Rocky Mountain Die

by Jake Bible

  What tension? The tension coming off my wife who is standing behind me and glaring daggers at Marcie. I don’t even have to be looking at Stella to know she is the glarer of daggers.

  “My only worry is the tanker truck,” I continue. “It doesn’t have a cage around it.”

  “It won’t need it,” Audrey replies.

  “You sure?” I ask. “Because you’ll look mighty tasty inside that cab. Especially when the Zs find out the tanker isn’t full of people juice.”

  “Not all of them can climb,” Audrey says. “Only some. We put a wedge on the front, which should be good enough. They can’t tip me over so I’m just not that worried.”

  “Knock on wood,” Stella says.

  “What?” Audrey replies.

  “Knock on wood,” Stella repeats. “You’re tempting fate when you say things like that. I don’t care how badass you bitches think you are, but fate will kick the shit out of you just as much as it has kicked the shit out of us.”

  “Bitches?” Antoinette frowns. “That’s kind of harsh, don’t you think?”

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” Stella replies. “I meant that you are badass bitches, not that you are bitches that are badass.”

  “Way to clear that up, Mom,” Charlie says.

  “Sorry,” Stella says. “I’m tired. Thank you for all of your help.”

  “No problem,” Marcie says. “Anything for Chuck and his family.”

  “On that note, how about we all turn in?” I say before Stella can make it worse.

  Everyone is looking at me and smiling. Except Stella. She’s not smiling so much.

  “Was the Stella making it worse part out loud?” I ask.

  “Totally,” Marcie says.

  “What she said,” Charlie adds. “Maybe don’t clarify with the actual insult next time, Dad. Just my advice.”

  “Noted,” I respond as everyone says their goodnights and wanders back into the hangar.

  Except for Stella and me.

  “Sorry,” I say.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she replies. “This is all just too hard. I don’t think there is a way I can handle it and not make things worse.”

  “You’re doing great,” I say. “Parenting isn’t easy in the best of times. In the zombie apocalypse? We start off epically fucked.”

  “You know some folks don’t think the cages will work,” Stella says after a couple seconds of silence. “If this all falls apart, they are going to blame you. They’re going to blame us. This could be the last leg of our journey no matter how it turns out.”

  “You think these people will turn on us after everything we’ve done for them?” I ask.

  “I think terrified people do stupid things when they get even more terrified,” Stella replies. “We have to be careful. We have to have a plan in place if things go south.”

  “I think the Zs eating us will take away any need for a things going south plan,” I say.

  “I’m serious, Jace,” she snaps. “What if the cages don’t work and we get stuck in the middle of Denver? Do you have any ideas on how to get us out of that?”

  “I’m working on some,” I reply. But she doesn’t believe me. I can tell.

  I don’t blame her. I hardly believe myself these days.

  ***

  Two of the sisters -Lacy and Steph- open the base gates as our caged convoy begins its journey. The two women stab and bash quite a few Zs then grab onto the cage of one of the RVs as it rolls by. It sucks we have to leave the gates open, especially since there are still some salvageable supplies on the base, but we can’t risking losing two sisters just to keep the Zs from trespassing. We’ll come back later and clear them out.

  If there is a later.

  “There will be,” Stella says. “And try to keep the thoughts in your head.”

  “My bad,” I say. “Was I loud?”

  “No,” she says. “I’m the only one that heard you.”

  “Except for me,” Buzz says from the driver’s seat. “But I won’t tell. I’m thinking the exact same thoughts. We probably all are.”

  My wheelchair is strapped in between the driver’s seat and the passenger’s seat where Stella sits. I want to look behind me, but I can’t turn my head without screaming. Doesn’t matter, I know what it all looks like. Everyone has their assignments.

  The plan is to take Colfax as far as we can. If we’re lucky, we’ll get all the way to Federal Boulevard and then cut up to the Denver Boulder Turnpike. The sisters say it is clear most of the way because when Z-Day happened, people were getting the hell out of Denver, not trying to get into it. Most of the streets aren’t clogged at all. Not with cars, at least. They are plenty clogged with Zs.

  But that’s why God made chain-link cages.

  And we quickly find that clogged roads aren’t the issue. Turns out that RVs with chain link cages around them don’t corner so well. Let me rephrase: they corner fine, but getting them around corners isn’t the easiest.

  We hit a snag as soon as the first one turns onto Colfax.

  Despite Amy’s warning, which we now take with a grain of salt, we are still using our radios to communicate. It’s efficient and efficiency is what’s going to keep us alive. If crazies want to listen in, or Camille and her Consortium army are monitoring all channels, then fuck ‘em. They can have fun eavesdropping on our survival banter.

  “Hey, Buzz?” Pup calls from the lead RV.

  “Yeah?” Buzz asks.

  “I’m stuck on a street sign,” Pup responds. “Like really stuck. I’m afraid I’ll rip this RV in half if I try to gun through it.”

  “The supports should tear out before that happens,” I say. “Or the chain link will rip. The RV will be fine.”

  “But it’ll be exposed,” Buzz says.

  “True,” I reply. “Anyone have any thoughts?”

  “We get out there and get it unhooked,” Stella says.

  There really isn’t any “we” in the plan. Marcie is up and out of the stuck RV in seconds. She climbs through the top hatch, hustles over to the edge, jumps down onto the chain link (which holds just fine) and rips off the street sign. Rips it right off. With her bare hands.

  We all stare a bit.

  She’s back up and in the RV before even half a dozen Zs take notice.

  “It was barely hanging on,” Charlie says over the radio, reading everyone’s minds. “She doesn’t have super strength.”

  “Or do I?” Marcie laughs as she takes over the radio.

  “Hey, give it back,” Charlie says.

  There is some playful banter over the tug of war and it helps relieve the tension quickly.

  On we go.

  We’re about a mile up Colfax when the Z herd starts to get thick. Before that, we’d dealt with stragglers and easily passed them by. Those that wanted to hang onto the cages ended up getting their rotted arms ripped right out of their rotted shoulders.

  Not so much now.

  “This will take days at this pace,” Buzz says, staring at the speedometer. It barely registers our speed. “We’re in a slow motion race to nowhere.”

  “That’s going to be the title of my memoirs,” I say.

  “You say everything is going to be the title of your memoirs,” Stella sighs. “You are not going to write any memoirs.”

  “One day, maybe,” I reply. “When we’re old and the grandchildren stop coming around to play with us. Then I’ll sit down and write them.”

  Stella and Buzz both glance at me and I can’t figure out the looks on their faces.

  “What?” I ask.

  “That was a pretty optimistic thing to say,” Stella replies. “You think we’ll have a place safe enough to have grandchildren play with us?”

  “Fuck yeah,” I respond. “Otherwise what the hell are we doing all of this for?”

  “Plain survival?” Buzz says.

  “Fuck plain survival,” I say, frowning. “That’s no different than running out the clock. I want to win. I want to b
uild somewhere safe and keep it safe. I want to have people talk about us for decades to come like we are the motherfucking Founding Fathers and shit.”

  “Founding Parents,” Stella corrects. “Fuck the patriarchy.”

  “Exactly,” I nod. “Fuck the patriarchy. That shit will be gone and so will racism and bigotry.”

  “Really?” Buzz laughs. “You plan on populating your utopia with robots? Because that’s the only way to get rid of that stuff. Humans can be animals. Keep them together long enough and they’ll revert back to bigoted ways. It may not be the next generation or the generation after that, but eventually it will happen.”

  “I would appreciate it if you didn’t crap on my dream, Mr. Fitzpatrick,” I say.

  Buzz shrugs. “I’m not crapping, just talking.”

  “Good talk from a farm boy,” I say. “Most folks would peg you for a dumb redneck. I know better.”

  “Fitzpatricks are a lot of things, but they ain’t dumb,” Buzz laughs.

  “We’re about to get into it,” Stuart calls from the lead RV. “Eyes open, people.”

  The front of our caged convoy is led by one of the Humvees. We have them spaced out between the RVs, giving the convoy some flexibility if it needs it. They have better maneuverability, even with their mini-cages on.

  The real herd of Zs is about as bad as I thought it would be. We hit a wall of undead flesh. They are rotted shoulder to rotted shoulder all the way across the four lanes of Colfax Avenue. As far as we can see are nothing but Zs. There has to be a full mile of them.

  “One point three miles before we hit a break,” Lourdes says over the radio. “Then we’re looking at maybe four miles before we hit another wave.”

  Another wave. This is what life is now, wading through an ocean of the undead. We are Z surfing in the Endless Winter. Maybe that’s what my memoirs should be called? The Endless Winter.

  “The winter will end,” Stella says. “Be quiet.”

  “It’s not like I mean to talk out loud,” I say. “Just feel lucky I’m not a drooling idiot.”

  Buzz snickers.

  “Fuck you, Fitzpatrick,” I say. “I don’t drool.” Stella reaches out and wipes the corners of my mouth with her sleeve. “Son of a bitch.”

  “I’m not laughing at you,” Buzz says. “I’m laughing at the fact that the guy who’s had brain surgery is the one that designed our cages. It’s funny that none of us thought to second guess you.”

  “Bullshit,” I say. “You guys always second guess me.”

  “Third guess then,” Buzz says. “Point is, we all went for it. Jace comes up with a design, we get to work.”

  “I’m dynamic that way,” I say and smack the arm of my wheelchair. “Not like I contribute much else anymore.”

  “No pity,” Stella says. “Pity will get you booted off this RV.”

  “No problem,” I smirk. “I’ll just grab the chain link and go along for the ride. It’s how I roll.”

  Do I need to say that Buzz and Stella groan? Loudly? Probably not.

  The Humvee hits the Zs hard and we can see the chain link bow and start to crumple. But it holds. It also slows to a crawl as the truck tries to power through the herd. It’s quickly engulfed in undead, but that doesn’t mean it’s all over for the little Humvee that maybe could.

  Marcie is up out of the RV hatch again and she’s banging pots and pans together, making as much noise as possible. This is part of the plan, just so you know.

  “They’re taking the bait,” Stella says. “Look. Half the Zs are ignoring the Humvee and heading to the RV.”

  It’s true. We watch as the Zs shamble back to the RV, drawn by the kitchenware symphony. The Humvee up front starts to get a little more traction and our convoy speeds up slightly. In seconds, the RV that Marcie is on is surrounded then the Humvee behind it. In less than a minute, we are afloat in the middle of the Z sea.

  Now, here’s the thing. At no time did I think we’d roll through the streets with our happy little chain-link cages and the Zs would just hiss and gnash their teeth. I knew they’d grab onto the chain link. I knew they’d start shoving, pushing, pulling, and freaking out to try to get in at us.

  I also knew they’d climb.

  Most of the Zs we drive through are your regular shamblers; just good ol’ boys out for a stroll, hoping to catch some human snacks. The new ones, the ones that like to get all zippy and zoomy, may be in the minority, but they sure aren’t slackers. They take the initiative and grab that chain link and start to climb.

  “Up top,” I call out. “Everyone.”

  I can’t turn around, but I can glance up in the small rear-view mirror set just above the windshield. It’s funny that RVs have rear-view mirrors. Their only purpose is to look at the people in the vehicle, not to look out for what’s behind the vehicle. People are scrambling to climb up out of the hatch and onto the roof. I hear their heavy footsteps and start to wonder how much weight the roof is rated for.

  Probably should have thought of that before. Oh, well.

  Here’s the cool part of my plan. I knew the Zs would come at us. I knew they’d start to climb and try to get inside the cage. So I made sure we had some type of defense against them. Razor wire across the tops of the cages was one idea, but we quickly realized it would just tangle a bunch of Zs and end up weighing the cage down until it tore free. No, we needed something that would not only keep the Zs from getting in the cages, but would kill them and send them packing.

  I can’t watch what’s happening with my RV, but I can see what’s going on with the RV up ahead of us. Marcie is up there along with a dozen others. Charlie is one of them, of course, and I see Stella tense up every time that RV shudders or bounces. I know she’s saying prayers that he doesn’t take a tumble and end up run over or chum in the Z ocean.

  Everyone braces themselves using straps that we rigged to go around their waists and hook to the cargo bars on the roof. Helps the whole falling and dying thing Stella is worried about. Then they pick up sharpened poles and get to work.

  The poles are actually leftovers from the chain link frames. Some of our more handy folks sliced the ends so they are pointy and sharp as shit. We did a couple of tests on the Zs out by the base fences to make sure they work. Yeah, they fucking work.

  I watch as Marcie, Charlie, and the other folks take aim and start spearing the climby Zs’ skulls. The poles work perfectly and slice right through the Z heads, pulping them instantly. The Zs tumble over dead, falling back onto the Z ocean or falling inside the cages where most of them are just left behind or get squashed by some heavy-duty RV tires.

  Stella turns her head and tries not to gag as a few of the spears end up acting like geysers for Z blood and brains. They’re hollow tubes, so when someone puts some extra force into a spear lunge, a little bit of juice comes spurting out the other end. She’s not the only one gagging. Quite a few of the people on top of the RVs are turning and retching. I’m guessing the smell is pretty bad. Like a rancid fart in an empty-wrapping paper tube.

  “Quarter mile to go,” Lourdes calls out over the radio.

  She’s right. We’re a lot farther along than I thought we’d get. Not that I didn’t think the plan would work, I totally knew it would work. It’s just that there are always snags, always unforeseen circumstances that rear their ugly heads. So far there has been no rearing.

  The stabbing and spurting is mesmerizing and I’m completely lost on the brutal ballet of it all when I hear cheers from up on our roof.

  “What?” I ask then realize we are moving out of the Z sea and into open road. “Oh. Holy shit.”

  “It worked, man.” Buzz laughs. “You crazy, lucky son of a bitch.”

  “Don’t let your dad’s ghost hear that kind of language,” I smile.

  “I think this time he’d agree with me,” Buzz replies.

  Big Daddy Fitzpatrick was a man of God and didn’t broker no foul language. No, sir. But I’d say Buzz is right and he’d allow an exception this ti
me.

  “Keep your eyes peeled, people,” Lourdes says. “You know how open space can be.”

  We stare out the windshield at the road ahead of us. Far off we can see the makings of another Z herd, but for now it’s only abandoned cars by the curbs and an undead straggler here and there.

  “Jace?” Stella asks. “I think we have a problem.”

  “Of course we do,” I sigh. “Can you describe the problem.”

  “Hold on,” she says and I wait patiently. If the woman you love, and has survived by your side during the zombie apocalypse says to hold on, then you hold on. “Yeah, we’re in trouble. See?”

  She points out her window and I turn my head enough to see what she means.

  The side roads are barricaded. That explains why the Zs aren’t swarming in at us. Stella picks up the radio.

  “Do you guys what I see?” she asks.

  “The barricades?” Stuart replies. “Yeah. We see it.”

  “Same here,” Lourdes says. “We’re being funneled.”

  “Antoinette?” I call. “Is she still up top?”

  “Right here, Long Pork,” she replies from right behind me. I jump a little and nearly scream. Not because I’m startled, but because the jump turns my head into an excruciating pain party of ouch. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I mutter, waiting for the nausea the pain brings on to pass. I take a couple deep breaths and things get better. “There. No puking.”

  “I know what you’re going to ask,” Stella says, her hand on my shoulder. “Rest.”

  “Yeah,” I frown. “Thanks.”

  “You and your sisters already scouted a lot of this road,” Stella says. “Didn’t you notice the barricades?”

  “Yep,” Antoinette says. “All the side roads are blocked from here all the way up through the city.”

  “All of them?” I ask.

  “Jace, let me handle this,” Stella gently scolds. “All of them? And you didn’t think to mention it to us?”

  “Of course I did,” Antoinette replies. “But if I did, you’d think this route was a trap and you’d waste time trying to figure out another route. We don’t have that kind of time.”

  “But it is a trap,” Stella says. “We drove right into a trap. We are closed in on all sides now.”