by Brown, TW
It took a few minutes because, for a zombie, this little guy was really putting up a fight. Also, I was struggling with how this made me feel. I realize that it was a zombie, not a real child, but that did not lessen the feeling that I was doing something fundamentally wrong. I shuddered at the thought that the news had been full of stories about kids being grabbed. How could anybody do this and not feel skeezy?
“Okay, let’s get moving, we are attracting attention.” Dr. Zahn tapped me on the shoulder. I looked up to see a few “regular” zombies coming out of the woods and across the open fair grounds.
I slung the bag over my shoulder and started back the way we had come. That is when Dr. Zahn stopped me.
“We aren’t taking this back to the compound,” the doc said. If I felt dirty before, I had a feeling I was about to get filthy.
About an hour or so later, we were inside a normal looking one-story house. It was situated right between the high school and, big surprise, the Grande Ronde Hospital. When I walked in behind the doctor, I realized just how consumed by this idea she had become. There were five gurneys and two rooms had been converted to obviously act as holding cells for a child zombie. There were restraints already in place.
I heard Darla breath an exclamation, and I was right with her on that thought. I looked over at Dr. Zahn, but she was already pulling out a few small cases with all sorts of shiny instruments. In that moment, I officially began to worry about the mental well-being of the doctor.
I might not have been a big zombie movie guy back before all of this, but I had seen plenty of the cool horror films like Saw and Last House on the Left. Crazy doctors were always showing up in those things. Was Dr. Zahn one of those?
I warred with the idea that maybe I should tell somebody. The problem would be just who exactly. The best choice would be—
“Oh, good, it’s you,” a voice said from behind me, causing me to jump as well as drop the wriggling body that I still had slung over my shoulder.
I turned to find Sunshine coming out from a room which she quickly shut behind her…almost like she did not want me to see what was on the other side. If I had been having problems with this before…I was really struggling now.
“Saw a patrol move past just about twenty minutes ago,” Sunshine said without even giving me a glance as she approached Dr. Zahn. “I was worried somebody had seen me arrive.”
“Did you use our secret route?” the doc asked as she pumped some sort of gel on her hands and scrubbed them before donning a set of Latex gloves from a box.
That was enough for me. I headed for the door. I had no idea what these two were up to, but I suddenly wanted to be out of here and away from them. I guess Darla felt the same way because she was right on my heels.
I was only a little surprised when neither Dr. Zahn nor Sunshine said a word to acknowledge my departure. As we made our way back to the compound, Darla and I walked in silence. I have no idea what she was thinking, but I was starting to wonder if I was playing for the right team.
7
Vignettes XLV
Harold drew back on the bowstring and let the arrow fly. For the past three hours, the two groups had been communicating in this manner. Vix would write a note and he would shoot it into their compound. So far, what they had learned was that these women (and there were nine of them) were all teammates from a local all-female football league.
They had been on the road when the worst of it had begun. Oddly enough, over half of them were members of an online book club. The past four books had all been about zombies. (Actually, all of them had been members, but when the zombie books showed up, some lost interest due to having absolutely no desire to read that sort of thing.)
A decision had been made to make a run for the more open countryside. One of the girls, Amanda Brighton, had grown up just outside of the tiny town of Harlow, just along Hastingwood Road. As soon as she read the name, Vix almost squealed with delight.
She and Amanda had been best mates as young girls. Amanda always seemed to be waiting at the gate when Vix and her family would arrive. (It was actually not until she was twelve that Vix discovered that Amanda’s family owned their holiday cottage. For a reason that she never understood, that seemed to change everything for Vix and the two eventually had grown apart.)
They waited for a bit until one of the women from inside the compound launched an arrow in reply. Harold and Vix read it while Gemma continued to sulk for reasons that Vix could not begin to fathom.
How could the girl be cross? They had finally found a group to join. Their struggles would become considerably easier now. And with this group being all women, it had a far greater chance of being safe…at least for her and Gemma. Harold, being a bloke, had much less to worry about from strangers than the two of them had up to this point.
“Okay!” Harold announced, handing the paper to Vix so that she could finish reading it. “It looks like we will be trying to lure the mob from around the fence. So, we are going to need to look around for the best paths to take the zombies. We need to be able to entice them away so that as many as possible will follow. But we also need to be able to eventually lose them and double back.”
“Plus,” Vix piped in, “we should probably come up with a few places where we can fall back to and meet up in case we get separated along the way.”
“Wait!” Gemma’s head snapped up. “Are we splitting up to do this? I think that is a bad idea. We need to stay together. In fact, I think this entire idea is bad.”
“Relax,” Harold held his hands up in a placating gesture, “we aren’t splitting up. However, we do need to be mindful of what could go wrong and plan accordingly.”
“I don’t understand why we are doing this at all,” Gemma huffed.
Vix eyed the girl. They had already been through a similar situation before. She was not anxious to revisit it, but they had finally found a group to join. To make it even better, it was at the location that she had sought and the people there looked like they were already well in to making the place into a home where they could live in relative peace and safety.
“Would you rather we just keep going?” Vix asked. “Perhaps we will travel until we find someplace where no other living, breathing person would dare or think to go…and then we can stop. Would you be happy then?” She had meant it as a rhetorical question.
“Yes,” Gemma answered without hesitation.
“I understand being cautious,” Harold spoke up. “But I definitely think that this is the right place.”
“Of course you would.” Gemma spun on the young man with fists clenched and lips pressed tight.
Harold recoiled as if struck. He had no idea what to say or do. Vix glanced away from the pair as they stood faced off with one another. It seemed that they were being a bit noisy. Some of the zombies at the rear of the mob were turning their way.
“Why wouldn’t you think it is a simply brilliant idea? What bloke wouldn’t want to spend the zombie apocalypse living with a dozen women all to himself?”
Harold continued to look dumbfounded. However, Vix immediately knew what the problem was with her young friend. She fancied the big oaf. Problem was, the boy had not even a whit of a clue.
“Listen, we can work this out later,” Vix said as she shot another glance in the direction of the zombies. While not many had started their way…it only took one. “We need to make some noise and get the rest of those things coming after us now.”
Nobody moved. Harold was obviously trying to figure out what he had done wrong, and Gemma was still making it a point to pout.
“Gemma, you come with me, Harold, I want you to move to the other side. See that phone tower?” She pointed and the young man nodded. “You go there and start a ruckus once we have led as many away as will come. That should get rid of most if not all. Then we circle back around…” She surveyed the area and her eyes spotted a thick copse of trees on a distant hill to their east. “Meet at those trees. Wait until morning if you are the
first to arrive.”
“So much for not splitting up,” Harold mumbled.
“What happens in the morning?” Gemma asked.
“If you are the only one there and nobody has made it back by then, chances are that they won’t.” Vix gave the girl’s arm a squeeze. “Now…let’s get moving.”
Vix did not wait for Gemma or Harold to respond, instead, she popped up and drew her sword as well a hand axe that she carried on her belt.
“Oi! Come and ‘ave a go if ya think ya ‘ard enough!” she yelled, banging the two weapons together.
***
Juan’s eyes opened and he found himself in a room…a basement judging by the small rectangular windows up near the ceiling. He tried to sit up, but he was firmly tied down to something.
A table most likely, he figured.
And then it all came back to him. He remembered getting up to investigate a sound and then—
April! He wanted to yell, but his mouth was stuffed with a rag of some sort. He tried to turn his head one way and then another and was rewarded with a painful throbbing worse than any hangover he had ever experienced.
“Glad to see you awake,” a voice whispered from somewhere in the shadows past his feet.
A light came on directly above him, its brightness sending a new spike of pain into his skull. Unable to help it, Juan felt his stomach lurch, and then he was choking on bile.
“Oh no you don’t!” the voice hissed.
Juan had his eyes squeezed shut against the light so he could not see the person who grabbed his head and wrenched it to the side. Eventually, the nausea subsided.
After a few minutes, Juan dared to open his eyes to slits. Slowly, he allowed them to adjust to the light and he was able to open them fully once more. The problem now was that, with the bright light just above him, he could not see anything in the shadows all around.
“Why didn’t you just kill me?” Juan asked the darkness. There were several long minutes of silence and he was certain that he would not be getting any sort of reply.
“I am still not sure if I will,” a voice finally spoke.
“You know that is the only way that this can end…either you kill me or I kill you.”
Again there was an agonizing silence.
“So what was all of that crap you told me? That story on the boat about you being held prisoner, and then coming over to supposedly support me when I told everything to Mackenzie…that nomination?”
There was more silence, but Juan thought that he could hear sobbing. Finally, a face suddenly appeared over him. It was April, but not exactly.
“You lie!” she spat. “I never told you any such thing!”
Juan was confused. “Sure you did. You told me all about how these guys were doing terrible stuff, and then some guy tried to help, and how you eventually escaped.”
A look crossed April’s face. If he did not know better, he would swear that she was listening to somebody whispering into her ear.
“You are a murderer. You will be given a trial.” April’s voice had a dream-like quality as if she were talking in her sleep. “You will have a chance to answer for your crimes.”
“And just who will I be answering to? Where is the jury…the judge…my defender?” Juan said with a sarcastic laugh. “I could have left you to die…I should have just let the zombies have you. I should have, you crazy bitch.”
“I AM NOT CRAZY!” April shrieked. Without a warning, she began pummeling Juan with her fists.
Juan tried to twist and turn, but it was useless. Eventually she grew tired and stopped; her fists actually coming to rest on his chest. She dropped her head and began to cry.
Juan turned to the side and spat out a mouthful of blood. He could feel the warm, coppery fluid trickling from his nostrils. Running his tongue over his lips, he could feel split and swollen knots on both upper and lower.
“I’m not crazy.” April’s voice was barley a whisper, and it actually sounded like she was trying to make an argument versus an actual statement.
Juan lay still as the oddest dialog he had ever witnessed played out from behind the mop of red hair that hid April’s face. If he closed his eyes, he would swear that it was not one, but rather two people who were talking.
“Of course you aren’t.”
“But he said…”
“Are going to listen to a piece of trash like that?”
“But he saved us.”
“No! He saved you! He left me to die.”
“He just doesn’t know you…he really does help people.”’
“Are you forgetting what he did? He is no better than those men who kept us prisoner.”
As the conversation continued, Juan became more and more confused. He had mental arguments all the time…just not out loud.
“If we kill him, it will hurt Mackenzie.”
“She will be better off. How many times did your mother let that man back in the house? Each time he acted like he was sorry, but he was garbage. And men like that never change…”
Juan did not believe or understand what he was hearing exactly. For some reason, his mind flashed to that creepy little hairless character from that Lord of the Rings movie. He recalled how that little man-thing would have all sorts of strange conversations with itself. He’d never really gotten into that kind of movie, but he’d taken his nephew for his birthday one year. He’d been surprised to discover that it was a trilogy and that there were two other movies that had already come out before, that were just as long.
“…to go back to sleep,” April’s voice snapped him out of his reverie.
“Wait!” Juan said. “If I am going to be put on trial, I want to call my own set of witnesses.”
April cocked her head for a moment. She seemed once more to be listening. That had Juan even more confused. Why did she sometimes seem to be listening to a voice, and at other times, she would talk out loud like she was two people; unless there were more voices in her head?
“No, sorry.” April made a sad face that was almost a caricature in how overdramatic it looked.
“You really don’t want to do this,” Juan said as the woman opened a case and drew out a hypodermic.
April paused again. It was almost like she would switch off. Then, with a blink and a shake of the head, she was back.
“You’re right,” April said sadly as she wiped at a spot on his neck with an alcohol swipe.
Juan felt the prick of the needle. In minutes, the room began to swim and eventually fade. As he drifted away, he could hear the sound of drums. That seemed strange to him, but he was unable to do anything about it.
***
“But she has to be close,” Mel insisted. “This is just too much of a coincidence. And I bet that woman that she butchered was not some friend. There is something weird going on here…and I’ll be damned if I let her use my child in whatever sick garbage she is involved in.”
“And we can keep an eye out. You and Kyle find a roof in the center of this little development and set up. I will go back so that Cynthia can be told what is up and I will return first thing in the morning,” Glenn said. “Searching in the dark gives whoever is behind this a very distinct advantage. We can’t do Xander any good if we all end up dead.”
“No,” Kyle insisted. “We stay together.”
Mel wanted to argue. She wanted to scream. But more than anything else, she wanted to kill the woman who had taken her son. It did not take a genius or a fan of horror movies to know that there was some sort of evil scientist thing going on here. That said, her rational side, the side developed from her years of training as well as her upbringing in a house full of cops told her that to rush in blindly would be foolish and most likely end in disaster.
“First light,” Mel conceded.
None of them slept well that night. It was only made worse when there was a series of horrific shrieks and screams that pierced the darkness. From inside the treehouse, it was impossible to be certain, but Mel was willing to bet
they had come from the direction of that duplex development.
Well before dawn, Mel threw off the covers and climbed out of the sleeping bag. She began going through all of her gear, checking the blades for sharpness, ensuring that all of her bindings on her body armor were secure. When she finished with hers, she started on Kyle’s and then Glenn’s.
By the time the men began to stir, Mel was dressed and ready. That meant that they both had to listen to her as she complained about their lack of speed. Finally, it became too much for Kyle.
“Enough!” he snapped with uncharacteristic anger. “In case you forgot…that is my son out there as well! You aren’t the only person feeling the pain and the loss. And if you don’t think it is tearing up Glenn and Cynthia, then you need to step out of your shell and take a look around.”
There was a long silence. Mel scanned the faces. Only Kyle was actually looking at her. Glenn was busy studying something on the sleeve of his jacket and Cynthia was inspecting the bandage on her leg with a great deal of intensity.
“I just…” Mel’s voice grew weak and strangled.
“Darling, we all know,” Kyle’s voice was back to that soft-spoken and gentle tone that he was better known for, “and we will not stop until we find him.”
“She can’t have gone far,” Glenn offered helpfully.
The foursome came together around Cynthia (since she still could not walk that well) and hugged each other for a moment. Mel tried her best to scale back her emotions, but in the end, she simply came to the conclusion that she would have to mask them when she was around the others.
Ten minutes later, Mel, Kyle, and Glenn climbed down once more, but this time they had a target in mind. Nothing was said as they biked down the cracked and sand-obscured road. When they reached the entrance of the little development, they were greeted by four bodies hanging from light poles. Each one was low enough that the undead had been able to reach them. Their lower halves had been torn away and now, four zombies looked down from their nooses, mouths moving, but not a single sound issuing forth.
