Rocky Mountain Die

by Jake Bible

  “You don’t know us,” Stella snaps. “Don’t judge until you do.”

  “And you don’t know us,” Amy says, hooking a thumb over her shoulder towards the others. Joe is quickly getting the warped roof access doors put back up. He pulls out a handheld welder from his pack and gets to work while Mickey and Trent put down the last of the Zs one by one with pistols. “See them? We used to never go out without teams of at least a dozen. Don’t have that luxury anymore because we don’t have those numbers anymore.”

  “Yeah, survival is a bitch,” I say. “But we just crossed over half the country to get here. We’ve lost a lot of people too, but we’ve also gotten half our people here while dealing with psycho Lizard Jesuses and zombie herds the size of a Bonnaroo crowd.”

  “Lizard Jesus?” Amy asks. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Some cult leader guy named Kelvin and his shotgun acolytes,” I say. “We ran into them back in Illinois. No bueno.”

  “You ran into Kelvin? Kelvin Holston? And you got away?” Amy asks, looking impressed. “How? No one gets away from the Tomb.”

  “Am I the only one that isn’t part of this apocalyptic conspiracy club?” I ask. “How the hell do you know Lizard Jesus?”

  Amy frowns and Stella says, “That’s what he’s named Kelvin. My husband is big on the nicknames.”

  “Joe? You okay?” Amy calls out.

  “Yeah, I got this,” he replies as he continues working on the doors.

  Amy crouches next to me.

  “Do you think these survivor pockets are random?” Amy asks. “Do you think the cities that have been destroyed just fell on bad luck?”

  “No?” I respond. “Yes? You tell me.”

  “Nothing is random,” she says. “The reason certain areas have survived is because they have had folks like me, like Kelvin Holston, like Camille Thornberg, keeping things together.”

  “And Asheville?” I ask. “We did a good job keeping it together there in Whispering Pines.”

  “Bang-up job,” Amy says.

  “Vance,” Stella says. “Edward Vance.”

  Amy laughs then holds out a hand to apologize. “Sorry. Vance was a placeholder. He was prepping the area for Anthony Mondello.”

  “That didn’t work out so well,” I say. “I killed them both.”

  “Right,” Amy smirks then sees the look on Stella’s face. “You killed Vance and Mondello? You’re that guy?”

  “I’m that guy,” I smile then pause. “Wait, what guy? The hero guy? Because if you mean the hero guy then that’s me.”

  “Technically, the Zs got Mondello,” Stella says. “But that happened because of Jace.”

  “I kill by proxy too,” I say.

  “Shit,” Amy says, her entire demeanor changing. “You’re that guy. You’re those people. Hmmm.” She’s lost in thought for a few seconds then clears her throat. “What about Kelvin? What happened to him? How’d you get away?”

  “Teamwork,” I say. “Kelvin sacrificed himself with some big speech and then let the Zs eat him.”

  “Did he quote the Bible?” Amy asks.

  “Yep,” I reply.

  “Figures,” Amy says. “How many of his people did you get to come with you?”

  “None,” I say. “He’d already killed all his followers and turned them into Zs. They were waiting for us in the pit when we came in through the backdoor.”

  “All of them? He killed everyone?” Amy gasps.

  “Except for some of his shotgun acolytes, but we won the showdown and then it was all over,” I say.

  “It was hardly all over,” Stella says. “It was a lot more complicated than that and we lost a lot of our allies, especially the cannies.”

  “Cannies,” Amy sighs. “Not too keen on them.”

  “No one is,” I say. “But numbers are numbers and they haven’t taken a bite out of anyone yet.”

  “Give them time,” Amy says.

  Several bursts of gunfire come from the children’s hospital then it goes quiet. Stella wheels me around so I can see and it looks like they have the Zs under control.

  “Shooters?” I ask.

  Amy holds her hand out and Stella reluctantly gives her the binoculars. She scans the area then shakes her head. “No sign of the shooters.” She pulls the binoculars away and shouts over her shoulder, “Our helpful guests are MIA. Eyes sharp in case they turn their sights on us.”

  “Not much we can do up here,” I say. “We’re kind of sitting ducks. If they wanted to kill us, they would have already.”

  “Doesn’t mean we don’t stay cautious,” Amy replies. She sighs and gives the binoculars back to Stella.

  “Is that the pyre you were talking about?” Stella asks, pointing northwest.

  “That is,” Amy says, shielding her eyes from the bright daylight. “Good for those boys. Now we just have to hope Crumb is paying attention. That old bastard spends half his time sleeping on the job instead of watching for the pyres. But he’s the only one that will volunteer to stay down here in the city and keep the pyres maintained and ready.”

  “Why pyres?” I ask.

  “Easy way to communicate without making a lot of noise,” Amy says. “Noise brings the dead.”

  “No shit,” I say. “But why not use radios?”

  “They can be overheard,” Amy says. “We’ve made that mistake before.”

  “We’ve got a guy that can program them to private channels,” I say. “Maybe he could—”

  “Tried that,” Amy says. “There’s no such thing as private anymore.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call a pyre private either,” I say.

  “Is he always like this?” Amy snaps, exasperated.

  “He’s always like this,” Stella says. “Jace likes poking holes in plans and theories.”

  “But I’m guessing he hates it when people poke holes in his plans and theories,” Amy says, smirking.

  “Detests it,” Stella agrees.

  “I’m sitting right here, people,” I say. “No need to be jerks.”

  ***

  It’s another hour before the chopper returns. Amy and Nick have a quiet heart to heart away from us, both continually looking from us to over at the children’s hospital and back to us. Joe, Mickey, and Trent stay off to the side, their rifles slung casually against their sides. A little too casually. Like that’s how they want it to look. Don’t blame them. They should stay cautious. I would.

  “You think they’re going to leave us?” Stella asks. “I’m getting a ‘ditch the new people’ vibe.”

  “I don’t think they’ll ditch us,” I say. “Not all of us, at least. They’re trying to figure out what to do with us, though. We may not like their decision.”

  There’s the distinct sound of helicopter rotors and I painfully look northwest and see a second chopper heading our way. It’s obviously the backup chopper since the thing looks like it’s being held together with spit and chewing gum as it gets close.

  “That looks promising,” Stella says. Then it passes by us and is lost from sight. “Or not.”

  Amy walks over and her face is not a happy face.

  “We’ve talked it over and right now we aren’t comfortable taking you up to Boulder,” Amy says. “Not until we know more about you and about the numbers coming after you. Once we have more information, we’ll make our decision then.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?” Stella snaps. “You’re not going to leave us up here, are you?”

  “What? No,” Amy says. “You have children over there and these buildings are no longer secure. No, we are going to ferry your people back and forth to Buckley until we have you all dropped off. We’ll be able to refuel our helicopters and return to Boulder. Once everyone has had a vote then we’ll come back and let you know what has been decided.”

  “Damn, so I guess you do have an HOA,” I say.

  “No, we just have a democratic process that helps keep people pacified by thinking that their voices ar
e being heard,” Amy says.

  “And how’s that working for you?” I ask.

  “As well as anything else these days,” she replies then focuses on Stella. “We are not leaving you and your people to die, alright? If the vote comes out against bringing you in then we will make sure you get safely over the Rockies and on your way to one of the other large enclaves. The Temple or Circuit City.”

  “Are they still there?” Stella asks. “Kramer isn’t so sure they are still there.”

  “Kramer isn’t as smart as he thinks he is,” Amy says. “And he won’t be a concern anymore. No matter what is decided, Kramer stays with us. We’ll need him.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Because Camille Thornberg needs him,” Amy says. “And that is good enough.”

  “Who are you?” I ask. “What the hell did you do before Z-day?”

  “I’m Amy Lowden,” Amy replies. “And I worked in a deep hole. I still do.”

  “Oh, well, now that that’s cleared up,” I growl. “Please, exile us to an old army base.”

  “Air Force,” Amy corrects.

  “Fuck you,” I reply.

  “Jace,” Stella warns. “Let’s be nice to the woman that has our lives in her hands.”

  “At least she has two hands,” I say and try to wiggle Stumpageddon, but am quickly reminded about the gunshot wound in my shoulder. There might be some tears. Might be. “Ow.”

  “He lost his arm when he fought off Mondello and kept the man from killing our son,” Stella says. “The Zs didn’t just take that piece of shit, they took my husband’s arm, as well.”

  “I am sorry,” Amy says. “I truly am. Everything you’ve said about yourselves is exactly what we need up in Boulder, but we have to assess the entire situation. This is beyond helping some traveling survivors.”

  Then I get it and, oh, the motherfucking irony!

  “Bums,” I sigh. “We’re the bums.”

  “What’s that?” Amy asks. “What’s he talking about?”

  “Back where we lived in Asheville, our subdivision was walled and gated,” Stella explains. “Anytime survivors would come by, we would turn them back. We called them bums.”

  “Now we’re the bums,” I repeat.

  “What happened if they didn’t want to leave?” Amy asks.

  “What happens if we don’t want to leave?” I respond.

  “Point taken,” she nods.

  She looks up at the sun and shakes her head.

  “We better hurry if we’re going to get you all moved in and secured before night,” she says. “You don’t want to be exposed at night.”

  “Is night worse than day?” I ask.

  “That’s when the crazies come out,” Amy replies.

  “The gangs?” Stella asks.

  “The crazies,” Amy says, shaking her head.

  “Oh,” Stella and I say at the same time.

  Crazies suck.

  ***

  It takes a while to shuttle us all to Buckley Air Force base, but Nick and the other chopper finally get us moved from the hospitals and into a huge aircraft hangar close to the center of the base.

  We got a good look and the fence system seemed to be in place when we flew over. That’ll slow down any Zs that decide to come hunting for a midnight snack. Of course, being an experienced survivor of the zombie apocalypse, I don’t trust any fence system. Not even one I design. Not 100%. Fences are always breached. Always.

  The second chopper lifts off and is gone, heading into the setting sun with Amy, leaving Nick behind to tuck us in and sing night night songs.

  “We’ve used this hangar a lot,” Nick says. “It’s a good place to get to before we make a push through Denver if we’re on foot. I’ve done more than a few repairs on my bird inside here.”

  He points to the open hangar doors.

  “Pull those shut and you’ll see the system of levers and bars,” Nick says. “It’s self-explanatory and designed so that even if it was only kids stuck in here, they’d figure it out and stay safe.”

  “Of course kids would figure it out,” I snap. “That’s what kids do. Figure shit out.”

  “Cut the crap, Long Pork,” Critter says. “Let the man explain how we’re going to stay alive.”

  I roll my eyes, but shut up. Lourdes, Stuart, Melissa, Critter, Stella, and John stand in front of Nick as he uncomfortably starts pointing out the features of the hangar.

  “Bathrooms are over there,” he says. “We keep rain barrels on the roof, so the toilets should flush. If not then grab a bucket from those shelves and do it manually. Water barrels are in that corner. Blue are potable, grey are, well, grey. Runoff and the like. Use that. Try not to waste too much, if you can. We’re in Colorado and things can get dry here. If it’s yellow, keep it mellow and all that.”

  “Yeah, we’ve been living in the apocalypse too,” I say. “We get the conservation thing.”

  “Long Pork, hush,” Critter snaps. “Damn, boy, let the man speak.”

  I hurt like a motherfucker and I’m just not in the mood for the camp counselor speech. I’m also really pissed they didn’t even ask one of us to go up into the Stronghold and represent our group. Fuckers. They’re gonna have their little vote and ninety-nine percent of them won’t even have a clue that we are real people. Just anonymous bums put in an old hangar.

  Nick keeps talking and I zone out. No point in listening. He’s doing his best to show everyone what the hangar has to offer, but really he looks like a guy that’s been playing with a stray dog in the park all day and now wants to get home to his real pets back at his nice, plush condo.

  “Condo?” Nick asks. “I live in an airstream trailer with no A/C.”

  Everyone is looking at me. Shit.

  “How much of that was out loud?” I ask.

  “Was there much before the stray dog in the park bit?” Stuart asks.

  “Nope, not really,” I reply.

  “Then we heard it all,” Stuart says.

  “Sorry,” I say to my people. Not so sorry to Nick. Fuck this guy.

  “Still out loud,” Stuart says.

  “Dammit!” I yell then wince as daggers made of glass rip through my head.

  Nick looks at me like I’m the wild homeless guy outside McDonald’s. I don’t blame him.

  “If you have radios, stay off them,” Nick says. “Seriously, folks, stay off them. The last thing you want is for any of the crazies, or others, to zero in on your location. And they will. The dead aren’t the only ones that like to hunt.”

  “We can help clear them out for you,” Lourdes says. “Clear out the crazies and the others. We have worth beyond just adding to your numbers. I doubt you have folks trained like us.”

  “Ain’t nobody trained like us,” Elsbeth says, as she saunters up to us. She smacks John on the ass and gives him a huge smile. “You. Me. Later. Yum.”

  Then she turns around and walks away.

  “Hey! El!” I call out. “Wait up!” I glance at Nick. “We done here?”

  “Yeah,” Nick says. “I know Amy told you we’d have the vote first thing in the morning. So expect a chopper to arrive sometime in the afternoon. We’ll bring some food along, no matter what the outcome of the vote. We aren’t cruel people, just cautious.”

  “Understood,” Lourdes says. “And thank you for letting us keep our weapons. Not all groups would have done that.”

  “What would have happened if we’d tried to take them away?” Nick asks.

  “Nothing good,” Lourdes admits.

  “Then letting you keep them is better for everyone,” Nick says. He starts to say more then nods, turns, and walks out of the hangar.

  “Bye now!” I call out.

  “What you want, Long Pork?” Elsbeth asks, grabbing my wheelchair and rolling me towards the back of the hangar.

  “I want to talk about the help we got today,” I say. “Those shooters that thinned the Zs out for us.”

  We get to the bathroom door and Elsbeth
turns us around and pushes the door open with her back as she wheels me in backwards.

  “Uh, El? You need to use the bathroom?” I ask.

  “Yep,” Elsbeth says and parks me in front of a stall. “We can talk while I go.”

  I don’t care. I’m used to it. Jesus, El’s dropped trou and pissed in front of me a hundred times. At least now I’ll have the stall door between us.

  “Were those your sisters helping us?” I ask. “They sure did know how to shoot.”

  “Lots of people know how to shoot, Long Pork,” Elsbeth replies as her pants hit the ground and I hear her settle in on the commode. “This is America. Ain’t no shortage of shooters. Nope.”

  “This is the apocalypse, El,” I reply. “Plenty of shortage of— Jesus! Are you taking a shit?”

  “Yep,” she replies. “Feels good to use a toilet. I’m tired of digging holes.”

  “Damn, El,” I say as I cover my nose. “Warn a guy next time, will ya?”

  The bathroom door opens and Dr. McCormick walks in. She sees me outside the stall, hears Elsbeth doing her business, then turns around and walks back out. I’d go with her, but a one-armed man is useless with a wheelchair as we have established. I ain’t going nowhere.

  “Be straight and tell me if those were your sisters, please,” I say. “Stop being all secretive and shit. I need an actual answer.”

  She flushes and opens the stall, her pants still around her ankles. At least she pulled up her underpants. She smiles at me, moves past, and tries one of the sinks, but it doesn’t turn on. She sighs heavily as if this is the biggest disappointment in her life.

  “You can wash up outside,” I say. “But first, answer my question.”

  Elsbeth looks at me for a while then nods.

  “Sure,” she says. “They were probably my sisters. I can’t say for sure, though, Long Pork. I was busy killing Zs. All I saw was heads going pop, pop, pop.”

  “You said back at the bookstore that your sisters were waiting for the signal,” I say. “What signal? Why wait? Why not join us now?”

  “Long Pork, you sure are dumb,” Elsbeth says. “What happens if they join us?”

  “Uh, we add some bad asses to our numbers?” I reply.