“She says she got out of the doll before Mister Neil could burn it. That’s what she says.”
This seemed to infuriate, Sadie who cried: “Stop, Jillybean! She isn’t real. You made up Eve just like you made up Chris. And now you need to unmake them. They’re dangerous, sweetie. They could hurt you. They could hurt me. You don’t want that, do you?”
The very idea had tears springing up in her eyes. “I’d never hurt you, never ever.”
“Then please get rid of Eve. Please, for me.”
Jillybean nodded, swiped away her tears and tried to smile as convincingly as possible, while inside, Eve only laughed. You can’t get rid of me, but even if you did, look at what would take my place.
No, Jillybean replied. I won’t look at anything you have to show me and…and you know what? Sadie’s right. It’s time for you to go. I’ll get Chris and Ipes to help me get rid of you.
That sounded like a good plan only Ipes was suddenly tiny and Chris was reluctant. Maybe you should look. It’s not good, he said.
She knew right away what they wanted to show her: the whispers. Or rather what made the whispers. Jillybean pulled herself out of her own mind before she could see what was inside, feeding on her insanity. The very idea filled her with terror because she guessed that if she really saw what made the whispers she would turn and become like her mother: a withered vegetable who died with her eyes sunk into her head and her dank mouth open.
Jillybean had seen inside the mouth—sores and blood and missing teeth. Her mom looked as though she had aged a thousand years, and why? Had she seen the monsters inside of herself? Or had she seen the future? Had she seen what the world would turn into: the death and the endless pain and the agonizing fear? Jillybean guessed that if she had seen her own future, she would have died right alongside her mother.
She was picturing her little body shriveled like a white raison, when Sadie pulled her close and stared into her eyes. As always Sadie’s eyes were so dark that it seemed as though Jillybean was looking down into twin wells that went far deeper than her sister’s skull.
“Jillybean, you don’t need any of them anymore. You made Ipes and Chris because you were alone and afraid, and you made Eve because you had to do tough things to live. But you have me now. You will always have me. Say it.”
“I will always have you, Sadie.”
“Now say that you will trust me to keep you safe.”
She won’t! Eve cried. She’s a liar like all the rest. She’s going to turn out to be just like your mother—dead and staring at the ceiling. And you’ll be alone.
She would never do that to me! Jillybean screamed so that the words bounced around her skull, silencing Eve and the whispers. The sudden quiet made her smile and aloud she said: “You’ll keep me safe, I know it.”
Chapter 11
Sadie Martin
They had both hoped that Jimmy would miraculously show up just as they were about to slip away from the cabin. They even sat in the Suburban with the windows down, listening as the night grew deep and dark.
“What a turkey,” Jillybean grumbled. “I’d call him a chicken but since he went off on his own he really doesn’t even know what to be a chicken over. He’s probably now ascared of being alone. Silly. My dad used to call the president a turkey, did I ever tell you that? Yep, when he was reading the paper, he would say: Oh, what a turkey! Funny, huh?”
“Yeah,” Sadie said answering automatically. At the moment, nothing felt funny to her. Her shins were aching something fierce just from hobbling from the couch to the SUV. She couldn’t stand without support; she couldn’t walk without stifling a cry of pain and she couldn’t run even if her life depended on it, and that had her stomach turning a little sour.
What if they were attacked by zombies and the windows were broken? What if they ran out of gas and couldn’t find more? What if, what if, what if? There were so many scenarios where her life depended on something so simple as running.
She had relied on her legs for so long and now that they were nearly useless, she felt a little useless. Jillybean had fetched the water and made a fire for a much needed bath, and she had loaded up the car and made their dinner and really, everything else. Sadie couldn’t even drive and had to put her life in Jillybean’s hands.
The little girl was absolutely tiny looking in the huge vehicle. In order to see over the steering wheel, she sat propped up on pillows and the wheel looked as big as a garbage can lid in her small hands. Steering the beast of an SUV proved not nearly as easy as her old Jeep. For the life of her, Jillybean couldn’t tell where the front right corner of the vehicle ended and where way too many trees began.
After an hour, Sadie’s anger with Jimmy only escalated. Not only had he run off when they really needed him, he had also taken all the morphine from the medbag. There had been aspirin in the cabin but with the date 02/21/83 stamped in fading ink on the bottom, she decided not to risk it.
Their first task was to find a way west that didn’t go anywhere near Idaho Falls. Unfortunately, I-15 was the only road west. If they didn’t take it, they would either have to detour far to the north or attempt to cross a wilderness that was four times the size of Yellowstone.
“This sucks,” Sadie said gazing down at the map. “If we go north we really limit ourselves. It’s either I-90 or this little no name squiggle that runs by this river. Aw, man, look at how narrow it gets. If anyone wants to set up an ambush, that would be the perfect place.”
Jillybean leaned over to study the map. “I say we go with 90. We need supplies and there are some good sized towns along it. There could be good guys up there, you never know.”
“I don’t know, look what the last good guys did to me. But, I think you’re right. There are too many things we need. I feel vulnerable without a drone flying point for us.”
“And I feel naked without armor.” Jillybean tapped her window. “This is way too weak. You know, I wish I had armor. You know, like a suit of armor. But it would have to be like Iron Man’s armor with motors and such since I wouldn’t be able to lift any armor what could stop a bullet.”
She drove in silence for nearly an hour and the entire time she had her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed. Sadie guessed she was thinking about what it would take to create an armored suit. She truly thought that if anyone could make one, it would be Jillybean.
Eventually, her body gave a little shake and she glanced over at Sadie. “I don’t think it can be done,” she declared. “His armor must have been special infects. That’s what means it’s a fake.” It was all she had to say on the subject that had consumed her for so long. After that she concentrated on driving. In spite of the dreadfully slow speed they were making, there was still enough trash, stalled out cars, downed trees and zombies to make the drive far more exciting than any ten mile an hour car ride that Sadie had ever been on.
It was draining for both of them, and yet they had little choice but to go on and on. By four in the morning, they were both getting punch drunk and when, a half hour later, they saw a sign for Butte, Montana, they broke down in giggles that went on for so long that Jillybean had to pull over.
Just when they got themselves under control, Sadie, with tears in her eyes, had to ask: “Do you think there’s a Butte proctologist?”
The question was lost on Jillybean. “What’s that?” she asked. “What’s a prog-tologist?” This had Sadie laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. She forgot about the pain in her legs and her exhaustion and even the recent death of Sergeant Steinman. She just laughed and it felt good.
When she was finally winding down, she tried to explain what a proctologist was to Jillybean, whose look of disbelief set Sadie off a second time, but she didn’t have the strength to keep it up even when Jillybean just sat there shaking her head, waiting for a proper explanation.
“Wow, there really is a doctor for someone’s butt? That’s gotta be the weirdest job ever. And what about this town? Do you think they meant the name as a joke?�
�� Jillybean asked. “For reals, who would name a town, Butte?”
“It’s pronounced ‘bute.’ Like beauty without the Y. We should probably find a place and maybe do a bit of scrounging…or I guess you should.” She had forgotten about her bad legs but just shifting them caused the pain to come flooding back.
Jillybean stuck the SUV in gear and pushed on to the town and when she saw the sign reading: Entering Butte, she started giggling. Sadie couldn’t help herself and started in as well, however the smile died on her lips as she saw the first corpse strung up by its neck.
It had been a man, long and lanky. In death, he was even taller. His neck was a horror that looked like flesh-colored taffy. “Jillybean,” she gasped, putting her hand out to the girl who stomped on the soup cans, stopping the SUV so suddenly it skidded in the loose gravel that covered the road.
There were other bodies hanging from signs and street lights. Both girls slunk down in their seats, their eyes huge and wide as they stared around for the attack that had to be coming. When nothing happened, Sadie hissed: “Let’s get out of here. But slowly. We don’t want to wake anyone.”
Jillybean nearly took out a mailbox as she swung the vehicle around. She was so squinched down she was peering through the steering wheel. Once they made it safely back into the hills around the town, both of them wilted in relief. “To the squiggle?” she asked.
It was their only choice. They had to backtrack a few miles before taking a two lane road into the foothills where they twisted and turned and went up and down the seemingly endless hills where the view of trees and more hills remained constant. Sadie spent as much time looking back as she did forward, afraid that at any moment she’d see a pickup truck filled with men bearing down on them.
When they finally broke out into the open, overlooking a wide valley, this fear was swept away by the view below them.
Save for a blue strip of river, the land was covered in yellow flowers, miles and miles of flowers. Jillybean drove down into the valley, looking as though she were dreaming. “What are they?” she asked.
They were Black-eyed Susans, but Sadie didn’t know. She shrugged and rolled down her window, sticking her elbow out, letting the warm May wind sweep over her, feeling as though this one place in all the world was perfect. “I could live here forever,” she said. The scent of the flowers was, in its way, intoxicating and Sadie was suddenly so relaxed she could have walked out into the field and slept there in complete happiness.
Her eyes were just getting sleepy when she spotted another cabin. It was small and cozy, sitting under the only tree on the valley floor. The tree was a tremendous oak, both tall and wide, and from one of the lower branches hung an unmoving tire swing. “Look at the house. We should spend the day there.” In her mind she pictured soft beds, draped with handstitched quilts, perhaps a rocker on the porch, and the smell of cinnamon wafting through the house.
Jillybean gave it a single glance and, in a blink, that gentle dreaminess about her was gone; she was all business. “No. We’re too close. If anyone saw us, they’d check this house, I bet.”
“But…” Sadie said, wanting to argue with Jillybean as if their roles were reversed and she was the child and Jillybean the adult. Then she saw a beast off to the right of the house, its grey flesh out of place and unwanted in the beautiful picture.
It could have been killed easily enough and the cabin would have been theirs, however there would be the body spoiling the view, and there would be the echo of the gun, and the smell of the thing.
“You’re right,” Sadie agreed, turning away from the zombie and trying to get the peaceful feeling back. It wouldn’t come. She only felt tired from the long drive. The two passed through the last of the valley and then they were once again in the hills and the moment of perfection passed.
They found another cabin not long afterwards. It was far from the imagined rustic beauty that Sadie had pictured. It had been broken into, seemingly not by hungry people in search of food, but by vandals who delighted in destruction. Sadie stood, pistol in hand, leaning against the door staring at the tattered curtains, the overturned chairs, the broken glass.
“Why would anyone do this?” she asked.
Jillybean, who was struggling to hold up Sadie snorted. “People are crazy, and not just me. Here, get a chair.” Just as the day before, Sadie felt useless as Jillybean rushed around, preparing dinner, setting alarms and putting the cleanest sheets she could find on a mattress that she dragged into the living room.
“Something was living under the bed,” she explained, wiping sweat from her forehead. The mattress had an animal odor to it that wasn’t exactly unpleasant, only strange. The little girl also explored every inch of the small place and collected items she thought they would need: a can of WD40, a mismatched lump of magnets she had pried out of the electronics, two mouse traps that were still in their packaging, a heavy length of chain that was rusting but still strong.
Sadie didn’t question any of these items, she was just glad that Jillybean seemed too busy to dwell on the ghosts in her head. She didn’t catch the little girl whispering to herself even once before bed.
With the sun sailing in the sky overhead, Sadie couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, and so, with their alarms set, the sisters snuggled on the mattress and slept. They did not sleep deeply or well. It seemed to Sadie that her eyes cracked open with every crow’s caw. And when she closed her eyes, the fading images of the bodies strung up by their necks were always just there in her mind. Once she sat up gasping. Jillybean threw an arm over her and pulled her back down.
By four, after an hour of fighting for the last strands of sleep neither of them could lay on the mattress any longer. Sadie crawled to a chair and sat gazing at her bruises, which were darkest purple and felt as if they went deep into the bone.
As she sat there, Jillybean went about getting the Suburban ready. The most difficult aspect of which was adding the last of their gas into it. The five-gallon red jug was bigger around than she was.
The chain came in handy as she created a simple hoist, counterbalanced by stack of bricks she had found on the sunset side of the house.
She was barely ten seconds into the operation, which seemed to please her to no end, when they nearly lost all the gas. A zombie, what once had been a soldier and which was now bursting the seams of the armored tactical vest it wore, came lumbering out of the forest. It still had its helmet on and so Jillybean shot it in the face with her police special.
Although it knocked out a tooth, the bullet seemed to have no other adverse effects on the zombie and it kept coming. Jillybean took off, running around the Suburban, wasting two more bullets. Sadie heaved herself out of her chair, pistol in hand. It took three bullets from the black gun to bring down the creature.
She didn’t celebrate. The pistol was a Beretta that had started with fourteen rounds. Now they were down to eleven. Jillybean had more ammo for her .38 however it was an awful weapon, imprecise and weak with an effective range that didn’t extend much further than throwing distance.
“We’ll conserve our ammo until we can find some more,” Sadie said. “In the meantime, we’ll get more bumble balls.” She didn’t mention where they would get these bumble balls or the batteries that would make them do their flashing dance.
Once the sun slid down beyond the world, they mounted the Suburban and crept along, driving almost literally blind. With the bandit presence, they had been warned about, and without a drone up above, they couldn’t risk using headlights. The miles went steadily and monotonously by. They passed little ranches and a few roadside stores, some were little more than single pump gas stations, while others acted the part of the local grocery store as well. All of them had been ransacked and drained of every drop of fuel.
Still they paused to check them out, searching with flashlights like a pair of rather unimpressive burglars. The only thing they found were more zombies who came rushing out of the oddest hiding places, attracted by the bea
ms. Sadie came away from the last encounter with four fewer bullets. She was starting to get worried.
Jillybean skipped the next station altogether and Sadie didn’t say anything. They made camp at sunrise with over four hundred more miles to go. There was no way they would make it on the little fuel they had left. Fortunately, they were coming up on Hamilton, Montana which sat at the head of the fifty-mile long Bitterroot River Valley, which had once been the home to over seventeen thousand people all told. There would be gas there, found at the very bottom of tanks and in the odd places few people thought to look.
But would there also be bandits and slavers? She had to assume that there would be.
The valley was ten miles wide for most of its length and so she had Jillybean get off the main highway that ran through it and drive on the side roads to the east where there was wide open farmland. Her prudence paid off not a minute later as they saw light—someone had a bonfire going, square in the middle of the highway.
“I see people,” Jillybean said, one eye to the scope she had taken from Jimmy’s M4. “Looks like three of them sitting on chairs…wait there’s another. It looks like they’re holding sticks. You know, like they’re cooking stuff.”
Sadie had been expecting something far more sinister, and for a moment wondered if they were simply normal people, and said so to Jillybean.
“I don’t know what normal is any more. Everyone says I’m crazy, but I think everyone else is, too. Like, what is normal? With so many people trying to kill you or sell you the second you meet them, I think being a slaver is the real normal and all the good guys are the weirdos.”
“Yeah,” Sadie said, breathing out the word. It was a depressing thought, one she didn’t want to dwell on. “I say we go wide around them. Let’s not take our chances.” Jillybean made sure to put all the distance she could between them and the bonfire and soon it was far away, just a little light in their rearview mirror.
The Apocalypse Sacrifice: The Undead World (The Undead World Series Book 10) Page 12
