by Russ Watts
“Could sure use a shot of Crown right about now,” said Javier. He had not spoken a more honest word in days.
“Don’t know about that, honey. Tequila maybe? Just a little something to see us right - to get us through the night.”
Javier couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, but that sounds like a bad country song. You just make that up?”
Rose laughed. “You know I ain’t got a musical bone in my body. I couldn’t tell you the difference between a piano and a pitchfork.”
Javier laughed again, and creased over as a shot of pain coursed through his chest.
“Damn,” he wheezed. “You know, I think I busted a rib. Sure does hurt.”
“Look, there’s a sign up ahead. Maybe it’ll tell us a way in.” Rose hurried ahead of Javier, skipping ahead like a schoolgirl going out to lunch.
They hadn’t been in this much trouble for a long time, yet, they had managed to share a joke, and Rose was acting as though she hadn’t a care in the world. Maybe she was finally getting it. Back at the diner, she had been a pain in the ass, and Javier was starting to remember the crash. Rose had been a handful in the van, and he remembered seeing the world upside down briefly, before he blacked out. Rose hadn’t caused the crash, but her behaviour had distracted him from Cindy.
“Javier, quick, come look at this.”
He took his place by Rose’s side, and admired the huge sign that hung between two black, ornate lamp-posts. It was a little dusty, but otherwise, painted very neatly and sharply.
“Saint Paul’s Golf Course. Welcome to the most prestigious PGA Championship Golf course in the USA.”
Rose whistled. “Read that bottom part about intruders. Says they fenced off the course for member’s privacy and protection. Access is strictly limited and the public entrance can be found on the north-east quadrant, from Memorial Avenue only.”
Javier and Rose looked at each other.
“You know, unless someone’s punched a hole in this fence, we may just have a good bed for the night. These rich folk aren’t going to do a half-assed job, and I bet this fence could hold out a small army.” Javier strode over the small grass verge, and put a hand on the fence. The metal was cold, and no matter how much he pushed, the fence didn’t move. It was solid.
“This doesn’t change anything, you know,” he said.
Rose frowned. “Of course it does. It means we have somewhere to stay. Assuming there are no zombies inside, then it’s perfect. Safe, secure; it’s just what we need, Javier.”
Javier wasn’t about to get into another debate with her about the merits of settling down. She had been itching to feather the nest for a while, and he couldn’t take yet another argument about heading north to find his brother. “We can rest a while, maybe a few days, but no more. After that, we move north, as planned. All we need to do now is find a way in.”
“I guess we have to go find the main entrance. I could probably get us past a few zombies, but it won’t be easy the shape you’re in,” said Rose. “I hope we can find the public entrance soon.”
Javier felt affronted by Rose’s suggestion that he was weak, but the truth was that he was exhausted. He had no weapons, no idea where they were, and no idea if they would survive the night out in the open. Getting over that fence was priority number one.
“We don’t need to,” said Javier. “The main entrance is for show. All those rich folks want a fancy entrance they can drive their Jags and Limos through, so the press can get a good shot of just how obscenely rich they are. You think the cleaners use the same door? You think when they empty the garbage bags that they just throw them out the front door? No, we find the back door. There’s always a secret door for the working schlepps. It won’t be anything fancy, but it’ll be there. Let’s keep heading east, away from the main entrance. It might be well hidden, so we’ll have to watch out for it. If they secured this place prior to the outbreak, they may have boarded it up, or disguised it somehow. Perhaps they covered it with something.”
With the zombies at a safe distance, they began searching for a way in. With the barbed wire on top, there was no way of getting over the fence, and the low-hanging branches of the nearby trees had all been trimmed to avoid anyone trying to use them to climb up and over. As they walked, they talked. At first, about the diner, and how they had foolishly let their guard down and nearly been trapped. Rose had apologised for being so wild, for acting so crazy, and Javier apologised for letting things get out of control. After walking a while, and finding no way into the golf course, they found a quiet spot beneath a tall elm. It was well hidden from the fields, surrounded by overgrown brambles, and they took a few minutes to rest.
“What can I say, Rose, I’m a lone wolf, that’s just my nature, and who I am. You know the first thing I do in any situation is watch my back. The second is to watch yours. It’s just habit. Growing up as I did, you had to be like that, and it’s difficult to change.”
“I know, honey,” said Rose. “I’m kinda the same. I wouldn’t hurt a fly if I didn’t have to. I like to stay in the background, let you do all the work, and I know that’s not fair. I need to step up more. Unless I’m provoked, I guess I find it hard to hurt someone.”
Both knew the other was lying, but they went with it. They had nothing to eat, or drink, so they held each other and chatted to pass the time. Javier was still in pain, and he needed the break, however short it was.
Javier was pleased to be with her, but he knew there would likely soon come a day when he might lose her. It seemed there was a thin line between living and dying. “When it happens, Rose, if it happens I mean, don’t let me be like that. Don’t let me turn into one of those things.”
Rose looked at Javier, horrified. “You’re not going to end up like that.”
“Maybe,” said Javier wistfully. “Derek and Cindy probably didn’t think they’d die today, but they never even saw the sun go down.”
“Javier, I’d do anything for you. You know I would. I am never leaving you, you hear me? Never. Don’t talk about us like that, as if we ain’t gonna be together forever. We are. I know we are.”
As Javier stared into the distance, watching the sun sink over the horizon, and the night air fill with the moans of the dead, Rose slid her hand beneath his belt buckle, and began feeling for him. He let her toy with him as he waited for his body to reenergise. If Rose wanted him, she was going to have to do all the work.
“You’re my eagle,” Rose whispered to him. She kissed his neck tenderly. “Always.”
Javier looked and listened for any of the dead, but they seemed to be far behind. The night air was cold and quiet, tinged with only the faintest of moaning sounds coming from afar. They needed to get into the golf course. Even if the place was overrun with zombies, which he doubted, it was somewhere they could stay a while. Maybe they would have water too. His mouth was so dry. He looked at Rose, and wondered why she did it. As she kissed him, and rubbed herself up against him, he realised he actually didn’t care if she continued, or stopped. He was letting it happen, but ultimately, it made no difference to him. What she was doing to him wasn’t sexual. It was just her way of forcing him to bond with her, and the kisses were a symbol of the trust she put in him. It was something she did frequently. She was confident when she wanted to be, but sometimes she reverted to her old self, acting as if he was her father. Just like now.
Javier thought about the future, a land without the dead. Could they one day live in peace? He wanted to be back in control, and have not just Rose, but others subservient to him. He imagined how it would be to be rich, to have others bring food to him, and to wait on his every need so he could truly relax. There could be a day when he had others, soldiers perhaps, to guard him and protect the new land. It was way off, but once he found his brother, anything was possible. There were a lot of desperate people in the world who would do anything to survive. Cindy had been playing games with him, but in the end, she would’ve done whatever it took to stay alive. He
would’ve made sure of that. Now he was alone with Rose, a woman who felt nothing, who forced herself to love Javier. She said the right thing, did the right things, but all he had to do was snap his fingers and she would kill herself for him. He knew that wasn’t power: it was pathetic.
Jeffersontown had turned out to be trickier to navigate than he had imagined. Even though they had avoided the main cities, it was looking increasingly difficult to find a way north. Even out in the fields, away from the towns, the dead were present. With or without Rose, it might be useful to have some help. Perhaps, if he met the right person, he could forge an alliance to get to his brother. Alone, with Rose, it was difficult. Despite the pleasure she gave him, she was a loose cannon. He was fed up of foraging like a hobo. He wanted someone else to do the hard yards for once. Rose was handy with a knife, but it was about time someone else had their backs.
When he came to after the crash, Rose had been in the field, walking away from him. Was she going to leave him and let him die out there? He was going to have a word with her about that. Later, when he had regained his energy and recovered, he would explain what true trust was. No doubt, she would resist, as she always did at first, but eventually, she would see sense, and when she had recovered, they would move on, as they always did.
A crack, like the snapping of a twig, brought them both back to the present, and Rose jerked her head up.
“What was that?”
“I think it was a signal we need to get a move on,” said Javier getting up. He straightened himself up. “This way. Let’s not wait to find out what’s coming around the corner.”
He looked back as they left the shade of the tree, noticing a zombie had gotten close to them. There were more behind, and those few minutes resting had let the dead catch up. The need to find a way into the golf course was getting more urgent every minute.
“Javier?
“Yes?” Javier snapped at Rose impatiently. Now was not the time for talking.
“Is that it?”
Rose pointed her knife at a gate in the fence up ahead. It was painted the same colour, and secured in place with a sliding bolt. The gate was only small. It was thin enough for one person to pass through at one time, no more, and probably just an emergency exit. There was a padlock too, but it wasn’t locked, and slipping through the small gate would’ve been easy, except for the dead standing in the way.
The half dozen zombies blocking the way to the gate turned and faced them. Their hungry mouths opened, oozing groans and blood in equal measure.
“Shit,” said Javier, as he instinctively reached for his gun, only to find it gone. It was left behind somewhere in the wrecked van. He heard more of the dead approaching from the road behind, and a wave of fear gripped him. “We’re trapped.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The soles of Jonas’s feet were hot and sore. The sneakers he wore weren’t suitable for hiking, and with every step, the blisters on his heels grew larger. The road was baking hot, and he felt like he was slowly being cooked alive. They had only been walking for half an hour, but already the morning sun had burnt through the crisp air and low clouds. He would give anything for a drink of water. Since leaving the farm, they had found nothing to eat, or drink, and their rations were all gone.
While Peter and Pippa kept a look out, Erik and Jonas had dug a shallow grave for Tyler. At the back of the byre, there was a small square plot of land that hadn’t been cultivated. It looked like the farmer probably kept it clear for turning vehicles around, but there was no better area to use. The fields were overgrown, and nobody wanted to risk going around the back of the house to the lawn where the dead bodies were. So Erik found a pickaxe and a shovel at the back of the byre, and they dug a grave in silence. Two zombies stumbled across them as they worked, but Quinn dispatched them with ease, her knife easily sinking through the soft flesh at their temples. Once the grave was deep enough, they brought Tyler out. There was a blanket stowed behind the stacks of straw, and they wrapped him in it carefully, leaving only his face showing. He looked peaceful, wrapped in it like a baby, and once more, Jonas was reminded of Sunday school and the stories they were told about baby Jesus, wrapped in a protective swaddle.
Erik and Jonas worked together, saying nothing, and carried Tyler from the byre to his grave. They gently lowered him in, as Dakota watched on, crying softly. Erik planted the shovel into the soft earth, and threw its contents over Tyler’s body.
“God bless, brother,” he said as he passed the shovel to Quinn.
In turn, they took the shovel, every one of them saying their personal goodbyes to him. Only Freya did not take part. She stayed silent, constantly cowering behind her brother, Peter, or her mother. Mrs Danick recalled an appropriate passage from the Bible to quote. She joked that she’d been to so many funerals that she could remember whole verses by heart now. Nobody laughed. They were just grateful that she said something.
“The righteous perish, and no one ponders it in his heart; devout men are taken away, and no one understands that the righteous are taken away to be spared from evil. Those who walk uprightly enter into peace; they find rest as they lie in death.”
Mrs Danick stood back, and Jonas watched impassively as Tyler was gradually covered in a mound of earth, his body sinking into the dirt until there was nothing left to mark he had been alive at all. Terry found some branches, and some twine in the byre, and made a small cross to mark the spot where Tyler was buried. He planted it into the earth firmly and whispered so nobody else could hear him.
“I’m sorry, Tyler. It should’ve been me.”
They spent some time just sitting around his grave, as if his passing was a sign that they should stop. What seemed like hours was only minutes, but eventually, Erik suggested they be on their way. There would undoubtedly be more zombies coming, and they couldn’t afford to stay still for long. Jonas tried talking to Dakota, but she pushed him away. She refused to meet his gaze, and that hurt him more than anything. He could deal with Tyler’s death, he could understand why Erik was so affronted by Jonas’s actions, and he could handle the constant menace of the dead. However, Dakota giving him the cold shoulder was unbearable. He tried a few times as they left to talk to her, but each time she rebutted him, either walking ahead, or dropping back to join Pippa. The most he got out of her was a shake of the head.
Jonas guessed she was not only upset about Tyler, but also angry about the fight. He knew he should make amends with Erik, but there was more to it than saying sorry. He had let them down, let himself down, and yet, explaining why was difficult. The reasons behind it were private. He couldn’t possibly explain why he had done what he had done, and he had no choice but to move on. The others had no idea what it had been like. Seeing Anna and Mary die like that, being killed viciously by the zombies, was a reminder of how powerless they were. Anna had pleaded with him to help her daughter, but he was surrounded, unable to move, and he had seen Mary’s throat torn out. He had seen James fight to the bitter end. Even when they had bitten him, torn off the flesh from his arms and face, he still kept kicking and punching, trying to take down as many as he could before they overpowered him. Yet, the death he most vividly remembered was the one he had truly been responsible for. He had murdered a man. He didn’t think of himself as a murderer, but maybe he should. Hadn’t he done what was right? Wasn’t he just protecting the others, protecting Dakota? Or perhaps he was just searching for a reason to excuse what he’d done, when he had acted out of fear: a fear for his own life, and not for anyone else. He refused to accept it. He didn’t want to let his thoughts dwell on the past, and tried to think of what they were going to do next. As much as Erik was angry with him right now, he knew he could rely on him, and the others, too. Mrs Danick and Terry kept to themselves mostly, and were a little slow, but they were dependable. Quinn was strong, as strong as Jonas, and he was thankful she was there. She rarely passed judgement, and had been the only one to speak to him after the burial. She told him how she had made sure
that once Tyler had passed, he wouldn’t be able to come back. A quick flick of the knife, incapacitating his brain, and he stayed dead. It looked like he was asleep, and she hoped he was dreaming of something when he’d gone. The last few minutes had been painful for Tyler, but he refused to cry out, not wanting to compromise the safety of the group. He was stoic in death, and deserved more than to come back as one of the undead.
After Tyler was buried, they packed up, taking with them what they could. The pickaxe and shovel were in Quinn’s hands now, as Peter still carried their rucksack. Terry and Mrs Danick passed the case of guns out, and even Dakota took one. She had been reluctant, but knew she had to. She was useless in combat, and openly admitted that if she carried the axe or baseball bat, she wouldn’t have the strength to use it. The evening had turned to darkness as Tyler was laid to rest, and they had walked on in silence in the darkness.
After trudging wearily for a short while, they came across an abandoned truck. Erik and Quinn scoped it out, and decided it was safe. The front cab was exposed, and covered in blood, but the rear doors were open, and inside, there was nothing but two empty boxes. It smelt vaguely of fish, but its cargo had long since disappeared, and now the truck was just a box on wheels. It was parked up by the side of the road, and there was really nothing else around so they hopped inside, closed the doors, and tried to sleep.
