Dying Days 4

by Armand Rosamilia

  Russ watched as Bri once again took point, moving quickly through the tall weeds and getting to the fence in seconds.

  "Where ya headed?"

  Russ froze at the booming voice from behind him. He turned slowly.

  "Drop the weapons or you'll never see who killed you. And take another step, honey, and I'll shoot your fucking head off."

  Russ saw the man, sitting on a rocking chair on the back porch, holding two .357's with a sawed-off shotgun propped against the railing. He was smiling.

  "Nice day for a walk. Except this is private property, and us Floridians don't take kindly to Yankees traipsing through our vegetable gardens. I'm sure you understand."

  Russ tried to act casual. "I was born in Florida."

  The man with the guns shook his head. "You ain't from around here, boy. I can see it by the way you walk. Too uppity for my tastes. And hanging around with two little girls. You should be ashamed." He looked past Russ but still had both barrels aimed at him. "Where'd your little bitch run off to? No matter. My friends will catch her soon enough. Drop everything and walk slowly to me with your hands on your head. Both of you. And no funny stuff."

  "Maybe we can work something out," Russ said. He was glad Bri had escaped, but, by the guy's words, he had some friends in the area who would hunt her. "We're just trying to pass through and stay alive."

  "Sucks to be you, then." The man stood and tilted both guns sideways in his hands. "I saw this in a gangsta movie once. It looked cool. I shot someone a week ago like this, too. Both barrels in the head. We don't want everyone to turn into a fucking zombie, right?"

  "Holy shit," Russ said when he got closer to the back porch. He stopped walking. "You're a fucking zombie."

  The man's gray eyes were vibrant. "I'm surprised it took you this long to figure it out. I'm one of the lucky undead, because I survived long enough to get my shit in order. My mind back. Now I'm just enjoying my time on this rotting planet and getting a nice collection of the living together for my meals. Ha, I should start a business… instead of Meals on Wheels, how about Meals That Trespass? I like the sound of it."

  Russ knew they were screwed. "What do you want?"

  "I want you to quietly go inside the house and join your fellow roommates. I'll be in soon. I'm sure my boys are already capturing the little bitch that thinks she got away," the zombie said. "But first I need to pat you down. You understand. We can't take many chances in this screwed up world, now can we? I need you both to come up onto the porch slowly and keep your hands on your head while you sit down cross-legged," He said to Taylor. "I'm sure you've both seen Cops enough to know the drill."

  "Maybe we can work together," Russ said.

  "Spread your legs and relax or I'll pull this trigger," the zombie said and put the gun to the back of Russ' head. "You have nothing I want."

  "I'm looking for someone," Russ said. He decided to see if he could pique the interest of the zombie. Gain some time before he figured out how to get them away, and he didn't want to go into the house and be trapped with a group of people. He needed to free them and perhaps they'd be able to help him. "Someone important."

  "Aren't we all? My ultimate goal is to find all three of my ex-wives and literally get to kill them, like I've done in my head a million times. That is important to me. Sit down on the deck and don't move while I grab your little girlfriend's ass for awhile. Raping no longer seems all that important to me. The blood is what I'm after. Lucky for you, right?"

  "I'm looking for a pregnant woman," Russ said.

  "Kinky bastard. You know what the best thing about banging a pregnant woman is? You can't get her pregnant." The zombie patted down Taylor before pointing at the deck for her to relax. He turned to Russ. "I'm going to send you inside first. If you try to run or attack me, I'll rip her throat out and spit her blood in your mouth before you die. Is that a graphic enough picture for you?"

  "Her baby is special," Russ said. He saw the flicker in the zombie's gray eyes and knew he suddenly understood who he was talking about. "I need to find her."

  "Why? Are you the proud papa?"

  "It's important I find her… before someone like you has a chance to."

  The zombie smiled. "I'd love to find her. With that pup, I could control everything. I'm amazed someone like you would even surmise… ah, I get it." The zombie laughed. "Someone like me told someone like you about the Baby New Year we'll have in our midst soon enough. For me it's no big deal, because I wasn't planning on finding it. I was going to relax and do my own thing. I have no real desire to take over and rule. Understand? I'm here for the free beer and the cool tunes."

  Russ saw Bri out of the corner of his eye, coming up over the far rail of the porch with her pistol drawn. "That's all funny, but you know what I'm talking about. You want to find her as much as I do, but you can hone in on her spot. I know you can." He saw Bri edging closer. "Which is why I'm offering you a choice. I'll let you live if you help me."

  "I'm already dead. Didn't the cool eyes give it away?"

  "You help us find the mother and the baby and I won't kill you," Russ said.

  "I think you're confused as to who has who captive. Get inside and shut up. I'm done chatting with you."

  Bri put the gun to the back of the zombie's head and tapped him. "Don't move or I'll shoot your fucking brains out. You know what happens then. Put your hands up."

  Russ moved in and tripped the zombie, putting him onto the wooden deck and driving a knee into his back. "Nice going, Bri. Now get me something to tie him up with."

  "Wow, did you just make a damn mistake," the zombie said.

  "Shut up and let me enjoy this little victory, you piece of shit. What's inside?" Russ asked.

  "Your mom."

  "Is there a way to knock you out without killing you?" Russ looked at Bri and smiled.

  "I say we find out." Bri handed Russ the gun and he slammed the zombie's head with it a couple of times, unsure if he was faking or really unconscious. "We need some rope."

  Chapter Sixteen

  John slowed the van to a crawl when they rounded the bend and saw the stack of crushed vehicles ahead. He knew it was a roadblock set up by either zombies or looters. Either way, they weren't going further on this road. They'd followed Route 100 until it became Route 11. The demolished Flagler County Sheriff's Office and abandoned Vince Carter Sanctuary were a couple of miles back, but there was nothing but trees and scrub to either side of the road.

  "Turn around," Tosha said.

  "No kidding." John swung the van to the right and began turning when he saw the first two men wielding baseball bats come running from the tree line. "We got company."

  "Then drive away or run them down," Murph said. "Or both."

  "This is going to get hairy," John said as he cut the wheel to the right and slammed into a man running at him with a motorcycle helmet on and carrying a splintered broom handle. He didn't bother to stop, the van bumping over the man as it crushed him.

  Two more people were in the road with guns but they wisely ran back to the trees.

  "No one is shooting," Darlene said.

  "Maybe they don't want to scare up zombies," Tosha said.

  "Or maybe they don't have ammo. Just a bunch of highwaymen with brooms trying to survive."

  Something struck the side of the van. John sped up and passed a man with a tree limb, who began shaking it.

  "We're turned around," Murph said.

  "We can't go that way. We need to get back to 100 and Route 1 and head north." John glanced at the gasoline needle. "And we'll need gas soon as well."

  "Maybe we can hole up at the sheriff's office," Darlene said.

  "Too close to this group. And I'm sure it's already been ransacked. We need to find a place far enough away from this road before we run out of gas," John said. He glanced down at the needle and cursed softly. They weren't going to make more than a few miles.

  John went over the railroad tracks heading to the corner of Route 1 and Route
100 and saw the zombies in the street. He cut to his left onto North Railroad Street. "Maybe we can pass the big hordes by staying on the side roads."

  Ahead the road was blocked with a mishmash of abandoned vehicles. All in a tight semi-circle.

  "Someone lives in that old house," Tosha said. "They have to. This isn't a random car pileup. They were strategically placed."

  "It could be where the ones we just ran into live," Darlene said.

  "Park the van, kill the lights and conserve our gas while we figure it out," Murph said. "I need to stretch my damn legs."

  John pulled the van in line with the other vehicles so at first glance it might look like it had been here awhile. He climbed out and admitted he did need to stretch a bit, even though they hadn't been on the road for long. "I say we go around the house and see if anyone is home. It’s not like we'll be able to surprise them," he said and looked at Tosha. "You want the back or the front."

  "I prefer the front unless I'm really drunk, and then I can't get enough from the back."

  John glanced at Darlene, who looked pissed. The two women had had a truce since they'd been driving, but John knew adding Darlene's normal attitude and multiplying it by a thousand thanks to her hormones, this was a powder keg ready to blow with one stupid comment.

  "Go around the back," John said and was off running before Tosha could get another snide remark off. He got around the row of cars, watching for any movement.

  The house was ancient. A two-story with rotting porch and railing that probably looked old before all this began. The lawn was dirt with a few stray weeds and the paint had been chipping off the house for a long time.

  When John stepped on the first step, it creaked loudly. The minute chance of surprise was gone now. The windows weren’t barred, dirty but still intact. That was rare these days.

  The front door was shut and a pile of dirt and dust covered the porch. No one had been this way in months. John looked back at Darlene and Murph, who both looked miserable standing next to the van.

  Something moved inside the house.

  John took a step back and to his left, getting ready to attack whatever came out, unless it was mindless zombies. But he'd know if they were in there soon enough because they usually crashed into the door or inside wall in pursuit.

  The lock bolt on the front door clicked.

  John held his breath. It was going to be a smart zombie and this was going to be a battle. He needed to stay between Darlene and Murph and the zombie. He was their only hope of staying alive right now.

  The door swung open and Tosha leaned against the doorframe and licked her lips. "Want to come in for a nightcap?"

  "You idiot. You scared me half to death," John said.

  "The place is empty. And creepy. It used to be a shop for weird shit, though. Want to buy a pentagram?" Tosha waved at Darlene and Murph to join them.

  John shook his head and sighed. Every step they took could be their last, but they still needed a sense of humor. Or else they'd go fucking nuts.

  Tosha had some oil lamps lit by the time they got inside and closed the door.

  "The back door was locked but the lock itself is from 1920, it looks like. Easier than shit to pop." Tosha sat down in an overstuffed red chair. "This place is awesome, right?"

  "Who lived here? The Wicked Witch?" Murph asked, sitting down behind a counter. "It was obviously a business. Who would shop here?"

  Darlene was staring at statues. She picked one up. "Wow. This thing is horrific-looking. And priced at $29.99."

  John laughed. "Is there any kitchen left? This was probably a house way back when Murph was born."

  "Yes. And there's food, too. The cabinets are filled," Tosha said.

  "How is that possible?" John asked.

  "It's possible because God lets it be," Murph said.

  "In this place God has no bearing. This is some freaky witchcraft shit. Maybe the zombies are afraid of this building. It has evil or good powers or something. Have you ever seen a zombie near a church? I haven't," Tosha said.

  "I saw a horde of zombies tear down a church and rape everyone in it. Your argument is not valid," Murph said. "Remember that, John-John?"

  "I'd just as soon forget about it, dad. I'm going to see what we have for food. We'll need to clean out the van if we're staying here for any length of time," John said.

  Darlene sat down on a couch. "We need to keep moving. Not right this second, but in the morning. We're still too close to evil. I can really feel it in this room, and it isn't from here. It's trying to find me. And the baby."

  * * * * *

  Tosha went upstairs and opened the door to the first bedroom. When she saw the figure sitting on the bed, she screamed, eliciting concern from those below.

  "Sorry, I saw a mouse," Tosha yelled down lamely. When she was sure no one was coming to investigate she turned back to her sister, Mathyu, on the bed. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you in weeks. Got busy in Ghostland? Had a hot, dead date?"

  Mathyu stared blankly at her sister.

  Tosha couldn't remember how long her twin had been dead. She'd died in the beginning of this mess, one of the first victims Tosha had seen. It was no fun when it was family, especially the only family she loved. "I missed you," Tosha said quietly.

  Mathyu never spoke and hardly ever showed any emotion. She moved and sometimes, in the middle of a one-sided conversation, she'd wander away and leave Tosha for a few minutes, a few hours, or a few days. Tosha never knew if this would be the last time she'd see her.

  "The people we met in St. Augustine are downstairs. I guess you know that already. I'm staying with them for awhile, I guess. Who knows? I just want to survive at this point and find a good man."

  Mathyu looked away toward the window.

  "Are you trying to tell me something? Or just bored listening to me talk? I can never figure you out," Tosha said. She went to the window and was about to yell at her twin sister when she saw the large group of people, all carrying weapons, heading right toward them.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Russ stared at the back door to the house before checking his gun one more time. He knew he was stalling. The zombie was bound with rags and they needed something stronger, but for right now that and both girls aiming guns at his head had quieted him down. For a few seconds, anyway.

  "What are you waiting for?" the zombie asked.

  "Shut up."

  "Or what? You're going to kill me?" The zombie laughed. "I think this is all rather amusing. And ballsy. I will give you that. You might be the first living person to have a zombie as a pet."

  "What's inside?" Russ asked.

  "Willy Wonka and his chocolate factory. Watch out for the Oompa Loompa's, though. They bite."

  "I'll go in if you want," Bri said. "We need to do something."

  "I have it under control," Russ said. "You open the door and I'll go in. On the count of three… one…"

  Bri opened the door and walked inside with her gun drawn.

  "What are you doing? Stop," Russ hissed.

  "Kid's got balls. She's a keeper," the zombie said.

  Russ wanted to shoot him in the head but followed Bri inside. "Keep an eye on him, Taylor."

  It was dark but there was enough natural light filtering in it didn't take long for his eyes to adjust. Russ didn't see Bri anywhere. He was in a kitchen, which was clean. Nothing stood on the counters and the fridge was wide open and empty.

  Russ moved down a hallway and swung both ways at open doors. A clean, empty bathroom and a bedroom greeted him.

  He wanted to call out her name but knew it would be a stupid move, especially if the house was filled with zombies. Especially the smart kind.

  "Russ," he heard Bri call out softly from another room. She didn't sound scared or full of fear, so he didn't run. He walked a bit quicker and had his weapon out.

  Bri was standing in the center of a living room filled with people sprawled on the floor, wounded and frail.

  "O
h, God," Russ said when he realized what he was seeing: everyone was still alive but hobbled. Arms and legs were broken.

  "Why are they like this?" Bri asked. "I count twenty-three people." She turned and went into what Russ figured was the dining room. "There are more in here. Holy shit."

  Russ bent down and stared into the eyes of an older woman, who smiled faintly at him. "What has he done to you?"

  "He made sure none of us could escape. He's been feeding and caring for us. Cleaning up after us and changing bedpans, if you can believe it. Other than the initial attack he's been quite nice." She smiled. "He even reads to the children in the bedroom upstairs."

  "How many people are trapped here?" Russ asked.

  Bri had heard about the children and began taking the steps two at a time. Russ didn't bother to stop her.

  "We were just trying to figure it out this morning. Maybe a hundred. Maybe more. Who knows? He knows. He is supposed to feed us in a few minutes. And give us our meds," she said.

  "He hands out meds?" Russ asked.

  The man next to the woman smiled. "He gives us each a little pill. It takes the edge off and keeps the pain away. Sometimes we sing songs but he tells us to be quiet so the zombies don't hear us. Isn't that funny? He's a zombie, you know. Don't let the nice clothes fool you."

  "It didn't."

  Russ went back into the kitchen and opened up a cabinet. It was stuffed with cans of food. He searched the rest of the cabinets and pantry and was amazed at how much food and water was packed into the house. He went back outside to the back porch, relieved Taylor was still aiming the gun at the zombie.

  "Not what you were expecting, right?" the zombie asked.

  "What's in there?" Taylor asked.

  "People," Russ answered, staring at the zombie. "And they're alive but too hurt to move."

  "They don't need to move. They have everything they need in the house. Safety, food, water, drugs to keep them happy, and my tender loving care to keep them alive. They aren't going to find it outside in the real world. The real world is even shittier than before. Wouldn't you agree?"