Z- Zombie Stories

by J M Lassen

  Tom raised a hand and took his hat off so they could see his face.

  “Peace, little sister,” he said. “No one’s here to do harm.”

  The bearded man fished eyeglasses from a pocket beneath his tunic and squinted through dirty lenses.

  “Tom…?” he said. “Tom Imura?”

  “Hey, Brother David.” He put his hand on Benny’s shoulder. “This is my brother, Benjamin.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Passing through,” said Tom. “But I wanted to pay my respects. And to teach Benny the ways of this world. He’s never been outside of the fence before.”

  Benny caught the way Tom put emphasis on the word this.

  Brother David walked over, scratching his beard. Up close he was older than he looked—maybe forty, with deep brown eyes and a few missing teeth. His clothing was clean but threadbare. He smelled of flowers, garlic, and mint. The man studied Benny for a long moment, during which Tom did nothing and Benny fidgeted.

  “He’s not a believer,” said Brother David.

  “Belief is tough to come by in these times,” said Tom. “You believe.”

  “Seeing is believing.”

  Benny thought that their exchange had the cadence of a church litany, as if it was something the two of them had said before and would say again.

  Brother David bent toward Benny. “Tell me, young brother, do you come here bringing hurt and harm to the Children of God?”

  “Um… no?”

  “Do you bring hurt and harm to the Children of Lazarus?”

  “I don’t know who they are, mister, but I’m just here with my brother.”

  Brother David turned toward the women, who were using gentle pushes to steer the zombie back around the far side of the building. “Old Roger there is one of Lazarus’s Children.”

  “What? You mean he’s not a zom—”

  Tom made a noise to stop him.

  A tolerant smile flickered over Brother David’s face. “We don’t use that word, little brother.”

  Benny didn’t know how to answer that, so Tom came to his rescue. “The name comes from Lazarus of Bethany, a man who was raised from the dead by Jesus.”

  “Yeah, I remember hearing about that in church.”

  The mention of church brightened Brother David’s smile. “You believe in God?” he asked hopefully.

  “I guess….”

  “In these times,” said Brother David, “that’s better than most.” He threw a covert wink at Tom.

  Benny looked past him to where the girls had taken the zombie. “I’m like totally confused here. That guy was a… you know. He’s dead, right?”

  “Living dead,” corrected Brother David.

  “Right. Why wasn’t he trying to… you know.” He mimed grabbing and biting.

  “He doesn’t have teeth,” said Tom. “And you saw his hands.”

  Benny nodded. “Did you guys do that?” he asked Brother David. “No, little brother,” Brother David said with a grimace. “No, other people did that to Old Roger.”

  “Who?” demanded Benny.

  “Don’t you mean ‘Why’?”

  “No, who. Who’d do something like that?”

  Brother David said, “Old Roger is only one of the Children who have been tortured like that. All over this county you can see them. Men and women with their eyes cut out, their teeth pulled, or jaws shot away. Most of them missing fingers or whole hands. And I won’t talk about some of the others things I’ve seen done. Stuff you’re too young to know about, little brother.”

  “I’m fifteen,” said Benny.

  “You’re too young. I can remember when fifteen meant you were still a child.” Brother David turned and watched the two young women return without the old zombie.

  “He’s in the shed,” said the blonde.

  “But he’s agitated,” said the redhead.

  “He’ll quiet down after a spell,” said Brother David.

  The women stood by the pump and eyed Tom, though Tom seemed to suddenly find something fascinating about the movement of the clouds. Benny’s usual inclination would have been to make a joke at Tom’s expense, but he didn’t feel like it. He turned back to the bearded man.

  “Who’s doing all this stuff you’re talking about? To that old man. To those… others you mentioned. What kind of dirtbags are out here doing that stuff?”

  “Bounty hunters,” said the redhead.

  “Killers,” said the blonde.

  “Why?”

  “If I had an answer to that,” said Brother David, “I’d be a saint instead of a way-station monk.”

  Benny turned to Tom. “I don’t get it… you’re a bounty hunter.”

  “I guess to some people that’s what I am.”

  “Do you do this kind of stuff?”

  “What do you think?”

  But Benny was already shaking his head.

  Tom said, “What do you even know about bounty hunters?”

  “They kill zombies,” Benny said, then flinched as he saw the looks of distaste on the faces of Brother David and the two women. “Well, they do! That’s what bounty hunters are there for. They come out here into the Rot and Ruin and they hunt the, urn, you know… the living dead.”

  “Why?” asked Tom.

  “For money.”

  “Who pays them?” asked Brother David.

  “People in town. People in other towns,” said Benny. “I heard the government pays them sometimes.”

  “Who’d you hear that from?” asked Tom.

  “Charlie Matthias.”

  Brother David turned a questioning face to Tom, who said, “Charlie Pink-Eye.”

  The faces of the monk and the two women fell into sickness. Brother David closed his eyes and shook his head slowly from side to side.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Benny.

  “You can stay to dinner,” Brother David said stiffly, eyes still closed. “God requires mercy and sharing from all of His Children. But… once you’ve eaten I’d like you to leave.”

  Tom put his hand on the monk’s shoulder. “We’re moving on now.”

  The redhead stepped toward Tom. “It was a lovely day until you came.”

  “No,” said Brother David sharply, then repeated it more gently. “No, Sarah… Tom’s our friend, and we’re being rude.” He opened his eyes, and Benny thought that the man now looked seventy. “I’m sorry, Tom. Please forgive Sister Sarah, and please forgive me for—”

  “No,” said Tom. “It’s okay. She’s right. It was a lovely day, and saying that man’s name here was wrong of me. I apologize to you, to her, to Sister Claire, and to Old Roger. This is Benny’s first time out here in the Ruin. He met… that man… and had heard a lot of stories. Stories of hunting out here. He’s a boy and he doesn’t understand. I brought him out here to let him know how things are. How things fall out.” He paused. “He’s never been to Sunset Hollow. You understand?”

  The three Children of God studied him for a while, and then one by one they nodded.

  “What’s Sunset Hollow?” Benny asked, but Tom didn’t answer.

  “And I thank you for your offer of a meal,” said Tom, “but we’ve got miles to go, and I think Benny’s going to have a lot of questions to ask. Some of them are better asked elsewhere.”

  Sister Sarah reached up and touched Tom’s face. “I’m sorry for my words.”

  “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.”

  She smiled at him and caressed his cheek; then she turned and placed her hands on either side of Benny’s face. “May God protect your heart out here in the world.” With that she kissed him on the forehead and walked away. The blonde smiled at the brothers and followed.

  Benny turned to Tom. “Did I miss something?”

  “Probably,” said Tom. “Come on, kiddo, let’s roll.”

  Brother David shifted to stand in Tom’s path. “Brother,” he said, “I’ll ask once and then be done with it.”

  “Ask away.”<
br />
  “Are you sure about what you’re doing?”

  “Sure? No. But I’m set on doing it.” He fished in his pocket and brought out three vials of cadaverine. “Here, Brother. May it help you in your work.”

  Brother David nodded his thanks. “God go with you and before you and within you.”

  They shook hands, and Tom stepped back onto the dirt road. Benny, however, lingered for a moment longer.

  “Look, mister,” he began slowly, “I don’t know what I said or did that was wrong, but I’m sorry, you know? Tom brought me out here, and he’s a bit crazy, and I don’t know what…” He trailed off. There was no road map in his head to guide him through this conversation.

  Brother David offered his hand and gave him the same blessing.

  “Yeah,” said Benny. “You, too. Okay?”

  He hurried to catch up to Tom, who was fifty yards down the road. When he looked back, the monk was standing in the road. He lifted his hand, but whether it was some kind of blessing or a gesture of farewell, Benny didn’t know. Either way it creeped him out.

  VIII

  When they were far down the road, Benny said, “What was that all about? Why’d that guy get so jacked about me mentioning Charlie?”

  “Not everyone thinks Charlie’s ‘cool,’ kiddo.”

  “You jealous?”

  Tom laughed. “God! The day I’m jealous of someone like Charlie Pink-Eye is the day I’ll cover myself in steak sauce and walk out into a crowd of the dead.”

  “Hilarious,” said Benny sourly. “What’s with all that Children of God, Children of Lazarus stuff? What are they doing out here?”

  “They’re all over the Ruin. I’ve met travelers who’ve seen them as far east as Pennsylvania, and all the way down to Mexico City. I first saw them about a year after First Night. A whole bunch of them heading across the country in an old school bus with scripture passages painted all over it. Not sure how they got started or who chose the name. Even Brother David doesn’t know. To him it’s like they always were.”

  “Is he nuts?”

  “I think the expression used to be ‘touched by God.’”

  “So… that would be a yes.’’

  “If he’s nuts, then at least his heart’s in the right place. The Children don’t believe in violence of any kind.”

  “But they’re okay with you, even though you kill zoms?”

  Tom shook his head. “No, they don’t like what I do. But they accept my explanation for why I do it, and Brother David and a few others have seen how I do it, and whereas they don’t approve, they don’t condemn me for it. They think I’m misguided but well-intentioned.”

  “And Charlie? What do they think of him? Can’t be anything good.’’

  “They believe Charlie Pink-Eye to be an evil man. Him and his jackass buddy the Motor City Hammer and a bunch of others. They think most of the bounty hunters are evil, in fact, and I can’t fault them for those beliefs.”

  Benny said nothing. He still thought Charlie Matthias was cool as all hell.

  “So… these Children, what do they actually do?”

  “Not much. They tend to the dead. If they find a town, they’ll go through the houses and look for photos of the people who lived there, and then they try and round up those people if they’re still wandering around the town. They put them in their houses, seal the doors, write some prayers on the walls, and then move on. Most of them keep moving. Brother David’s been here for a year or so, but I expect he’ll move on, too.”

  “How do they round up zoms? Especially in a town full of them?”

  “They wear carpet coats and they know the tricks of moving quietly and using cadaverine to mask their living smells. Sometimes one or another of the Children will come to town to buy some, but more often guys like me bring some out to them.”

  “Don’t they ever get attacked?”

  Tom nodded. “All the time, sad to say. I know of at least fifty dead in this part of the country who used to be Children. I’ve even heard stories that some of the Children give themselves to the dead.”

  Benny stared at him. “Why?”

  “Brother David says that some of the Children believe that the dead are the ‘meek’ who were meant to inherit the earth, and that all things under heaven are there to sustain them. They think that allowing the dead to feed on them is fulfilling God’s will.”

  “That’s sick.”

  Tom shrugged.

  “It’s stupid,” Benny said.

  “It is what it is. I think a lot of the Children are people who didn’t survive First Night. Oh, sure, their bodies did, but I think some fundamental part of them was broken by what happened. I was there, I can relate.”

  “You’re not crazy.”

  “I have my moments, kiddo, believe me.” Benny gave him a strange look.

  That’s when they heard the gunshots.

  IX

  When the first one cracked through the air, Benny dropped to a huddle, but Tom stood straight and looked away to the northeast. When he heard the second shot, he turned his head slightly more to the north.

  “Handgun,” he said. “Heavy caliber. Three miles.”

  Benny looked up at him through the arms he’d wrapped over his head. “Bullets can go three miles, can’t they?”

  “Not usually,” said Tom. “Even so, they aren’t shooting at us.”

  Benny straightened cautiously. “You can tell? How?”

  “Echoes,” he said. “Those bullets didn’t travel far. They’re shooting at something close and hitting it.”

  “Um… it’s cool that you know that. A little freaky, but cool.”

  “Yeah, this whole thing is about me showing you how cool I am.”

  “Oh. Sarcasm,” said Benny dryly. “I get it.”

  “Shut up,” said Tom with a grin.

  “No, you shut up.”

  They smiled at each other for the first time all day.

  “C’mon,” said Tom, “let’s go see what they’re shooting at.” He set off in the direction of the gunshot echoes.

  Benny stood watching him for a moment. “Urn… wait… we’re going toward the shooting?”

  Benny shook his head and followed as quickly as he could. Tom picked up the pace, and Benny tried to keep up. They followed a stream down to the lowlands, but Benny noticed that Tom never went closer than a thousand yards to the running water. He asked Tom about this.

  Tom asked, “Can you hear the water?”

  Benny strained to hear. “No.”

  “There’s your answer. Flowing water is constant noise. It masks other sounds. We’ll only go near it to cross it or to fill our canteens; otherwise quiet is better for listening. Always remember that if we can hear something, then it can probably hear us. And if we can’t hear something, then it might still be able to hear us and we won’t know about it until it’s too late.”

  However, as they followed the gunshot echoes, their path angled toward the stream. Tom stopped for a moment and then shook his head in disapproval. “Not bright,” he said, but didn’t explain his comment. They ran on.

  As they moved, Benny practiced being quiet. It was harder than he thought, and for a while it sounded—to his ears—as if he was making a terrible racket. Twigs broke like firecrackers under his feet; his breath sounded like a wheezing dragon; the legs of his jeans whisked together like a crosscut saw. Tom told him to focus on quieting one thing at a time.

  “Don’t try to learn too many skills at once. Take a new skill and learn it by using it. Go from there.”

  By the time they were close to where they’d heard the gunshots, Benny was moving more quietly and found that he enjoyed the challenge. It was like playing ghost tag with Chong and Morgie.

  Tom stopped and cocked his head to listen. He put a finger to his lips and gestured for Benny to remain still. They were in a field of tall grass that led to a dense stand of birch trees. From beyond the trees they could hear the sound of men laughing and shouting and the occasi
onal hollow crack of a pistol shot.

  “Stay here,” Tom whispered, and then he moved as quickly and quietly as a sudden breeze, vanishing into the tall grass. Benny lost track of him almost at once. More gunshots popped in the dry air.

  A full minute passed, and Benny felt a burning constriction in his chest and realized that he was holding his breath. He let it out and gulped in another.

  Where was Tom?

  Another minute. More laughter and shouts. A few scattered gunshots. A third minute. A fourth.

  And then something large and dark rose up in the tall grass a few feet away.

  “Tom!” Benny almost screamed the name, but Tom shushed him. His brother stepped close and bent to whisper.

  “Benny, listen to me. On the other side of those trees is something you need to see. If you’re going to understand how things really are, you need to see.”

  “What is it?”

  “Bounty hunters. Three of them. I’ve seen these three before, but never this close to town. I want you to come with me. Very quietly. I want you to watch, but don’t say or do anything.”

  “But—”

  “This will be ugly. Are you ready?”

  “I—”

  “Yes or no? We can head southeast and continue on our way. Or we can go home.”

  Benny shook his head. “No, I’m ready.”

  Tom smiled and squeezed his arm. “If things get serious, I want you to run and hide. Understand?”

  “Yes,” Benny said, but the word was like a thorn caught in his throat. Running and hiding. Was that the only strategy Tom knew?

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “Good. Now… follow me. When I move, you move. When I stop, you stop. Step only where I step. Got it? Good.”

  Tom led the way through the tall grass, moving slowly, shifting his position in time with the fluctuations of the wind. When Benny realized this, it became easier to match his brother step for step. They entered the trees, and Benny could more easily hear the laughter of the three men. They sounded drunk. Then he heard the whinny of a horse.

  A horse?

  The trees thinned, and Tom hunkered down and pulled Benny down with him. The scene before them was something out of a nightmare. Even as Benny took it in, a part of his mind was whispering to him that he would never forget what he was seeing. He could feel every detail being burned into his brain.