The Dead Collection Box Set #2: Jack Zombie Books 5-8

by Flint Maxwell

  I did.

  But if you’re reading this, you have probably seen that I nor Carmen could do what needed to be done. Maybe someone else did. We left before he turned completely, but he was not himself. He was delirious; he was sick; he was not my husband and he was not your father. I hope you understand. We have taken off for the city. There is supposed to be a complex that takes in survivors. It’s in Golden Gate Park. They’re calling it Haven.

  I think they will keep us quarantined for awhile and that’s okay. I would prefer any building over this house. Everything reminds me of your father; everything reminds me of you. Know I love you with all of my heart and I believe our paths will cross again — if not in this life then in the one after it.

  I love you, Darlene. Please try to come and find us. Please let me hug you and kiss you and pinch your chubby cheeks one last time (I know, they’re not chubby anymore and you hate when I say that).

  - Mom’”

  I started crying the moment Norm began reading. Darlene squeezes my hand harder. Norm wipes a tear from his face, just a single tear. I’ve met Darlene’s mother one time in my life. She never liked me, never thought I was good enough for her princess. The time I met her was during Christmas break at Ohio State one year. It was not a good time for me, and the things her mother said took a toll on Darlene and I’s relationship.

  Norm sniffles and turns his head away, a ploy to cover up the fact that he teared up. He’s been doing it constantly since Herb has been gone. It’s not smooth at all, and often times I think he’d be better off to just let it out. I’ve heard him crying in the dead of night when he’s supposed to be on watch. It breaks my heart.

  “What now?” Norm says. His voice is very distant.

  “I — ”

  But Darlene doesn’t let me finish because she’s up and she has the gun in her hand. And I’m screaming again because I don’t want her to do this, but I also see there’s no stopping her just like there was no stopping her from coming up here and seeing who was behind the door.

  She opens the door and steps away and the thing that was once her father falls out on to the carpet with a muffled thump and squelch.

  “I’m sorry, Dad,” she says, and she pulls the trigger.

  Seven

  The zombie lay unmoving on the carpet, a steady stream of black and red leaking from the smoking hole in the back of his head. Looking at him, I think I can see the man he used to be, the man I remember sharing deep conversation with late at night when everyone was asleep and Christmas specials played on the flat screen television hung over the fireplace as the snow drifted down past the windowpanes. This man who told me to treat his daughter right because she was a queen — And I’m not just saying that, Jack. She is. And not to listen to what Eve says, he thought I was a great guy, good enough for his Darlene. The man who worked tirelessly to give his wife and two daughters a great life and a great education. I look at him and I feel a deep longing in the pit of my stomach. I long for the world to be normal. I long for a world where I don’t have to see my beautiful queen of a fiancé kill her zombified father.

  Darlene drops the gun. She’s breathing hard and fast. Abby and Norm stare with their jaws hanging open. I feel numb. I don’t know what to do, what to say. I’ve thought I’d seen it all, done it all. I guess not.

  “I’m leaving,” Darlene says. “I’m going to find my mom and my sister, Jack. And you’re not stopping me so you can either come with me or you can stay in this horrible-smelling house and keep staring at my dead dad. It’s up to you.”

  I could protest, I could say we need to vote as a unit before blindly chasing after Darlene’s mom and sister, but none of that matters. I love Darlene. I would follow her to the gates of hell.

  I think she expects me to protest.

  I don’t. I just says, “Let’s go.”

  “Yeah, let’s go get them back,” Norm says.

  Abby says, “Hell yeah.”

  Do I believe Darlene’s mom and sister are still alive?

  I do.

  Sometimes in my life, certain things would happen, things I never thought could happen. Meeting Darlene and her falling in love with me is one of those things; another is when an editor told me I had talent, then later on I sold my first book and got my first good review. Those types of things. Things you’d never expect to happen but always believe would happen. The world died, but I stayed alive and so did the love of my life, my brother, and a girl who I now consider my sister. Them — and I — avoiding the virus and the zombies and the chaos is one of those things. I won’t call it fate or destiny; I won’t say it’s God or the Universe or the Multiverse — none of those things. But I will say it’s something bigger than all of us, something working behind the scenes in all of our lives, guiding us in the right direction, nudging us along the path we’re meant to be on. I think if I can meet a beautiful, kind, wonderful, and caring woman like Darlene and we can fall in love with each other and be all right when the dead rise, and my books can sell and I can gain a following and meet all kinds of new and interesting people who seem to care for me, and I can make my brother who hated my guts once upon a time love me and have my back, then I think Darlene’s family is going to be okay. I think her mom and sister will have survived and changed because we all had to change when the zombies replaced our loved ones, our family and friends. That is the way of the world. But mostly, I think they will be all right because of the invisible force acting behind the curtain of the very fabric of the universe; I think that force will help us; I think that force is on our side.

  “You guys really mean it?” Darlene asks, looking like she’s close to tears again.

  “Yeah, let’s go get them,” I say.

  Eight

  “Well, where do we start?” Norm asks.

  We are in the car now.

  Abby rustles in the front seat and turns around to look at us. The engine idles. We sit on the steep hill with Darlene’s old childhood home a few doors down from us. All eyes are on Darlene.

  “We go into the city,” she says with such finality, I get chills. “We go to Golden Gate Park and we try to find this place called Haven.”

  “The lady has spoken,” is all I say.

  We have weapons. We’re relatively healthy at the moment. We’re experienced in the fine art of zombie slaying. Our car is practically brand new with a full tank of gas. We have a lot going for us. And I know I’ve fallen for the trap before, the trap of some promised safe haven — it’s a trap (and an overused plot point in many zombie shows and movies, if I might add) that we’re really too smart to fall for again. I think we’re all aware of this. If we’re aware of it, are we really falling for it?

  Besides, I’m Jack Jupiter. I’ve survived the city before.

  They’re all staring at me, waiting for my answer again.

  “Yeah, let’s go,” I say

  Norm throws the car into drive.

  I squeeze Darlene’s hand, knowing if I’m with her, I’m going to be all right, and if I’m all right, then my family will be all right. I’ll make damn-sure of it.

  Nine

  We don’t see any zombies. We don’t see much of anything, actually. There’s the occasional broken window or car parked crookedly on the curb, and the traffic lights don’t work, and it’s deathly quiet, but other than that, nothing. I think that scares me the worst. When you’re so used to zombies and you suddenly don’t see any anymore, you think two things: First, you’re walking right into a death trap, and second, this is the calm before the storm. When I get like this, I just think of that force behind the scenes, that entity working the strings, guiding me, protecting me. And I hope that force doesn’t feel like pulling the rug out from under our feet today — or ever.

  We drive out of the valley where Darlene’s empty house stands on the side of the rocks, like a mini version of Central’s headquarters in the Mojave. We drive up a street called Main, passing cars parked on the sides of the road. All types of them and all of th
em don’t look like they’ve been used since this unholy apocalypse happened. Now we crest the hill out of the valley. Norm turns the car left on the road. I’m in the backseat and if I look down and over the guardrail, I can see the crop of houses in Darlene’s old neighborhood.

  “Wow, would you look at that,” Norm says. “It’s a lot bigger in person.”

  I look out the windshield and see the first arches of the Golden Gate Bridge around the curve of the road and the deep blue of the water beneath it stretching out for as far as the eye can see. The rolling hills and mountains rise behind us and on my right side. A speed limit sign hangs crookedly from a post near the guardrail.

  The bridge is honestly breathtaking — just that first orangish tower jutting high into the sky. Then a cancerous thought invades my mind, asking me how long ago that bridge was given maintenance and how many cars must’ve driven over it when they were fleeing the city and how long until those cables snap and the metal support beams crumble and fall into the bay below? I shake my head, trying to shake the thought away and as I’m doing this, I see Darlene. She looks out the windshield with her hand over her gaping mouth. She must’ve seen the bridge countless times before, but it still manages to surprise her. Or maybe she just missed it. I don’t know, but I do know this is truly a sight to behold. Yet again, though, it’s another stop on the Jack Jupiter’s All-American Dead Tour. Another monument I get to see after the world ends. Go figure, right?

  The bridge is mostly clear from what I can see. We get closer and closer, passing dead cars and broken metal rails on the side. We hit the bridge, the part that’s not over the water, but raised off the land below. I feel a sinking feeling in my gut and it mingles with excitement.

  But Norm slows the car down before we roll over it, before the concrete goes from dark gray to a light ash. I see a few cars dotting the horizon, unmoving. Norm takes a deep, shaky breath and grips the steering wheel tighter.

  “What’s wrong?” Abby asks.

  Norm doesn’t answer.

  We all look at him with our heads tilted.

  “Norm?” I say. I don’t mean to sound hasty, but daylight is wasting. If there are zombies in the city — which there most certainly are — I don’t want to be trapped inside without any light.

  “I’m — ”

  Abby laughs and quickly covers her mouth.

  “Shut up,” Norm says. He gives her a playful punch on the arm.

  “I’m sorry,” Abby says, shaking her head. “It’s just, I never thought Norm Jupiter would be scared.”

  “Aren’t you scared?” Norm asks.

  “Yeah, I am,” Abby answers.

  “Me, too,” I chime in.

  “Yep,” Darlene says, finally pulling her hand away from her mouth.

  “Well, that’s all fine and good for you babies, but I’ve seen war, man. I’m not supposed to be scared,” Norm says. “I read somewhere that the Golden Gate Bridge goes over the water for like four-thousand feet! That’s a lot of feet where something can go wrong. And Jack’s with us, and whenever Jack’s with us — no offense, little bro — something always goes wrong.”

  Abby nods. “That’s true, actually.” Then she adds, “No offense.”

  “None taken,” I say. It is true. “I guess I’ll get out and walk from here. I’ll meet you at the park in, I don’t know, a week.” I make like I’m checking a watch on my wrist and I haven’t worn a watch in about five years.

  “It wouldn’t take you a week to walk to the park,” Darlene says, sounding honestly surprised. “Maybe if you crawled. But you’re not getting out, Jack, I won’t let you.”

  I laugh. “I’m kidding.”

  “I’m not,” Norm says. “Get the hell out!”

  Abby punches him.

  “Ow,” he says.

  “We’re all scared,” Abby says. “Man up, Norm.”

  “Yeah, it’s normal to be scared,” I say, “especially these days…”

  He sighs loudly. “I hate it, that’s all. It makes me feel like I’m back in Iraq.”

  “Wow, you’re really letting it all out there,” Abby says. “I’m impressed.”

  “I used to tell Herb these things. I don’t know if he ever listened or anything. I mean, I’m always scared, you know? The zombies scare the fuck out of me. And then there’s the mad men and…” Norm says.

  “And what?” Darlene asks, leaning forward. I lean with her. We are shoulder to shoulder, our eyes bugged out at Norm, waiting for a response.

  He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “It’s nothing. Really.”

  “Spill it!” Abby shouts.

  “Yeah, spill it!” I say and Abby and I both punch him at almost exactly the same time. He jolts backward, knocking his shoulder against the door and steering wheel.

  “Quit with the hitting! Christ!” he says.

  “We’ll stop if you tell us,” Abby says.

  “Fine. It’s just that I care about you guys, okay? Jesus, are you happy now? I love you guys because you’re my family and if something happened to you like what happened to Herb, then I think I’d die.”

  Wow. I can’t even speak. I’m floored. My older brother, the guy who used to torture me and who practically destroyed my mom when he left for the Army, is baring his soul to the three of us.

  “Aw, Norm, that’s beautiful,” Darlene says. “I feel the same way.”

  Abby makes a sound like she’s about to throw up, then she smiles. “Just kidding, I love you, too, man.”

  I’m afraid if I speak, I might start crying. I reach forward and grip Norm on the shoulder, the same shoulder I’d punched just thirty seconds ago. He squeezes my hand with four fingers. I don’t have to speak. He understands.

  “It’s going to be all right,” Darlene says. “I know it is. I feel it.”

  I feel it, too, but I don’t say this. I don’t think I have to. I think we all feel it.

  Norm nods his head after a moment and shifts gears back into drive. The car eases over the dividing line of different colored asphalt. The cables on each side of us rise high and higher. I get the sensation of slowly going up that first big hill on a roller coaster as my eyes follow the orange metal to the first tower. In my head, I hear that click-click-click of a roller coaster car getting pulled up, defying gravity. My throat tightens.

  We drive in silence, all of us in awe of this wonder of the dead world.

  Ten

  It’s hazy out so we didn’t see it until it was almost too late — the large, gaping hole in the road that leads to the water below, who knows how many feet up.

  Norm slams on the brakes. The tires screech like a dying animal. My throat, which has been slowly tightening and choking me out, closes so fast I can’t even scream. Darlene does, though. And she grips my thigh hard enough for me to feel her nails through the material of my jeans. For a second, a vision of the car not stopping in time flashes into my head. I see the blue water rushing up to meet us, hear the raking of the metal wires poking from the blown concrete scraping the sides of the car, I smell the ocean. Sharks circle below, waiting for us to drop into their gullets.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Norm says. His foot bangs on the pedal loud enough for me to hear it over the wailing tires. Abby has her hand out in front of her, bracing herself on the glovebox. My eyesight blacks out for a moment because I hit Norm’s seat in front of me. Still, I feel Darlene’s sweaty hand in my own.

  Then the car stops inches from the hole in the road. It’s not a small hole, either, I see that now. It’s a square about thirty feet by thirty feet. Norm looks over his shoulder at us. There’s pain in my ribs and my thigh, both of which are wounds that will never heal properly, I think.

  “Everyone okay?” Norm asks, his eyes wide.

  “Yeah,” Darlene says.

  I wince and say, “Could be better.”

  “Ab?” Norm asks.

  “Sometimes I think you really do want to kill us, Norm,” Abby says.

  Then, silence followed shortly by
laughter, uneasy laughter of a group of people who have seen too much in too little of a time.

  “No way we’re making it across from that,” Norm says. “Unless…”

  “No,” Abby says firmly. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “What?” Norm says, both hands up as if to say he’s innocent. “I can make the jump, just need enough speed.”

  “That’s like fifty feet!” Abby says.

  “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Norm says. I don’t think he is.

  I get out of the car. The air is cool up here, but it’s heavy, too, weighing down on my lungs. I smell the salt, taste it. The haze which seemed to shroud the bridge dissipates right before my eyes. Darlene is next to get out. She shields her eyes from the waning sunlight. Somewhere in the sky a gull cries.

  Norm and Abby follow.

  I inch closer to the hole, noting the scorch marks around the concrete. Across the way, where the bridge takes its last stretch into San Francisco and the cables start rising high again to meet the second tower, I see the gleam of bullet casings. It’s as if some great battle was fought here. My eyes keep scanning. I’m not surprised when I see a dark stain in the concrete not far from either the bullet casings or the crater. It’s blood. It’s always blood. We were truly dumb if we thought this city would be untouched by The End. Now that we are closer and the haze is clearing, I see the skyline, and it’s not healthy. It’s as diseased as the plague that destroyed the world. I don’t feel anything looking at it besides embarrassment. Embarrassment of the fact I’d honestly believed the zombies hadn’t ravaged the Bay Area.