by Weston Ochse
Metzger looked left and right, then at the water. It flashed a brilliant neon green. "Shit! Where do we go?"
Veronica slammed her shoulder against the restaurant's door, forcing what had been Natasha's father back as it tried to stumble after them.
Natasha found several boards and, with Metzger's help, wedged them beneath the handle. It wouldn't hold forever, but it would buy them some time.
"Does anyone know where to go now?" Metzger asked.
"I do." Derrick straightened his shoulders, pulled a plastic bag from his pocket, and removed the map he'd been working on earlier. He squinted at it, then looked in an easterly direction. "Come on."
The storm raged around them.
They kept to the shadows as best they could. Occasionally a white Suburban would roar by on a parallel street. Thankfully, they could hear the vehicles even when they were driving with their lights off; when they heard one, they'd stop and hide until it passed.
When Natasha and the others crossed Avenue E, they saw that Lazlo's trailer was lit by the headlights from two vehicles. Shadows moved about inside. But that wasn't their destination.
They turned immediately north and crossed 4th Street one by one, aware that at any moment those in the vehicle could look their way. But they made it safely across, weaving past propane tanks, through yards and out the other side.
Soon they arrived at their destination - Kristov's house. They crashed through the gate, then waded through knee-deep cans. The front door was unlocked. When they were all inside, Metzger closed the door, barricaded it with the kitchen table, then peered out the window to see if anyone had followed them.
Everyone else flopped on the couches and chairs in the living room, defeated and exhausted.
"Why here?" Metzger asked.
"We need to make some plans," Derrick said, his voice a monotone. "They'd be expecting us at some of the other places, like the Mad Scientist's or Maude's trailer. No one would expect us to be here. Here we at least have some time to come up with a plan."
The only light in the room came from an illuminated Elvis clock positioned directly above the couch. Natasha and Auntie Lin sat underneath it, while Veronica and Derrick grabbed chairs on either side. Auntie Lin held Natasha's hand.
"It's like a bad dream," Veronica said.
"It's not a dream. It's real." Natasha's voice was strained.
"How could this happen?" Derrick asked.
"I don't know. It just did." Natasha wiped her eyes dry with the palms of her hands. "People can't leave well enough alone, I guess."
"We need to get out of town," Metzger said. "We can't stay here."
"Maude said to go by boat," Veronica said.
"I don't know if we can trust her."
"She's dead," Derrick said. "Isn't that trustworthy enough?"
Metzger regarded the boy for a moment before he answered. "No." He returned to his vigil at the window. "We need two things. We need a distraction of some sort and we need a vehicle. We either find something drivable and hit the road, or find something floatable and go across the sea. Hopkins be damned."
"Either way we're fucked," Veronica snorted. "I wish I could have shot him when I had the chance."
"On one hand we have Mr. Hopkins to worry about, and on the other we have the zombies," Auntie Lin piped in.
"I don't think we have to worry so much about them," Metzger said. "If we move fast enough, we should make it. Those zombies move slow; if we're in a car or on a speed boat there should be no way they can get at us."
"Don't say 'no way.'" Derrick frowned. "I bet a week ago you would have said there was no way that zombies existed."
"I bet you're right." Metzger's eyes suddenly widened. He hurried back to the window. "Wait. Shhh."
They heard the unmistakable sound of cans being pushed aside as something waded into the yard.
"Oh, shit, shit, shit," Natasha said. She glanced at Auntie Lin, then tiptoed to where Metzger stood. He put his arm around her waist and hugged her close. "See anything?" she whispered.
He shook his head. "No. Not yet."
An incredible bang made the trailer shudder.
"What the hell was that?" Veronica jumped as the banging came again, from the back of the trailer this time.
Metzger peeked out the door. The yard was empty, as was the street. He moved to the living room window.
The banging continued at regular intervals, moving along the rear of the trailer. Each bang was followed by a shudder as if something immense was ramming into the thirty-foot-long home.
Veronica hefted her pistol and eased towards the back of the trailer. Derrick grabbed a heavy statue of Elvis wearing prison stripes and slashed it through the air a few times experimentally.
Natasha ran to the kitchen and yanked open a drawer. She rifled through it, took out a spatula and tossed it aside. She tried several other drawers and finally found an immense knife. She stared at it open-mouthed for a moment, then tossed it back in the drawer.
All the while the banging continued, the trailer shuddering and shuddering.
"What are you doing?" Derrick asked.
"Looking for a weapon," she said.
"What was wrong with the knife?"
"I just can't... I can't stab someone."
The sound of cans moving grew louder, coming around the front of the house, before stopping at the front door.
Natasha tiptoed to the door, but Metzger, who was peering carefully out the window, put out his hand and shook his head. No, he mouthed. You do not want to see this.
She stopped, bit her lip, and peeked out the window. There was her father, standing with his head down, his arms at his sides, wearing a military uniform, the front of it stained with blood and gore.
She looked in horror at Derrick.
"It's him, isn't it?" he asked.
Natasha nodded.
"I knew he'd come for us," Derrick said calmly.
Natasha gaped at him, and swallowed hard. She knew what she had to do but she doubted that she had the strength to do it.
Metzger must have seen something in her eyes.
"You aren't going out there."
"I can't leave him like that." She stared at the floor. "He's my daddy."
"But now he's a zombie."
"I know. But he doesn't have to be." She gulped and went over to Derrick. She gave him a hug as she knelt beside him. "We can't let him be like that, can we?"
Derrick shook his head. He wiped his nose with his forearm and stood. Natasha stood with him.
"What are we going to do?" he asked her.
"We're going to kill daddy."
Auntie Lin began to cry.
Metzger looked as though he wanted to say something, but kept his mouth shut. He held the pistol out for her.
She took it. It felt lighter than she'd thought it would.
She put one arm around her brother. "Keep holding me, Derrick. I need you to help me do this."
He did as he was told, his eyes wide with fear.
Natasha held the pistol before her and nodded to Derrick, who yanked open the door. Her father stood at the bottom of the steps to the porch, his head downcast as if he were ashamed at what he'd become. He'd always fought so many demons, never thought himself worthy of what he had, always wanted something more. Now here he was, a monster beyond reckoning.
A small cry escaped from Derrick.
Their father heard it and slowly brought his head up. He stared at them through yellow, alien eyes. Nothing of who he was remained in him.
The zombie began to wheeze and rock back and forth. The cans stirred around its legs.
Natasha brought the pistol to bear and held it pointed at her father's head. Her hand shook, and she couldn't hold the gun steady. Derrick's hand came up and balanced against hers. Natasha counted silently to three, then pulled the trigger. A hole opened in the zombie's forehead. She fired again and again until the gun clicked empty.
The zombie first fell to its knees, then as
more shots struck it, fell on its back. For a brief moment, Natasha saw that person who had been her father, and then the rain came down and buried him beneath the sea of beer cans.
Metzger took control of Derrick and Natasha. The first thing he did was get them out of harm's way. He knew from experience that being around dead people you once loved could drive a person crazy. He'd seen enough of his friends die and had spent many hours standing next to their bodies, or lying next to them in a roadside ditch, trying to stay absolutely still as enemy fire tore through the air above his head.
Such were the vicissitudes of war.
And this was war. Hopkins was the enemy general and the zombies were his troops. Metzger's own ragtag army was made up of frightened kids and their nanny. Pathetic really, but it was all he had. There weren't any Hajji-made roadside bombs, there weren't any skinnys on the rooftops with weapons, and there weren't deliberate ambushes to run into. But there were zombies, and although they weren't trained in military maneuvers these creatures were immune to pain and fear, and every bit as badass as the most hardened soldier.
So they paralleled Avenue G heading north to the Mad Scientist's house, running through the yards, stopping and starting to make sure that zombies weren't lying in wait for them. They crossed Second Street without being seen and sprinted into the Mad Scientist's yard.
They found Andy Gudgel waiting for them at the door. He waved them in, then shut and double-bolted it behind them.
Metzger was immediately struck by the sterility of the place. There was a living room, a kitchen and a hallway, just like every other damned single-wide trailer on the planet, but this one seemed... well, not much lived in. He turned to make a remark to Dr. Gudgel, then saw the man smile thinly and offer him a nod.
"Please, everyone in the kitchen. We'll be safer there."
"What? In the kitchen?" Veronica made a point of looking at where the carpet met the linoleum. "Is there like a force field or something?"
Dr. Gudgel didn't answer, but ushered everyone inside. Once past the demarcation, he grabbed a lever above the sink's water faucet and pulled it up, and the room began to drop on hydraulic motors.
Metzger couldn't help but grin as they were lowered into a secret chamber. They came to a halt in a large room with concrete walls.
Metzger escorted Derrick and Natasha to a sofa and set them down, then turned to appraise his new surroundings.
Here and there sand and dirt trickled from the crumbling mortar. The floor was covered in indoor-outdoor carpeting. It had the feel of a basement: low ceilings, lots of couches, and a big television screen on the far wall, divided into twelve squares. Six of them were lit active. The others were black.
One screen showed the front yard of Dr. Gudgel's house, the angle of the camera capturing the door to the laboratory. Another screen showed the front of the Space Station and part of the Laundromat. The door to the restaurant had been ripped off the hinges. The Laundromat's windows were entirely gone. Suddenly a figure walked into frame and shambled into the Laundromat. It knelt and did something beside the bank of dryers, then lurched to its feet. It turned, and Metzger cursed under his breath. It was his old friend Royland, now a full-fledged, glowing-eyed zombie. They'd met in Norfolk and had both signed up for the program... There but by the grace of God, he thought.
Another screen showed the front of the school. Two zombies seemed lost in the intricacies of the playground slide, while one beat his fists on the tire swing, sending the killer bees who called it home into a maniacal swarm, the ensuing cloud virtually hiding the zombie from view.
Yet another showed the view across the seawall, all the way from sump pump #1 to #2. Metzger could see where the wall had been breached, dirt on the road showing where the zombies had climbed over and slid down.
Another view ran south down Isle of Palms Avenue.
The last screen gave them a view of the entrance to the town. A semi-truck had been pulled across it. On either side of the road was an impassable ditch.
"The other cameras have been found, I'm afraid," Dr. Gudgel said, joining Metzger in studying the screens. "Hopkins spied the first one on a telephone pole along the access road to the plant, and he's been looking for them ever since. I used to have this town completely covered. Now..."
"So you were always expecting something like this to happen?"
"It couldn't help but happen. Cut backs. Putting the military in charge rather than scientists." He shrugged and shook his head. "It was bound to happen sooner or later."
"This is how you knew it was us coming." Metzger turned around to look at the rest of the room. Veronica sat on the couch between Natasha and Derrick, speaking quietly, trying to console them.
But for all the attention Veronica was giving her friends, she kept glancing at the screens. She wanted to check on her aunt and uncle, and the kids of the woman who ran the Laundromat. She'd wanted to check on them on the way to Dr. Gudgel's, but Metzger had convinced her to postpone it, stressing that Natasha and Derrick needed her right now.
"Did you see what happened at the Space Station?" Metzger asked Dr. Gudgel.
"I saw them come in, and I saw Hopkins come out wounded, but I didn't see anything else."
Natasha swallowed. "I killed my father."
Metzger strode over to her. "No, you didn't. You killed a zombie. Hopkins killed your father."
"But I saw something in his eyes."
"Nothing more than spastic synapse firing, Ms. Oliver." Dr. Gudgel pointed to his own head. "All the neuron patterns that comprised memory - that which really makes us human - were ruined in the re-making. What you saw wasn't what you saw."
"How bad was Hopkins wounded?" Metzger asked.
"Pretty bad. He had to pull himself into one of those Suburbans in order to return to the plant."
"You know he killed Deputy Todrunner, right?"
"I didn't know. Damn." Gudgel pointed to the screen with the semi blocking the entrance to the town. "Which makes that a lot more significant."
"Why?" Derrick asked.
"It means he's going for the 'scorched earth' solution," Dr. Gudgel said. "He's going to kill everyone, then concoct some sort of accident to cover it all up. With no communication or traffic in or out, he can do it without anyone stopping him."
"Except for us." Veronica sat, her elbows draped over her knees. "We have to stop him."
"And how are we going to do that?" Dr. Gudgel said.
"I don't know. That's for the smart people to figure out. But what I do know is that if we don't then he's going to find a way to stop us. So what are we going to do?" Metzger pointed at the boy. "It was his idea to come here. He figured you had a plan."
"I found the crib," Derrick said. "It was Space Station." Derrick spelled out the words.
Dr. Gudgel nodded and chuckled. "It's always something obvious. Did the book go into great detail?"
"It has everything. It has dates and times of the green lights flashing, natural phenomenon, and missing people or mysterious fires in trailers."
"But it doesn't have anything about zombies?" Dr. Gudgel persisted.
"No. But Hopkins found out about it and now he wants the book," Derrick said.
Metzger shook his head. "I think we're past that. The book was a momentary interest. If Hopkins is going to destroy the whole town, then he'll destroy the book along with it."
"Do you still want to see it?" Derrick asked.
Dr. Gudgel waved his hand. "No, I don't need to see it. Mr. Metzger is right. There's nothing stopping Hopkins from destroying everything. Whatever power the book might have held over him vanished when he decided to kill everyone."
"So now what?" Metzger asked.
"I've been dreading this moment for a long time, but like I said, I knew it would come. There's only one thing to do when your back is against the wall."
Natasha looked from one man to the other. "And that would be?"
"Attack," Metzger said.
"Take the fight to them," Dr.
Gudgel said.
"I suppose you have a plan for this?" Metzger asked.
"I do." He gestured towards the couch. "Derrick, Veronica, Ms. Lin, could you come give me a hand, please. I need some supplies from the lab."
After they left, Metzger walked to the couch and stood in front of Natasha. Her hair, even tangled and wind-blown, held chestnut curls he'd love to run his hands through. He liked her. He liked her a lot. She'd been through more than anyone should be allowed to go through. He just wanted to make sure she came out the other side as whole as she was when she went in. He sat on the couch beside her. "Hey, are you going to be okay?" he asked softly.
Her eyes were puffy from crying, and her cheeks were red. She stared at her hands.
"You're a terrific girl, you know? What you did out there..."
"My dad told me about this movie once and I never really understood it until now. We were always watching movies, growing up, and my dad said they were nothing like the ones he watched. He talked about the old times when characters were real, before they became space alien monsters and talking animals." She spoke in a monotone.
Metzger kept his mouth shut and listened. She needed to talk.
"I forgot the title of the movie he talked about. I remember that it was about this boy who had a dog. His dad didn't want him to have it, but there's no saying no to a kid when they have a pet and they want it, you know? So the boy, I think his name was Travis, bonds with the dog and they become best friends. Then the dog gets rabies and it begins to attack the family. The father could have taken care of it, so could the mother, but instead he made the kid shoot the dog."
"If he hadn't," Metzger added carefully, "it would have hurt the whole family. People could have died."
"Exactly. I was like, what's the big deal? The family is more important. I thought it would be easy to pull the trigger."
"Pulling the trigger is easy."
She shook her head. "No, it isn't. It's the hardest thing in the world."
"Living with the consequences is what's hard," he said. "Especially when it's someone you love."
"Especially." She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. She grabbed his hand.
"The movie was called Old Yeller," Metzer said. "I think it was a Disney movie."
