Fortunes & Failures - 03

by T. W. Brown

  I screamed. Then…nothing.

  

  “Hey there, graceful,” an angelic voice whispered in my ear.

  My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and my mouth felt like sandpaper was wrapped around my tongue. Great, I’m—

  “…a zombie?” I rasped.

  “What?” a strangely familiar voice asked.

  “Am I a zombie?

  “No, Steve,” the familiar-but-stern voice scoffed, “zombies don’t talk.”

  “Although they do moan and cry a lot,” a male voice I know that I should remember chuckled.

  I opened my eyes to the bright glare from the sun that poured through a nearby open window. Melissa was sitting beside me holding my hand. Dr. Zahn was in a rocking chair jotting things in a notebook. She looked tired. Sergeant Saunders…Jon…was in the doorway wearing a freaking arsenal.

  “What in the hell happened?” I said, wondering who had used my mouth for a toilet then filled it with the kitty litter that, according to how my throat felt, I had obviously swallowed.

  “Lots.” Melissa’s eyes brimmed over with tears.

  Crap, I thought, I’ve been bitten and they are waiting for me to turn.The last thing that I remembered was—

  “Chloe!”

  “She’s dead…for good,” Dr. Zahn said with more than a hint of sadness in her voice.

  “Did she…?” I couldn’t bring myself to actually ask.

  “No,” Melissa answered with a laugh that was also partially a sob.

  “Billy put her down quick,” Jon offered.

  “Okay, you guys all have the same expression.” I looked around the room. Each time my eyes met somebody’s, they turned away. “Thalia!” I tried to sit up and felt dual sledgehammers pound their way out of my skull through my temples.

  “She’s fine, Emily’s fine.” Melissa placed her hands firmly on my chest and pushed me flat, not that it took much effort. “Teresa is fine.”

  “Then what the hell?” I really wanted to raise my voice, but it felt like talking was only a shade less painful than letting somebody take a Garden Weasel to my throat.

  “Not right this moment,” Dr. Zahn got up and walked over to the bed. And since when did I have a bed in the middle of the Visitor’s Center main foyer? I mean, why not just put me on the front porch.

  “Doc…” I shook my head and tried to swallow.

  “Give him some water, Melissa,” Dr. Zahn said.

  “No, dammit!” I made a feeble attempt at shoving the water glass away. “What happened?”

  “Somebody led a fairly large herd here,” Melissa said, glancing back at Dr. Zahn who already had her lips pressed so tightly together that they were nothing more than a pencil line across her face.

  “What?” I was stunned at this possible turn of events. “How do we know that? How can we be certain somebody did such a thing intentionally?”

  “We’re pretty sure,” Jon said, his expression grim.

  “What else?” I demanded, accepting the glass of water Melissa still held out for me.

  “We lost a few people.” Jon glanced at Dr. Zahn who finally nodded, albeit reluctantly. “First…you owe your life to Jamie. He’s the one who tackled that girl Chloe as she was about to take a bite out of your face. He saved your ass, Steve. It was him and that boy Billy that carried you out of danger. Aaron…well…he went down covering your rescue.”

  I felt a coldness fill me from head to toe. That was one of the last things that I expected. It didn’t seem possible. I’d watched that young man go from frightened boy to fierce fighter in the past several weeks.

  “We came on the run when Doc told us you were engaging several zoms, including one of our own who appeared to have been recently turned. Then the screams started back at the house. Jamie, Billy, and Aaron had a handle on the picnic grounds and waved me off to help at the house.” Jon paused for a moment, something passing over his face. He was feeling guilt over Aaron if I read him right. Eventually, he continued, “When I got there, they were pouring out of the trees, coming up the road, and across the field. There were well over a hundred. I divided my men amongst your people and we engaged.”

  “Who else,” I whispered. I could tell from his tone and expression that it hadn’t gone well.

  “Paul, George, Molly…” Melissa paused, “…and Curtis.”

  “The guy immune to the bite?” I gasped.

  “Apparently he and Molly had grown close, when she went down, he dove off the berm into a crowd of them…they tore him apart.”

  “We now know that even if you display immunity, but die later, you will return as one of them,” Dr. Zahn cut in.

  “Have you told him?” a voice from just outside the door called. The door opened and in walked Sunshine. She looked at least ten years older. Chloe’s death obviously hit her hard. “Did they tell you?” Her eyes were red, puffy, and raw looking.

  “Did they tell me what?” I glanced around the room. Jesus, there was more?

  “You haven’t told him who did this?” Sunshine glared at everybody in the room, her look one of absolute poison. “Or why? You haven’t told him what Chloe saw? You didn’t tell him what that animal did to her?”

  Now I was beyond confused. I saw Jon scowl, his dark look becoming blacker. Melissa wouldn’t meet my gaze, and even Dr. Zahn was fidgeting. “So…who did this?”

  “Jason,” Jon spat.

  “What?” That didn’t make any sense. He’d been instrumental in saving me. Why would he risk his ass for that, then turn around and start killing folks and top it off by leading a herd into our camp?

  “Chloe saw him sneak out,” Jon said. “She thought something was strange because he had a bunch of gear strapped on. She went to follow him and see what he was up to, but woke Sunshine first just so she wouldn’t worry. Best we can tell, he caught her and tied her to a tree. We discovered evidence of that at one of the sites, and Dr. Zahn confirmed it with her autopsy before we disposed of the body.

  “He cut the word ‘nigger’ in Jillian’s back!” Sunshine blurted.

  Then it all came crashing down on me. All those confrontations between Jason and Lee had nothing to do with what a pain in the ass Lee could actually be. Jason provoked the man mercilessly. Being out on a scavenger run would be the best place to do away with somebody.

  “But he was gone when Randi was killed,” I said, having a hard time digesting this newest bombshell.

  “Jamie said that Jason suggested they split up. He said it would be the best way that they could watch over you in case something happened. Plus, he wouldn’t need any help. They were apart for four days; plenty of time to get in and out of here; then make it back down to where you were holed up. Nobody thought of anything…especiallyafter he saved your ass with that hydroplane stunt. Hell, he was a hero,” Jon finished.

  “But…?” I was so confused.

  “I went through his stuff; the stuff he left behind when he took off.” Melissa squeezed my hand. “There were a few things in a Ziploc bag in the bottom of his sleeping bag, Aryan Brotherhood stuff. Even an ID card with his picture. Ian’s pretty upset. He said he should’ve recognized the tattoo.” Melissa suddenly shook her head and made a face. “Hey! Did you know that Ian did time in prison?”

  “So where is Jason?” I asked the obvious question.

  “Gone,” Jon snarled. “But my boys Sanchez and Beebe are looking for him.”

  “Next question.” I glanced at Dr. Zahn. “What in the hell is this?” I tapped the cast on my left leg that went all the way from my upper thigh to my foot.

  “You suffered a compound fracture of the tibia and a single break of the fibula,” Dr. Zahn explained. “Mister Saunders and Jamie made a run back to what was left of Serenity Base.”

  “For what?”

  “Medical supplies,” she said with a shrug. “I had little hope that any of the narcotics would survive the looting. However, I felt that there were a few things that might still remain if people didn’t k
now where to look. My hunch proved correct.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “I had to perform surgery on your leg, Steve.”

  “What?”

  “I had to affix two plates to ensure that you had the chance to walk again at some point in your life.” Dr. Zahn said all of this in much the same way I might tell somebody it was going to rain tomorrow.

  “That’s why you’re out here,” Melissa explained. “It was the only place with enough light and enough room for Dr. Zahn to operate short of taking you outside.”

  “We were fortunate,” Dr. Zahn continued as if Melissa weren’t even there, “Mister Saunders took it upon himself to venture into La Grande. He hit a veterinary clinic and returned with a hefty supply of ether. That is the good news.”

  “Which means that there is bad news,” I prompted.

  “Yes…well,” Dr. Zahn was suddenly uncharacteristically uncomfortable. This had to be bad. “You have practically exhausted our entire supply of pain medication.”

  “Meaning?”

  “You have endured a hideous injury and a tough surgical procedure.” Dr. Zahn stood, brushed herself off, and came to the side of my bed. “You have a lengthy healing process ahead of you that might take months. And then there is the physical rehab. The pain will be epic.”

  “Don’t sugar coat it, Doc.” I tried to laugh.

  “That’s why we kept you unconscious as long as I deemed safe.” Dr. Zahn glanced around the room, her look chastising everybody for allowing this conversation to take place.

  “Wait.” I looked at all the faces, none of which would return my questioning glance. “How long have I been out?”

  “Three weeks,” Melissa said.

  * * * * *

  6

  Vignettes XIV

  Garrett wedged the pry-bar into the doorjamb and leaned into it. The sound of wood splintering seemed like an explosion to his noise-sensitive hearing. The world had become such a silent place that everything seemed much louder than he remembered.

  A musty smell rolled out with the heat that had been pent up inside the modest house. Well, modest by the standards of the one he lived in now. There was no telltale stench of the undead to give him any reason for concern.

  He’d had to travel almost a mile to find this place. So many of those things had gathered outside the walls of his home that he couldn’t even get to the other nearby houses on the street that ran along the front where the main entry gate was located. Any attempt would not end well. He would be trapped and cut off from The Toy, and he couldn’t have that.

  He’d seen enough to know that if he wanted to search for food—or booze for that matter, they’d run out of beer two days ago and he’d finished his last bottle of vodka this morning—he would need to search for locations farther away from home to be safest. Climbing over fences and creeping through back yards was a lot of work, but he’d eaten the last of the canned food this morning. Canned beets. His mouth made an involuntary grimace at the thought.

  Stepping into the house, he looked around cautiously. Even though he couldn’t smell anything, he still worried that somehow one of those abominations would be lurking in the shadows. As he neared the kitchen, he could definitely smell the stench of spoiled food. Also, he could hear the all-too-common buzzing of the swarms of flies that were no doubt becoming one of the most plentiful creatures on the planet.

  When he peeked his head into the kitchen, his eyes were drawn to the stain on the floor in front of the refrigerator. It had long since dried, but the flies still swarmed that, along with the defunct, yellow appliance.

  Garrett knew better than to open it and went over to the cupboards. He found plates, glasses, and finally, food. He scooped packages of Ramen noodles, macaroni and cheese—the good stuff in the blue box—and Hamburger Helper into his pack. Next were the soups, canned fruits and vegetables. Afterwards, he found the pantry closet. He spied something that made him grin and was sure to put it in the bag last of all.

  Finished, he wandered through the empty house looking for liquor. In the living room, in a fancy cabinet that fit neatly in one corner, he discovered a few bottles containing names he’d never heard of before. Some were names he couldn’t even pronounce, and after giving them a sniff, he tossed them aside. One smelled like candy, another like licorice. Garrett wanted good old fashioned—

  “Patron?” he mumbled and picked up the bottle. “Tequilla, now that’s more like it. Don’t know why folks can’t just be happy with some José Quervo. I guess this’ll have to do.” Garrett unstoppered the bottle and took a drink. He gave the bottle an appraising glance. The stuff was actually quite good.

  He went to the bedrooms and bathrooms next. He didn’t find anything except for a toothbrush that was still in its package and a half a tube of toothpaste. He added that to the pump dispenser of soap he’d found earlier. The Toy was starting to smell almost too rank to touch. This would help.

  A thud made Garrett jump. Something had slammed open the front door. Pulling the three-pound sledge from the loop on his belt, he went down to investigate. What was left of a man in what looked a postal carrier’s uniform had stumbled in and was wandering around the living room, bumping into the furniture. A lamp tumbled from an end table and crashed to the floor.

  Garrett walked up behind it, setting his backpack down on the arm of the sofa, and brought the sledge down on the crown of the thing’s skull. Thick, dark goo squirted from the octagon shaped impression that sank almost two inches into its head. Garrett wiped off the hammer and slipped it back into the loop on his belt and turned to grab his pack.

  At least a dozen more of those things were shambling across the front lawn and headed for the open door. Garrett briefly considered dealing with the closer ones before making a run for it; then he saw another twenty or so coming in their wake. In fact, as he paused to take a better look from the doorway, he could see more. They were coming through yards and around cars, and there were a lot.

  He grabbed the pack and ran for the back door. The back yard was empty and he stood on the deck looking into some of the adjacent back yards. He had five to choose from; only two were totally empty. Where had they all come from? Garrett wondered. They hadn’t been there when he arrived.

  By the time he reached the wall of his kingdom, there were well over a hundred coming on his heels in a stinking tide of undeath. He had to fight the urge to stop and kill some of them. Especially one particular girl who looked to be about nine or ten; she looked fresher than the others, and somebody had done him the favor of removing all her clothes.

  As he climbed over the wall and pulled up the rope, several of them crashed through the hedge. He hadn’t swung his left leg over yet and one of them managed to get a hold on his ankle. With an uncharacteristic squeal of fear, Garrett brought his other foot back around and drove his heel into the upturned face. It took three solid kicks to free himself from the dreadlocked, ashy skinned zombie with piss-yellow teeth.

  Swinging the rest of the way over and dropping to the ground on the other side, it took him several minutes to calm down. He remembered seeing his momma torn open that first night by several of the neighbors who had burst into their tiny house.

  Eventually, his mind shifted to one particular neighbor: Kimmy Vanderwall. He remembered standing over her on his bed. Most likely, that was where she was right this moment, his seed having tunred into a dried glaze on her blue-grey skin.

  Recovered from his terrifying experience, Garrett picked up the pack and walked through the shadows cast by the late afternoon sun. He’d untie The Toy from its post and let it watch while he ate dinner.

  

  Kirsten felt a trickle of saliva spill from her mouth and dribble down her chin. She’d lost track of the days a long time ago, and couldn’t remember the last time she’d had something to eat. The Big Man sat beside her on the bed with a bag of barbecue potato chips, crunching loudly. She could smell the tangy, salty sweetness of them and it made her stoma
ch churn and make noises that could almost pass for the noises coming from the monster people.

  He’d been back for a few hours now. When he’d untied her, she noticed how skittish he was of the wall of hands reaching though the iron entry gates. He’s afraid, Kirsten thought, and immediately her mind went to figuring how she could use that to her advantage.

  “Hungry?” a voice snapped her back to the present and the never-ending gnawing feeling in her gut. It was as if one of the monster people were inside her belly trying to get out.

  Kirsten glanced over at the hulking figure beside her. The candlelight from the nightstand flickered, adding to The Big Man’s already frightening appearance. She mulled over the idea of actually answering, then decided against it. This was simply another one of his tricks.

  “I’ll only ask one more time.” He waved a big, unbroken chip under her nose.

  “Y-y-yes.” She cursed herself for sounding so frail and weak.

  “I’m gonna cut you loose.”

  Silence.

  “You gonna do what I say, or I’m gonna finish my dinner while you watch. Then…I’m gonna toss you over that gate.”

  She believed every word that he said. And, for a moment, she considered the possibility. There would be pain. But then …nothing. It would be over. Only, that would leave The Big Man alive. He would win. She’d already decided against allowing him to win. She didn’t know how yet, but somehow, she was going beat him.