changing soon.
Thud, thud, thud, thud.
Thud, thud, thud, thud.
There came a knock at the cabin door. “Come in!” Doc said.
The door creaked, then opened. Phillip was the first through.
“What took so long?” Doc said as he climbed to his feet and stalked toward him.
Philip gave a sheepish shrug of his shoulders and tilted his head backward, toward the next man in line. That was Buck Prentiss, a former soldier who had yet to abandon his crew cut.
“I’m ssss - sorry, Doc. I ssss- slept in.”
The stuttering was worse when Buck was nervous and it would have normally annoyed Doc, but right now it defused his temper, at least to some degree. He enjoyed seeing these younger men cow to him.
“I wwww - won’t dddd- do it again.”
Doc nodded. “I’d hope not.”
Darry Skiver was next into the room. His thick, black framed glasses made him look like a nerd from the 1950s, but his body was fit and muscular. He was quiet and followed orders well. Last came Santino Espina, the oldest of the bunch at forty-eight. He was tall but quite lean and the combination made him look inconsequential, like a gangly teenager who’d never grown out of his awkward phase. However, Doc had seen him beat a man to death with his bare hands earlier that year.
The four of them watched Doc expectant, silent.
“It’s been brought to my attention that there may be survivors in the vicinity. I need you men to go on a scouting mission and see if you can find any evidence of that.”
The men cast furtive glances at one another, wary. Doc knew they had not been expecting anything along these lines. They hadn’t been off the Ark in months. The last time they were, a fifth man, Kelvin, had been killed by zombies.
“What brought this on?” Phillip asked.
“The boy Wim brought in, Wayne. He said the man who cut him is some sort of killer. Now the boy could be mad with fever or simply an outright liar, but I want you to make sure the area is clear.”
“And what if we do find someone?” Phillip’s hand fell to the pistol on his waistband as if he knew the answer to come.
“If you find someone alive, anyone, kill them. I don’t care if it’s a man, woman, or child.”
Santino was the first to nod in agreement. Phillip followed, then the others.
“Be back by dusk. I’ll tell everyone you’re out for supplies since William is incapacitated.” He shooed them away with his hands and they retreated toward the doorway. Before they could exit, Buck looked back.
“Dddd-Doc?”
“Yes.”
“Shouldn’t we bring something back? I mean, in case anyone sees us. They’d wonder why we’re empty-handed.”
Doc considered this, nodded. “Yes, very true. I’ll make a small list. But Buck?”
“Yyyy - yes?”
“If you want to bring me something, make it a zombie. Female. Late teens or early twenties if possible.”
Buck’s eyes grew so wide the eyeballs looked as if they might tumble free of the sockets. “A zzzz - zombie?”
“Yes, Bbbb - Buck,” Doc said with a sneer. “A zombie. And I want her unharmed and with no prior injuries to her torso. Do you think you can handle that?”
Doc’s gaze was harsh, unforgiving. Buck looked away. “Yes, ssss- Sir.” Buck fled the room.
Phillip was the last out and Doc flashed a ghoulish smile at him. “Make her a pretty one, Phillip.” He added a wink. Phillip didn’t say anything as he left the cabin.
Chapter 24
No one realized Hal hadn’t returned to his quarters the night before. No one missed him at breakfast that morning. No one saw him laying a hundred yards from camp, his body curled into a ball as the pain arced through him like electricity cooking him from the inside out. No one saw him die. And no one saw him come back.
He rose from the gulley in which he died, first climbing to his knees, then pushing his way onto his feet. Clods of snow fell as he swayed, took a step, then tumbled back to the ground. His second attempt was more successful and soon enough he was staggering toward the common ground.
Hal, or the thing that used to be Hal, came upon little Tommy Spielman first. The boy was about eight years old, skinny as a fencepost, and in the middle of building a snowman when Hal reached him.
The boy saw the shadow fall over top of him, turning the white snow a dirty gray. He looked up, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the bright, gun metal colored sky, but saw nothing. Tommy kept tilting his head back, leaning his whole upper body backward in the process. When he reached a 120-degree angle, he found Hal looming behind him.
It was hard to see Hal’s face against the bright sky and, even if he had got a good look, little Tommy wouldn’t have realized Hal was a dead man anyway. He only had two or three seconds to wonder why this man was staring down at him with his mouth open when Hal lurched forward and grabbed him by his ears. Hal used them like handles as he lifted the boy upward, raising him toward his gaping mouth. Tommy didn’t even have time to scream before the zombie bit down on his face. The feeling of teeth shredding his tender flesh was unlike anything the boy had ever felt before. Soon, their teeth clattered together as Hal’s mouth chomped through Tommy’s lips and tore them free from his face.
“Tommy?”
As shock overwhelmed him Tommy managed to turn his head to see Pete Decker, one of his very best friends, staring at this strange, horrific scene.
Tommy tried to speak, but all that came out was a wet gasp as blood flooded his throat. “Hegrrahhhh.”
Hal also had also turned to see Pete. The boy was almost as round as
he was tall and he’d always reminded Hal of the fat kid in the Little Rascals movies. That thought didn’t pass through his mind now though. All he saw in Pete was a fresh meal.
The zombie dropped Tommy who fell into the snow which gave a brief puff. Crimson blood quickly stained the snow red and, to Pete, it looked a little like a cherry snow cone.
Pete couldn’t understand what had happened to his friend’s lips and he couldn’t understand what Hal, the nice old guy who sometimes gave him his leftover pudding at dinner, was chewing on. The way his jaw smacked up and down, up and down, Pete thought he might have a mouthful of bubble gum. Or maybe taffy. Pete remembered getting saltwater taffy at Ocean City a few years ago on summer vacation and he loved it even if it did take a long time to eat.
But taffy, or bubble gum for that matter, didn’t leak red stuff and there was a lot of red stuff running out of Hals mouth as he chewed away.
“Mr. Hal? What are you eatin’?”
Hal didn’t answer but he did swallow down little Tommy’s lips. He was beyond thinking now, but the plump morsel that was Pete Decker was impossible to ignore. He stumbled toward the boy and Pete took a step backward. Hal matched that move and Pete again backed away. But that time Pete’s foot hit a divot in the snow and he collapsed backward.
I could make a snow angel, he thought.
Hal dove on top of him. Unlike Tommy, Pete did manage a scream. Several of them. His high-pitched wails as Hal ate him alive assaulted the otherwise peaceful morning.
As Hal devoured Pete, little Tommy emerged from the snow, hungry, fast, and ready to eat. He sprinted toward camp.
Chapter 25
“I’m not the one who makes the rules.”
Ramey stared at her father, so shocked her mouth would have fallen open if she’d let it. How could he look her in the eyes and lie to her like this?
“What are you talking about? The people here don’t take a shit without your permission. Nothing happens without your approval.”
