It wasn’t until Ryan spotted Roy wandering around the lake that he discovered for himself the former camp store owner was a zombie. Until now, there was a question of whether or not Roy was still alive, or if had turned. Ryan felt slightly less uncomfortable with the idea of ‘containing’ him now that he was sure Roy was a walking dead person. Ryan even started to think maybe it wouldn’t feel like murder at all. Maybe it would feel as if they were destroying a monster and not a person?
It will be like a game, Ryan tried to tell himself. I shoot zombies all the time in the games. Liam and I did this when we were kids.
He tried to convince himself of this, but the reality was much more difficult.
In his mind he tried to fast-forward to a few days from now, when it would be over and they would all go back to their normal lives, to a time when the zombie outbreak was finally over and someone else would have to deal with it in another fifty years.
He wished he had been as smart as Liam.
Liam was always able to figure things out. From the time they were very young, he was the one able to think of the things nobody else could. He was the one who knew the answers to the tests long before anyone else in class finished. He was the one with the gaming mega-company and millions of dollars that nobody knew about. And for a while, it surprised Ryan that Liam chose to come back home and fight this war against the undead. It didn’t take him long, though, to understand Liam’s reasons. A misguided pride in familial responsibility and a decade-old yet quiet affection for Shelly Smith had derailed his long-term plans to remain out west.
Ryan looked back at Liam and mouthed the word, “Ready?”
Liam nodded anxiously, his eyes wide, and said nothing. His expression offered no encouragement and only compassion.
We’re in the same boat, Ryan thought. Been in this boat a long time, now.
Ryan closed the distance between himself and Roy. He looked around quickly, as if to make certain there were no other zombies in the area. He, Liam, and the others had been warned that loud noise, like gunfire, was certain to attract the dead. This awareness kept him alert, but left his mind unsettled as he approached the dead man squatting before them.
He raised his rifle slowly, planted the butt inside the pocket of his shoulder and lowered his cheek against the stock. Even though he was only a few feet away from Roy, he stared into the scope and centered the cross-hairs on the back of the zombie’s head. In the cool mountain air, beads of sweat formed on his temple. They ran down his cheek, along the stock and onto his firing hand. He took a slow, steady breath.
They saw the girl leave the hut shortly after Robert and Shelly had entered, but both men had been reluctant to kill her and they let her go.
Robert will shit himself if he finds out we let her go, Liam thought. Then, after further consideration he thought, Eh, he doesn't need to know we saw her.
He watched his friend approach Roy slowly. He stared nervously at Ryan’s finger as it shook inside the trigger guard. Liam considered if he should be the one to put down Roy. Did it really matter which of them fired the kill shot?
We just have to take care of Roy and our job is done. He's already dead anyway.
"But is he really?" Ryan asked.
Liam hadn’t realized he’d spoken his last words out loud.
"Oh, uh…of course he's dead," Liam said. "I mean... undead. Living dead. Whatever."
"I know what you mean," Ryan said.
"Then let's just do it and be done with it."
“‘Let’s?’ As in both of us?”
Neither of them had considered this before. What if they both fired their weapons at the same time? A single shot from both rifles? This way both would be responsible—neither would be absolved from killing--
Not killing, Liam thought. Containment. He’s already dead. We’re just leaving no trace.
…Jesus, did I just think that?
Liam raised his rifle and aimed it at Roy. “Sure. Let’s do this.”
A soft smile traced one side of Ryan’s mouth. Liam could tell he appreciated the gesture.
“Okay,” Ryan said. “Here we go.”
They moved deftly over the loose ground and closed in on Roy. Both men held their rifles steadily, each with one eye trained on the zombie. As he moved forward, Liam pushed a small branch away from his face without making a noise and now the barrel of his rifle was inches away from Roy’s head.
He took a single, long, deep breath, and peered at Ryan in his periphery.
“Fire on three?” he whispered.
“Uh huh.”
“Okay.” Liam blinked rapidly and cleared his vision. “One… two…”
“Liam, Ryan… what’s your position? Over.”
The voice that blared over the radio belonged to Sam McKenzie. Ryan’s father.
Stunned, Ryan took his hand away from the rifle stock and reached quickly to turn down the volume of his radio.
“Guys,” Sam said again, “please state your position!”
Liam’s pulse skyrocketed, and he stared at Ryan clumsily lower his rifle and try to control the radio.
Ryan cursed as his fingers moved hastily around the radio’s antenna for the volume control. Sam’s voice emitted from the speaker once more and Ryan found the control. He turned it until he heard a ‘click,’ indicating the radio was off, but it was too late.
Roy was now on his feet. Sam MacKenzie’s voice coming over the radio had been enough to alert Roy of their presence. The zombie’s opaque eyes locked onto Ryan and it stumbled toward him.
“Shit!” Ryan shouted. “Shoot him!”
Liam fired a shot, but it missed and sailed behind the zombie’s head.
Ryan tried to raise his rifle but the muzzle bumped into Roy’s midsection and he couldn’t lift the weapon any further. He fired a shot that opened the zombie’s stomach and spilled its insides, but was otherwise inconsequential.
“Shoot him!” Ryan shouted again.
Liam, as close as he was to the zombie, was unable to hit the moving target where it counted most. Another round, this time hitting the zombie’s upper shoulder. Roy kept coming.
Ryan blasted another round that hit the dead man in the foot.
“Help me!” Ryan begged. He tried to back up while he fired shot after shot, hitting Roy in the upper arm and in the chest.
“Liam!” Ryan pleaded again.
Liam froze. His fingers went numb and he no longer felt attached to his body, as if he was an observer and no longer a participant. The sound of Ryan’s cries for help and the shots from his rifle were far away. His mind told him none of it was happening and that in a few seconds, the monster would disappear and he and Ryan would simply leave this place.
He felt trapped in one of his own games, like there was a glitch he needed to sort out but was unable to turn on his mind or body to write the code necessary to fix it.
His fear paralyzed him.
His father had once claimed Liam was not ‘made for this kind of thing,’ and he had been right. The scared boy inside wanted to curl up into a fetal position and wait for his father to come get rid of the monster, but he knew this wouldn’t happen. His father never chased away the monsters before—if anything he’d let them in—and he certainly wouldn’t do it now. This was something he would need to do on his own.
But he was helpless. And useless to his friend, Ryan.
In a moment of sunny, green-field clarity, he thought, we should have run, but that was no longer a viable option.
Liam felt a pang of shame as he recognized this.
He imagined his father laughing at him, and then yelling at him, saying things like, ‘I knew you couldn’t do it!’ or, ‘Quitting again, Liam?’
With nowhere to run and no one to turn to, Liam started to feel something else.
It formed within the pit of his stomach, where dread and nausea filled the void. A self-loathing that burned with rage and climbed through his body and out to his limbs. It crawled into his neck and boil
ed red-hot in his face and both ears. It caused his teeth to grind and brought focus to his eyes. It transformed into something Liam had felt before but never with such vengeful fire.
Liam felt anger. He felt hate. Above all, he felt fearless.
As Ryan continued to back up, Roy lunged. He snapped at Ryan’s left hand, which held the stock. Ryan howled when Roy’s teeth sunk into his fingers.
It was when he saw the blood explode from Ryan’s flesh that Liam leaped into action.
“NO!”
Liam stepped toward Roy and with one swift kick to the chest, he knocked the zombie off balance. Roy’s jaw let go from Ryan’s hand, but not before severing two fingers.
Ryan dropped his rifle and sunk to the ground. He clutched his injured hand and rolled over in pain.
Liam then steadied his rifle and stared into the scope. Roy’s head lolled back and forth inside the tiny circle as he stumbled toward him. Liam took a single deep breath, eased the reticle over Roy’s forehead and fired.
The big man fell backward and landed with a hard thud. Liam kept the rifle trained on Roy’s head even though he knew a single shot was enough to put the undead down for good. He stared at the hole in the zombie’s head. He expected to see red spill from the wound, but instead a thick, black tar-like substance oozed out in chunks.
“Liam…” Ryan said through labored breathing, “help me.”
Liam pivoted and raced to his friend, helpless on the ground. “Hey buddy,” he said with a calm that surprised himself. “Let me see that hand.”
Ryan’s face was a light shade of almond.
“Liam… this isn’t good. I’m gonna--”
“Shh,” he said gently. “It’s fine, buddy. You’re fine. We just need to wrap this up.”
His eyes scanned the ground quickly until he saw Ryan’s fingers. He scooped them into one hand and tucked them into the front pocket of his friend’s vest.
“What--” Ryan started to ask.
“Keep them there,” Liam said. “I have a First-Aid kit in my pants pocket. There’s an icepack in there.”
“Oh,” Ryan said, confused.
“We just need to wrap your hand, then the icepack will keep your fingers cold until we get down the mountain.”
“Um… okay.”
Liam tried to ignore his friend’s skeptical and bewildered visage and searched his own pockets for something to cover Ryan’s injury. Blood continued to spurt from the open wounds. Ryan opened his mouth to speak but Liam cut him off before he could say another word.
“Squeeze tighter,” Liam said.
“Huh?”
“Your hand. Squeeze. Harder. Till it hurts.”
“Okay.” Ryan grit his teeth and stifled a howl as he squeezed to slow the flow of blood.
“Do you have anything?” Liam asked.
“Anything like what?”
“A handkerchief? A towel? Anything like that?”
Ryan’s eyes drifted about as he considered this and Liam feared he might be going into shock.
“Never mind,” Liam said. He began to untie one of Ryan’s boots. He slipped it off his foot and then removed the sock.
“What are you doing?” Ryan said, his voice coming in short, labored breaths.
Liam produced a small pocketknife from his coat pocket and cut the sock into strips.
“Liam…”
“I have to stop the blood,” he said, ignoring Ryan’s concerns. He tied the pieces together, making one long strip. “This will hurt.”
Before Ryan could argue, Liam wrapped the strip around Ryan’s hand, yanked it tightly into a loop and tied the first knot. Ryan shouted out curses as Liam pulled the knot until the remaining fingers turned white. He tied a couple more knots until he was satisfied with his makeshift tourniquet.
“There,” Liam said. “That should slow down the bleeding. Now, come on. Stand up.”
Liam reached out a hand and Ryan took it. He stared at Liam’s face, disbelieving.
Ryan started to ask, “Where… how did you--”
“I don’t know,” Liam cut him off. “It was the first thing I could think of.” Then he cut a smile. “Maybe I saw it in a movie once.”
They both looked around and assessed their whereabouts. Roy lay still on the ground, the bullet from Liam’s rifle having ripped through the front of his head and out the back. Black blood, hair, and pieces of skull lay spattered on the dead leaves and earth around the body.
Ryan’s color was not as pale as it was a few minutes ago. Liam was convinced he had been successful in disguising the worry in his own face and in keeping a positive disposition.
Ryan found his rifle and leaned forward.
“Hold on,” Liam said. He stepped in front of him and reached down for the rifle. “Let me get that for ya.”
“Thanks.”
“You bet.”
They spoke quickly and in short phrases. They eyed each other cautiously, both hoping not to make eye contact with the other, but knowing there was something else of which remained unspoken. Liam wanted to get moving before either had the opportunity to talk about it.
“Well, we should head back down,” Liam said.
“Yeah.”
They started to walk but only made it a few steps before Ryan said it.
“I’m going to turn, you know.”
Liam stopped. He knew it to be true. The anger having faded, he now felt enormous sadness and guilt. It had been there the last few minutes, but as the rage and adrenaline waned he could no longer keep it locked away.
He tried to keep his focus and forced down the swell of emotion in his throat before he turned and faced his friend. He said the only words he could think of. The only words that mattered.
“You’re gonna be fine,” he said. “By wrapping the tourniquet, we stopped the infection from spreading to the rest of your body.”
Ryan’s eyes grew large. “Really? You serious?”
Truly, he was not serious. In fact he had no idea, but his brain and mouth currently worked on auto-pilot. Liam didn’t and couldn’t waver.
“Yep. I heard about that from my dad.”
“I thought you said you saw it in a movie?”
Liam forced out a weak laugh. “I was only making that up. Just trying to be funny, lighten the mood. But yeah, my dad said that. You should be fine.”
Ryan stared at his hand, amazed. “Wow, that’s awesome! I swear, I thought I was going to become one of those things!” He then reached an arm around Liam and hugged him. “Thanks buddy. I owe you.”
The guilt he felt for lying to his friend hammered into Liam’s chest. He nearly burst into tears when Ryan pulled him in tightly with one arm. He felt a shudder roll through his body but managed to stave off the emotion and instead forced another laugh.
“No worries, man.” Then he locked eyes with Ryan. “You would have done the same for me.”
“Right on, brother!”
They embraced a bit longer and Liam was relieved to hear only silence; the sounds of the gun shots had not drawn any more zombies. Only the two of them stood there.
Ryan was still mid-hug when finally Liam said, “All right, let’s go. You lead the way. I’ll take the rear for now.”
Ryan smiled at him once more. His eyes were reddened. Liam could tell his friend was still close to bursting into tears.
He grabbed his shoulder. “It’s okay,” Liam reminded him. “You’re not gonna turn into one of those things, I promise.”
Ryan inhaled deeply, widened his eyes to dry his tears and nodded.
“You’re right,” he said. “You’re right.” He then turned and began to walk back toward the trail on which they had come.
Liam looked around, again making sure no more zombies were around, as they began their descent. He could not remember exactly how many rounds Ryan had fired, but he was sure the magazine in his friend’s gun was close to empty. His own magazine was close to full, and he had a second full mag ready to go.
“Yo
u know,” Ryan said from up front.
“What’s that?”
“I wonder if I’ll be able to get one of those mechanical claw-hands or something.”
“You mean like a prosthetic?”
“Yeah. That would be freakin’ cool! Nobody would want to mess with me.”
Finally, the tears came.
“You’re probably right,” Liam said, hoping his voice didn’t shake too much.
“Probably expensive as hell, though, huh?”
“Yeah,” Liam said. The one-syllable response was all he could manage.
“I’ll have to get to a hospital soon. Oh wait, the icepack. You didn’t--”
Ryan never saw, and likely never heard, the bullet that ended his life. His body fell forward and thumped the ground; his head landed sideways and his eyes stared out. There was no life in them.
Through tears of remorse, Liam stared down the barrel and through the smoke left behind by the bullet that went through his friend’s head and sent him to the hereafter. Not for one second did he believe any of the things he had told Ryan, but the ignorance of his own fate was the last gift Liam could give him. It was certainly better than allowing Ryan the indignity of turning into one of those monsters.
Liam lowered his weapon and trembled as he stood over his friend’s body on the mountain floor. The knowledge that Ryan’s mind had been in a good place when he died did little to ease Liam’s pain. Never in his worst nightmares did he think he’d ever have to do something like this, but he was certain it was the right thing to do. The only thing he could do.
He thought about his father now, and if this was the kind of thing Peter was trying to prepare him for when he was still a child and a teenager. His father never said anything about killing people, only the ‘monsters.’
“You son of a bitch,” he said. “How dare you put me in this position?”
He sat down next to his friend’s body, folded his arms across his knees, and cried.
Chapter 20
Grace lay flat and raised her hands over her face. Through her fingers she saw the barrel of the rifle. It was long and the inside was black, and she waited helplessly for the bullet to travel the length of it to her brain.
It will be quick, she thought. I won’t feel anything.
Dead Summit: Containment Page 9
