“Oh, okay.” I finished the food on my plate and waited.
Six guards escorted us to the first guard tower as the sun set. Shades of orange, pink, purple, and red lined the sky. If it hadn’t been for the stench, I would have enjoyed the moment. We climbed the stairs to look over the area. A few workers were in the trench, digging postholes, filling them with cement, then sticking in the metal poles for the chain-link fence. The horizon was flat, and the ground was covered with thousands of corpses. In the distance, a few mobile ones limped their way to the perimeter. I glanced at the guard tower to my right. They tracked the zombies with a pair of binoculars and spotting scopes. I squinted at the horizon to get a better view.
“Over there, about five hundred yards, will be the pyre.”
I turned to where Liet indicated. A group of twenty men dug a hole in the soft earth. Ten soldiers surrounded them, but they still nervously glanced over their shoulders. I would’ve been freaked out too. From the looks of it, zombies were a constant threat, but one that could be taken care of.
“They’re not used to being on that side of the fence,” Liet commented. “Even when they’re on our side, they still fall prey to the zombies. The zombies may be slow, but they’re crafty buggers. Sometimes when you think you’ve killed one, they pop right back up and bite you.”
I glanced back down at the bodies and shivered. “How often do they attack?”
Liet placed his hands on the rail and leaned forward. “It’s been getting more and more frequent since we moved the camp in. I’m sure they’ve used up the majority of their supplies on the west side, and the enticement of fresh meat is very alluring.” He stared at me, smiling. “You don’t need to worry about them getting in. We have guards watching vigilantly night and day.”
“What if one of the workers gets bitten and doesn’t tell anyone?”
Liet shook his head. “Won’t happen. Every shift is inspected before they’re allowed back into the city.”
“Inspected?”
“Yeah. They strip down in the showers and the soldiers check them.”
I cringed. That had to be humiliating, but I was sure it was necessary. Without rules and precautions, the world would spiral into chaos. Plus, if one of the worker’s did get bitten, they’d never say anything. They’d carry on with their work and then head home as if it hadn’t happened, telling themselves the entire time everything was going to be fine. It was a survival mechanism. The thought of turning into a zombie wasn’t frightening because it hadn’t been experienced. Yeah, it happened to others, but the person who got bit was immune. They were special.
“How long does it take to turn after they’ve been bitten?”
“Twenty-four hours.”
“What happens if they find someone who’s been bitten?”
“They’re taken care of.”
What a gentle euphemism. As if I didn’t know what he meant. That’d be another deterrent too for someone who was infected not to say anything. They knew what a bullet to the head meant, and since most of us are afraid of dying, they would rather take their chances with becoming the undead.
“You mean they’re killed.”
“To save hundreds sometimes you have to kill one. Besides, they’re dead anyway. A bullet saves them from the torment that is being undead.”
That was the truth, no argument there, but try to convince the person at the end of the barrel it’s for their own good. I wasn’t one to judge, but I was curious. “How many workers have been killed?”
Liet adjusted so his butt rested on the rail, and he folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t have those figures on me.”
“What if you were wrong? What if they weren’t bitten by a zombie?”
Liet shrugged. “Better to be safe than dead, but it’s pretty apparent when someone’s been bitten by a zombie.”
“What do you do with the bodies?” I didn’t remember seeing a graveyard on our short tour through town.
He nodded over the rail. I looked down at the bodies and noticed that some of them were naked and weren’t as decomposed as others. I could understand needing to keep the humans safe. I mean, if you get bit, you’re dead, anyway, but to treat them like trash? They hadn’t turned yet. There was still humanity left in them. It made me angry to think they didn’t give them a little dignity in death.
I buried my anger and changed the subject. “How are you going to destroy the zombies after the wall is built?”
Liet scoffed. “We don’t need to worry about destroying the zombies. We’ll keep guards on the wall to ensure none of them get through, and we’ll worry about populating the rest of the country.”
“What about the people who live in the West?”
“They made their decision. If they want to live in a zombie-free nation, they need to come to our side of the wall.”
Come to our side? Weren’t we all part of the same nation? What if they were trapped? Or sick? They might need help and we were abandoning them. It didn’t seem right, but what could I do? I wasn’t exactly in a position to do anything. Plus, maybe Liet was right. Maybe they wanted to stay over there. I didn’t know.
The sun fell below the horizon and darkness crept in. The guards clicked on their floodlights and panned across the field. The workers digging the pyre were escorted to the inspection area, and those who were digging postholes continued to do so. I’d seen enough. Liet and his soldiers took me back to my house.
I lay awake on my cot and stared up at the mold-stained ceiling. What was I doing? This was no place for me. I should’ve stayed in Florida. At least there I had luxury. I rolled onto my side. But I wasn’t happy. Was it possible for me to be happy in North Platte? I closed my eyes and saw the field of bodies. A shudder ran through me. Maybe it’d be all right once I learned how to fight. At least then I’d have some piece of mind. I tried not to think about the dead.
When I was unsuccessful, I got up and headed out the back door. The backyard was fenced, but several boards were missing, and one side was ready to fall over. The grass was brown and crunchy, and the clothesline had been knocked over. A tree in the northwest corner had a tire swing hanging from the branches. I tugged on the rope to make sure it was sturdy. It didn’t seem as if it was going anywhere, so I sat. I folded my arms on the top of the tire and stared up at the stars. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen them. I’d never taken the time to look in Florida. Even at that moment, the majority of them were blocked out from the light pollution caused by the floodlights, but it was quiet. I’d never gotten any peace in Florida. Kids yelled at each another or the sounds of construction resounded through the school. I smiled to myself.
“Enjoy the view,” a voice echoed in the darkness, “because it’ll probably be the last time you see it.”
Pam stood at the back door, lighting a cigarette. She stepped forward and offered me one, but I shook my head.
“Yep, by this time tomorrow, that funeral pyre should be burning pretty high. The smoke will probably block everything out for at least two miles.” She took a drag. “I guess that’s the price we pay for civilization. Should improve the smell, though. Now instead of rotting flesh, we’ll get to inhale burning flesh.” She took another long drag off her cigarette before flicking the butt onto the grass. “You might want to get some sleep. You have a long day ahead of you.” She turned and headed into the house.
I stared at the sky for a while longer, then returned to bed. I closed my eyes and dreamt about zombies.
CHAPTER 7
Pam woke me up before dawn. My back was sore and my eyes burned. It took every ounce of strength I had to pull myself out of bed. The sky was gray with the promise of light, the air cool. We climbed into one of the guard towers. Workers planted metal poles into the postholes and poured cement, and a new group finished the pyre hole. Pam handed me a Zigana T.
“You ever shoot anything before?”
“Sort of. My dad took me to the range once.”
Pam scoffed. “Yo
ur gun is your best friend. You’ll learn how to use other weapons, but if you don’t have to get that close, don’t. There’s more of a chance you could get bit. Now, hold it like this.” She straightened her arms out in front of her. “This is your sight.” She pointed to the back of the gun. “You want to line this knob up with whatever it is you’re going to shoot.”
I extended my arms in front of me and closed one eye. I lined the sight up with a body on the ground.
“When you have your sights lined up, you want to gently squeeze the trigger.”
I put my finger on the trigger and fired. The gun jerked upward and the bullet sailed wide. I saw a puff of dirt far away from where I’d aimed. I lowered the weapon and sighed.
Pam smiled. “No one ever gets it on their first try. Shooting isn’t inherent. You have to practice. Try something a little closer.”
“Shouldn’t I be practicing on targets or something?”
“Why? You think you’re going to be firing at targets out there?” She jerked her head toward the field. “Here, let’s make this a bit more realistic.”
We headed down the tower steps. Pam pulled one of the workers away from digging a posthole and ordered him to retrieve a body. Reluctantly, the man obeyed, and he set the corpse up on the fence. Pam motioned toward the body. It was a young man, probably college age, who wore tattered blue jeans and a green t-shirt, which had been ripped open in the middle. Blood and mud caked his blond hair. I shivered.
“Go ahead, shoot it.”
I frowned. “What if I miss?”
“Then the bullet sails harmlessly into the field. I’m sure you’ll miss. Despite what the movies portray, the human body is actually a pretty small target. Especially the human head. You can hit a zombie in the chest and slow it down, but you won’t kill it. You have to hit it in the brain.” She stepped back.
I lined up my sights and squeezed the trigger. The bullet flew over the corpse. I couldn’t see where it’d landed. Frustration crept into my chest. “Isn’t there a trick to this? Something to make it easier?” Why hadn’t I stayed in bed?
Pam shook her head. “Nope.” She set some boxes of ammunition on the ground. “You keep practicing until you hit it.” She turned and headed to the top of the tower.
I spent the entire morning trying to hit the zombie’s head. I could hit it in the torso fine, and wing it, but a dead-on shot was impossible. My hands were sweaty from holding the gun, my thumb throbbed from reloading bullets, and my jaw was sore from clenching. By the time I was on my fifth magazine I was so frustrated I dropped to the ground and folded my legs in front of me. I set the gun down and then buried my face in my hands. I heard someone approach and assumed it was Pam.
“This is impossible!” I yelled into my hands. “Besides, don’t we have to conserve ammo?”
Pam laughed. “Are you kidding? We’ve raided every sporting goods store, gun dealer, and pawn shop from here to New York. We’ve got ammo. And when that runs out, we’ve got supplies to reload our own. Ammo is not an issue.”
I flopped my hands onto my lap and sagged my shoulders. “I’m never going to get this.”
Pam grabbed my arm and lifted me. “Then maybe you’d better go back to Florida. If you don’t learn to shoot and defend yourself, you’re as good as dead. You wanna go back?”
I straightened my shoulders and took a shaky breath. “No.”
“Maybe you should try this.” She moved me within five feet of the corpse and placed the gun in my hand. “Line the sights up and fire. When you’ve hit it ten times, move back another foot. Keep doing that until you run out of bullets or you can hit it every single time.”
I was getting to the point where I didn’t think anything was going to work, and I still had some problems hitting the target, but after a while, I got the hang of it. I was only six feet away from the corpse, but I hit it every time. I felt pretty good. I figured out the nuances of the gun, and felt confident in my abilities. Pam came down from the tower about the same time, and we headed to the house for lunch.
I made us a pot of chili and some grilled cheese, and all the girls ate greedily. After we finished, I cleaned up the dishes. Pam told me she had some things to do, so I lay down and took a nap. Every ache and pain became pronounced, but it was a great feeling. I was much more exhausted than I imagined, and the next thing I knew, she shook me awake. I glanced at the clock. I’d slept for three hours. She told me to follow her, and we headed to the wall.
“Although we have a large cache of ammo, you can’t carry an infinite supply. If you get too deep into the West, you’re going to run out. Once that happens, you still have to be able to defend yourself. Different people prefer different weapons. I personally like to keep a katana handy.” She reached behind her back and drew out a sword. “They’re light weight and have incredible slicing power. You can take the heads off a hundred zombies and the blade never gets dull. You don’t have to be as accurate with one of these babies as you do with a gun, but you have to be close.” She handed me the weapon. “There’s really no right or wrong way to behead your opponent. I’ve never been trained in martial arts, but that doesn’t make the weapon any less deadly. The most important thing is to be fast.” She walked over to the corpse I’d riddled with bullet holes. “Go ahead, take its head off.”
I gripped the handle in both hands and planted my feet. I’d never handled a sword before, but I’d seen movies. It wasn’t the same thing, but it was the only example I had. I swung the katana over my right shoulder and at the corpse’s neck. It sliced a quarter of the way through before getting stuck. I tried to pull it out, but my hands slipped and I fell backward. I caught myself before I hit the dirt. I stared at Pam. She tried to hold back her laughter.
“You can’t expect to get everything right the first time. With a little practice, you’ll be able to take a head off in one swipe. Let me show you some exercises to strengthen your upper body.”
We worked together until the sun started to set, then we headed to the house and I prepared dinner. After we ate, I dragged myself upstairs to take a shower. The water felt good on my sore muscles, and I stayed in long enough to fog the mirrors. Once I finished, I headed to my cot and lay down.
“You did a great job today,” Pam said. “Tomorrow you can rest and get the house cleaned up a little more.” She stepped out the door for her second shift on the watchtower.
I cringed. I didn’t really want to spend the day cleaning, but it was part of the deal. I had to hold up my end of the bargain. Plus, as sore as my arms were, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold the gun. I rolled onto my side and thought about the lessons I’d learned. I drifted to sleep thinking about all the zombies I was going to destroy with my newfound skills.
***
I woke up late the next morning. The soldiers already had breakfast and headed out to their jobs. I must have been extremely tired because I slept right next to the kitchen and didn’t even hear them. I rolled out of bed slowly and sat on the edge. I looked around the house and sighed. The sink was full of dishes, the floor was still covered in mud, and clothes were still strewn around the living room. I was never going to get ahead in my cleaning. I stood slowly and went to the kitchen.
By mid-morning, it was spotless, and I had most of the clothes picked up. I searched for a vacuum in the closet and came across a cache of weapons. Pam had been nice enough to let me keep the Zigana, but I couldn’t keep the katana. I picked through the rifles and shotguns, wondering if it was all right if I took a few. There was an assortment of knives and broadswords, but the things that caught my attention were the arm swords with the collapsible blades. I pulled them out of the closet and took them to my cot. I grabbed one and fitted the straps around my forearm, depressing the button on the handle.
The blade snapped out. I pressed the button again, and the blade snapped back into place. I smiled. I took the arm sword off, placing it under my cot.
Pam returned at lunch. She was so impressed with the cleaning I had
accomplished, she decided to reward me with more training. We ate before heading to the fence to train. I asked about the weapons, and she told me I could take anything I wanted. I brought the arm swords with me and started learning how to use them. The metal was light and sturdy, but after several hours of attempting to chop off a zombie’s head, I was exhausted and sore. I did better with the arm swords than with the katana. I had more leverage and could use the weight of my entire body to swing the blade. I worked a little more with the gun and was actually getting the hang of it.
By late afternoon I was tired and had trouble lifting my arms, so I climbed the watchtower. Leaning against the rail, I watched several workers haul bodies to the pyre pit while a guard prepared to light the flame. He doused the corpses in diesel before tossing in a torch. A whoosh resounded through the air, followed by the scent of burning flesh and a dark pillar of smoke. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it’d be. It kind of smelled like a campfire. I closed my eyes and thought about the last time I went camping with my parents. It was the only way to keep from thinking about what was really happening. The zombies didn’t bother me, but the humans who’d lost their lives doing their job made my stomach turn. Footsteps approached behind me, and I turned to see Liet.
“Should be a nice night.” He smiled.
“If you say so.” It was hard for me to imagine a night could be nice with smoke clouding the sky and bodies burning in the fire.
He stood next to me and placed his hands on the rail. “I hear your training is coming along pretty well.”
I shrugged. “It’s all right. I’m still not very good. I’m sure if it came down to it, a zombie would still get the better of me.”
“Just keep practicing, you’ll get it.”
I nodded. “I will.”
Liet averted his gaze so he stared at the horizon. “If you’re not busy, I’d really enjoy some company for dinner.”
Life After The Undead Omnibus Page 7
