by T. W. Brown
“Yeah,” Kevin said slowly, “about that…”
“You worried how he’ll react?”
“I told them that I put you down. Ended your suffering mercifully.”
“Not for nothin’, but I’m kinda glad you didn’t.” Cary managed a smile.
“But what about the fact that I just left you like that?”
“Alone? With a busted car? With a gun and one bullet?” Cary opened the door, grabbed his bag, and climbed out.
“Something like that.” Kevin followed, closing the passenger door, and looking across the roof at his longtime friend.
“You afraid he’ll be pissed at how you left me?” Cary asked. “Or, are you worried that the reputation you’ve tried so long to cultivate with us all these years of what a bad-ass you are will be ruined?”
“Cary—”
“Kevin,” Cary interrupted, “stop worrying. This isn’t the old world anymore. And it ain’t the movies either. Maybe there aren’t any heroes.”
”It’s not about being a fucking hero!” Kevin snapped. “It’s about the fact that I left you for dead. I left you to suffer. I left you with a choice: open the door and be torn apart, or eat a bullet!”
“And considering the situation and circumstances,” Cary drew a pair of three-foot shortswords, “I’d say you did the right thing.”
“I could’ve—”
“What?” Cary’s voice was sharp. “Waited for me to suffer, sicken, and turn. That wouldn’t have done anybody good, and every single one of us agreed that we didn’t want to turn if we were ever bitten.”
“You didn’t.”
“And there was no way you could know.”
They began walking. They had a half-dozen blocks to zig-zag through in order to reach the edge of town. Buildings now blocked all but the very top of the roof of the house that Kevin, Mike and Heather were using as a hideout. Both men took turns walking backwards, keeping eyes peeled for any signs that one of the undead might be following.
A large wooden building was their final obstacle. It occupied most of a square block between the building itself and the parking lot. Kevin’s eyes swept it. None of the windows remained intact. Large jagged holes seemed to glare out at them. It was shut, but showed signs of having been attacked with axes.
Picking up the pace to a jog, they reached the building and crept alongside it. “This is where it gets hairy,” Kevin whispered. “We get around this and it is open ground, a two-lane road, and a moderately steep hill up to the house.”
Cary nodded. They peeked around the corner, Kevin’s head just above Cary’s. Cary stepped out moving fast. All it would take is for one of those things to see them, follow, and lead every zombie in the area up to that house. There was a wooden ramp that led up to the front entrance of what he could now see was a feed store. The curb was only a few yards away and the open street loomed.
“Fuck!” Kevin yelped. The sound of a body hitting the ground, followed by a loud, sudden exhale followed.
Cary spun, instinctively ready to ward off an attack. Kevin was sprawled on the ground, his long-bladed knife a couple of feet from his outstretched hands. On his back was the twisted remains of a middle-aged woman. Her once blonde hair was black in patches from dried blood. Her fingers, the ones that remained, were full of handfuls of Kevin’s shirt. Her mouth was open wide and looked cavernous with the loss of the entire lower lip and right cheek. One leg was bent at an unnatural ninety-degree angle just above where the knee might be. A few pieces of glass jutted from the top of its head.
Kevin was making no sound now. Cary could see his face, distorted in fear and pain, eyes bulging, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. The creature raised its head slightly then plunged down, it reminded Cary of a snake striking its victim. Kevin only grunted in response, but his eyes widened even more if that were possible. The zombies head jiggled slightly, then rose, a huge chunk of flannel shirt in its teeth.
Cary lunged, driving one of his blades, tip-first, through the thing’s left eye. Lifting and pushing simultaneously, he flipped the now deactivated body off his friend’s back. Kneeling, he rolled Kevin onto his back, away from the thing beside him.
“Dammit,” Cary hissed. “Where the fuck did that thing come from?”
One shaky arm pointed skyward.
Mike rounded the corner. He knew he’d heard the engine of that cruiser somewhere in this direction. It was sorta in a diagonal, away from the house, which made sense if they were trying to ensure not leading any of those things back to their little sanctuary.
He’d lost most of the things on his trail when he circled to the backside of the football field belonging to the high school. He’d scaled an eight-foot fence, making as much racket as possible. Then he ran across the field and veered back once he rounded the stadium bleachers. Finding a narrow turnstile, he climbed over and doubled back using backyards and closely spaced buildings to shield himself from view as much as possible.
There were still a couple lone roamers that he had to dispatch. He was really pleased thus far with the effectiveness of his steel-tipped spikes. The most recent victim lay just a little ways behind him in the rear of the tiny market he was sneaking along at the moment. Risking a look out into the main street leaving town, he was thrilled to see the highway patrol cruiser across the way in an open lot. Empty.
Obviously they’d gone the rest of the way on foot to avoid being followed. Seeing that there were no signs or sounds of nearby walking dead, Mike bolted. He knew it was a little careless to run so fast…but that had been Cary driving that car!
He went a couple of blocks, passing a post office and long since burned down gas station. Cutting left, he could see the two-lane road that ran along the front of the hill that their farmhouse sat upon and effectively separated it from the actual town like a surgical incision. His head kept swiveling, left, right, left, right. Twice he actually spun, running backwards a few steps.
“Fuck!” a voice exclaimed off to his right.
Mike stopped suddenly, turning to face the possible threat. What he saw made his heart thud painfully. Kevin was on his face with one of those things on his back. Cary was turning to help, but it would be too late. Mike sprinted, knowing that he too would arrive after the damage had already been done. He saw Cary drive a wicked ninja-style blade through the thing’s face and force it off Kevin. But not before the thing had plunged its teeth into Kevin’s shoulder and tore out what looked to be a big chunk. Where’s the scream? he thought as he ran. Cary moved in and rolled Kevin over. Suddenly he looked up, moving over Kevin protectively and baring both blades.
“Jeez,” Cary sighed. “I was afraid those bastards had gained sprinting ability like in Snyder’s flick.”
The levity lasted less than a second as both men’s gaze dropped to the face of their friend. Kevin’s mouth still gaped and he was as stiff as a board from head to toe. He was shaking his head. Just a little.
“Don’t talk.” Cary laid a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder.
Mike stood silently, torn with his joy of seeing Cary and the pain of knowing that his other friend was about to leave him.
“Grrgk,” Kevin squeaked.
“Shhh.” Mike knelt opposite Cary, his eyes going to the hand he’d seen bitten by a zombie with his own two eyes.
“Not. Bit,” Kevin wheezed.
Both Mike’s and Cary’s eyes went first to their downed friend, then each other. Unceremoniously, and a little rougher than he’d intended, Cary flipped Kevin over. A big piece of shirt was gone. But the skin was clear, a bit dirty, but clear of any teeth marks. Twin sighs of relief sounded.
Sudden movement made Mike turn, accidentally dropping Kevin who they were both helping to his feet. Cary reacted to Mike and let go as well. Kevin landed with a thud.
“What the—?” Cary saw a very attractive—obviously teenaged—girl in a blue dress sprinting down the hill across the road with a scoped rifle in her hands.<
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“That’s Heather.” Mike shrugged and glanced down at Kevin who lay at their feet in obvious pain. “Oh shit!”
Once more they went to help their friend. By the time he was up, Heather had reached them, skidding to a halt, but still managing to slam into Kevin who groaned slightly.
“He’s—” she backpedaled. Immune or not, getting bit was not something she wanted to ever experience again.
“He’s fine,” Mike whispered, “which is more than I’ll be able to say for us if we don’t get inside.”
“I’m Cary.” He stuck out the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Kevin’s waist.
“Heather.” She shook it, then glanced nervously at Kevin.
The foursome made it to the house as quickly as possible. By the time they were halfway, Kevin had shrugged off the help and, while just a little hunched over, made it under his own steam.
Cary stopped suddenly as they reached the porch, “What is that?”
The other three looked at him in confusion.
“That wonderful smell!”
“Oh,” Heather blushed, “I made lunch.”
Once inside, she insisted that all three go upstairs and clean up. They did. Quickly. The smile on her face never faded as she served up all three, drinking in the compliments. She blushed at the moans of ecstasy as all three had finished the meal and were presented with dessert. Peach cobbler.
6
New Attitudes
“Thank you so much,” the lucky woman’s voice was dry and raspy like a chainsmoker’s.
Looking at her up close, I’d guess her to have about a two-percent body-fat. Under the layers of grime was the heavily freckled but ivory white skin so common in honest-to-goodness redheads. Her face resides on the homely side of plain, not helped by an over-generous sprinkling of more freckles. Her gray eyes only added to her hawkish appearance. Nobody could be less aptly named Sunshine.
“The child is my responsibility,” Sunshine continued. “I know the injury is a concern, so let me just assure you that we will deal with it.”
I looked around at my group. The faces that stared back showed the range of every emotion I felt swirling inside. Dave, hope; Dr. Zahn, skepticism; Teresa, concern; Jamie, total confusion. Once more I asked myself when I’d been crowned King of Every Awful Choice.
“Somebody needs to keep a twenty-four hour watch on the child.” I did my best to sound authoritative like Paul Wimmer or Randall Smith.
“Steve?” Dr. Zahn stepped up beside me.
“In a minute.” I did not want to have the conversation I knew was coming in front of the new additions.
“Is the child the only one injured,” Teresa butted in.
“Yes,” Sunshine nodded, “it happened on the way to the roof.”
“Steve.” Dr. Francis Zahn was no longer sounding pleasant. All the more reason to have the dreaded conversation later.
“Wait till we get loaded up,” I tried to say it with a smile.
“Thalia!” Teresa screamed.
At some point, she’d climbed out of the Hummer. She was with the group of new arrivals. Talking to the injured child! Injured? I can’t even get myself to say “bitten” or “infected”, but my little girl is standing there babbling to this stranger like children do. She doesn’t see the danger. She only sees another child like herself. This one isn’t like Emily. This one is more her size, and thus, a more suitable playmate. All I see is a coral snake. It looks pretty, but it is death. Death to my little girl.
Teresa is running, and before I really realize it, I’m right on her heels. The newcomers look terrified. The child vanishes behind a sea of legs. Thalia looks totally confused. I hear Sunshine say something that sounds angry, and I hear Dr. Zahn say something back equally harsh. I don’t hear the words as much as sense a battle of outrage versus justification.
“Papi?” Thalia steps away from Teresa and to me. That’s a first, I thought as I scooped her into my arms.
“Can we sort this out later?” Barry breaks into the picture with Randi at his back. “Those things down there,” he points down the long, steep hill, “they’re coming this way.”
I walk to the edge. Sure enough. I can’t hold back my gasp. “My God,” I barely manage. There are thousands. Not hundreds. Thousands! And they are coming.
“Load up!” I holler. Being quiet is pointless. I opened the door, waving my arms. In no time, the dead city of La Grande faded from sight. I know there are other groups here fighting to survive. I wish we had a fleet of busses to save everybody.
We don’t.
“Papi?” Thalia tugged on my arm. “Why can’t I play with Matt? I ate all my dinner and even washed my plate.”
Dammit. I looked down into those large, brown eyes that were staring up at me with genuine puzzlement. She thinks I’m punishing her, I thought.
“Sweetie,” I picked the tiny girl up and set her in my lap and put my dinner plate on the ground. I really wasn’t that hungry anyways. “Matt is sick and needs to rest.”
Liar.
“Maybe tomorrow, if he’s feeling better.”
Liar.
“There’ll be plenty of time to play once we find a place to stay.”
Oh my God! Just add ‘and maybe your mom will meet us there.’
Thalia looked at me with that absolute trust and belief. Her eyes blinked once, showing off those long dark lashes that added to her innocent, angelic look.
“If Matt is sick,” Thalia got that look that told me she was searching for words, “he should have my blanket.”
“That’s very sweet, princess,” I hugged her, “but you need to use your blanket so you don’t get sick, too.”
In for a penny, in for a pound. Right?
“Now go see if Teresa can come see me for a minute.” I sat her on the ground and watched her run off.
We’d found a nicely secluded area up on a ridge. There were plenty of trees to keep us hidden from view. I didn’t plan on staying here more than a day or two until this whole situation with the child played itself out. I’d been keeping one eye on the boy without trying to look like I was staring. I wasn’t the only one. Dr. Zahn hadn’t let the child out of her sight since we’d set up camp. Barry and Randi were sitting on a fallen tree, pretending to be talking, but one of them was always watching. And it was obvious that the child was succumbing to the infection. He looked waxy, pale, and was growing listless.
“The eyes,” Teresa whispered in my ear, causing me to practically jump out of my skin. “Sorry.”
“What?” I made room for her to hop up beside me on the flat stump that had served as my chair.
“The eyes,” Teresa repeated. “They’re bloodshot black.”
“I feel terrible for them.” I tilted my head to the cluster of newbies that I still hadn’t learned the names of, other than Sunshine and the child. “One of them is gonna have a bad night, but all of them will be miserable by morning. I think we’ll stay put one more day. They might want to have a service or something for Matt.”
“You do know that with the exception of Dave, nobody agrees with this.”
“It’s good to be da king,” I muttered.
“Huh?” She tilted her head, looking at me with a sideways glance.
“Nothing,” I sighed. “Just channelling a little Mel Brooks.”
“Who?”
“Nevermind. Just spread the word for everybody to be patient. These folks have been through hell.”
“So has everybody,” Teresa sighed and hopped off the stump, brushing herself off. She walked away without another word.
“Yep,” I picked up my plate of half-eaten deviled ham and creamed corn, “it’s good to be da king.”
“Steve?” Melissa trotted up. She glanced at Teresa who was literally stomping off. “Can we talk?”
Great.
“Go ahead,” I said and sat the plate on the stump. I crossed my arms and turned to face contestant number two in the “Let’s Second Gues
s Steve” game.
“Umm,” she took a step back and her eyes immediately went to the ground, “maybe later.”
“No,” I nodded my head sharply one time, “I am open to whatever other gripes, bitches, and criticisms are out there in regards to my not simply putting a bullet in the head of a six-year-old boy. So please…let ‘er rip.”
“I was gonna ask you if maybe tonight we could share a sleeping bag.” Melissa’s eyes came up to meet mine—brimming with tears. “Not to do anything, I just wanted to be close to you because I thought you could use a friend.”
“Oh…” I stammered.
She spun and stormed off, leaving me standing there like an idiot with my mouth open. This was shaping up to be a fine evening. I cleaned my plate and looked for Aaron. He was already strapping on his equipment.
“Hey!” I handed him his gloves that were on the hood of the Hummer Thalia was currently pretending to drive.
“S’up.” Aaron took the gloves and then began checking all his belts and buckles. I could really see the impact being around all those real soldiers had on him in that moment.
“I need to ask you a favor,” I began.
“Check in on the newcomers and watch for the boy to turn. If they don’t take him out, finish the job.” Aaron finished his self-check. “Teresa already pulled me up on it.”
Part of me got angry. Either I was making the decisions or I wasn’t. I damn sure didn’t need a sixteen-year-old girl showing me up or going over my head. I took a deep breath, “Okay, who’s up after—”
“Dave,” he said, and walked away into the trees.
