Plague Nation

by Dana Fredsti

  I made another black check with satisfaction, and started to relax as I moved to trailer number three. Maybe Trailer Heaven’s residents had made it to a safe house, like the church or the fire station. Maybe the person who’d collected all those precious figurines, and the complete Star Trek: The Next Generation collector’s plate series, was secure at Big Red with the rest of the survivors. I hoped this was the case, even if I thought Hummel figurines were as tacky as velvet paintings of Elvis.

  Smiling at the thought, I opened the door to the third trailer without bothering to listen or knock.

  My bad.

  Rotting hands seized my arm and the front of my vest, yanking me inside before I could do more than yelp with surprise. My eyes watered as a wave of putrid stench rolled over me, and I found myself up close and personal with two zombies—a tall, skinny male wearing nothing but a pair of BVDs that had probably been gross before their occupant had died, and a female with a bouffant of lacquered red hair, skinny jeans on a frame that couldn’t be called skinny even with chunks of flesh missing, and a shredded skin-tight tank top that exposed a major muffin top stomach and one sagging breast. One arm was gone, leaving a mess of blood, gristle, and chewed flesh in its place. There was a hole where the other breast had been.

  Both zombies gripped my arms and torso, pulling me toward them with relentless hunger and threatening to dislocate my shoulders as they played a mindless tug-of-war. The woman’s mouth gaped open, a foul smell wafting out of it as she leaned in toward my neck.

  No you don’t, bitch.

  Yanking my arm free from her grip, I shoved my forearm under her chin as she tried to take a chunk out of me, in the process losing my grip on the M4, which clattered to the floor. Mr. Underwear hooked his fingers into the front of my vest and yanked me toward him, knocking my arm loose and giving the female zombie ample surface to bite. Luckily its teeth couldn’t penetrate the armored pads on my forearm. Even if I was immune to infection, I didn’t particularly want to have another chunk of my flesh ripped out.

  I slammed my right forearm into the female zombie’s head, sending it flailing backward into the kitchen. Its feet skidded on a floor coated with an indefinable mix of blood, rotted food, and goo that I didn’t want to think about. Then it slammed head first into one of the kitchen cupboards.

  But the impact wasn’t hard enough to take Ms. Zombie of Wal-Mart out of commission. It slowly and relentlessly managed to find its way back to its feet as I kicked the male zombie in the kneecap, feeling the patella shatter beneath the impact. It didn’t register pain, but the right leg buckled as it still grappled with me, trying to use my vest as leverage to pull me to its gaping, reeking mouth.

  There wasn’t enough Listerine in the world to cure this zombie’s halitosis.

  I kicked its other kneecap, stomping as hard as I could with the heel of my boot. That leg crumpled, as well, but it still clung to my vest with both rotting hands, and the sudden weight sent me toppling forward on top of the suddenly prone zombie. My hands plunged into the thing’s torso with a truly gross popping sound, as if I’d punctured the world’s nastiest balloon. The thing just moaned and gnashed its teeth as it tried to pull my face close enough to bite.

  I’d had enough of this shit.

  Giving a scream of disgust and fury, I pulled my hands out of its viscera, entwined my fingers together and went “Hulk, smash!” on its ass. I slammed both fists into its head with all my not inconsiderable strength. The skull, already weakened by decay, shattered beneath the blow. I followed up with another double-fisted strike, then burrowed one hand into the brain, fingers stiff, until I’d scrambled the sucker in its shell.

  The thing stopped moving and its hands finally gave up their death grip on my vest, flopping to the ground with a meaty thump.

  Meanwhile, Ms. Zombie had regained some traction and pulled herself back toward me across the gore-streaked floor as I struggled to a sitting position, scooting back until I was propped up against a wall. I stared at the thing, hating and pitying it at the same time.

  There was something almost hypnotic in its dead eyes and slow, relentless crawl. It wouldn’t stop. I knew that. I could get up, leave the trailer, and it would try its best to come after me. And that was what freaked me out the most, realizing that “you can run, but you can’t hide” could be the world’s new rule if we didn’t stop this plague in its tracks.

  “Right, then.”

  I stood up, grabbed a cast-iron pan from the counter, pausing to get a solid grip through all of the goo, and slammed it down on Lady Wal-Mart’s head. It only took one blow to drop the zombie in its tracks, but I gave it a second whack for good measure. And then a third because I wanted to punish someone... something... for fucking up my world so completely. The zombie was the closest thing at hand.

  And they wouldn’t let me beat the shit out of Dr. Albert.

  I tossed the pan to the floor, the sound clattering almost unbearably loudly in the small confines of the trailer. Brains and other viscous innards smeared my hands. I staggered over to the sink, hoping to wash up a bit, but stopped short at the sight of scum-crusted water. Bits of ancient food rose up to the surface to tell the tale of a nasty-ass clog that lay beneath. The thought of dipping my fingers in there, or getting hit by backsplash if I turned on the faucet, didn’t sit well with my already unhappy stomach.

  So I wiped my hands best as I could on a relatively clean dishtowel, dropping it over the female zombie’s face as I limped to the back of the trailer. My heart dropped when I saw a bag of Pampers on the hallway floor. Immediately regretting all the dead baby jokes I’d ever told, I reluctantly opened the bedroom door.

  A small crib stood under one of the windows, shut tightly against the chill air of a northern California autumn. Standing inside it on unsteady legs, clutching the bars of the crib with pudgy grayish-blue fingers, was a baby in a blood-splotched blue onesie. It couldn’t have been more than a year old when it died. It still had thick curls of white blond hair framing its face. Adorable fat baby cheeks had been lost to the beginnings of decay. I recognized the signs of Walker’s Flu—black fluids, now dried, trickling from the mouth, eyes, and nose, and noticed that the only blood on the baby’s skin was around its mouth. I winced as I realized what had happened to its mom’s missing breast.

  The baby made a low rattling noise in its throat, a sick parody of a normal infant’s gurgle.

  At least he hadn’t known the horror of being torn to pieces by his parents, no matter how sick he’d been. Poor little guy.

  I found a clean spot on my sleeve, and wiped some moisture away from under my eyes. I’d seen a lot of horrible things since this whole mess began, but somehow the sight of this baby, long past his feeding time, hit hard.

  “I don’t even like kids,” I told it, angrily dashing more tears away. It mewled at me, little mouth opening and closing as if suckling on a phantom bottle. I hardened my heart, drew my tanto, and did my job.

  But it really sucked.

  CHAPTER NINE

  * * *

  I stumbled out of that trailer like a prisoner released from a month of solitary. Fresh air had never smelled and felt so good. I nearly tripped on a hose coiled up next to the stairs, followed the end to a faucet and turned the water on, gratefully rinsing as much gore off my face and hands as possible. I wiped off the larger clots from my clothing, but nothing short of an Olympic pool full of hot water and bleach would even begin to decontaminate them.

  Kind of pointless, considering my day of fun-filled extermination wasn’t even close to finished yet.

  “You okay, Ash?”

  I glanced up to find Kai, looking as clean as he had when we’d started out that morning.

  “Yeah.” I gave my hands one more quick rinse. “Just reached my viscera limit, y’know?” A tiny involuntary shudder rippled through me as the baby’s undead face flashed through my mind.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Kai touched my shoulder. “You look kinda white.”
/>   I looked at his hand, the color of coffee with a splash of milk, as it rested on my shoulder.

  “You being racist, Lando?”

  Kai gave me a look.

  “Don’t change the subject. What’s up?”

  “Seriously, I’m okay.” I don’t know why I was so reluctant to tell him about the baby. Maybe I was afraid he’d make a joke out of it. And if he did, I’d have to kill him.

  “If you say so,” Kai said doubtfully. “But girl, you sure are a mess.”

  “Only compared to you, Mister Clean.”

  He grinned. “I’m like rubber, you’re like glue. Zombie shit bounces off me and sticks to you.”

  Maybe it was the adrenaline rush, but that struck me as hilarious. I started laughing, a deep belly laugh, and couldn’t stop. Kai’s grin grew wider and he broke into laughter, as well. It was one of those “once you start, you can’t stop” situations where your stomach hurts, but you still can’t stop.

  “Glad to know you two are having so much fun.”

  The voice of our increasingly snarky fearless leader dumped a bucket of ice water on our shared hilarity. Kai and I both looked up to see Gabriel giving us his patented “we are not amused” look.

  Wonderful. Just what I need.

  “I’ll just go check out the next trailer.” Kai’s hand dropped from my shoulder and he vanished across the lane.

  Gabriel walked up to me, looking beyond me to the trailer I’d just left.

  “Did you check out this one?” he demanded.

  “Yeah.”

  “Red or black?”

  It took me a moment to figure out what he was talking about, and then I realized I’d forgotten to mark the door. I pulled out my red Sharpie and made three large hatch marks on it.

  “Next time try keeping your mind on the job instead of your teammates,” he said flatly.

  That was it.

  “I just had to kill a baby, okay?” I took a step toward him, clutching my Sharpie so tightly it hurt. “I had to put it down like a little rabid puppy. So cut me some slack if I take a few minutes to collect myself, and excuse the fuck out of me if I can still find something to laugh about after that.”

  Running out of words, I threw the pen in frustration. It hit Gabriel on his chest and bounced right back at me. I grabbed it in mid-air and we glared at each other.

  “Nice catch.” The corners of his mouth twitched.

  “Thanks.”

  The tension between us practically crackled. He turned to leave, then stopped and looked back at me.

  “Are you okay to keep going?” His bearing was stiff, and his tone overly formal.

  I nodded with equal stiffness, then looked at him closely, noting the telltale dark circles under his eyes and the faint beads of moisture on abnormally pale skin.

  “Are you?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” He patted his pocket. “I’m due in a couple of hours.”

  “Maybe you should take it now.”

  Gabriel hesitated. “Maybe I will.”

  Then he left me to my job.

  CHAPTER TEN

  * * *

  With every trailer we cleared, it got easier to tell when zombies were inside the next one. Thanks to the ruckus, they were agitated now that they realized tasty treats were close by, and the sound of moans and rattling hinges made it obvious that, when the door was opened, one would be springing out like a decayed Jack-in-the-Box.

  By the time we’d finished clearing the area, I’d personally dispatched around a dozen of the undead, all of them trapped in their former homes. They were rattling around like marbles in tin cans, unable to figure out how to escape, and lacking the motivation or strength to knock out a window or bust through a door.

  Our teams met up in the middle of the park, on the brilliantly named “Middle Lane.” Lil ran over to me, her pint-sized pickaxe and clothes equally spattered with all sorts of nasty goo.

  “I killed at least ten!” She grinned up at me, eyes alight with a glee I found disturbing. I wasn’t sure if I should pat her on the head with a “That’s nice, dear,” or sign her up for psychotherapy. Before I had a chance to decide, Tony plunked himself in between us, Thor’s Wee Hammer dripping with gore.

  “That’s nothing,” he boasted. “I took out at least that many in the first two rows.”

  “Piker,” Kai said. “I had one trailer with six.”

  “And I killed ten with a single blow,” I muttered, wondering when our search-and-destroy missions had turned into a game of one-upmanship.

  All three looked at me blankly. Classic fairy-tale fail.

  “They’re young,” Mack said, giving me a pat on the shoulder.

  There was a trailer set back in the trees off to the right side of the park. It was somewhat nicer than its neighbors, with a covered porch running around the front. A sign proclaimed it as the manager’s office, and there was a bell to ring for help.

  “Anyone got that one yet?” Gabriel gestured to the trailer.

  I hadn’t. I looked at Tony and Kai, who both shook their heads. Same with Team B.

  A flash of irritation passed over Gabriel’s face. He suppressed it with a visible effort, and I sincerely hoped he got his meds soon.

  “Okay, you guys take a break,” he said. “I’ll get this one.”

  Gravel and redwood chips crunched beneath his feet as Gabriel walked over to the trailer. He had his hand on the door handle when his radio squawked. He stopped in mid-turn and answered it. I did my best to eavesdrop, but between the howling wind and Lil, Tony, and Kai boasting about their kills, even my wild card hearing didn’t suffice.

  Whatever the message was, it didn’t look good. Gabriel’s face went all grim and tense.

  “Change of plans,” he said. “One of the other search-and-destroy teams found something. They want us over there ASAP. I need to talk to Professor Fraser before we go, so one of you go check out the trailer, okay? It seemed quiet.”

  Kai stepped forward before Lil or Tony had a chance to volunteer.

  “Allow me,” he said, unhooking his crowbar.

  “Hell, no,” Tony said. “This one’s mine.”

  “That’s not fair.” Lil frowned. “You both had more kills than I did.”

  Kai grinned. “Race you.” He and Tony darted forward, Lil hot on their heels as the three jockeyed for position.

  Mack nudged me, following Lil with anxious eyes.

  “You know, Ash, I’m worried about her. I know we have to kill these things, but she really seems to enjoy it.”

  “It stops her from thinking about her mother,” I said. “She has to have something to take out her anxiety on, so I guess we have to look at it as therapy.”

  Really gross therapy.

  Kai and Lil elbowed each other out of the way, inadvertently giving Tony the lead. Mack and I watched their antics with a sort of fond disapproval. Gabriel and Gentry ignored them, too busy conferring about the news that had come over the radio. I still wondered what had stopped Mr. Freeze in his tracks.

  “You have any kids?” I asked Mack.

  He shook his head.

  “Nope. And this is why.”

  We grinned in mutual understanding.

  It looked like Tony would reach the door first, by virtue of his long stride, but Kai did a body check as Tony hit the porch stairs, slowing them both down and giving Lil the opportunity to bob and weave in between the two. She would have made it, if Kai hadn’t seized the back of her Kevlar vest, pulling her up short as she reached for the doorknob. He dodged around her and slammed his palm against the door in triumph.

  “First!”

  “No fair!” Lil gave Kai a solid whack on one shoulder, knocking him to one side. Tony joined the fray and the three jostled one another like puppies fighting over a toy. None of them noticed as the door swung open and something long and metallic protruded from the gap.

  It took me a split second to place the object—it was the barrel of a shotgun. But the delay was a split second too
long. My shout of warning echoed simultaneously with the deafening percussion of the shotgun being fired.

  Kai flew backward as if punched in the gut by a giant fist. I heard the kachunk of another round being chambered. Even as Kai’s back hit the railing that ran the length of the porch, another shot ripped out. I saw the top of Kai’s head vaporize in a mist of blood, brains and flesh. His body cracked through the railing and thudded to the ground below.

  “Man down!” I recognized Gentry’s voice even as I screamed Kai’s name, my cries mingling with Tony’s and Lil’s.

  Someone barreled into me, arms wrapped around my waist and knocking me to the ground even as another shotgun blast ripped through the air where I’d been standing.

  A shriek of fury rose above the wind, a wordless battle cry.

  “Lil?”

  I lifted my head, only to have it shoved back down by whoever knocked me ass over teakettle in the first place.

  “Stay down!”

  It was Gabriel. He lay on top of me, his body shielding mine. I was torn between frustration that he wouldn’t let me go to Lil, and gratification that his first instinct had been to protect me.

  Two more shots shattered the air. I heard Tony give a holler, then sounds of fists hitting flesh, bodies slamming against hard surfaces.

  Gabriel loosened his hold and stood up. I scrambled to my feet, barely conscious of his helping hand. I pulled away and dashed toward the trailer, dimly aware of Tony and Lil, wrestling with someone just inside the door. They could handle it.

  My first priority was Kai.

  He’d landed on the ground between two large hydrangeas and at first all I saw was an arm stretched out, as if trying to escape the tendrils of blood trickling out from a larger puddle. Time slowed down as I took one, then another step forward until I could see his entire body. I focused on his other arm, bent awkwardly under his torso. I wondered if it was broken.