Z-Town

by Eden Darry

  Lane was sure it was curtains for her as the zombie bore down. She kicked out in an effort to dislodge it, but the zombie took the blow and probably a couple of cracked ribs with equanimity. She tried to turn and crawl, but it landed on her and took all the wind out of her.

  Lane clawed at the scuffed lino in an effort to drag herself away. It was no good. She felt the zombie’s rancid breath tickle her cheek and ruffle her hair. The smell was awful. Wet and warm and rotten.

  Suddenly, it was gone. Tossed aside like it weighed nothing. Lane jumped up and saw Teensy grab it by the scruff of the neck and seat of its pants and launch it across the shop and into a display of tents.

  “You okay there, Lane?” Teensy called out.

  “Yeah. Fine. Thanks.”

  “No bites?”

  Lane looked down at herself. A smear of something across her belly. She lifted her shirt. Dry underneath. No wounds. She sighed with relief and swallowed.

  “No. I’m good.”

  “Get your hammer then. I just saw a bunch of those suckers head over to the Pig. Isn’t that where we’re meeting Meg and the little one?”

  “Yeah.” Lane pulled off her sweatshirt, grabbed a hoodie from a nearby rack, and picked up her hammer. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Meg stood. She turned to face the bar. She felt behind her for Lois and made sure she was fully shielded. Maybe whoever was out there wouldn’t see her at all. The zombies seemed to act like brainless machines. It wasn’t clear how much awareness they had, but Meg was fairly certain it wasn’t a lot.

  Meg took one step forward. Something hit the door behind her hard. Lois screamed.

  In the kitchen, a zombie groaned.

  Something hit the door again. The door split by the lock.

  “Meg.”

  Was she hearing things?

  “Meg, if you’re in there, open the door.”

  Meg looked down at Lois. “You hear that too?”

  Lois nodded.

  Relief flooded Meg. She slammed the deadbolt back, turned the knob. Something grabbed her hair from behind and pulled.

  Meg fell just as the door opened. She twisted and rolled as something fell on her. The stink made her eyes water. A hand, soft and sticky, trailed across her cheek.

  Then, it was gone.

  Above her, Lane swung a hammer and clocked a zombie clean in the head. Yellow goo exploded out of its head and hit the wall. Meg rolled out of the way, then stood.

  Behind Lane, Teensy—what was she doing here?—was trying to shut the door, but at least two zombies were pushing their way in. Meg went to help.

  “Grab that rifle off my shoulder,” Teensy grunted.

  Meg pulled it loose.

  “Now I’m going to let go of the door, and you’re going to start shooting. You know how to shoot?” Teensy asked.

  “I do.” Meg didn’t see the point in telling her she’d shot competitively for her state once upon a time.

  “Okay, on three.”

  Meg raised the gun.

  “One,” Teensy said.

  Meg nestled the butt in her shoulder.

  “Two.”

  Meg closed one eye and angled her head.

  “Three.”

  Teensy opened the door and Meg started shooting.

  * * *

  Outer Cape Echo

  1 hour ago

  Is there no end to Provincetown’s strange weather? This morning the ferry was cancelled and boats were turned back from Boston. Officials say the water is so dangerous they’ve issued a ban on any vessels crossing over until further notice. Weather experts are baffled as to why Provincetown is experiencing such extreme conditions. Is it a freak event or something more sinister? Reports are coming in that power and internet are also down in the tiny seaside town.

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  4 Comments

  Rachel Smith: I haven’t been able to contact my sister since yesterday. Any word on when the power will be back up?

  Tom Moore: My cousin called me last night saying something weird was happening over there. When are the authorities going to go and take a look?

  Janet Jones: I drive the bus from Hyannis, and we got cancelled today. I’m thinking about driving over there and seeing what the hell is going on. I’ll be making my usual stops if anyone wants to join me.

  Cara Barrett: Must be something up. Dolores Cab hasn’t been on here trolling anyone yet.

  * * *

  As soon as Meg stopped firing, Lane and Teensy waded in and started hitting the two zombies Meg hadn’t managed to shoot in the head. Meg was a great shot, Lane realized. She’d put down three without even blinking. All shots to the head. Lane realized the old zombie movies had been correct. You had to hit them in the head.

  When the zombies were dead, and they made sure they’d cleared the Pig, Lane allowed herself to feel the relief that washed over her. Meg was safe. Lois was safe. Maybe everything would be okay.

  “You okay, Meg? Not bitten?” Teensy asked from behind Lane.

  Meg squeezed Lane’s arm as she walked past and hugged Teensy. “I’m fine. No bites. What about you guys?”

  “We’re good,” Teensy said. “You’re some shot with that rifle. You got three of them right between the eyes.”

  “Junior State Champion,” Meg said and laughed.

  Teensy squeezed her again with one arm, and Lane felt a spark of jealousy at the easy affection between them. She had no right, but she felt it all the same.

  “Of course you were. Any idea what happened in Ptown?” Teensy asked. “I woke up this morning, went out for my coffee, and then bam, some asshole tried to bite my face off.”

  “Val tried to bite mine,” Meg said.

  Lane didn’t want to talk about her first encounter because Joanne’s child was standing right there. Not that anyone was paying Lane much attention.

  “I was with Meg when it happened,” Wendy said. “It’s just awful. I can’t believe it’s happening.”

  “Agreed,” Teensy said. She gave Meg one more squeeze, and then went over to the windows at the front of the Squealing Pig. “We need to get this place boarded up and secured. No telling when they might come back.”

  “Then maybe we can work out what the bloody hell to do,” Lane said.

  They boarded up the windows by stacking tables in front of them. Teensy found some wood from somewhere and nailed it across the doors.

  They kept one light on low. They didn’t feel safe exactly, but they felt safer. And there were five of them. Not that Wendy was much use, but still. Five were better than one.

  Lane popped the tops on four beers and put them up on the bar. She got a ginger ale for Lois and popped that top too.

  “Hiding here was a good idea. How long do you think it’ll be before the authorities realize something’s wrong?” Lane asked.

  “Well, it’s only just after two p.m. now. Probably take those idiots a while to get their asses into gear,” Teensy said and took a long drink.

  “So the plan is we just wait here for them?” Wendy asked.

  “I guess. We don’t have much choice. We’ve been lucky so far. But there’s a ton of zombies roaming around out there,” Meg said.

  “I saw a load of people get taken out by them this morning. I don’t fancy our chances if we keep running around,” Lane agreed.

  “I don’t know.” Teensy drained her beer. “Seems kind of passive to sit around waiting to be saved. I’ve got a boat. Down at the harbour.”

  Lane glanced at Lois, who was quietly sipping her ginger ale. “If it was just us, maybe I’d agree.”

  “That grey dude is bound to make a reappearance soon. I don’t know if our little barricade can keep him out.” Teensy went behind the bar and grabbed another beer.

  “I vote we sit tight. Give it a few hours,” Meg said.

  “Sure. I can do that.” Teensy popped the top and leaned on the bar. “But if that blue-flame-zapping fucker shows up, we run. Down to the harbour. Boat is called Da
wn’s Crack. It’s right at the end of the pier.”

  Lane coughed and spat out her beer. Meg thumped her on the back, and when Lane looked at her, she could see Meg was trying not to laugh.

  “Agreed,” Lane said, when she finally got her breath back. “If he comes back, we’ll escape in Dawn’s Crack.”

  Meg did start laughing then.

  Teensy looked at them with raised eyebrows. “Something funny about my boat?”

  “No, not at all,” Lane said, still laughing.

  “Oh, come on, Teensy. Dawn’s Crack?” Meg said.

  Teensy grinned and winked at Meg. “Named her after my first love.”

  “Not Dawn Truman?” Wendy piped up from the table where she sat.

  “She was Dawn Ball back then.” Teensy sipped her beer. “We were together three months. Then I shipped out, and she married Dan Truman. Broke my heart.”

  Wendy snorted. “Sure it did. I’ve never known you to stay with one woman more than a month.”

  “I was with you a whole year,” Teensy said and drained the rest of her beer.

  Lane’s mouth dropped open. “You and…Teensy?”

  “Close your mouth, girl—you’ll catch flies,” Teensy said.

  “Sorry, I just…” Lane trailed off, aware she was digging herself a big hole.

  Meg nudged her shoulder. “Go on. You just what?”

  Lane elbowed Meg back gently. “Nothing at all.”

  “You didn’t think I was gay?” Wendy asked.

  Truthfully, Lane hadn’t thought about Wendy’s sexuality at all. But seeing her and Teensy together, she just couldn’t picture it. “It’s not that, Wendy,” she said.

  “Go easy on her, Wendy. Lane’s dug herself a big old hole, and she’s trying to get out of it.” Teensy laughed. “Me and Wendy had some great times. Real chemistry.”

  Lane didn’t want to think about Teensy and Wendy’s chemistry. “Lovely.”

  “Teensy, stop. Little ears.” Wendy nodded towards Lois, who was watching the back and forth from her bar stool.

  “Whoops. Sorry, kiddo,” Teensy said. “You want another ginger ale?”

  “I think one’s enough. We should eat soon,” Meg said.

  It made Lane painfully aware she hadn’t eaten since yesterday, and she was starving. Her stomach rumbled on cue.

  “Make it something cold,” Wendy said. “We don’t want to attract them here.”

  Lane nodded. “You have stuff for sandwiches?” she asked Meg.

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll help,” Lane said.

  Behind her, as they walked into the kitchen, she heard Teensy say, “I bet you will.”

  Lane glanced back in time to catch Teensy wink and grin.

  Chapter Ten

  Lane couldn’t see out the window. They’d piled tables in front of them. And in front of the door. As long as the zombies tried to come through from Commercial, they would be fine. Their defences would hold.

  The back was trickier. Like Teensy said, they couldn’t block up all their escape routes. But the zombies had come through the side alley, so it made sense they would again.

  Even though Lane had initially been in favour of waiting it out for the authorities to arrive, she was beginning to feel like a sitting duck. Her gut was telling her they should leave, but she wasn’t used to trusting herself. Mostly, she’d relied on other people’s advice, but that hadn’t been life or death situations. So far in this waking nightmare, she’d done okay. Maybe she could back herself to make decisions and trust her instincts. And all her instincts were telling her they should get out of here.

  Lane turned her attention to Meg, who was alone at the bar, the plates from their sandwiches piled beside her. Her head rested in one hand, and she kept nodding off then jerking awake again.

  “Why don’t you lie down for an hour?” Lane said.

  Meg raised her head and blinked slowly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. It doesn’t feel safe to fall asleep.”

  “I’ll watch over you.” The words were out of Lane’s mouth before she could stop them. She winced. How pathetic did that sound?

  To her relief, Meg smiled. “I know you would, but all the same, I’d rather stay awake.”

  Lane nodded. Once Meg made up her mind, there was no changing it. She turned her attention to Wendy instead.

  Wendy sat at one of the few tables they hadn’t used in their barricade. Her new bag—annoyingly, the same bag Lane had chosen—was clutched tightly to her chest. Lane didn’t want to dwell on the fact she and Wendy had similar taste. Although, in her defence, Lands End Marine Supply wasn’t exactly high fashion, so maybe she could give herself a break.

  Lane was interested in what Wendy had in her bag, though. And she still needed to follow up on her sneaking suspicion that Wendy knew more about what was happening than she was letting on. She simply could not get past the way Wendy’d reacted to the grey man at the library.

  Lane got up and went to sit with Wendy. She slid onto the bench next to her. “Hey, Wendy.”

  “Hi.” Wendy stared straight ahead.

  “How are you doing?” Lane asked. She reached out to touch Wendy’s hand where it rested on the bag. Wendy squeezed Lane’s hand briefly, then went back to clutching the bag. “Wendy?”

  “About the same as you, I imagine. This whole situation is”—Wendy threw up her hands—“indescribable. I think, maybe I did something…oh, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

  Lane studied Wendy. She was certainly struggling with something, and Lane had an idea she knew what. She’d been guarding that bag with her life, and Lane had an idea maybe Wendy had the Viking treasure in it.

  “We’ll get out of here, right? We’ll be okay?” Wendy asked.

  “I don’t know,” Lane said. “Wendy?”

  “Yes?”

  “Tell me what’s going on in Provincetown.”

  Wendy flinched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The man shooting blue flames out of his mouth. Who is he?” Lane asked.

  “How the hell would Wendy know?” Teensy bellowed from her position on the floor. She was playing marbles or something similar with Lois.

  “I think Wendy might know a lot more than she’s letting on,” Lane said.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Wendy said. “Why would I know any more than you?”

  “Back at the library. You weren’t at all surprised to see him, if I remember,” Lane said.

  “Don’t be stupid. How would I know what—who—he is?”

  “You’ve curated the Viking exhibition, haven’t you? You’re a historian.”

  “Yes, Vikings. Not zombies,” Wendy said.

  “I’m warning you, Lane. Leave her alone. She says she doesn’t know anything, she doesn’t know anything. Besides, why would she? Bunch of fucking zombies running around. Why would Wendy have a clue about that?” Teensy shook her head and picked up five marbles in her large hand.

  “And what’s in the bag that you’re so keen to protect?” Lane carried on, hoping Teensy wouldn’t decide to beat the shit out of her. Lane wasn’t small, but Teensy could snap her in half.

  “None of your business.” Wendy’s voice was high-pitched.

  “I told you—” Marbles scattered as Teensy stood up, all red-faced and clenched fists.

  “Both of you, stop,” Meg said, manoeuvring herself between Teensy and Lane. “I agree with Lane that Wendy knows more than she’s letting on.”

  “She already said she doesn’t,” Teensy said and turned to Meg. “You should have more respect.” But the anger had gone out of her, and Lane thought she probably wouldn’t be pounded just yet. “Don’t you think if Wendy knew something, she’d tell us? You think she’d just let us run around like headless chickens? Of course she wouldn’t. She’d tell us what she knew. People are dying here.”

  “Okay, fine. Tell me about the Viking landings,” Lane said to Wendy.

  “What? Why?” Wendy asked.

>   “Well, this whole thing started when that treasure was found. And the chief zombie looks a little like a Viking, don’t you think?” Tenuous, but Lane had a feeling.

  “Why can’t you just leave her alone? She’s suffered enough. We all have,” Teensy said.

  “Why are you so quick to defend her? All I’m doing is asking her about the Viking landings,” Lane snapped.

  “What you’re doing is harassing her. If Wendy knew something, she’d tell us.” Teensy sat back down and spoke into the floor. “When my mom got the cancer, Wendy was the only one who kept on visiting her. Only one who came every week, right up until the end. All my mom’s other so-called friends disappeared. Wendy’s got integrity. If she knew something she thought could help us, she’d tell us. Isn’t that right, Wendy?”

  Wendy sighed. “I’ll tell you what I know, but I don’t see how it’ll help us. What’s happening here, this isn’t normal. I don’t know anything about this.”

  “Anything you can tell us might help.” Meg came and sat at the table with Lane and Wendy.

  “Well, back in 1006 or 1007—it’s difficult to pinpoint exactly—Thorvold Eriksson was part of a Viking expedition to North America. There’s no actual agreement among historians, but it’s always been my personal belief he docked here in Provincetown.” Wendy’s eyes lit up, and her face became animated.

  Lane thought Wendy would probably be a good teacher. “The Viking treasure those workmen found proved you were right.”

  “Exactly,” Wendy said and favoured Lane with a smile. “For whatever reason, the treasure was buried here. Now, my guess is it was buried with a body. But the body wasn’t dug up with the treasure. I think they stopped digging when they found the treasure. I wanted them to go down further, but they wouldn’t. Goddamn Boston got involved and ordered everyone to stop immediately. Like we’re ignorant bumpkins who can’t tie our own shoes.”

  “Why would someone be buried with treasure?” Meg asked.

  “It was a kind of Viking insurance policy. They believed that sometimes, a person who was particularly mean or greedy might come back from the dead to claim their worldly possessions or exact revenge on the living. To stop that from happening, they buried them with their belongings. There’s a few Norse sagas written about it,” Wendy said.