by Tony Urban
They half dragged, half carried Aben up the access road that served as the entrance to the camp. Aben let his feet hang, determined to make it as hard on them as possible. Prince trotted along at their heels.
When they reached the main road, Saw waited for them. He stood in front of one of the tractor trailers.
“There’s the man of the hour.” He gave a sarcastic clap.
“What do you think you’re doing, Saw?”
Saw took a step closer. “What did I do to turn you away from me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“We’ve been together for what, four months now? Tell me what I’ve done to you that’s so terrible.”
“Nothing. But right now, you’ve got me standing in the snow freezing my pecker off and my patience is running thin.”
“All I’ve ever asked from you, from any of you, is honesty. I must have done something to offend you for you to go behind my back and try to turn the others against me.”
Aw, fuck. Mitch. “I talked about leaving, that’s all.”
“This is no prison. I’m not holding you hostage.” Saw turned toward the truck. “Come on out, Mitch. Aben wants to say goodbye.”
The door swung open and Mitch dropped from the cab. He came toward them but wouldn’t look at Aben, not at first. He took his place at Saw’s right side.
“Morning, Mitch,” Aben said.
Mitch looked up, reluctant. He nodded. “Yeah.”
“I guess this means you aren’t joining me.”
“Nope. It was never really an option either. Surprised you didn’t realize that.”
“Can’t blame a guy for hoping.”
Saw chortled. “Oh, but you can. A traitor is still a traitor even if his plan fails. I’m sure you Americans have heard of Benedict Arnold, after all. You know what happened to him?”
“I believe he ran back to England and lived out his days there.”
“Really?” Saw asked. “They didn’t hang him for treason?”
“I don’t believe they did.”
“Huh. You Yankees really are a sorry lot.”
“Is that what you have planned for me? Hanging me? Why didn’t you just shoot me in bed? Then these fellows could have slept in.”
Saw grabbed a water pitcher from the bumper of the trailer. Aben could see something dark inside, through the nearly opaque plastic. “Naw, I’m not going to kill you. No sport in that, is there?”
He moved closer to Aben and Aben could smell something rancid inside the pitcher.
“You told Mitch you wanted to go, so I’m sending you on your way.”
“Like this? No clothes or anything?”
“Oh, I’ve got a little something for you.”
Saw tossed the contents of the pitcher onto him. It was cold and wet and heavy. Part liquid, part solid. As it dripped down him, he realized it was rotten meat and blood. He wiped some of the chunks out of his beard and chest hair and tossed them into the snow. Even Prince avoided the gore.
“I could think of better parting gifts.”
“Who said I was done?”
Saw motioned to Casper and Lonnie. The men moved to the trailer doors. They banged on the metal walls with their hands, whooping and hollering.
Aben could hear the zombies inside going crazy. He knew where this was going. He didn’t like it, but he wasn’t going to lower himself to beg. Especially when he knew it was pointless.
“Now get the hell out of here,” Saw said and turned his back on him.
Only Mitch still looked in his direction. Aben resented the kid for ratting him out, but for the most part he blamed himself and his own big mouth for getting him into this predicament.
“Mitch,” Aben said. “You take good care of Prince, alright?”
Mitch nodded. He took hold of the dog’s collar and scratched it behind the ear. “I promise.”
“Thank you.”
Aben walked away from them, up the snow-covered access road and away from the camp that had been his home for the last few months. Away from his dog.
He’d made it ten yards when he heard Prince bark and Mitch yelp. He risked a glance back and saw Mitch holding his hand to his mouth and the dog dashing toward him.
“Stay with him, Prince,” Aben said but the dog, as usual, didn’t listen. In seconds, it was on his heels. “Damn dumb dog.”
When they were half a football field away, Aben heard the metallic screech of the trailer doors opening. He didn’t bother looking back. He knew what was coming.
Being almost naked, Aben also lacked a watch but he guessed he’d been walking for six or so hours as the sun had passed overhead and began its slow descent. He’d started with a fifty-yard head start on the zombies. That was down to forty-five or so now. They were too far away to get a headcount but he estimated their number to be in the mid-thirties. He was surprised Saw wasted that many on him.
His feet felt like two numb cement blocks attached to the bottom of his legs and he had to shuffle to keep from falling. He knew his odds of surviving through the night were slim and he hoped he’d stumble upon a house or even a vehicle. Anywhere he could barricade himself for a while in the hopes that the zombies lost interest.
Prince plodded along beside, panting happily as if they were going on the longest, coldest pleasure walk in the history of mankind. Aben wish the dog was smarter, Lassie-type smart so he could say, ‘Prince, fetch me a machete’ and the mutt would actually go and find one. But the dog was just a dog and Aben told himself it wasn’t fair to expect him to be anything extraordinary when he himself was about as ordinary as a living creature could be.
He wondered how many life choices had led him to this. How many times he could have done something as simple as turn left instead of right, that might have taken him down a different path. He thought this line of thinking to be of the pointless variety but as he walked, it seemed thinking was all he could do.
A few more hours passed and the sun dipped below the trees, casting long shadows behind him. He took a look back on the chance the zombies had taken an accidental detour, but they were still there and he judged them to be within thirty yards now.
He thought it felt colder, but it was hard to tell, most of him was numb. His remaining fingers had turned a blue-ish white and he kept flexing that hand to keep circulation flowing. On the slim chance he got out of this, he didn’t want to be minus both mitts.
Darkness came quick after that, like someone turning a dimmer switch too fast. He couldn’t see the road ahead of him nor the zombies behind him, but the low rumble of their growls and groans assured him they were still there. Prince was there too. His tongue hung so far out of his mouth it dragged on the snow in spots where it had drifted deeper.
Aben was tired. Physically, of course, but mentally too. A day of reliving his rotten life over and over again had taken a great toll. He realized it was pointless to keep walking. He knew that soon he would trip and be unable to get back up, or fall into a ravine he couldn’t climb out of, or just get so damned exhausted that his heart blew up mid-step. But still, he walked.
It took Aben a few minutes to realize the reason the land ahead of him was getting brighter was because the sun was coming up. He’d stopped thinking sometime through the night but his body went on putting one foot in front of the other like someone had wound the key on a toy and it kept going and going and going.
Behind him, the zombies were less than ten yards away. Ahead of him laid endless road with no houses, no shelter.
Saw knew this. He knew there was nothing on this road for dozens of miles. Bastard knew I didn’t have a chance.
The sun brought with it slightly warmer temperatures and some of the ice that had formed in his beard began to melt. His mouth felt like a desert and he pushed some of the hard, scraggly hair between his lips and sucked the moisture off it. It was only after the hair was in his mouth that he realized it was also tainted with frozen snot, along with whatever mélange of gore Saw had
doused him in before sending him out to die.
Oh well, it’s all wet so what’s it really matter?
He wondered if he should have gone along with Saw’s plan to attack the island. Maybe he was right and that the people there were selfish sons of bitches and they deserved to lose their haven. Hell, even if they were decent people, was it worth him having to endure this ordeal? But then he realized he brought some, maybe all of this on himself by leaving Juli and Grady. Listening to that little dude prattle on about God and punishments and redemption certainly wasn’t as bad as this.
After a few hours of daylight, he stepped on a particularly slick spot of icy snow and went down on his ass. It didn’t hurt. He was too numb to hurt. But he struggled to get back up. The first time he tried he fell on his face. The second he made it to his knees and got stuck there. Eventually Prince got close enough that Aben could rest his hand on the dog’s back and push himself up.
Right away he started walking again, but a backward glance revealed the zombies were within twenty feet.
Only a matter of time, now.
He looked down at Prince who, despite being a dog with seemingly endless energy, panted hard and seemed to be almost as poor off as Aben. Large snowballs of ice had formed on his legs and belly and the whites of his eyes were blood red, like all the vessels in them had burst from the constant exertion. That pissed Aben off because even if he’d brought this on himself, the dog hadn’t done anything to deserve it. He was just a dog, one whose only fault was being too loyal. Aben had accepted that the zombies were going to eat him, but he wanted to spare Prince.
“Hey Prince.” The dog looked up at him. Despite its exhaustion it looked happy to hear his name and its ears perked up.
“How about you run ahead and fetch us a rabbit?”
Prince cocked his head to the side and Aben had to remind himself that the dog was just a dog.
“Get going now. Get!’
Aben gave him a pat on the rear end then pointed down the road. Prince remained at his side.
“How about a run then. Can you still run? Let’s go.”
Aben sucked in a big mouthful of frigid air and somehow managed to jog ten paces. Prince ran with him, excited and yipping. Dog speak for ‘This is fun!’
When Aben ran out of steam the dog continued ahead a few yards, then looked back to him.
“Keep going, boy. I’ll catch up.”
Instead, Prince returned to his side.
Damn dog.
Aben was running out of ideas quick and the more he thought about the zombies eating his dog, the more angry and fearful he became. Damn it, this wasn’t right and he wasn’t going to let it happen. The only thing he knew to do was let out that rage.
“Get out of here!” He screamed at the dog. Prince cowered, his floppy ears slicked against his head. Seeing him like that made Aben’s chest tighten and he fought hard to get a breath, “I said go! Damn dog, get away from me!”
He kicked snow at the dog but it only hunkered down, tail tucked.
“I said go!” He roared. Then he kicked Prince as hard as he could, aiming for the hindquarter that had been injured when he found it that past summer. His foot connected and the dog skidded five feet away, rolling over twice before landing in a puff of snow.
Prince stared back at him, its big brown eyes questioning, ‘What did I do? I’m sorry.’
Aben never imagined anything could hurt like this. That damn dog was the only thing he’d ever loved but now just looking at it made him hate himself. In a life filled with terrible moments, this was the worst.
“Go! Get!” Aben grabbed a chunk of ice and hurled it at Prince. It hit the dog in the side and Prince gave a high-pitched yelp that might have been the most horrible noise Aben had ever heard.
And then Prince darted into the forest. Between the cover of the trees and the tears that blurred his vision, Aben quickly lost sight of him.
His bare chest rose and fell in hitching wheezes. He didn’t know how much ground the zombies had gained on him and he didn’t care. He collapsed to his knees, sobs racking his near frozen, exhausted body, and welcomed the end.
Chapter Forty
After sending Aben on his merry way, Saw loaded Mitch into a Subaru Forester that he kept around for longer trips. It lacked the panache of his dump truck, but it got much better gas mileage. Besides, this trip didn’t involve collecting things. This time, they were making a delivery.
They drove south out of the Pennsylvania mountains, crossing first into Maryland, then West Virginia. As they drove, the snow accumulation became less and less before disappearing entirely. Saw never ceased to be amazed that the US could feel like entirely different worlds within a few hundred miles.
Saw had given Mitch a few beers and the teen had a good buzz. They were halfway through West Virginia and Mitch was sufficiently slurring his words, so Saw thought it was time.
“Alright, Mitchy. Now listen careful because you have the most important job of everyone.”
Mitch’s glassy eyes grew wide. Saw could tell how much he reveled feeling important. “I’m up for it. I promise. I’ll do anything you need me to do.”
“That’s a good lad. Very good.”
When they made it to the overlook, Saw took out the same telescope he’d used months earlier to show Mitch the island. The teen got so excited he almost knocked it over.
“It’s like an entire fucking town! There’s houses and RVs and people. People everywhere.”
“Exactly, Mitch. Looks like a place we could call home, does it not?”
“Shit yeah!”
Saw then showed Mitch the map. “There’s only a couple roads that dead end in the lake. And this one,” he pointed to a line he’d highlighted in yellow, “Seems like the one they’d be most apt to use.”
They drove down the highway, away from the overlook and toward the flat ground of the valley. Saw had to stop twice along the way so Mitch could get out and piss and he worried a bit that he might have got the boy a bit too drunk, but he suspected everything would be fine.
Mitch asked him again about his role in the attack and Saw felt it was finally time to reveal the teenager’s mission.
“You saw the gate through the telescope, right?”
Mitch nodded.
“Well, Mitch, your job is to open it.”
Even though he was drunk, Mitch had enough of his faculties remaining to know that didn’t make sense. “How am I supposed to open it, Saw? Wouldn’t it open from the inside?”
“I’m sure it does. And that’s where you’re going to be.”
“How?”
“We saw a boat, a right big one, at the dock by the gate. And that road I showed you, there was a pickup truck parked at the end of it. Only reason they’d need a boat and a truck is because they’re making trips to the mainland for supplies.”
He looked to Mitch and saw he still hadn’t put the pieces together. “So, Mitch, what you’re going to do is find them when they’re out on a run and get them to bring you back to the island. I want you to find out as much as you can while you’re in there. Who’s in charge. What type of weaponry they have. Anything that might be important. Then, when we show up on January 15, you open the doors for us and we take over.”
“I can do that once I’m inside, but I’m still not sure about getting in. How do we know they’ll take me back with them? Or do you want me to do it by force, like hold a gun to the ship driver’s head?”
This was going to be the tricky part. Saw hoped Mitch was loyal enough, and drunk enough, to go along with it.
“No, you can’t come off as dangerous. No one will trust you if you shove a gun in their face. You got to be sympathetic. Completely unthreatening.”
“I think I can do that.”
“I know you can, Mitch, because you’re going to be injured. Unless they’re a bunch of total savages, they wouldn’t let some kid who’s hurt out there to fend himself. Of course, they’ll take you in.”
Saw
watched Mitch as he furrowed his brow and considered this.
“Okay. That makes sense.”
“Good. Now get out of the car.”
Mitch did and Saw followed. They stood in the middle of the road. “Just remember, we’ll be coming January 15 at dawn. So, have that gate open.”
“That’s almost two months away. You won’t forget about me, will you?”
Saw grinned. Even though his rotten chiclet teeth weren’t reassuring, he followed it up by putting his arm around Mitch’s shoulder and that did the trick. “Absolutely not, Mitchy. You’re like my son. I’d never abandon you.”
Mitch surprised him by leaning in to Saw and embracing him. Saw hugged him back and, with his free hand, pulled a straight razor from his pocket.
“Are you ready now?”
Mitch let go and nodded.
“You might want to close your eyes. This is apt to hurt.”
Mitch obeyed. Saw placed the blade first against his left cheek, an inch or so below his eye, then swept it down in an arc that connected with the teen’s mouth. He was so quick and fluid with his movement that it was finished before the blood began to flow, but that followed within a second.
Mitch gasped, too shocked to scream, and raised his hand to his face. Saw quickly repeated the action on his right cheek but before he could finish, Mitch collapsed to his knees. Now he screamed. Shrieked. A sound so loud it made a woodpecker flee from a nearby tree and flutter away. Blood poured from the wounds and formed a puddle underneath him.
Saw rested his hand on the back of Mitch’s head, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s alright, Mitchy. You’ll be alright. Just remember now, January 15.”
The boy was sobbing as Saw returned to the Subaru, but Saw ignored him.
Don’t worry, Mitchy. I’ll make a man out of you yet.
Saw did a U-turn in the middle of the road, and drove away. He was almost certain you couldn’t bleed to death from cuts on your face. Ninety percent, at least. And if he was wrong, so be it. He’d come prepared to smash down that gate if it was necessary.
