“Just another lying politician,” Reba said under her breath.
“It made no sense,” said Becker.
“What’s the point of arguing about it?” said Victoria from her cart. “Let’s do what we’re gonna do.”
“Which is what?”
“Let’s get out of here and away from those stinking creatures,” said Felix.
“Where are we gonna go?” asked Reba.
“Anywhere but here. There’s hundreds of those things all around us. And more keep coming.”
“But the roads are all blocked with cars,” said Victoria.
“Then we drive on the sidewalks. We went over this before.”
“If we only go on the sidewalks, we’ll end up going around and around this cemetery.”
“So we go on the sidewalk and then go on the road,” said Felix, hammering his steering wheel with his fist in frustration.
“What’s your problem?” said Reba.
“The problem is, we can’t stay here.” Felix gave the steering wheel one final strike. “I hate zombies!”
He drove toward the fence in a snit.
“Where are you going?” said Reba.
Felix drove as fast as he could toward the fence. He flicked on his cart’s headlights and aimed the beams directly into the ruined, sneering, grotesque faces of the creatures. More zombies massed toward the light as it washed the fence. Moaning louder they grappled among each other to get closer to the light.
“I hate you fucking zombies!” Felix yelled at their sneering, putrefying faces.
The creatures moaned louder and became more agitated. They clawed at each other trying to get to him, bending the fence inward with their weight.
“Do those things have feelings?” Felix said to himself, his eyes bulging with fear.
Terrified that the creatures would crush the fence, he turned the cart around and hightailed it.
He returned to the others.
“Can those things understand what we’re saying?” he asked them in alarm.
“I doubt it,” said Halverson. “They’re too stupid. Their brains just tell them to eat.”
“They seemed awful riled up when I yelled at them.”
“It was your loud screaming that got them going. Loud noises excite them.”
“There’s so many of them out there now that the fence is bending under their weight.”
“We have to make our move.”
Reba screamed.
Halverson looked at her.
He wished he hadn’t.
CHAPTER TEN
Reba’s eyes were riveted on a section of the fence near the freeway, Halverson realized. He followed her gaze to a sickening sight.
Somehow, one of the ghouls had gotten its stomach hung up on a steel barb in a broken link on the fence. Trying to free itself the creature was backing away from the fence, unspooling its suppurating intestines out of a gaping hole in its stomach as it shambled backward. In their frenzy to reach the fence, the creatures near the mutilated creature were swiping the length of intestines out of their way so they could get closer to the cemetery.
Reba turned away and retched.
The creature with the uncoiling entrails was wearing a long, heavy black leather jacket, which looked in better shape than the thing that wore it, Halverson noticed. The ghoul had stoned-out deep-set eyes and a short black beard. Trudging backward, watching its viscera uncoil, the ghoul had no idea why it could not free itself from the fence.
The brunette ghoul beside gut-buster had an erstwhile pretty face with a still-intact hairdo done up on it. However, the lower half of her bee-stung lips was missing. In fact, the entire lower part of her jaw was missing. In its place were decomposing tissue and yellow snags in its discolored gums.
Below the brunette’s face the sight was even more hideous, if that was possible, Halverson saw. Part of a car’s engine was protruding from the brunette’s ruptured stomach lining. The creature was plodding with its back hunched thanks to the weight of the engine lodged in its belly. Even as the creature walked, oil leaked out of the engine onto the ground.
Apparently, Halverson decided, the woman had been killed in a car accident before her transformation into a ghoul.
“I can’t stand looking at those things,” said Reba. “We have to get out of here.”
“This is impossible,” said Felix. “We’re fucked. We’re hemmed in by those things from a freak show.”
Halverson wished he had a battery for his satphone. Maybe then he could contact his boss, Deputy Director Mellors, at the National Clandestine Service at the CIA and find out what was going on in the rest of the country—if there was a rest of the country. For all Halverson knew, Mellors might already be dead from plague, and the entire Agency staff wiped out as well.
Halverson didn’t get along well with the Yale-educated forty-six-year-old Andrew Mellors who loved to flaunt his law degree in Halverson’s face and put him down. Halverson was convinced the only one Mellors hated more than him was the director of the CIA Ernest Slocum himself. No matter. The fact was, Halverson actually found himself longing to hear Mellors’s supercilious voice—anything to let Halverson know that the rest of the country still existed.
Right now Halverson couldn’t feel more cut off from life as he used to know it.
In the end he wondered if having a battery for his satphone would make one iota of difference. What good was a satphone that worked if there was nobody left alive on earth to call? What if these plague-infected grimacing creatures with thousand-yard stares were all that was left of humanity?
The idea sent a frisson down his spine. He never felt more alone.
“Is anybody listening?” said Victoria in a sonorous voice. “We need to get moving.”
Her voice shook Halverson out of his black thoughts.
“Right you are, young lady,” said Becker. “We’ll be permanent residents of this graveyard if we stay here much longer.”
“Very funny,” said Felix, not amused.
“We still need to create a diversion, so those things won’t bushwhack us when we leave through the gate,” said Halverson.
“A diversion will just delay the inevitable,” said Becker. “They’ll bushwhack as soon as we drive down the sidewalk.”
“How can they bushwhack us if they can’t see us?”
“What are you talking about? Why won’t they be able to see us?”
“We’ll drive with our headlights off in the dark.”
“Then how can we see where we’re going? You need to think before you open your mouth.”
Becker’s snide attitude was grating on Halverson’s nerves.
“I’ve got these,” said Halverson. He clutched his night-vision goggles that dangled from his neck and jiggled them. “Remember?”
“Well, goodie for you. What about the rest of us? We don’t have special goggles.”
“All of you follow me. I’ll drive first. The rest of you stay close behind me.”
“It’s still dusk,” said Victoria, stepping over to Halverson. “We need to wait a little longer till it’s night.”
“I don’t know if I can stand another minute in this place,” said Reba. She wiped a thin stream of vomit off her foxlike chin. “I hate the smell of puke. It smells almost as bad as those creatures.”
“Me, too,” said Becker, screwing up his face. “Just stay away from us so we don’t have to smell it.”
“I thought you were a politician,” said Felix. “Can’t you think of a more diplomatic way of saying that? Why in the world would anybody vote for you?”
“It would take a person with a certain amount of intelligence to vote for me. You don’t fall into that category.”
A black look in his eyes, his arms straight out at his sides like two-by-fours, his fingers curled, Felix advanced on Becker.
Halverson strode between them. “Let’s figure out what kind of diversion we’re gonna make.”
“That guy needs to answer for what
he said to me,” said Felix.
“He’s blowing hot air, is all. That used to be his job in another life a million years ago.”
“He needs to watch his mouth.”
“You need to watch yours,” said Becker.
He was on the verge of jabbing his forefinger at Felix, but Halverson continued to stand between them. Becker lowered his hand.
Felix took another step toward Becker. Halverson didn’t budge.
“When you kids stop playing around, we can figure out what kind of a diversion to make,” said Victoria.
“Who’s playing?” said Felix.
Becker shook his head in disgust and walked away from Felix and Halverson.
“Damn perv,” said Felix sotto voce.
“What?” said Becker, whipping his head around to face Felix.
“Nothing,” said Halverson.
“What’d he say?” demanded Becker.
“Nothing. He was talking to me.”
Becker didn’t look satisfied with Halverson’s answer, but he didn’t press the point.
“Is playtime for Bonzo finally over?” said Victoria.
“Don’t you start,” said Felix.
“Let’s all concentrate on our escape plan or we’re all gonna end up like those things outside the fence,” said Halverson.
“A fate worse than death,” said Becker.
Having cleaned herself off, Reba sidled over to them. “Where are we going once we get out of here?”
Pulling a face Becker sniffed at her. He took a step backward and sniffed a few more times. He didn’t move any farther away. He seemed satisfied that she didn’t smell anymore.
Reba shook her head, fed up with him.
“Let’s head for the coast,” said Halverson. “If worse comes to worst, we can grab a boat and take to the ocean.”
“I say we should head east to downtown,” said Becker.
“Why?” asked Reba.
“Because city hall’s down there. We need to get in touch with the authorities. The local government is in charge of emergencies like this.”
“If there’s any local government left,” said Halverson. “Or any federal government either, for that matter.”
“We have to assume there is or we have no chance at all to survive,” said Becker.
Halverson peered across Wilshire Boulevard at a high-rise that was smoldering in ruins. Clouds of swirling smoke drifted upward from the charred black skeleton of the building that was difficult to see now in the dusk. Blustery wind dissipated the smoke.
“There’s the federal building right there,” he said. “What’s left of it. What do you think is left of city hall?”
“I don’t think anything till I see it with my own eyes.”
“I don’t know about anyone else,” said Reba, “but I don’t trust the government. Even if there is some kind of government left downtown, how can they help us?”
“They probably have emergency shelters set up.”
“But we don’t know that, do we?”
Felix pulled the pop-top of a red aluminum can of Coke and took a long pull of the soda.
Finished swallowing he said, “I don’t trust the government either. Are we putting this to a vote?”
Reba raised her hand. “I vote for the coast.”
Everybody agreed, except Becker.
“Is this how it is?” he demanded. “Every time we do anything, we have to vote on it?”
“You can head downtown if you want. Nobody’s stopping you.”
Visibly put out, Becker remained silent.
“Now that we’ve got our destination figured out, we have to create a diversion for the creatures,” said Halverson.
Felix knocked back the rest of his soda. He crumpled the aluminum can and tossed it to the grass near a tombstone.
“You need to recycle that can,” said Reba.
Felix burst into laughter. He couldn’t help himself. “What are you gonna do? Bust me for littering? The whole city’s just a pile of rubbish now.”
Reba ignored him.
“What kind of a diversion?” she asked Halverson.
“The creatures are attracted to loud noises and bright lights,” he answered.
“What do you have in mind?”
Halverson cast around the cemetery grounds. “We could light a fire, but I don’t see anything we could use for kindling. Just tombstones all over the place.”
“The few palms here are already scorched,” added Felix.
“Then we’re screwed,” said Reba.
“Not necessarily,” said Halverson. “We do have one thing that burns here.”
“What’s that?”
“Human flesh.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Wait a minute,” said Felix. “What are you suggesting?” He shifted nervously on his feet.
“We need matches,” said Halverson.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I’ve got a lighter,” said Reba.
“Then all we need is an accelerant,” said Halverson. “Flesh won’t burn too well without an accelerant.”
“You’ve giving me the creeps talking like that.”
“You’re not the only one,” said Felix.
“I know what he wants to do,” Victoria piped up. “He wants to burn those creatures at the fence.”
Halverson nodded. “Those things will flare up like torches. What we need is kerosene or gasoline.”
“I think I saw some cans of gasoline in the shed,” said Felix. “Probably for the carts if they run out.”
“Perfect. I’ll check it out.”
Halverson clambered into a cart, fired the ignition, and started the vehicle. Instead of flicking on the headlights, he strapped the night-vision goggles on his head. The cemetery took on an eerie green aspect as he viewed it through the goggles.
He drove to the shed.
He parked in front of it and slid out of the cart. He entered the shed. As Felix had told him, there were four red metal gallon cans of gasoline in the shack.
Halverson gathered the four cans and distributed them in the storage well in the back of the cart. Within a span of five minutes he was back with the others.
He stopped his motor cart and doffed his NVGs from his head.
He wasn’t prepared for the sudden mood swing of his fellow survivors.
A pall seemed to have fallen over everyone.
“What’s the point?” said Felix. “If the whole country’s wrecked, why go on? What are we trying to prove?”
“If this is all we have to look forward to, what are we escaping to?” echoed Reba. “If you can call it ‘escaping.’”
“More of the same. Like I said, why bother?”
“We have to keep going,” said Halverson. “If we stay here, for sure those things out there will crash through the fence and kill us.”
“If the whole world’s like this, we’re just postponing the inevitable by going somewhere else,” said Felix.
“We have to keep going. Maybe the plague didn’t infect everybody.”
“Maybe we’ll find more survivors out there,” chipped in Victoria.
“What if we don’t?” said a disgruntled Felix.
“Then we keep on looking somewhere else,” said Halverson. “We can’t just stand here and wait to die.”
“Why not? It’s just as good as dying trying to escape here.”
“What’s eating you?” asked Victoria.
“I’m just trying to look at this mess realistically.”
“More like pessimistically, it sounds to me.”
“We’ll have a better chance of meeting other survivors if we head downtown,” put in Becker.
“Not you again,” said Reba. “I thought we decided against that.”
“It’s your funeral.”
“You’re bumming me out worse than Felix is.”
Felix started yelling at the top of his lungs. “Is there anybody else out there!”
The throbbin
g mass of undulating, sneering ghouls surrounding the fence moaned louder in response.
“Not you dweebs!” cried Felix.
A ghoul in its eighties, it looked like to Halverson, swung a heavy wooden cane in its hand clumsily. The ghoul didn’t seem to have a clue what to do with the walking stick. The creature clutched it in its hand as a habit from when it had been a man.
Clad in grimy, bloodstained, torn blue jeans, the creature stood well over six feet tall and had stiff grey hair that looked like it belonged on a wire brush. Scowling, the creature glowered with its sickly pale blue eyes at Felix.
“Looks like you made a new friend,” Reba told Felix.
“Everybody can’t be a zombie,” said Victoria. “There must be other people out there, decent people.”
Felix began making a weird sound, his head bowed on his chest. He clutched his head in both hands.
Puzzled, Halverson tried to figure out what Felix was doing.
In moments it dawned on Halverson that while the guy was grasping his bowed head he was erupting into laughter.
“This is so horrible, it’s funny!” howled Felix, letting go of his head, tilting it upward, and staring into the indigo sky.
Then, Halverson realized, Reba was laughing, too.
Everybody seemed amused, with the possible exception of Becker.
The hilarity annoyed the zombies no end. They shook the fence, clanging it, bending it to and fro. Impossible to describe, their moans became well and truly eldritch, racking everybody’s nerves and dissipating whatever ambience of levity there had been moments earlier.
Her face a mask of pain, Reba clasped her ears, trying to shut out the maddening clamor.
It looked to Halverson like she was coming unglued. They had to get out of here, he knew, before they all went nuts. If only those things would stop making that wretched, dirgelike wail! Kill all zombies! he thought.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s douse those things with gasoline. Use your lights this time. We want to attract them.”
He hopped into the motor cart, flicked on his headlights, and drove to the segment of the fence opposite the gate.
Shaking off her funk Reba drove after him. Felix and Victoria brought up the rear in the third cart. Becker hung back, his hands in his pockets.
Zombie Apocalypse Page 30
