His Name Was Zach

by Peter Martuneac

  “I will, Bug. I’ll see you in a bit,” he answered as he wrapped his arms around her, and then he left.

  Abby and Ross snuck off towards the big grey pavilion while Zach, still wearing the red sash and hat, walked in the opposite direction, towards the large bonfire. A large crowd filled the area and it seemed like most of the gang was out here partying and dancing, despite the late hour. The alcohol flowed freely as music was being blasted by old, concert-style subwoofers. Zach assumed that much of the alcohol came from Little America, but Zach had no interest in drinking (well, he was a little bit). He had to cause a distraction.

  “And there it is,” he said with a sly grin. Across the clearing, along the fence, was what looked like a bunch of old solitary confinement cages, about a dozen. And judging by the way they were shaking and the noises coming from them, they were being occupied by zombies. All he had to do, Zach thought, was open up one of those cages, and with so many drunk people packed together like sardines, the zombies would run rampantly out of control. Now that would be the perfect distraction, though he, Ross, and Abby would have to be fast in their escape.

  But then Zach’s smile faded as he remembered the zombies at Little America, their war dogs. They never attacked the guys in red. Would these act the same way? He needed to find out. Zach looked around for someone who looked sober, someone who could give him answers. He noticed a young-looking woman on the fringe of the revelers, smoking and leaning against a lamppost.

  He made his way over to the woman and said, “Do they have to keep those zombies so close to us? They creep me out.”

  “Yeah, me too,” the woman answered lazily. “But they say it’s part of the taming process.”

  “Really? How do they figure?”

  The woman shrugged and said, “I guess being so close to so many people wearing red shit and not being able to attack them softens them up a bit. Then they enter the ‘pain retains’ phase.”

  “You ever actually see that happen?”

  “Once. It’s pretty gnarly. They chain the zombies up tight and put two dudes in front of them: one wearing red and the other not. Every time they go after the one in red, the handlers hit them with, like, a million fucking volts of electricity. Eventually they get the idea. But those guys over there are still feral.”

  “Christ. I wouldn’t want that job.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t piss off anyone important and you won’t. I mean, I thought it was pure bullshit, trying to train those things, until yesterday. But I guess it kinda works, at least for a few minutes.” The woman took a final drag of her cigarette, dropped it on the ground, and then stamped it out. “Look, if you’re trying to get laid, you can just come out and ask. I’m pretty easy and you’re better looking than most guys I get with.”

  “Oh, I actually have something to do right now, but maybe later,” Zach answered awkwardly.

  “Your loss. If you change your mind, I’ll be right here.”

  “Yeah. See ya.”

  Zach left the woman and made his way towards the cages.

  ***

  Ross and Abby stuck to the deep darkness of shadows as much as they could, though the night was already plenty dark. They moved cautiously but quickly, not desiring to spend a second more in this place than they had to. They did not pass anyone along their way, and they guessed that mostly everyone was at the celebration.

  It did not take long to reach the tent where Diane was being held. It was enormous indeed and could probably have housed a full-sized basketball court inside it with room to spare. Neither Abby nor Ross had their guns in their hands, as these would make way too much noise. Instead, they held their knives low, ready to strike if necessary.

  They came to the back of the tent, and Ross tapped Abby on the shoulder and pointed left. She nodded in understanding and then carefully made her way around the left side as Ross went right. Abby stealthily walked down the length of the tent, hoping that she was keeping up with Ross. When she came to the far corner, she carefully poked her head out.

  A man sat in a chair in front of what appeared to be the entrance to the tent. He was fumbling around in his pockets, then finally produced a cigarette and a lighter. As he attempted to light his cigarette, Abby looked past him and saw Ross on the other side of the pavilion, knife in hand. She held up one finger to say ‘wait’, and then stepped out into the open.

  ***

  It was taking Zach longer than he would have liked to reach the zombie cages. Not wanting to draw attention to himself by looking out of place, he would stop to dance for a minute like everyone else every time a joyful drunk pulled him into a group of friends. He even took a shot of whiskey with a highly inebriated young man who then passed out.

  Finally, he came up to the small gap that the partiers had naturally left between themselves and the cages. But a guard armed with a shotgun stood next them. “Damn,” Zach whispered. He pushed back into the crowd and started dancing again to get back into character, all the while trying to think of a plan.

  ***

  “Smoking’s hazardous for your health, you know,” Abby said to the man guarding the tent as she stepped out of the shadows.

  He whirled around suddenly, looking frightened, but his expression changed when he saw a young girl standing in front of him. “And coming here alone is hazardous for yours,” he said as he took a step towards Abby, but one step was all he got before Ross snuck up and plunged his knife through the man’s back and into his heart. The man’s face twisted in pain and the still unlit cigarette fell from his open lips and hit the ground, followed immediately by the man’s corpse.

  “Keep watch,” Ross whispered as he dragged the body around the corner that Abby had come from and then sat him up against the tent so that he looked like a passed-out drunk. Then he and Abby entered the pitch-black tent.

  “Diane!” Ross hissed as loudly as he dared.

  “Ross? Baby?” came a soft reply. Ross and Abby turned towards the sound, which was coming from the middle of the tent.

  “Ross! Here!” Diane said again. Ross and Abby made their way towards her and found her with her hands cuffed around a support-pole for the pavilion, along with six others.

  “Diane!” Ross whispered as he kissed his wife deeply.

  “Baby, I’m handcuffed. You need to get the key!” she said.

  “I’ll check the guy outside,” Abby said and she ran outside and turned the corner to where they had taken the dead guard. She hesitated for a moment, feeling guilty about rummaging through a dead man’s pockets. It seemed so wrong, so revolting, but it had to be done. She had patted down the man’s vest pockets and was starting to feel his jean pockets when suddenly she saw beams of light flicking around the corner by the front of the tent.

  “See, I told you! Carlos is gone! Some huge black guy killed him!” someone whispered loudly.

  “Two of you shiteheads stay out here and stand watch, he might have friends. Everyone else is with me,” said another man with an unmistakable Irish accent, and then they entered the tent with their guns and flashlights. Abby saw a flicker of light and noticed for the first time a small hole in the side of the tent. Getting on her knees, she peeked through to see what was going on. Six men had just gone inside, and each one of them had either a pistol or a shotgun.

  “Put your hands up!” one of the men shouted as the entire interior of the tent was illuminated by LED flashlights. Ross was slowly getting to his feet, knife still in hand, looking ready to charge. But then one of the men lifted an old-style revolver and aimed it at Diane and said, “You have three fucking seconds to drop that knife and get on your knees. One. Two.”

  “Okay, stop!” Ross said as he tossed the knife aside and threw his hands up. Five of the men approached and began to beat Ross savagely, who refused to fought back, fearing that they would just hurt Diane if he did.

  “I gotta help him!” Abby thought, but when she peeked around the corner again, two men were still standing there, looking around cautiously. The
re was no way she could get both of them without giving herself away, and then she would just get herself, Diane, and Ross killed. Feeling helpless, she moved back to the hole in the side of the tent and looked through it.

  The five men were still beating Ross as the Irish man picked up Ross’ knife and then knelt down next to Diane. He gave a hand signal and then his men stopped their onslaught. They bound Ross’ hands behind him with flex-cuffs and then held his head up to look at the man that appeared to be their leader.

  The man was making a ‘tsk tsk tsk’ sound with his mouth and then said, “Didn’t your mama ever teach you not to play with knives?” He lifted the knife and pressed the edge against Diane’s throat.

  “Baby!” Diane whispered in fear.

  “Please don’t!” Ross said.

  “Someone could get hurt,” the man said, and then he flicked his wrist and slit Diane’s throat open. Abby looked away quickly as blood flowed like a waterfall out of Diane’s throat.

  “NOOO!” Ross yelled, and he sobbed and fought at his restraints as his wife gargled and coughed, choking on her own blood. The other men laughed as Diane died quickly, and then continued to laugh at Ross’ tears.

  The Irish man handed Ross’ knife to one of his men and then said, “Take him to the barn. Go look for his friend, too. There’s no fucking way he came here alone. And take all these prisoners inside. I’m not risking another jailbreak attempt.”

  The men dragged Ross outside. He was too racked with pain and grief to even fight back. The Irish man looked around the tent before leaving, his eyes seeming to search for something. Abby thought that the man made eye contact with her as he glanced around, but then he calmly walked out.

  Abby quickly backed away from the tent and moved into the shadows of a small building behind her. The two men who had been at the front of the pavilion moved away from her, around the corner that Ross had come around, and began to look for any more intruders. The Irish man walked away somewhere and the five remaining men dragged Ross off. Abby slowly crept out of her hiding spot and began to follow Ross from a distance, determining to free him once they got him to this barn they had mentioned.

  Ross was being taken down a narrow alley flanked on either side by small wooden shanties, and then to the right. Abby followed from a short distance, trying to keep Ross in sight but not be seen herself. She tried to stay focused on the mission, but seeing all these little tents and shacks made her wonder: just how big is this gang?

  The five men with Ross now took a left turn, the first left after their right turn. Abby waited a few seconds and then tip-toed over to where they had gone. Peeking around the corner, she found herself looking down another long alleyway, once again lined with tents and lean-to shelters. Down at the end of this path, Abby could see a building that was larger than the others, looking like a small barn.

  “They must be taking him there,” she thought. She stepped out to follow them, but a powerful arm suddenly grabber her around her stomach, pinning her arms to her sides! A thick, dirty rag was clamped over her nose and mouth. She struggled to breathe, but could only smell the powerful aroma of chloroform. She squirmed and kicked, but after only a few seconds she had blacked out.

  ***

  It did not take long for Zach to come up with a plan. The guard near the cage on the end kept shaking his head and was kicking the ground with his toes. Zach snatched the bottle of whiskey from the passed-out man he had bumped into earlier and, putting on a friendly air, approached the guard he had been watching.

  “Bro! Let’s do some shots!” Zach said happily.

  “Fuck you, funny man. Can’t you see I’m on watch?”

  “What? You’ve been here all night?”

  “All damn night.”

  “Man, fuck that shit! Gimme that shotty, I’ll trade you my whiskey. Go party!”

  “What, you’ll just take my watch?”

  “Hell yeah! I’ve been raging my face off all night, so should you! I can watch a few fucking cages. They ain’t going nowhere, right?”

  “Well…alright. I owe you one, buddy,” the guard said as he gave Zach his shotgun and took the bottle of whiskey in return.

  Once the man became lost in the crowd, Zach pumped the shotgun, pressed the muzzle against the padlock that was securely locking one of the cage doors, and said, “It’s party time.”

  Suddenly, Zach was struck hard on the back of the head. He dropped to the ground as the shotgun slipped from his limp fingers. He lay on his back, groaning as he slowly faded out of consciousness, but before he blacked out entirely, he saw a tall man stand over him.

  “Hello, Zach,” said Henry. “We should really stop meeting like this.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Abby awoke slowly, still feeling groggy from the chloroform rag. She was on her side, lying on a tarp in the middle of a small, teepee-like tent. Her hands were behind her back, and she could feel plastic flex-cuffs binding them together. She groaned softly as she pushed herself up to a sitting position. She looked down at herself: she still had her clothes, but her pistol and knife were both gone.

  The tent was only dimly lit, probably by a single candle somewhere behind her. She was facing the tent flap, and next to the flap was a small gun rack, holding a sawed-off shotgun, an AK-74, and a matte-black M1A style rifle. Abby squinted at this last gun, trying to remember if that was the same type of rifle that Ross had once had. Across from the gun rack was a small card table, and it was covered with opened cans of food and empty bottles of Jim Beam’s.

  “Shite, lass. I didn’t think you’d ever wake up,” said a voice from behind her. Abby twisted her body around and saw the man who had killed Diane behind her. He was sitting on a cot, wearing a pair of dark blue jeans with large holes in the knees, a pair of boots, and a revolver in a cowboy-style holster on his belt. He wasn’t wearing a shirt though, and Abby could see that he was very fit and well-muscled. His chest and arms bore several scars, as well as colorful tattoos that covered most of his chest and the entirety of his arms, and Abby supposed that he had ink on his back too.

  Abby was more than a little afraid to find herself alone with the man who had murdered Diane so coldly, but she refused to let it show. “What time is it?” she asked, trying to sound calm and unconcerned.

  “Four in the morning. I’ve been watching you for the past couple hours. Did you know you wiggle your nose in your sleep? Like a little bunny rabbit, you are.”

  Abby gave him a dark look. The man saw the disgust in her eyes and said, “Don’t fucking look at me like that. I didn’t touch you, and I’m not going to. Mama would haunt me arse from the fucking grave if I took advantage of a lass as young as you.”

  Abby was too angry and scared to respond, so the man continued, “So tell me, what is a little bunny rabbit like you doing here in the wolves’ den?”

  Still Abby did not reply. Now it was the man’s turn to look angry. He got up slowly and walked over to Abby and then crouched down right in front of her. “You should start answering my questions, bitch, before I lose my fucking mind and kill you.”

  “Like you killed Diane?” Abby muttered through clenched teeth.

  “Who the fuck is Diane?”

  “My friend, that woman in the tent.”

  “Her? I don’t fucking care. That big motherfucker needed to be taught a lesson, and that’s all that was.”

  Abby looked aghast. “That’s all that was? That was a human life!”

  “Which means she’s worth more dead than alive. People are a dime a dozen, lass. It’d behoove you to remember that.”

  “You’re insane,” Abby said in revulsion, scooting back a few inches to put some distance between herself and the man.

  The man chuckled and sat down with his legs crossed. “I know, but that’s just the way it is. So are you ready to answer my question? What are you doing here?”

  “Rescuing Diane, but you-”

  “Killed her. Unfortunate, truly.”

  “Then I was tr
ying to rescue Ross, but you caught me.”

  “Aye, I did. I got you real good! And now you are my guest here. Want some cocaine?” the man asked cheerily, pulling a baggy of white powder out of his pocket.

  “No!” Abby said, looking offended that he would even make such an offer.

  “Fine, fuck you too,” the man said as he took a small pinch for himself.

  Abby took advantage of the break in conversation to ask her own question. “Are there any other people you captured tonight?”

  “Why? You in the market?”

  Abby hesitated, not sure if asking about Zach would be good for them or bad. She decided to take the chance and said, “I want to find my father. I want to see if he’s still alive.”

  The man laughed and smiled and then said, “And who is your dear poppa, hm? Perhaps I know him.”

  “His name is Zach Davidson.”

  The man quit smiling when he heard that name, and his face took on a very grave expression. He leaned forward and said, “Your father is Zach Davidson? Then you must be…Abby.”

  Abby looked shocked, and she wondered how this psycho could know her name. The man gave her a small grin, knowing that she was trying to work out his identity in her head, and he seemed confident that she knew it and would figure it out if she just pondered on it.

  Abby thought about how the man seemed to recognize Zach’s name, and slowly the pieces started to drop into place. The rifle that looked like Ross’ old rifle, his insane ramblings, the way he could kill without pity…

  “Edmund,” Abby said quietly, a twinge of fear accenting her voice.

  The man smiled wide and said, “Aye. Edmund is me. Then you are Zach’s daughter. Tell me, did he give you a message from me?”

  Abby thought hard, trying to recall everything that Zach had told her about Edmund that night that he returned from the Wild. “He said that my friend Edmund says ‘hello’.”

  Edmund laughed and said, “That motherfucker actually did it! I’m surprised, actually. But I’m also happy, so that’s good for you. What else did he tell you about me?”