by T. W. Brown
“And what makes you think—” Katrina started, but I cut her off.
“Tell her I will be there,” I said.
A wave of protests came from everybody in the room. Thalia actually started to cry. I gave her a hug and handed her to Sunshine.
I escorted Graham and Tish to the door. Just as I reached it, I paused and cleared my throat to get their attention.
“You tell Carol that I have something to take care of first and that she will have to wait a week or two before she launches this offensive.” Graham started to speak, but I held up a hand to silence him. “This is not a negotiation. I agree to do this on my terms. If that is a problem, then my answer is no. Are we clear?”
They nodded and I opened the door for them to leave. I scanned the street for signs that we were being watched and was happy to see that it did not seem to be the case any longer. When they reached the sidewalk, I called them and gave them the final demand.
“Also, I get to bring whoever I choose from my own people. I won’t be making any trips alone and without support that I know I can trust.”
Graham started to say something, but Tish actually gave him a nudge and shook her head. Turning to me, she called back, “Consider it a deal.”
I closed the door and returned to the living room to find a lot of angry faces. Katrina looked like she was going to punch me in the face and Thalia was still crying into Sunshine’s shoulder. I had no idea why this sudden attachment, but I was pretty sure that I knew what I was doing. Now I had to let everybody else know, and then I would need to hope to hell that luck would stay with me just a little bit longer. It had not been lost on me that every single person who had assumed a role of leadership in our group was now dead. Steve, Teresa, Jon…hell, even Jake and Jesus.
A barrage of questions—many of them about my level of sanity—came at me. I let everybody vent and get it out of their system for several seconds until I raised my hands for them to be quiet. It took a few more minutes, but at last I had their undivided attention.
“You heard the deal,” I began. “And before anybody asks, I believe that if Carol made this offer, it is for real.”
“Who gives a damn about being able to pick out a house?” I was surprised to see that it was Darla who was speaking up. After all, she was in a bit of a gray area when it came to whether or not she was really one of us.
“For one, maybe nobody else noticed, but our house that we currently live in is on the outskirts of town. If there is a breach, we die first. Second, we just increased our numbers by six or seven times the amount we initially showed up with. They could very easily scatter us. This ensures that we stay close. Maybe in time we can allow ourselves to be absorbed into this community, but for now, we are all that each other has got. I prefer to keep us together. However, all of that is secondary to the council position.”
Once again everybody started to bitch and moan. None of them seemed to care about having a spot on this city council but I had made up my mind once and for all that I was going to provide a safe and secure home for the people that had become my family this past year. I felt bad that I didn’t so much care about Grady and the people he brought along, but I had seen enough from Dr. Zahn to know that he was a good guy…one of us. Which brought me to my point.
“We will be putting Dr. Zahn on that council.”
The room went silent. I looked at the doc and she had her mouth open, but she wasn’t saying anything. I was going to cherish that moment for the rest of my life.
“Those people have no idea what they just agreed to,” I finished.
Everybody sort of looked at each other for what was probably seconds, but it felt like an eternity. One by one, I saw smiles and nods. I let them have that feeling for a few minutes before returning to the task we had been preparing to undertake prior to Graham’s arrival.
“I have a group of you selected to join me on this run outside the fence. It is going to be dangerous, and it will require a very specific skill set. Any of you that I point out will obviously have the choice of coming or not. And I know that some people will not agree with my decision. I just ask that you not make a big fuss about it until I get back…and then wait a bit longer to let me to do this thing about securing the town.”
Katrina turned and left the room. She knew. I had probably just cost myself my girlfriend, but what I was about to do would require people who were ready to kill without question. Whether it was because I did not want her to see that side of me, or if it was because I knew she did not possess that trait, I honestly did not know. The fact was simple; she was not on the list I’d made in my head.
When I had pointed out or called the names of those I wanted, I was happy that each had agreed to come. I asked everybody not selected to excuse us so that I could lay out what I wanted and expected from each of the members of my team.
It seemed strange that we were about to make a trip outside the fence to possibly rescue some complete strangers. We were also ensuring that the last vestiges of what I considered to be a greater threat would be eliminated for good. However, there was one other thing, and this was personal. There was something I had missed with Jake. I needed to close that wound on my soul that had been made by what I had seen as his betrayal. I needed to know exactly why he had acted so out of character in the end. Jake was a man that I’d looked up to. He had flipped on a dime and changed into somebody else seemingly overnight.
Our meeting and strategy session lasted less than an hour. I told everybody to grab some sleep and that we would roll out shortly after dark. Heading upstairs, I was not surprised to see the door to my room shut. I knew that Katrina was in there. I hated for us to part this way, but I also needed to clear my head and save my energy. Hopefully I would come back, and when I did, we could talk it out. If not…well…that would suck.
9
Vignettes LI
Distant sound came late in the night. Emily-zombie and the others in her group clustered even tighter together. They did not join in as some of the larger ones stumbled or crawled past, drawn by the new and sudden sounds.
The cat had scurried away, frightened by the unfamiliar noise. Every so often, one of the zombie-children would succumb to that pull of the noise and stumble away into the darkness. Still, more of them remained than went to investigate. The days of being together had solidified something in some of them.
A new sound came suddenly. This one was closer. Emily-zombie began to move, and slowly, others in the group stumbled into motion. They trudged in between a pair of houses and all but disappeared into the inky blackness that existed between them as their shadows seemed to overlap and form a near-perfect dark.
A figure moved across the opening between the houses, its warmth almost a beacon in the chill of the night. Emily-zombie was not even aware that her hand had reached out until it snagged something. The warmth made a sound and moved with a jerk to get away. Hand closed into a fist, Emily-zombie stumbled forward and out of the protective cover. Another source of the warmth was just a few feet away. This one was making even more noise.
Drawn by instinct to the sound, several of Emily-zombie’s group poured from the mouth of the alley that ran between those two houses. They fell on the two figures and ripped, bit, and tore. The warmth came in a sudden rush as the zombie-children all seemed to forget about each other as each pushed and jockeyed for position.
It lasted less than two minutes. As the warmth dissipated, Emily-zombie and the others pushed away from their recent meal. They retreated slowly back into the darkness just as more people arrived.
“Stay alert everybody!” a voice ordered. “It looks like Smith and Wilcox ran into a freaking pack of zoms. There is barely enough left to come back.”
“Yeah,” another voice agreed, “but check out Wilcox…her eyes are open and her mouth is moving.”
“Keep quiet, Jonesy,” the first voice hissed. “If those things have moved on, I’d just as soon not have them come stumbling back to see what all the noi
se is about…that noise you are making if I am not coming across clear enough for your moonshine-addled brain.”
“Don’t be such a prick, Tines,” another voice said with a snort. “We are on mop-up detail, and probably ain’t gonna see no action. So Jonesy tipped the bottle a little before the patrol. He ain’t gonna get nobody hurt.”
“Tell that to Smith and Wilcox,” Tines snapped. “They probably thought this was just a bullshit detail…and instead of keeping their eyes open, they stumbled into a freaking zombie’s waiting arms.”
Of course Emily-zombie had no idea what was being said, her only thought was that now there were many of those beacons of warmth, but that spark in her brain fired as she instinctively took her first step forward causing her to come to a halt. There was danger out there. The warmth was inviting, but something made her hesitate to react.
A few of her group chose to ignore the internal warning and gave in to the allure of all that warmth gathered in one place. There was a sudden burst of noise.
Gunfire.
That word came in images that made Emily-zombie remain perfectly still. More images flooded her that made no real sense other than to convey the general idea that going out there would mean that she would cease. Not that Emily-zombie feared death or even knew what it truly was in her limited capacity to be afraid.
Yet, there was that spark, that small piece of her ruined brain that refused to succumb to the infection that transformed human to zombie. Against all known explanations that science would ever be able to put forth if the means became available, the core of her child-brain—the part that made accelerated learning possible—a tiny bit continued to operate on the most basic of levels. It had nothing to do with the drive that every zombie felt to seek out sound, or to try and feed off of the warmth that all mammals gave off, which came from that vestige of the reptilian core.
The world of science had already been able to prove that the brain of a three-year-old toddler was actually more active than that of a college student (even the ones that studied more and partied less). It was this reason that made Emily-zombie and many like her so different. Those sparks of electricity would have been spotted in child zombies up to about the age of twelve. Had more children survived, it is likely that humanity would have perished within the first year.
The brain of the child zombie allowed for a rudimentary degree of cunning that the adults would never possess. While not sophisticated, the child zombie was capable of devising traps and ambushes.
Emily-zombie loosed a soft moan. It was answered by another just across the road. Over the days and weeks, she and many of the others had actually set up what some might consider a trap. They had this particular area surrounded. Anything—
man or beast—that was unfortunate enough to wander through, was subject to springing this rudimentary trap.
From under cars and piles of rubbish they emerged. Numbering close to thirty, Emily-zombie and her fellow child zombies came at the five person patrol. The living humans never stood a chance.
Emily-zombie still hung back until those pillars of heat had been dragged to the ground. Of all the members of this group, she had the brain that would have showed the most—albeit minimal—activity. Emily-zombie was making connections faster than the others. It had been she that had gone around and actually placed some of the others in position. She did so each night just before the shadows melded and brought the perfect blackness to the world.
Tearing at the throat of one of the figures on the ground, Emily-zombie felt the surge of heat course through her and leave just as suddenly as it arrived. When the attack was over and two of the large ones rose to stumble away, Emily-zombie made her way back to the tall grass of a nearby yard and sat down. The little ball of fur soon joined her and began licking at her fingers, then at her chin.
Emily-zombie was not paying attention. Another spark had come. She spent the remainder of the night puzzling over it. That warmth was never a feeling that lasted; if anything, she felt even more empty and void afterwards.
Another flash came. This one was a series of faces. She could not actually pull any meaning from those faces, but she was aware of a feeling.
Sadness.
The names meant nothing, just the faces. She could not recall specifically who Teresa was, or Barry, or Joseph. Yet, she had a feeling about them…about losing them.
Then another face came, and this one stayed until it burned itself into something almost tangible. She could see him as he was…and then as he had become.
Dad.
The memory of seeing her father in the trench as one of the larger ones came to her with amazing clarity and vividness. The feeling of loss washed through her. It took three days, but eventually she was able to make the connection that her stealing of the warmth and creating more of the larger ones was something…bad.
Then, one day, the little warm, furry creature in her lap got up and walked over to a nearby house. It stretched out in the shade provided and laid on its side for a long time. There were strange noises; a few were loud enough to bring some of the other zombie children. It also brought some of the larger ones.
More than a handful of times, Emily-zombie rose to her feet with a large rock from the edge of a nearby flowerbed. She would stagger away from where the cat was now surrounded by over a dozen of the zombie children and bang the rock on one of the many abandoned cars that could be found in the area. This would divert the larger ones and send them off in a direction away from the cat.
One time she returned from such a task to discover two brand new and very tiny heat sources. In fact, they were so small that they would often seem to be reabsorbed by the mother cat as they nuzzled in to suckle. When it was all over, nine of the tiny, mewling creatures were nestled to their mother.
Mother.
Another spark ignited in the brain of Emily-zombie.
***
“Where?” Vix spun suddenly, causing both Harold and Gemma to jump back in fright.
“W-w-w-where what?” Gemma stammered, but her face flushed red and her eyes immediately dropped to the ground.
“Where did you get bit?” Vix took a step closer and inspected Gemma’s face, grabbing her by the chin and tilting her head up so she could see better.
“On the leg…it was just a nip really,” the girl started to cry as she spoke. “I’m so sorry, I know that I’m always mucking things up…I just got so…upset…and angry.” By now she was near hysterics and Vix was having a hard time understanding the girl as she made an effort to explain herself through the wash of tears that were now flowing down her face.
“When?” Vix forced her voice to sound calm and as reassuring as possible. Yes, she still wanted to smack the fool teenager upside the head, but that could come later. Right now she had more important matters to attend.
Gemma looked up at Vix with her eyes brimming over. Harold was standing beside her, looking unsure as to what he should be doing at the moment. It was clear that he wanted to put his arms around Gemma, but it was also very apparent that he was not sure as to whether Vix would approve.
“When what?” Gemma sniffed.
“Oh…for the love of a duck!” Vix fumed. Reaching forward, she grabbed Harold’s arm and placed it around Gemma’s shoulder, then, she cupped the girl’s chin in her hand and looked her straight in the eyes. “When did you get bitten?”
Gemma’s face scrunched up and then her eyes went wide. “Late last night…maybe early this morning. I didn’t see the foul thing. It was one of those nasty buggers that had no legs and the thing came right out of some grass and nipped me while I was sitting down trying to catch my breath from running.”
“Are you certain you got bit?” Vix asked. “I mean, did it break the skin or did it just bite down on your jeans and pinch you real hard?”
Gemma rolled up the cuff of her jeans, but Vix already knew before the girl managed the amazing feat of getting the leg of her skinny jeans to hitch up a few inches. The cuff was ragged and
there was dried blood. In truth, it wasn’t much of a bite. In fact, the girl had probably nicked herself better giving her legs a shave. Still, Vix had seen nothing to indicate that a little bite was any less lethal. No more so than being a little bit pregnant or having a little bit of herpes.
“You’re fine,” Vix snorted and got to her feet. “Now let’s get moving.”
“Wait…are you saying—” Harold began.
Vix was already back on the move and simply called over her shoulder, “The stupid girl is just like you, Harold. She is bloody immune to the bloody bite!” Under her breath, she added. “Bloody figures.”
The trio headed back to the cottage. As they walked, each was lost in his or her own thoughts. Vix bounced between two main ideas and was actually thankful that they had a couple of hours before they would be back.
The first was more of a worry; if they were not allowed to come back in because of all of Gemma’s drama, where might they go next? However, it was the second thought that preoccupied most of her time. Before the zombies had gotten up and ruined everything, she had been a nurse. Actually, she had been a head nurse at Basingstoke’s North Hampshire Hospital.
One of the things that she was fairly sure of was that certain resistances were genetic. Things like basic allergies all the way to a person’s resistance to nasty little things like Avian Flu—which seemed a bit mundane given the current circumstances in the world today—were often passed down from parent to child. If Harold was immune and Gemma was immune, then perhaps a child conceived by the two would have a better chance of being immune as well.
That was the thing about Mother Nature, Vix mused to herself as she walked down the long, empty country road. She could send in some whoppers to knock humanity off its horse, but she always allowed for a few souls to be able to withstand it and continue on.
