Dead Meat Box Set, Vol. 2 | Days 4-6

by Clausen, Nick

  The guy looks down at her, and Eli sees—to his surprise—a fair amount of compassion on the guy’s face.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I have a daughter of my own, you see. She’s a little younger than you. I need to get her to safety. You understand, right?”

  The girl starts crying.

  “At least let me bring her along,” Sebastian says.

  They guy looks towards the helicopter and back. He nods in the direction of Eli. “I already promised this young fellow a ride, and counting my wife and daughter, we’re at five people including you.”

  “Six people is fine,” Sebastian says. “We can fit in there, all of us.”

  The guy considers it a moment longer, then nods. “All right, you can come too, sweetheart.”

  The girl sobs and mutters something akin to “thank you.”

  The guy turns to the rest of the group. “Now, I need a couple of strong guys to help get my wife and daughter to the helicopter.”

  “Why?” William asks. “Can’t they walk?”

  “Not currently, no,” the guy says with no further explanation. He points the rifle at William, then at Dan’s father. “You and you. You come with me. Pilot, you go and start up the engine. The rest of you stay right here and don’t do anything.”

  Eli notices Dan catching William’s eye, throw out his hands and mouth a soundless question: What do we do?

  William just shakes his head. He then follows the guy along with Dan’s father to the SUV.

  The guy reaches in through the open driver’s door to turn off the engine. As soon as it falls quiet, Eli can hear a moaning coming from the car.

  “Oh, no,” Dan whispers.

  “Oh, shit!” William exclaims as he looks in through the backseat window. “They’re dead!”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Dennis is sitting on a chair, fondling the hair in his pocket, building up courage, waiting for the right moment to speak.

  The living room is dimly lit by the lamp over the dining table and the television screen. Outside, the sun is drawing closer to the horizon, painting the sky red and orange.

  Silas is sprawled out on the couch, drinking his fifth or six beer.

  Jonas is sitting by the dining table, slowly eating the rest of his late-night dinner while leafing through one of Holger’s notebooks.

  Finally, Dennis decides to give it a go.

  “Uhm, Silas?”

  “Uhm, yes?” Silas replies, mocking Dennis’s tone of voice.

  “Can I … Can I please see my mom?”

  “Why? Your mother’s fine.”

  “I know, but … I’d like to see her.”

  Silas shakes his head, still looking at the screen. “I’m not letting her out yet.”

  “I know, that’s fine, I just … I just want to go down and be with her for a while.”

  Silas doesn’t answer. He’s lost in the news. “Fucking hell,” he mutters, looking over at his brother. “You seeing this? They’re still trying to pacify these motherfuckers. Jesus fucking Christ, that’s so typical of those bleeding-heart assholes in power.” Silas crunches his beer can and lets out a violent burp. “Just fucking shoot them! They’re already dead!”

  “It’s just a matter of time,” Jonas says, looking up briefly from the notebook. “Once the problem gets far enough out of hand, they’ll begin putting them down. You’ll see.”

  “By then it’ll be too fucking late,” Silas groans, opening another beer. “At least that guy’s got the right idea!”

  He points to the screen, now showing a press conference with a man in a suit standing behind a podium. In the background, Dennis sees a flag with red stripes and a blue square in the corner with white stars. He can’t remember which country that flag belongs to, but he manages to read the headline with difficulty: U.S. President issues ultimatum to European Union.

  The man behind the podium—the American president, apparently—is talking very heatedly while pointing at something or someone out of view. There are no subtitles, and Dennis has no idea what the president is saying.

  “Hoh, did you hear that?” Silas asks, almost spilling his beer. “He’s gonna bomb us back to the Stone Age if we don’t get this thing under control.”

  “That’s not what he said,” Jonas corrects him calmly. “He just wants the lazy pricks at the EU to begin taking it seriously.”

  “Yeah, or else he’ll ‘deploy weapons of great magnitude to help resolve the European problem’ … he’s talking about the fucking A-bomb, man! He’s gonna flatten the whole goddamn continent!”

  “That’s just how he talks,” Jonas says. “He’s always boasting and pounding his chest. He’s just scared this thing will reach America.”

  Silas doesn’t reply right away. He drinks most of his beer in one go, then lets out a long burp. “You think the basement is protected against radiation?”

  “According to Holger’s notes, it is.”

  “Good. Then we’ll be safe.”

  Jonas sighs. “There’s not going to be a nuclear war, Silas.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Another long moment of silence passes. The television switches from the press conference and back to a news studio where three other people are discussing the situation, all of them with grave faces.

  “Silas?” Dennis asks.

  “What?”

  “Can I please go see—”

  “No, you can’t! Drink a fucking beer and chill out, that’s what you can do.”

  Jonas looks up at them. “Let him go see his mother, Silas. Don’t be a dick.”

  Silas chews his tongue for a moment. Then he looks at Dennis. “You know what? My brother’s right. You’ve earned it, Dennis. You’ve helped me all day, and you even tried to shoot a zombie. You can spend a little time with your mama.”

  “He did what?” Jonas asks.

  “I taught him how to shoot a rifle,” Silas says with a grin.

  Jonas doesn’t seem to think it’s funny, but he doesn’t say anything.

  “Come on, then,” Silas says with a sigh, getting up from the couch. “Let’s go see how she’s holdin’ up down there.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  The guy with the rifle rounds on William and points the weapon at his face. “What did you say?”

  “I said they’re fucking dead!” William repeats, pointing to the SUV. He’s so angry, he barely takes notice of the rifle aimed at his nose. “Your wife and daughter. They’re both—”

  He’s interrupted as the guy kicks him hard on the shin. The pain is immediate and intense. William cries out and falls to one knee. He can hear Ozzy barking from inside the Honda. Had he been loose, he would have been at the guy’s throat by now.

  “You shut your fucking mouth, you big city asshole!” the guy spits. “They’re not dead, they’re sick! And they need help.”

  “Listen,” Dan’s father chimes in. “I don’t think you fully realize the situation …”

  The guy turns to Henrik and snarls: “I know what they said on the news. They’re working hard to find a vaccine, and as soon as they do, everyone will get cured. I just need to get my family out of the country so they’re safe until they can cure them.”

  William snorts as he gets back up, his shin still throbbing. “You’re bringing two zombies on a helicopter … you’re even dumber than you look … that’s a recipe for disaster.”

  The guy kicks at William again, but this time he’s prepared and moves out of his way—there’s those boxing reflexes again, and he’s thankful for them.

  “One more word out of you, and I’ll put you down,” the guy sneers at him through gritted teeth—and William picks up on something other than anger in his voice, something which sounds more like grief.

  He knows I’m right, William realizes. But he’s hoping against hope.

  The guy opens the door to the backseat, and everyone except Henrik and William—who’ve already seen inside the SUV—pulls back.

  “It’s okay,” Henrik tells them w
ith a grim look. “He’s tied them up.”

  That’s a gracious way of putting it, William thinks, and he’s very close to laughing shrilly. Of course, the timing couldn’t be worse, so he bites back the noise.

  But the sight of the guy’s wife and daughter lying side-by-side on the backseat is like something straight out of a cartoon.

  “You,” the guy sneers, pointing at Henrik. “You help me with my wife. And you, smartass—”he points at William—“you take my daughter. And if any of you drop them or hurt them in anyway, I swear to God, I’ll put you down.”

  Henrik nods in silent agreement.

  “Go on,” the guy says to Henrik. “Take her feet.”

  Henrik looks at the guy with an earnest expression. “Listen, I really think you need to reconsi—”

  “No more fucking arguing!” the guy explodes, causing everyone to jump. “You do as I say!”

  Henrik takes a deep breath. Then he reaches inside the car and pulls out a couple of feet—one wearing a white sock, one bare. Both feet are protruding from a thick, rolled-up carpet which is held together by duct tape. When the carpet is halfway out, the guy steps over and takes hold of it with one arm, still holding the rifle with the other.

  They pull the rest of the carpet out, revealing the other end, from which a woman’s head and shoulders are protruding.

  Her hair is curly and her skin, which was probably once reddish and freckled, is now grey. She snarls and twists angrily, trying to wriggle free, but the homemade straightjacket the guy has made for her is quite effective.

  “Oh, my God,” William hears Lærke whisper, followed by Sebastian telling her to not look.

  “What are you waiting for?” the guy snaps at William. “Take out my daughter—carefully!”

  William steps over to the open door and looks in at the girl. The only thing positive about his part of the assignment is that the girl is considerably smaller than the woman, and William won’t risk throwing out his back lifting her. The bad news, though, is that the guy apparently only had one spare carpet, because he decided to only use towels and tape wrapping up his daughter, which has left her a fair bit more wriggle-room. She’s lying on her side in a fetal position, looking somewhat like a cocoon ready to burst, thrashing her head back and forth.

  William tries not to look at her face—she was no more than eight or nine when she died—and he has to bite down hard before he can reach in and grab her. Her feet are inside the improvised cocoon, so William takes hold of the lower part. He drags her halfway out, then turns her onto her belly and wraps his arms around her waist.

  The girl snarls and groans and tries to get at him, but she can’t bend her neck that low.

  William lifts her up, realizing she’s even lighter than he thought, and holds her awkwardly upwards, keeping her back turned so she can’t get at him with her mouth. It’s like holding an angry baby alligator.

  “This is fucking suicide,” he mutters with a strained groan.

  The guy ignores him. “Right, get moving. Keep in front of me so I can see you at all times. And you, pilot! What are you waiting for? I told you to go start it up.”

  William concentrates on holding the girl in a waist-lock and keeping her from twisting either way around. So he doesn’t see Sebastian and Lærke start moving towards the helicopter.

  He sees something else, though, because of the way he’s facing away from the road, something which no one else probably notices: a movement by the nearest tree. A blond head of hair pops out briefly, then disappears again.

  William turns and darts one quick look towards the rest of the group. He sees Dan, Eli, that fucking traitor, Nasira and Ali—but he doesn’t see Dorte anywhere.

  She slipped away without the asshole seeing her …

  William feels a jolt of excitement and hope. He doesn’t know exactly what Dorte’s plan is, but he applauds her internally for having the guts to do something.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  “How did you get it, Dennis?”

  Mom looks at the strand of hair between her fingers with wide eyes. They’re alone in the bathroom. Just before he locked the door, Silas said Dennis could spend ten minutes with his mom. Once the time is up, Silas will come back down and get him.

  “I took it while his back was turned,” Dennis says, feeling immensely proud.

  “Did he notice?”

  “No.”

  “That’s good, Dennis. Really good. You did great.”

  Dennis isn’t used to being praised like this; especially not by his mother. He feels at least three inches taller.

  “Thank you, Mom.”

  His mom turns her back and rummages through it, producing a tiny plastic bag which she opens and places the hair carefully inside.

  “So, what are you going to do with it?” Dennis asks.

  “You’ll see.”

  “Will it be … some kind of ritual?”

  “It’s better if you don’t know,” Mom says plainly, putting the plastic bag under the mattress. Then she looks at him. “You sure Silas isn’t suspecting anything? He didn’t feel you pluck it from his head?”

  “I didn’t; I took it from his shirt.”

  Mom’s eyes grow a little bigger, then they narrow. “You did what?”

  “I … I took it from his shirt.”

  Mom looks at him gravely. “That won’t work.”

  Dennis feels his heart sink. “Why … why won’t it work, Mom?”

  Mom closes her eyes for a moment. “That hair could have come from anybody. We need to be absolutely sure it’s Silas’s hair. Besides, it needs to be fresh. Still alive. A hair from his shirt—even if it really was his—could be weeks old.” She shakes her head slowly, talking almost to herself now. “Had I used this hair, things would have gone horribly wrong …”

  She takes the plastic bag out from under the mattress, opens it and fishes out the strand of hair. Then, she drops it to the floor. Dennis watches it fall, feeling like a giant failure.

  “I don’t get it,” Dennis says sulkily, his sense of pride deflated like a punctured balloon. “What do you even need a strand of his hair for, Mom?”

  Under normal circumstances, a question like that would’ve been way out of line—with Mom having told him already he can’t know—but nothing is normal anymore.

  Mom doesn’t seem to mind, either. She simply looks at him and whispers: “It’ll be our way out of here.”

  “But how? I don’t understand …”

  “Just trust me, Dennis.”

  Mom’s tone of voice changes slightly and lets Dennis know that now he is close to being out of line and that she won’t stand for any more questions.

  She shakes her head slowly. “I knew from the start they weren’t going to leave. And they’re bad people. Especially Silas. It’s only a matter of time before he’ll do something really bad to one of us.”

  Dennis’s belly tightens up from fear. “Like what, Mom?” he croaks. “What will he do?”

  Mom shakes her head. “I don’t know. But people like him will do bad things just for fun. You’ll see.”

  Dennis can hardly breathe. “I’m scared, Mom. Really scared. I don’t want to go back up there.”

  “You need to be brave, Dennis. You’re our only hope.” She locks Dennis’s gaze with hers. “You need to pretend like nothing’s wrong. And you need to bring me a fresh hair from Silas’s head as soon as possible.”

  “But … when will I do it? I mean, he’ll notice me doing it …”

  Dennis jumps as there’s a loud banging from the door.

  “Warden’s here!” Silas’s voice shouts from the other side. “Visiting time is over!”

  Dennis can hear the rattling of keys as Silas makes to unlock the door.

  Mom grabs Dennis by the wrist and whispers: “He won’t notice it if you’re careful. You’ll find a way. I know you can do it, Dennis. You trust me?”

  Dennis takes a deep breath, then nods.

  And just as the door opens, Mo
m whispers to him: “It’s on you now.”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Dorte made her decision as soon as she realized the guy’s wife and daughter are both dead from the virus.

  That’s also when she saw the opportunity to slip off into the moor, as everyone else’s attention was aimed at the SUV.

  She simply can’t stand by and watch while this guy steals their best—and probably only—way out. Especially not if he’s bringing two infected people with him to wherever he’s going.

  It’s also a simple matter of utilitarianism, really: the group with the highest number of healthy people should be the ones getting out of here. Besides, like William said, they came first, giving them the moral high ground.

  Of course, the guy cares very little about ethics; as far as he’s concerned, his wife and daughter can still be saved.

  Which is also why Dorte immediately realized there’s no way of talking sense to him. She for one knows all too well how irrational you become when you think you’re saving the lives of people you love.

  She made a dash for the nearest tree as soon as the guy turned his back to her and everyone else was looking at the SUV. And now she’s in the perfect position to turn the tables on the situation. The guy will come right past the tree as he and Henrik carry the guy’s wife to the helicopter.

  Dorte isn’t entirely sure what she’ll do once he’s within reach, though. Her first intuition is to simply jump the guy, trying to blind him or maybe even wrestle him to the ground. A smarter strategy might be to go for the rifle, however; pull it out of his hand and throw it as far as she can, thus levering the playing field and letting the men do the wrestling.

  There’s really no more time to think, as the guy and Henrik are already getting closer. Sebastian and Lærke are also headed for the helicopter, but they’re walking farther away.

  Dorte gets ready, her thighs tightening, her heart beating fast. Just as she’s about to make a run for it, Henrik accidentally steps in a tiny hole in the ground, almost losing his balance, causing the carpet to slip out of his hands and slump to the ground.