by Mark Clodi
"You know, Randy, it's funny that I always end up in these nicer houses."
"Why is that?"
"Well I never lived in a house with an island in the kitchen. All the houses I grew up in had that crappy galley style kitchen you could barely turn around in. The best one I lived in had a hole you could pass plates out through to the small assed dining room. Now look at these places? They're huge."
"Designs have changed to more open floor plans, people seem to prefer them." answered Randy.
Katie stared at him for a moment and burst out laughing. "Whatever. All I know is when we settle down it's going to be in a large house with a kitchen that has an island. Hmm, you know an island wouldn't be bad, would it? Aren't there islands around here with houses on them? We could just row a boat out and pick a house."
"Probably that idea has been thought of already."
"First things, first I supposed, let's see where we are and where this address is." Katie pulled the check out of her pocket that she had retrieved from the safe and looked at the address. It had both a street address and a post office box number on it. Sorting through all the maps she unfolded two of them and circled the area where she thought the clinic should be on both.
"Why are you doing it twice?"
"I want to see which map is easier to read, I think it's going to be this one." Katie held up a map that boasted 'Best Local Street Map' on it along with the line 'Published locally!' "I think the advertisement is actually true, sorry Rand McNally."
Using her pen she highlighted the route to the street they were currently on, the generic map of northern Florida, put out by the larger publishing company didn't look as detailed, so Katie shoved it away from her into the pile of other maps near the edge of the island.
"How many blocks in a mile?" Katie asked.
"Eight or nine, I think."
"Okay, then we are not that far, a couple miles. This time Randy I am going to do things a little better, I'm going to case the joint first and set up a better getaway plan."
"The jeep isn't that far away." The two had discussed the benefit of driving it and decided that walking would be more discrete, so they had parked it above the high tide mark on the beach, not too far from where they were now.
"Definitely the jeep, that thing is awesome. I wish I had owned one before all this went down. I'll solidify my plans when we see what we are up against, but I think we will head south from here." Katie trailed her finger down route 1 along the coast. "We'll just stick to the coast until we see an island with a house on it, then find a boat and go over."
"Sounds so easy. Maybe they will have their own nuclear plant to provide us with unlimited power and a good boat for fishing so we won't starve." Randy was smiling when he started talking, but his face quickly turned to puzzlement.
"What?"
"I…I, just thought of something disturbing."
"Yeah? Like French kissing your sister?"
"No! Something I hadn't realized before. Now all the pieces are fitting into place. Katie…I figured it out…I" Randy faded from view, winking out entirely in a few seconds.
"Randy! Don't you leave me! Godamn it! What good is an imaginary friend if they keep popping in an out all the damned time? Fuck." Frustrated Katie gathered up her equipment, which consisted of the duffel bag, her rifle and the map and started for the front door.
The sound of a car coming alerted her as she got close to the busted down door. "Shit!" Katie knew the zombies could see heat or life force and the best way to avoid their gaze was to get under ground or get a lot of walls, trees, or other vegetation between you and them. Backtracking, she ran out the back door into the back yard. The yard was well groomed with sloping mounds and two very tall willow trees. Katie ran to the highest of the mounds and put it between her and the street by lying down in the tall grass. The steady sound of a vehicle chugging on the street outside let her know when the car had passed. Once it seemed to be beyond her location Katie got up and ran towards the fence to see if she could catch a glimpse of it.
It turned out to be two vehicles, not one; a large cargo van and a pickup truck, both white, but appearing drab in the overcast light. Both vehicles turned the corner a few blocks further down and Katie nodded, "Yeah, that fucking figures."
She silently counted out the street posts between where she was and where the vehicles made the turn and then consulted her map before swearing again. "Looks like our boy is still active." The count of where the vehicles had turned was equal to the number of streets Katie had to walk down before turning, meaning the vans were going the same place she was. Probably.
Chapter 36 — Ruben
' Go right.' The voices whispered and Ruben turned right where he thought the voices wanted him to go. He had left the others behind without a look back and jogged down a side street into a business district.
The 'voice' wasn't single it seemed like there were a dozen people saying the same words into Ruben's head when he listened. It was like listening to a choir; everyone was synced perfectly when they spoke, but the voices together were greater than any of them were alone. Ruben had been living with the voices ever since he had plunged his knife into the top of Ella's head back in Chicago. He hadn't been following their advice until recently; most of what they told him to do was just plain crazy. Now he thought he had them figured out.
Following the instructions Ruben turned into a small diner; it had a bar with built-in stools along one side and booths along the other. 'Grab the jacket. Keep moving through the kitchen. Out into the alley, you can rest there.'
Ruben reached out and snagged the blue windbreaker that was hanging from a peg next to one of the booths with one hand and continued moving through the kitchen, out into the alley behind the eatery. The alley was deserted and he leaned heavily back on the wall, folding up the jacket to stuff in his rucksack.
'Or do I put this on?' he inquired of the angels in his head.
'Dump the body armor, fold your coat up. Open the backpack.'
Ruben took off his outerwear and removed his body armor. In truth, it was a relief to take it off, the road rash hadn't been good to it, the trauma plate over his chest had been slipping around as he ran, threatening to fall out entirely with every sudden twist and turn. Ruben looked at the bomb; it had weathered the slide well, showing only a few scuffs and scrapes from the incident. He examined the top of the pack and slowly loosened the straps holding it closed. With some trepidation he gently lifted the top of the heavy material and stared inside the bag. He started laughing. His mirth got the better of him and he sat down hard upon his body armor, still clutching the bomb in both hands.
When he finally regained his composure he sat the bag on the ground and started pulling the items out of the top compartment. Inside was a small metal box lined with closed cell blue foam, the box fit inside the bag precisely. Stacked inside this container were cans of beer. At the very bottom of this compartment was a sacks and what looked like an ordinary brick, Ruben pulled both of them out. He pulled open the drawstrings on the sack and opened it up to see that it was filled with sand.
"Shit. We've been carrying this forty pound bag around with us and it's full of beer and sand?" This was not quite true, the bottom of the bag was a separate compartment entirely, "So if I open that I'll find, what? Two liters of whisky?"
'Just the bomb, Ruben. Leave it alone.'
"So it works then?"
'Yes. It has once already.' the voices whispered in his head.
"Why the extra weight?"
'Psychological, if it weighs more soldiers think it works better.'
"Really?" the voices didn't answer and Ruben hadn't thought they would; they didn't tend to speak if he questioned what they had already told him.
Ruben cracked one of the beers; it was lukewarm but otherwise tasted fine. He finished off the can, packed his fatigue jacket into the top of the pack along with a couple of the remaining beers and pulled on the windbreaker. The wind was picking up and he app
reciated the lighter covering. "I don't even have a gun." No one answered, but Ruben kept thinking out loud, "I can nuke you back to the stone-age or run or maybe knife you. But not shoot you."
Shrugging Ruben lifted the pack up and headed down the alley, the voices didn't tell him which way to go so he guessed he was doing okay on his own. When he reached the street he looked both ways and saw a bright blue Nissan Leaf parked on the street. Sighing, he reached into his new pockets and his hands touched a key ring. As he walked to the car he pulled the keys out and heard the doors unlock when he was a couple feet away.
"Not even a proper key, just this fob thingy. Give me a good set of keys any day." Ruben climbed into the car and put the backpack in the front passenger's seat. Looking over the dash he didn't see how to turn the car on. There wasn't anywhere to put the key fob into, like a normal key would have. There was just a button where a key would normally be inserted into the ignition. Cautiously he pressed the button and an amber ring around its edge glowed softly. With another sigh, he tucked the fob back into his pocket.
"It is on? No fricking way to tell I guess." The car looked like an automatic style with just a simple shifter to switch from park to drive. Ruben pulled the stick to 'D' and was startled when a soft voice chided him to put his seatbelt on.
"Today, we risk it." he said out loud.
Pressing on the gas pedal, the car silently moved forward. 'This,' thought Ruben, 'isn't nearly so bad as I thought. I wonder if I should even think of it as a 'gas' pedal? It's not gas powered. So quiet, like riding a bike, only with no effort. Maybe those tree huggers have something after all.'
He had no idea where he was supposed to end up, so he turned to the east. He was pretty sure wherever he needed to be was east of here. He drove on for a little while keeping to a sensible, low speed on the side streets and pointing the car towards the ever darkening sky to the east.
'Right, then the next left.'
Ruben did as instructed, muttering a brief prayer as he did so. Up ahead was a Wal-mart. It looked looted and dark.
'Pull into the drive of the yellow house on the corner. It's empty, go inside. Open the garage door manually, put the car in the garage.'
'Well, this is new.' Ruben thought. He found himself to be a little let down at the idea of leaving the car, it had been a smooth ride. Once he was through parking and had the garage door down again he stood in the house, looking around the open kitchen dining room and wondering what he was supposed to do next.
There were some maps on the island, he shuffled through them and spotted one that had been written on with a blue pen. He brought the map over to the front window so he could look out at the street sign; sure enough there was a trail from this house that ended in a circled block some distance away. "How many blocks in a mile?" he asked out loud while counting the streets between where he was and the circle on the map. "Twenty blocks, that's gotta only be a mile or so."
The Lord worked in mysterious ways and Ruben didn't want to take advantage of his angels to ask questions when he could figure out the answers for himself. They had brought him here to find the map; he could take it from here. He examined the map closely, memorizing the street names and details before folding it carefully and tucking it into the deep pockets of his pants. Ruben picked up the pack with his bomb and started walking.
Chapter 37 — Max
Pain. Max's life had devolved to a single, black and red existence of pain. When the car careened over the open space where the road should have been Max had just about wet his pants. Somewhere in the split second before the impact he made the decision to be found dead and dry, instead of with urine soaked pants. Only he didn't die. Beside him Stewart moaned and flailed about with her hands.
'I'm stuck.' Max tried to pull himself free from the wreckage. He was strapped in and upside down, the airbag had deployed into his face and blood was dripping down onto the ceiling of the car. As he fumbled with his seat belt he could hear yelling from somewhere nearby. 'Oh, thank God, Bill must have stopped in time and he is coming to help us.'
Two gunshots sounded in close succession followed by another yell. Max finally hit the release on his seat belt and tumbled to the ceiling of the car. 'I don't think anything is broken. That's a fucking miracle.' The top of the car had been squashed in the impact and Max could barely stay on his hands and knees as he tried to reach Stewart. Finally, he hit the button and she dropped heavily into his arms. Her eyes fluttered and she reached for him awkwardly with one arm. Her hand was hanging limply and it looked like she had an extra joint between the elbow and wrist.
"Max." Stewart said.
"I got ya. Just hang on a second and let me pull you out of here."
"Max. Listen to me. Pull my arm straight."
"What?"
"You gotta pull my arm straight, I can feel my body trying to fix it, but like that other zombie, I think it might heal bad unless you get it straight."
Max looked at Stewart, she hadn't fared any better in the accident than he had, her nose was bloody and she was sporting two rapidly blackening eyes. Keeping his eyes on her, Max gave her arm a sudden jerk.
"Fuck! You coulda pulled it slowly, it's not like it was dislocated!" Stewart said, falling back and cradling one arm with the other.
"Sorry, Jane! I thought…" Max stopped and his body jerked convulsively.
Stewart looked up at him for a moment before he fell over her legs, unconscious. Behind him was a dark haired man in a police uniform, the prongs from a Taser still in his hand, with wires leading to a spot on Max's leg.
"Fuck me."
"No, not unless we're told to. And you wouldn't like that." The man grabbed Max by both of his legs and pulled him from the vehicle. Stewart saw the legs of several men standing outside the car, the men pulled both of Max's hands behind him and double handcuffed them together.
Looking around frantically Stewart saw her gun had been thrown from the vehicle, but her machete had fallen to the ceiling from where she had stashed it in the door.
Outside the car Max was coming around, he was face first in the rubble of the collapsed highway bridge. A moment of struggling and he realized that his hands were cuffed behind his back. There was a group of zombies in uniforms with guns milling about and Max saw two trucks on the street just clear of the rubble. This was all he noticed before Stewart flew out of the car in front of him, machete in hand. The zombie closest to the car had his head sliced horizontally in two just above the bridge of his nose before he even knew what hit him. Stewart vaulted off another gun toting zombie and into a third before the gunfire started.
Max rolled to his back and struggled to sit up, that's when he noticed that Bill and Javier were trussed up not too far away from him. There were two zombies standing above him, one had a length of rope in his hands, obviously getting ready to truss Max up like his friends, in addition to the handcuffs. Max kicked the other man in the knee, buckling it and causing him to drop the Taser he was reloading.
Stewart was unable to get in another killing blow on the remaining half dozen zombies, now that they knew she was there they were reacting quickly. She pushed her machete through the torso of one of them and twisted it as she pulled it out in an effort to slow him down. The zombie standing next to him brought his shotgun up and pointed it in her direction, Stewart was still moving, but it was the zombie dressed as a police officer who knocked the gun sideways and spoiled the shot.
"No guns!" the officer barked, he was limping away from Max and his crew, hearing that order, switched to short clubs. The officer continued to back away and inserted a fresh cartridge into the Taser.
Stewart was fast enough to trade blows with two of the zombies and still get in a few licks of her own, but when the third, a massive man wearing army fatigues stepped up she knew she was in trouble. 'This guy is huge…and as fast as me!' Stewart backed off, looking for a way out. She still hurt, her arm was not fully healed and she was fighting five zombies with Billy clubs. Casting a quick glance b
ehind her she considered flight. The zombie with the Taser didn't try and shoot her with it, instead he shot Max again, sending him into convulsions on the ground. The officer then drew his handgun and stepped over to Bill and Javier.
The army zombie came forward fast and low, swinging to take out Stewart's legs while one of his buddies aimed high. Stewart leaped sideways and lashed out with her weapon, it hit the muscle bound army man mid-chest. There was a loud tearing sound and the blade rebounded from the body armor he was wearing beneath his jacket. Stewart made a clumsily landing and backed another two steps away from the army guy and his buddy. Behind those two the other zombies were fumbling with their belts, it looked like they had Tasers as well.
'I'm not sure how that would affect me, but they have to hit me first.' Stewart thought.
One of the zombies in the second row stepped up with a bottle that looked like a miniature fire extinguisher. 'Surely that's not… Fuck!' The zombie unleashed a torrent of pepper spray onto the area. It was an aerosol type designed to disperse crowds, but it served to blanket a huge swath of ground in a smoke-like cloud that Stewart could not avoid. Instead she charged.
This caught the smaller of the two zombies in front of her by surprise and she lopped through his upraised arm and into his melon like she was chopping wood. Stewart pulled the blade free with a spray of black zombie blood and launched a quick attack on the army zombie. He was, as usual, quicker than he looked. He deflected her blade using the Billy club and punched her in the face with his free hand. The blow sent Stewart reeling back into the cloud of pepper behind her and immediately she felt her eyes swell up and she started coughing. Stewart didn't stop moving; she darted sideways and came through the cloud well out of range of her army nemesis. As soon as she emerged the itching and burning from the pepper spray stopped.
A loud ping sounded and Stewart swept the machete blade in front of her by instinct alone, the blade deflected the metal prongs from a Taser round and earned a respectful eyebrow raise from the army zombie who was coming at her again. Stewart had no interest in fighting him, not until she could clear out his helpers. She dodged towards Bill and tried to circle the big zombie, coming close to the one with the pepper spray. He raised it up to defend himself as Stewart brought her machete down towards him. A bullet struck the machete blade as it descended; Stewart tried to correct it and pull it back on track with the zombie's head, but was only able to sink it into the thing's shoulder, partially severing its arm.
