Ava whistles as well from the other side. The indecisive undead are paralyzed in the triangle of noise. David switches from defend to attack, he has an easy time unleashing a barrage of blows to unsuspecting zombies with Youngblood’s axe, one strike stabbing into the nook between the eyes of a lanky zombie and another blow into the ear of a distracted zombie, denting its head inwards.
The fighting is over.
Lou loops his shotgun back to his back then says into the walkie. “Chief get back here.”
Ava and Youngblood are smiling at each other in delight, as David marches over to Lou from the other side of the field. “You’ll live, the bite didn’t go through, I know how you feel though, one of those things just regurgitated on me.” Lou gasps in relief as if the doctor just said you’re cancer-free.
David walks next to Ava, their shoes are clogged with thick layers of mud, he says. “Not bad, I trained you well.”
Ava says. “Please. I heard you screaming over there. Help.”
David says. “I never say help.” Ava ponders on that.
An enervated Youngblood lies down on the grass breathing heavily and holding onto his chest with both hands in an attempt to sooth his flaming lungs. Lou ropes up a zombie by its ankles on the nearest tree limb; slices its throat and places a cup underneath to collect blood.
David walks over to it, bends his knees, and refills a small cologne bottle. Lou says. “I’ll go get the Chief and Coop.”
Out of the blue, Delilah comes hiking through the bushes with her wrinkled palms up. Looking refreshed from a long shower and genuinely surprised to see that the group didn’t bail. Her outfit has become a dark cobalt, a second bruised skin. Tilting her head, she takes her hair and tries to pull it dry. Lou elevates and cocks his shotgun in her face and says in a haughty tone. “You feeling better, Princess? We could have died because of that little stunt you pulled.”
He looks over at Ava. “You’re right she is worthless.” He smirks then he moves his head back to spot Delilah’s reaction. She throws the cup of blood into his face.
“Bitch.” Lou falls to his knees in stinging blindness and in a panic mode, rushes to clean his face with his shirt. After letting the rainwater rinse his face like an emergency eyewash station, he charges Delilah, who steps back and draws her gun, so Lou lingers there until he hears his older friends on the walkie. “I’m not above knocking a woman out who deserves it.”
Delilah says. “Good to know.”
The group is slowly moving away from Delilah, except David who’s focusing on refilling bottles of blood.
Delilah says to the rest of them. “I’m sorry guys, I got scared and ran, but I never said to save me.” Ava wide steps over puddles to get to David. “Did you hear that? She’s a big girl who doesn’t need anyone’s help.” Delilah rolls her eyes at her.
David seals the bottles and stands up to a rushing up Delilah. “Fine, next time you’re on your own.” He leaves her alone, soaked and cold, to help Youngblood.
9
Mosquitoes buzz around in the muggy weather. The rain ceases and Cooper cauterizes the horse’s injury with a heated bolo blade, the Chief hugs the horse’s neck as it gets startled, he says to Cooper. “It’s paramount that we keep them healthy.”
Cooper says. “What about us?”
The Chief holds his side, imitating Cooper. “Yeah, I know you’re not a spring chicken anymore.”
Cooper holds his thigh, imitating his friend. “Look who’s talking, my leg, my leg.”
The rest of the men are taking off their shirts, twisting the water, and the blood out.
David says. “Those things smelled like formaldehyde.”
Lou says. “Covered in shitty toilet water.”
David says. “You always go to a nasty place.”
The women are sitting against some trees in the adjacent section near the men, the wind’s chilly and unforgivingly constant, the trees breathe and tiny showers trickle down over them. Ava’s soaked hair is down with clumps of blood in it, sticking to her face. “Enough of this shit.” She makes a ponytail with one hand and with the other hand; she saws it off with a couple of knife thrusts. Her dark hair falls to her shoulders and sour rainwater leaks from her strong chin.
Delilah is braiding her hair into two wide ponytails, staring at a shirtless David for a moment, studying his profile and keloid scars on his back, each longer and thicker than the last, when Ava interrupts her. “Ahem.”
A snide Delilah says without looking at her. “What?”
Ava tosses her loose hair in the wind. “Let’s make a deal.”
Delilah holds her hair up in a chignon hairdo, amplifying her disinterest. “I’m listening.”
“Just leave now and I won’t kick your dumbass again.”
Delilah says. “Correction, sucker-punched…What’s the real reason you want me gone?”
Both of them look at David goofing off with Youngblood and Delilah smiles.
Ava says. “I don’t trust you, each of us here are forced together and you’re not. I’ll make it worthwhile, I’ll give you my dirt bike, so you can find some shithole to die in.”
Delilah still hasn’t face Ava. “So you’re saying you don’t want to be my friend. I’m not going anywhere, so don’t get your dirty panties in a bunch. Can you help me with my hair?”
Ava stands up. “You might have David fooled with your nice smile and puppy dog eyes, but if you endanger my life again, I will put a bullet in that pretty little face of yours.”
“You’re prettier and taller, so what’s the real problem?” Delilah lets out a gasp with vexed eyes and says. “Are you done yet?”
Ava washes her hands like Pontius Pilate in the air in the falling tree water behind Delilah. “Sure, I warned you twice now, so my conscience is clean, if I have to do what I have to do.” Ava walks away splashing mud. “Woman up.”
Delilah rubs her lower back with both hands leaning forward, and talks to herself. “I never thought people would give me so much grief for not dying.”
10
In a petulant cadence, she says. “I need you to have my back everyday, not just when it’s convenient.” Her face pinches towards the center as if she consumed a shot of pure liquor. He pulls on his seatbelt, tightening it like a knot, his eye flickers towards her. “Can you please not be on your phone and drive?”
She responds, staying with her overt annoyance, “calm down. I get it…this job probably comes with shitpay and you want it to be over. That makes two of us pal,” she looks through the man and his impeccable Sunday-best attire. Continues with the same breath. “You were driving so slow we should of left yesterday.” Her instructor is twice her age and weight, dressed in slacks and a tie. His hair is short and slicked to one side. She’s wearing dark khaki shorts and a wrinkled T-shirt, with her hair pulled back in a casual chignon. He looks at her, as if he’s trying to guess what’s in her tiny head.
It’s high noon and she lets out a long sigh as she digs through her purse to find her sunglasses. A crystal blue sky hangs low and the wind is sheepish.
Her driving instructor says. “Safety over vanity young lady.”
At the top of mounting irritation, she says. “I can’t see shit with this sun in my eyes, get off my back.” Benjamin, the older gentleman and adult, takes control of the car, grasping the second steering wheel, and volunteers, “language, young lady,” emphasizing the words with a scolding stare. Glint of sunrays reflect off her shades as she comes partway off her seat to apply ChapStick and fruity smelling hand lotion. “Want some, you could use it.”
Her face simmers; she cringes at the tone of “young lady,” and tries to avoid eye contact with his crooked teeth. “Are you my father or my instructor?”
An even keel Benjamin comments before she continues. “I’ve been your driving instructor for a while, trust me I’m glad it’s almost over too.”
She rolls down the window; the wind returns her normal color to her face. “Amen to that, schlub.”
She had arrived at the Sears store late and was proud she had convinced a young man to give up his session with this instructor by touching his shoulder and she didn’t let on that she noticed him watching her slender tan legs get into the car slower than usual. Benjamin snorted into a handkerchief then aspirates a faint inhale. “Let’s get going.” The middle-aged man and the young woman are driving in a new Curio: a four-door sedan, dark smoke color, and fully loaded. Mid-afternoon heat sizzles their skin through the spotless windshield.
The instructor leers at her until she points at her eyes with two fingers then at the road up ahead. He squeezes the wheel slightly harder, changes lanes to avoid the cruising car, and checks his mirrors to see honking drivers. She turns the radio louder to hear over the incoming wind.
The Curio is now in a commercial area, the driver signals and changes lanes, with his hands secured at ten and two. Big box stores and fast-food chains are in every direction. When he looks forward, he has to close his eyes because of the sun. He impatiently slams the car visor down, lets out a heavy pant, and turns the radio off. She cracks a small smile. The driver accelerates and enters the freeway without signaling.
Overly ecstatic with Christmas morning eyes, she says. “Lesson over already?” A car cuts him off and honks twice, the instructor jumps in his seat as if poked in the back.
She says. “I’m going to miss paying for this.”
He speaks in a languid diction as he regains his composure. “You’ll be fine…get ready to drive back, just get back and we don’t have to see each other anymore.”
She sits up, her thighs peeling away from the leather seats like a sticker. “I bet every car has a person inside, who thinks they’re important.”
Benjamin’s quiet and still like a monk who’s heard it all before from smug teenagers.
She turns her head and points her chin at him. “No…I guess I’m just talking out of my ass then.”
Benjamin narrows his eyes. “I didn’t say anything.” She tilts her head away. “You’ve said enough…everyday everyone’s pissed off on the road because someone else’s either too slow or too fast, never perfect. Goldilocks. They think their life and destination is more important than the thousands of cars they passed by during the day, everyday.”
Benjamin wipes his perspiring forehead on his shoulder keeping one eye on the road. “Sooo…you’re mad at other people’s madness?”
Giving the driver a slight shrug. “It’s just an observation of everyone’s selfishness. Not a judgment because I’m guilty too.”
Benjamin says. “So…everyone feels entitled and is selfishness and that’s…”
She says. “Is what it is.” She adjusts her sunglasses in the visor mirror. “But don’t get me wrong, not everyone should be allowed to drive.”
The driver gives her a quick look and she says. “What…I’m an excellent driver. It was either this or pay tickets. Are you going to miss me?” He looks at her enquiring stare and youthful glow on her fine bone face.
Benjamin glances at the car clock, it blinks 12:00 like a VCR timer. “We’ll be back soon enough, you did ok today.” She has resume slouching in the passenger seat, but swiftly stretches her chin pass the dashboard. “Hey lets stop at that Chick-Fil-A first. Your treat.”
He says. “Next time.”
“Do you ever wonder, why the service and food is great only during lunch times?”
“Please go on.”
“I’ll tell you, because people only give a shit when they have to...or when they think someone is watching.”
“You’re not going to like everyone or how they act, don’t let it stress you out. It’s a waste of time, trust me.”
She sits up in a hurry as if a Judge just entered the room. “Who was she? Do tell.”
“Who?”
“The one who got away. Everything is about sex, except sex, that’s about.” She flexes her biceps, up and outward, and makes her voice deeper. “Powerrrr.”
He speeds up. “I don’t think that conversation is appropriate, to say the least.”
She slumps back. “Tease.”
All the vehicles are slowing to a crawl in front of the Curio and on the opposite side of the freeway like after the fireworks on the Fourth of July. She says. “I bet it’s just a car pulled over with a flat tire, and everyone’s slowing down in hopes of seeing a dead person, but no one will actually stop to help unless she’s a hot piece of ass.” She looks at him to remind him of her sex comment.
Benjamin opens his eyes wide, looking up, keeping a leveled face. “No comment.” She smiles a commercial worthy smile, straight capped pearly whites.
Exhaust is thick; She rolls up her window.
Benjamin loosens his tie likes it has been a long day and lets out a quick cough. Droplets of sweat soak the man’s collar; he fishhooks his finger within and wiggles then begins to wheeze uncontrollably. “Excuse me.”
She leans into the door panel, “spit that shit out, you’ll feel better,” she sticks her head out the window and slaps her door, “move it people, I’m hungry.” Exhaust exacerbates the man’s coughing, so he rolls up his window. Turns the A/C on high, adjusts all the vents towards him, and in a raspy voice. “Take over…please.”
She grimaces, flips off her worn-in flip-flops and drives, only able to drive for ten feet intervals then having to immediately stop hard and take off at full speed like a first time driver. Cars are ass sniffing dogs on both sides of the center median. Benjamin has stopped coughing, but is now holding his mouth in a fit of nausea. She weaves in and out the lunch rush traffic for a mile in about thirty minutes, just to arrive in the heart of darkness.
She says. “I could really walk home before this ends…all businesses should really raise their prices during lunch time so everyone will eat at work and I could use the freeway properly once in my life…” She honks. “Look the toll-road is empty, money is more important than time to these poor saps. It’s a shame no one ever uses the toll-roads even though corrupt local politicians worked so hard to get them built.”
Benjamin says. “Please get us out of here…my chest and arm feels tight.”
She says. “You’re not having a heart attack, you’re just fat and can’t breathe.” He closes his eyes not knowing how to take that, as a comforting insult or tough love.
Her car immediately comes to a screeching halt in a maze of vehicles; the man’s head comes an inch from the steering wheel. “C’mon.”
After she finishes her tall coffee, she says. “Drink some water, it’s going to be a while.” Benjamin opens his door for air, bumping and cramming it against the car to his left. The passenger of that car says. “Watch it, fatass.”
She shouts over Benjamin’s lap to the other car. “Hey. Go fuck yourself.” Speeds away as the passenger opens his door; Benjamin’s thrust into his headrest. She maneuvers and steals a car’s chance to be let out of the gridlock. She laughs looking to Benjamin for appreciation and drives for the wreck in the distance. “With this much traffic, it better be the God damn Pope-mobile.”
She lifts her black designer sunglasses and adjusts her ponytail. Both him and her breathe long and low and settle into their chairs as if they’re La-Z-Boy recliners, ready for the long haul.
A cop with her back to the incident is waving the student driver to pass and she’s looking at the line of cars she’s holding back. She moves her hand to the stick shift in the center console. “Are you checking this out?” She cannot remove her eyes off the wreckage. “A daily self-fulfilling prophecy.”
A while ago, a SUV split a small ecofriendly car in half and was then subsequently rammed in the passenger side multiple times by several different oncoming vehicles. The black SUV is on its side and crushed in as if a wrecking ball was dropped into it from the clouds.
Flares and cones divide the congested freeway in half. The ambulance siren blares into silence, men in hazmat jumpsuits run past the cops and firefighters to the three bodies lined up on the concre
te slab as if waiting to be buried in the construction site on the hill. She spits her gum out the window, takes her foot off the accelerator, and lightly pumps her brakes. One paramedic unravels a black body bag like a trash bag, fluffing it out in a waving motion. The other paramedic lowers a body length plastic board, rectangular with grooves in the side, for optimal disposal. A mangled hand grabs the shiny buckle from one of the paramedics and carries him over her chest, as if to tell him a dirty secret, his hand slips off a cold face, and the she-zombie bites the paramedic in the exposed collar bone as he falls deeper into her deadly embrace.
The student driver rolls her shoulders trying to escape herself. “Holy shit.” With childlike discovery, she observes the screaming rescuers. One man lies across the cop car’s driver’s seat and puts the radio to his mouth only to be pulled out into the freeway. She locks the doors again. “Those people must be high as fuck to attack cops.”
A grim faced Benjamin begins to shake uncontrollably in place, going into anaphylactic shock, with his eyes starting to roll back and his throat swelling like a frog.
She reassuringly pumps his shoulder. “Hang on…just a little longer.” Is this some kind of allergy?
His bladder empties onto khaki slacks, darkening his lap. Her expression is distraught yet contained for the man’s sake, “something is wrong with you,” stating the obvious like a sports announcer.
Genesis Virus Page 23
