by David Barker
"That he was. We're hoping you're the right man to replace him."
"It's a tall order, but I'll do my best to fill his shoes, doc."
"I'm glad to hear that, Davey. I'm counting on you."
"I won't disappoint you."
The interview was over and Rick led Davey away.
"Nice meeting you, doc," Davey called back as the double doors clicked shut and their locks snapped into place.
"I don't think he heard you," said Rick.
"Strange guy," said Davey, "I kind of liked him."
"Yeah, his social skills aren't the best, but he's a hell of a smart guy. A little nuts, but brilliant. Just stay out of his way and you'll do fine. Don't bring him any problems that he doesn't absolutely have to deal with. Deal with all the petty stuff yourself. That's the way to stay out of trouble with him. And keep the fleet running, of course."
#
That first week, Davey learned about the machine-gun mounts on the Packards. He hadn't notice them the first time he saw the cars. On off nights, the guns were kept in a locked cabinet in the shop.
He also learned how the zombies wore webcams on night rides. That way, the doc could see everything the zombies saw, and better control their actions. The webcams were clipped to a headband and had a transmitter Rick had fashioned from a smartphone. Anyone who knew the URL could watch the robberies in progress. He wondered if anyone ever stumbled across the website and witnessed the crimes. When the webcams were off -- which was most of the time -- the website was nothing but a black video window with nothing streaming.
Davey was apprehensive, worried about how he would perform on his first ride-along. He'd never been involved in any criminal activity in his life, unless you counted the assault and battery against Raymond the day he quit his gas station job. He wasn't too happy about being an accomplice in these crimes, but if he wanted to keep Maggie in his life, there was no way around it. To keep this job and be around when she showed up, he'd have to ride-along. He could always claim ignorance if they were busted, although the cops probably wouldn't believe him. Maybe a good lawyer could get him off with a slap on the wrist and probation for a first offense.
Davey had a nice room in the staff dorm but preferred to spend his evenings in the new wing, which was still unoccupied. With his binocs steadied against the balcony railing, he eventually found the Petro-Void station amid the myriad lights of Tusk. Two figures were visible at that magnification. One was dark and featureless. Blue bottom half and tan top half. That must be Raymond in his jeans and work shirt. The other figure had a red top -- Maggie's familiar windbreaker -- and blue bottom -- her jeans. A breeze must have come up in Tusk because Maggie's yellow hair began to lift and flutter out to one side, to the east.
Davey smoked and listened to '20 classic rock hits in a row uninterrupted' and watched the two tiny figures below. The Raymond figure never came anywhere near the Maggie figure, although he was often turned in her direction when she had her back to him. Checking out her butt, no doubt.
He pulled out his cell, punched the gas station number.
"Petro-Void, Raymond speaking, how may I help you?"
"Quit staring at her ass."
"Axton? Is this you? What the fuck! Are you watching me?"
Raymond spun around, looking in all directions for Davey.
"Keep checking her out and you'll be sorry, dude."
"Goddamn it, Axton! I'll get a restraining order on you!"
Davey hung up.
The wind picked up again and gently lifted Maggie's hair. Her right hand moved up to her face, brushing a strand from her eyes, and then the body of her hair fluttered wildly like the flag of a country he was banned from.
Blondie's "Call me" came on and Davey turned it up.
#
Maggie's visit to Dr. Karshton's estate was an official one, during the day, unlike Davey's clandestine night visit. She wasn't going to stay after sunset. Mainly, she just wanted to see the kitchen facilities and make sure it was a place where she could do the kind of cooking she was good at: savory and wholesome home-cooking for the big family she'd been raised in. For a time before her gas station job, she'd been a waitress at the Rusty Mug. She did well there, the customers liked her, and although some of the men flirted, they did it in a polite and restrained way that was more flattering than offensive. She never had to slap away straying hands or threaten to kick anyone in the groin. She was happy there for the most part and would have stayed, but the owner got into trouble at the bank and was forced to lay off two waitresses, Maggie being one of them.
After the kitchen tour, Rick showed Maggie the rest of the facility. Davey joined them and at one point he and Maggie wound up wandering alone through the empty wing, Rick having gone on an emergency call to the lab.
"Doc says a transformer blew. The zombies have all collapsed in the field. One of them got chewed up by a threshing machine. I'll be gone a while. You two okay here by yourselves?"
"Sure," said Davey, glad to have the time alone with Maggie. "I can handle it from here."
"Maggie, I'll meet you back at my car in a half hour, forty minutes tops."
"I'll see that she gets there," said Davey.
Maggie was like a little kid, running from empty room to empty room. They were all dark except for a small amount of light filtering in at the doorways.
Davey followed after her, barely able to keep up.
"Oh! Look at this room!" she gasped. "And this one!"
It was like a dream, thought Davey, the two of them innocent children exploring a mysterious realm of infinite potential, their whole lives ahead of them.
Suddenly, inexplicably, Davey felt a rush of ecstasy, of limitless joy.
If I could die right now, I'd be happy.
He imagined how it would be if they were lovers, and if he stopped right now, pressed her carefully against one of the unpainted plasterboard walls, and kissed her luscious mouth. Then he wiped that image from his brain. It could never be. He could never have that.
Better innocent children forever. Better dead in a beautiful dream.
They ran and walked and strolled through the rooms for what seemed like hours but must have been only thirty minutes, because when they finally went and found Rick's car, he wasn't there yet. Davey had expected Rick would be waiting impatiently for them.
Maggie gave a Davey a mysterious look as he leaned on the hood of Rick's car, lighting a smoke.
Davey had no idea what that look meant. He'd never seen it before. Not from Maggie, not from any woman.
Did she know what he felt back there in the new wing?
Did she suspect how he felt about her?
#
Maggie gave her notice and had one more night to work at the station. She told Rick in a phone call earlier that day that felt a huge sense of relief. No more lustful stares and lewd remarks from Raymond. No more coming home stinking of gasoline.
It should not have happened. Not that night. Not at that filling station.
God must have fucked up big time. He is supposed to take care of his own.
A carload of jacked up Chemo-Thralls had gone on a rampage through Tusk. They were heavily armed, according to the newspaper accounts that came out later. Assault weapons. Knives. Machetes.
There was no method to their madness. Destruction was the only message, and the pharmaceutical brew that had raised them from the dead was doing all of the talking.
They left a trail of death across the town. A wash of blood in every location they visited. Four dead in a convenience store. A young couple and their three small children butchered in the Rusty Mug. Two employees run down and killed as the car plowed through one wall of a furniture store and out the other wall.
They were going 110 miles per hour when they hit the Petro-Void station.
Sitting on his balcony in the new wing, Davey didn't know any of this. All he knew is that one second he was watching Maggie fill a gas tank through the binoculars and the next second, the s
cene below burst into a huge golden fireball of flame and black smoke. Seconds later, he heard the loud explosion and felt the impact of displaced air against his chest.
Maggie died instantly. He learned the cold fact of that from a police officer later that night, as the terrible news of the horror that hit Tusk spread like wildfire, but he knew it, knew it instinctively in his heart, the instant it happened.
And that night, something died a hard death in Davey's soul.
He threw the binoculars off the balcony with all his might. They went spinning off into the dark woods below. The radio followed.
He turned, walked off the balcony and into the dark room.
Facing the unpainted wall, Davey felt like he was holding Maggie in his arms. Warm and good and sweet. Flowers in sunshine.
He felt a little stir of breeze from outside.
He thought about that mysterious look she had once given him.
Maggie, if I could die right now, and be with you ....
[END OF BOOK ONE]
To Be Continued in:
Electro-Thrall Zombie Series, Book 2.
