Rabid Heart

by Jeremy Wagner

  “Why’re you driving this piece of junk anyway?” Tyler scrutinized a stack of CD’s in his hands that he’d found in a car at their last gas stop. “I mean, geez, the windshield’s busted up, front windows are smashed out, and there’s a hole in the roof. It’s cold even with the heater on.”

  Rhonda didn’t know how to answer Tyler. He asked a good question. She was driving a catastrophe on wheels. She blamed herself for all the stupid shit she’d to get in this mess.

  Why am I still driving this wreck?

  Rhonda thought about it. The vehicle was no longer the fortress it had been. Shit, it wasn’t even fast, thanks to the limitations of the smashed windshield. Did she keep the Humvee for sentimental reasons? She didn’t know how to answer Tyler. She pursed her lips. “It’s armored.”

  “Armored? So what?” Tyler shook his head. “We don’t have windows. Anything could get us in here.”

  “Yeah.” Ellen blurted. “And it’s so chilly.”

  “It’s not too bad right now, Ellie. Sun’s out. Kinda warm today.” Tyler inserted a CD and Metallica soon rocked them all. He put his arms around Ellen.

  Rhonda agreed with Tyler, it was a nice day; bright and sunny and warm. It felt like the Indian summers she remembered from years ago. Warm wind blew in her face from her windowless door. Sounds of solid hard rock took her mind off her bad leg. During this blessed moment, she felt briefly felt like everything might turn out all right.

  “I wish we had anything besides this old rock crap.” Tyler peered into a grocery bag.

  “Hey.” Rhonda feigned insult. “Old rock crap? I like this. Metal. Hard rock, rocks. What’re you into? Lemme guess, Katy Perry or Justin Bieber.”

  “Yeah! Justin Bieber!” Ellen clapped her small hands.

  Tyler stuck out his tongue. “Ellie’s got ‘Bieber Fever’ like all the girls out there, or, at least all the girls who used to be out there. I like Bruno Mars.”

  “Laaaame!” Rhonda stuck out her own tongue and giggled.

  “Whatever.” Tyler chomped on an Oreo. Cookie debris sprayed on the dash when he spoke. “I like some old stuff, too. Even older than this.”

  “Really?” Rhonda raised an eyebrow. “Do tell, Ty.”

  “I mean, like, I dunno. Led Zeppelin? Some Black Sabbath. Van Halen.”

  “Wow. I’ll be damned.” Rhonda was impressed. “How’d you get into those guys?”

  “My dad. He was into cool stuff. He had lots of albums, even a bunch of old vinyl records, and, y’know... “ Tyler looked away and turned his face to his windy, windowless door. Rhonda heard him sob.

  “Hey Ty. Shit.” Rhonda turned the radio off. “I’m sorry. I... oh, man.”

  Ellen began crying. Rhonda knew it wouldn’t be the last time tears would be shed. Whatever inconceivable things had happened to them, and whatever fate had fallen upon their parents, remained fresh and unmended in their young hearts. These kids had experienced a lifetime of terrible, traumatic things in just six short months.

  Six months. It always stunned her. Six months wasn’t shit in Earth’s grand scheme of things.

  Rhonda spoke gently. “I always feel better when I talk to friends about my troubles. When you start sharing your problems with people who care, it sure goes a long way to getting the bad stuff off the brain. You guys have a friend in me.”

  Tyler and Ellen didn’t say anything at first. They just continued to weep, shuddering as they held each other for miles. Rhonda felt tempted to pull over and hold them. Console them. But instead, she drove on, and before long, both kids hitched and hiccupped and finally caught their breath.

  Soon after, they told Rhonda everything.

  Rhonda learned Tyler and Ellen’s last name, “Roth,” and that they had lived with their parents in Spartanburg, South Carolina. When Necro-Rabies broke and raced through Spartanburg, their father had packed them and their mother in the family mini-van, determined to make it somewhere safe.

  Like Rhonda, the Roths had headed south. They planned to hide out at their lakeside vacation cabin near Georgia’s border and stay low until the pandemic died out and blew away. Right. They would’ve been hiding forever.

  Their first three months had gone okay. Their cabin neighbors were helpful and nice. Everyone looked out for each other. Their neighbors were Mr. and Mrs. Whitman, a retired couple from Charleston, South Carolina. Mr. Whitman, a former sheriff, had some friends in the Army or something. Mr. Whitman made a call from some special walkie-talkie, and a day later, a military convoy stopped by on their way to Atlanta.

  “The soldiers brought us what Mom called, ‘words of promise.’” Tyler smiled. “They also gave us and a couple cases of mac ’n cheese and bottled water. I love mac ’n cheese.”

  Rhonda laughed out loud. “I bet. Y’know, I like mac ’n cheese, too. Brad and I ate a lot of it at our old place. But we got tired of it real quick, too.”

  Tyler’s smile faded. “We did okay for a while. But nice things don’t last long anymore.”

  Rhonda didn’t reply. She only nodded and listened. She learned Tyler’s good times at their cabin were coming to an ugly end.

  A night attack unfolded through Tyler’s testimony. Horrible events. Ellen burrowed into her older brother and didn’t say anything. Their family awoke to sounds of gunfire followed by shouts and screams from the Whitman’s cabin.

  Tyler and Ellen’s dad told them and their mom to stay inside while he went next door to see what happened. Tyler said their dad marched outside in his boxer shorts with a shotgun in one hand and a box of shells in his other. He and his sister sat in darkness on a twin bed with their mother and watched horrors unfold through a window.

  At this point in Tyler’s story, Ellen started to whimper, and she pressed the palms of her small hands flat against her ears.

  “I need a sec.” Tyler paused and exhaled a long and shaky breath. He rested his head against his seat and turned his face to the wind.

  “Take your time, sweetie.” Rhonda stared through smashed glass and as miles rolled by in silence.

  After a long time, Tyler finally turned back toward her. “Your parents still alive?”

  Rhonda pressed her lips together, unsure how to answer. She flicked her eyes at him and blinked to the road. “My own mom died with my sister when the Necro-Rabies killed our town. Lost lots of friends. My dad, well, he’s out there somewhere.”

  “He is? Don’t you wanna be with him?” Tyler raised his eyebrows.

  “Not really. Well, I mean... “ Rhonda hadn’t wanted to get into this. “What I mean is, we disagree on a lot of things and it’s not fun for us to be around each other.”

  “But you only get one dad and mom,” Tyler said quietly and dropped his gaze. “My parents always reminded me of that.”

  Rhonda reached her right arm out and gently touched his cheek with her fingertips. What Tyler said was true. She felt a sudden paternal void open beneath her. Her Dad, the Colonel, her only living family member, should mean everything to her. He did, actually. But she was just... just so angry. She was tired of being angry. And she suddenly missed him and it hurt.

  Rhonda couldn’t deny her father loved her to no end and only wanted her safe and happy. When she ran away from Camp Deadnut, she had taken joy in anticipating Dad’s surprise and anger, and the excitement of her bold exit with Cujo-fied Brad. But he sent her down this path, didn’t he? He tried to euthanize Brad, after all. She pondered a new possibility; perhaps had truly been trying to protect her, his only living child. After all, she was all he had left. In her heart, she wanted to believe this.

  Too late now.

  “Hey, you’re crying.” Ellen’s voice was shocked.

  “Ahhh, it’s nothing.” Rhonda tried a nonchalant delivery, but the quiver in her voice betrayed her. “So what happened after your dad went outside? I mean, only tell me if you feel like it.”

  Tyler sighed. When he spoke again, he didn’t look at her.

  Rhonda listened with great attention. Even Br
ad seemed to lend an undead ear from his seat. Tyler explained how his father, a big and strong man, went next door to investigate while Tyler, and his mother and sister watched through the bedroom window. Their dad walked to the Whitman’s cabin and knocked on their front door with his shotgun barrel.

  While he and his family watched, they saw the Whitman’s back door burst open. Lights from inside Whitman’s cabin illuminated the wooded backyard, and old man Whitman flew out, ass-over-tea-kettle into the night, thrown out by unseen hands.

  Whitman, shot in the legs and unable to stand, fell to his knees again and again. He wailed at his assailants in pain and rage.

  Tyler told of a large, shadowy figure who walked out the back door with a pistol in hand and stood before Mr. Whitman, who kneeled in fury before this invader.

  Two additional dark-silhouetted intruders dragged Mrs. Whitman out of their cabin by her hair. They joined the first formidable intruder in front of Mr. Whitman. In a dead voice, Tyler mentioned how Mrs. Whitman didn’t make a sound as they dragged her into the woods and out of sight.

  Ellen continued to press her palms against her ears and hummed to herself. It seemed she’d do anything to guard her little ears from horrific details. Rhonda couldn’t blame her. What kid or adult would want to relive such harrowing incidents?

  “At first Mr. Whitman shouted after the two men who took his wife away into the trees. Then he just stopped and hung his head in front of the first big man.” Tyler paused and gulped. “That big guy raised his pistol and shot Mr. Whitman in the head. The top of his head went flying off and spinning across the yard like a hairy Frisbee. Or like he had one of those wig things. Y’know... a teepee?”

  “Toupee?”

  “Yeah. But it wasn’t that. It was a real part of his head.” Tyler took in a deep breath.

  “Okay, Ty. Take it easy.” Rhonda rested her fingers on his shoulder. “We can talk about other stuff.”

  Tyler shook his head. “Naw. I’m fine.” He paused and dry-gulped air before taking a sip of bottled water. “My dad came running around to the rear of the house when the big man shot Mr. Whitman. The big man turned fast just as my dad came ’round the corner. My dad shot that big jerk with his shotgun and killed him, but the guy pulled a lucky shot and hit my dad. I think he got my dad in the shoulder ’cause my dad whirled around and dropped his gun. He was still on his feet though, grabbing his shoulder and bending to get his shotgun. But then another bad guy ran out from the front of the house and... and took him down.”

  Ellen hummed frantically.

  “After that those bad men killed our mom. Then they kidnapped us... and later, they got killed by those midgets and Roy and that’s how we wound up with them.”

  Rhonda looked at Tyler. He rocked in his seat and held Ellen close to him, his bottom lip trembling and his sweet eyes filled with tears. Rhonda grasped at words to save him from this moment. But what could she say?

  She drove on knowing for certain, no matter how far she ran away, the past was never going to be far behind.

  Chapter Twenty

  They didn’t see many signs of life in their travels. Sometimes red tailed hawks, or what her dad called, “chicken-hawks,” circled overhead. Perhaps these birds of prey flew with virus crammed in their guts. After all, small mammals were raptors’ exclusive food source. And all small mammals, Rhonda assumed, came chock full of Necro-Rabies.

  Cujos popped up along the roadside and many set themselves right on the highway, static like statues, in states of suspended animation. Others ambled in highway lanes or shuffled aimlessly through the lands she passed. In the urban ruins of mankind’s recent past, she caught glimpses of undead movement. But wherever these Cujos moved or laid themselves, they always snapped to rabid attention at the sight of Rhonda’s Humvee moving on the road.

  At times, Brad pressed his face against his window and hissed at transient Cujos from his seat. To Rhonda’s embarrassment, she couldn’t help being reminded of a dog defending its territory.

  Death was everywhere they looked.

  We’re the only living people left. Us and Fort Rocky’s survivors.

  It took all her strength to keep her foot firm on the gas pedal. Rhonda feared she was getting gangrene or something. Worse, what if she died and fucking turned Cujo?

  Then what would these kids do? What would Brad do?

  These kids needed her. Brad needed her. They all came first. She’d fight off sickness through willpower, then, right? No, she knew her boast was filled with bullshit. No matter how powerful her resolve, infection was stronger; and creeping deeper in her flesh by the hour.

  Rhonda figured Florida’s state line wasn’t much farther. She vowed to stay on course and see it through. Somewhere, there must be a hospital full of medicine. Perhaps, maybe real food and secure shelter.

  At a steady 40 miles per hour, Rhonda thought they’d made good time today. They had passed Georgia towns like Darien and Dock Junction hours ago. A new quiet settled inside the Humvee and Rhonda found peace within it. No music played, only a semi-warm wind provided background noise.

  Rhonda glanced at the kids. Ellen had passed out in a deep sleep a few counties ago. She didn’t stir, not even when Rhonda hit two Cujos who charged her from the middle lane, sending them flying over the Humvee with a thump.

  “That was cool.” Tyler yawned at Rhonda.

  Rhonda glanced at him. The boy had been sitting silently with his face turned toward the window for miles, unmoving. “What? Hitting those Cujos back there?

  “Yeah.” Tyler stretched and presented a half-smile.

  Rhonda smiled. “Yeah, it was kinda cool. Running over Cujos is fun... but messy.”

  “Yeah. But it feels good.”

  “You should have seen it when I hit a bull.” Rhonda shook her head. “Trust me on that one.”

  “A bull? Y’mean like a big boy cow?”

  “Yeah. A big boy cow the size of a tank.” Rhonda’s mind drifted back to that North Carolina county road. “It made a helluva mess.”

  “No way.” Tyler’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open.

  “Yeah way. Imagine hitting a two-ton side of beef at warp speed. It’s a miracle I’m alive. That big boy cow is what totaled our car here.”

  Tyler glanced around. “I know I asked you before, but really, why would you wanna keep driving this thing? It’s so awful.”

  Yeah, it was awful, and she knew Ty’s question was reasonable. “I dunno why I kept this thing, Ty. I’m pretty dumb for sticking us all in it.”

  Tyler snickered, but then said seriously. “Y’know, my mom told me that sometimes you just gotta let things go even if you love ’em. Like when I was all into the Wiggles and had all their DVD’s when I was a kid.”

  “You’re still a kid.”

  “Well, y’know, when I was younger.” Ty laughed. “I grew out of the Wiggles but didn’t want to get rid of the DVD’s, even though I’d never watch ’em again.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I listened to my mom. She was right.” Tyler smiled. “I just forgot that stuff and gave the DVDs to my little cousin. It turned out I really didn’t miss the Wiggles at all.”

  Rhonda smiled. “Your mom sounds like she was a great one.”

  “She was.” Tyler nodded and looked forlorn. “She was.”

  Rhonda had steadfastly avoided thinking about her own mother... until now. Her friends, her sister, and her wonderful mother, all gone forever. She wiped a tear from her eye.

  “Tell ya what.” Rhonda forced a smile. “When we get to Florida, we’re gonna find a car dealership and trade this piece of Marine junk in for new wheels. Cool?”

  Tyler beamed. “Cool! Can we get a Ferrari?”

  Rhonda laughed. “I don’t think that’s gonna cut it. They usually only seat two people and we’ve got Ellen and Brad, remember?”

  “Oh yeah.” Tyler nodded and looked away in thought. He faced her again and smiled. “How ’bout a big ’ol four-by-four truck?�
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  “Oh, yeah. Now you’re talkin’.” Rhonda ruffled his hair. “I like big trucks. A Dodge Ram would be nice. Jacked up high. Maybe we’ll take it through a swamp.”

  “Awesome.”

  They laughed together. Despite the pain in her bad leg, Rhonda’s spirits lifted. Together, they journeyed toward the promise of a new life. These three elevated her.

  “Can I put the music back on?” Tyler reached for a power button.

  “Go for it. Might break this dull drive.” Maybe music would also distract her from the pain. “You might wanna keep the sound down a bit while your sister sleeps.”

  “Sure.” Tyler adjusted the volume until hard rock just rose above wind noise. He leaned back in his seat and Ellen rested sleepily against him. He turned toward Rhonda. “When I get bigger, I’m gonna kill all the bad guys out there.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Bad guys. Like the ones who killed our folks and kidnapped us. They threw us into a moving truck. It sure stank in the back of that truck, but not as bad as that hotel.”

  Rhonda nodded and remembered the stench of Ruthie’s Inn and its countless dead guests.

  “Those bad guys were really mad that my dad killed their buddy. I was happy about that.” Tyler’s eyes narrowed. It was real dark in the truck all the time. All us kids were crying. I held Ellen real tight and promised her we’d make it.”

  “And you did.” Rhonda smiled. “I understand, Ty. I’d wanna end ’em all, too.”

  “That’s why I hit Patty. That little bitch... sorry.”

  “You can call her a bitch, Ty. She was a bitch. A small nasty one, and you earned the right to call her whatever you want.” Rhonda gave him a thumbs-up. “You did real good hitting her. You saved our lives. Shit, you deserve a merit badge.”

  Tyler grinned crookedly. “Thanks. I was sick of being scared and hiding under a bed and putting up with the threats ’n all. I promised Ellie we’d make it and I promised Mom we’d take care of each other.”