Vaccination - 01

by Phillip Tomasso

  The kid coddled his wrist up near his chest. He, too, was looking everywhere. His face was covered in sweat, his hair a mess. He was taking quick shallow breaths. I wanted to tell him just to calm the fuck down. Josh came out of the store. He held two plastic bags filled with the medical supplies. “Grabbed some toothbrushes and toothpaste, too,” he said. “Figured, why not.”

  “You see the girl?” the Kid asked.

  “No one.”

  “Let’s head back to the woods. Bandage up the Kid’s arm there. Then we can figure out how we’re going to move forward from there,” I said.

  No one argued. Didn’t suspect anyone would.

  As we left the parking lot and entered the trees, the sky opened up. Rain poured down. The canopy of the trees was thin at best. Most of the leaves were crisp and brown and on the ground. We were going to get soaked, and cold.

  Allison did her best to keep the bandages dry. She splinted the Kid’s wrist, wrapped it, and then used the plastic bag the supplies came in as a glove, sliding it over the Kid’s hand. She made small talk while she worked. “So are you a football player?”

  “Was,” he said.

  “For the Greece Cardinals?” She pointed at his shirt.

  “From the time I was five.”

  “High school?”

  “Where I went, they didn’t have a team. School was too small.”

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  “Was still going to try out when I went to college this fall.”

  “You’re in college?”

  “Monroe Community,” he said, “they don’t have football either.”

  Allison just smiled. Finished her work. “This should help.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  I checked my phone. One battery line remained. I couldn’t afford to let my cell die. It was the only chance of contact with my kids. Too much time had lapsed since the last call. I wanted to stay optimistic. These things out on the streets were relentless, strong, and hungry. They kept the five of us hopping. We were adults. Mostly. And fighting them off was a challenge. How were two kids. . .

  I couldn’t go there. To do so would be like surrendering. They were all right. Somewhere safe. Had to be. Had to be, or all of this--my life, was for nothing. Not a thing. They were fine. Waiting for me to come rescue them. They were holed up in a vacant spot, scared, maybe wet and cold now, but safe. And waiting.

  “He all set?” I said.

  Allison nodded. “He is.”

  “Then we’re moving. Let’s go.”

  “I think we should find shelter. Wait out the rain,” Josh said.

  I didn’t face him. I didn’t acknowledge his input. I didn’t say a damned thing. I just hoisted my shovel over a shoulder, and picked up a backpack and started walking back toward the Tops parking lot. I wasn’t concerned about who, if anyone at all, followed me. Either I had the four people behind coming, or I was going it alone. It was that simple.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The sky was not cooperating. It looked black. A reflection of our mood, no doubt. The wind picked up. The rain continued to fall. Hard. It came down at an angle. At us. The cold drops stung exposed flesh. My skin felt clammy, and numb. Drops dripped from my hair into my eyes. I gave up wiping it away and just pushed through it, squinting to see.

  The good thing, the best thing about the weather, the zombies didn’t seem to care for it much either. We’d gone two blocks without seeing a single one. It felt a little promising. Misleading perhaps, but I was thankful for the reprieve.

  Dave and Josh talked in mumbled whispers behind me. No clue what the subject might be. Had my guesses. A coup? Go their own way? Whatever. It wasn’t my concern. I felt like I’d be less of a target, and better off on my own than in a group. I didn’t need, or ask for friends. I only wanted my kids. Nothing else. Once I had them, we’d survive together. The three of us, and Allison if she wanted to stay. That was fine with me.

  When thunder boomed and lightning split the sky--a skeletal hand finger-stepping across black clouds, we stopped.

  “This isn’t going to let up, Chase,” Allison said. Her lips had turned blue, teeth chattered. She shivered so badly, her shoulders shook.

  I couldn’t look much different, any better. I looked at the others. Out here, it smelled like worms.

  I never asked to be in charge, a leader. I looked at the pooling rain on the pavement. My dress shoes were ruined, my socks soaked, my feet like ice. We were going to get sick. The lot of us. Pneumonia, or worse.

  “We can’t stop. We’re getting closer.”

  “I know we are. I’m not saying we stop. Just -- maybe we find another house. Throw our clothes into a dryer for a bit. Find new clothes. Maybe we find an umbrella or two, and then keep going. We don’t have to, I’m just saying,” she said.

  I looked down the road. We were close to my ex’s house, but not so close. I hated that. “We are going to find another car,” I said. “Roads aren’t as cluttered around here. I think we’ll make better time then. It will get us out of the rain. Turn the heat on.”

  “A car. Good idea,” she said. It was a compromise, I’ll admit. She wasn’t going to push the issue further. I wasn’t going house hunting. Not anymore. Not because of rain. Not because we were cold. A car, that was different.

  “Keys are probably in them,” Dave said. Hadn’t realized he’d been listening. He pointed at the cars in the street.

  Figure the people turned on their way to and from places. Climbed out of their cars, feeling sick. And then zombie-walked away. Keys in the ignition.

  Problem was, the cars left running were out of gas.

  I didn’t hear a single car engine.

  Wouldn’t. Not with the wind and rain.

  “Let’s check them,” I said. “Be careful. They might not be empty.”

  The street was ours. Zombies were not digging the rain one bit. Far as I was concerned, let it keep raining. It gave us time. We would be able to get further without having to hide from monsters anxious to devour our meat.

  There were plenty of cars in the street. They were everywhere. Doors open on some, closed on others. They did congest the roads. Driving was still not going to be easy. I had no issue with riding on sidewalks and through lawns. “We want a truck, SUV. Something with four-by-four if possible,” I said.

  Fuck beggars can’t be choosers. I wasn’t begging. I was particular.

  We walked north down Mt. Read. It should be simple. Pick a truck, look for keys, check the fuel gage, go. It wasn’t. For whatever reason, there were few SUVs. The ones we came upon had keys but no gas, or no keys. We passed a couple of nice cars. I ignored the muttering and under the breath cussing when I declined said vehicles. It was something durable, or nothing.

  “Chase,” Allison said, “let’s take a car. Get out of the rain. We can stop at SUVs along the way.”

  I saw what I wanted. A Navigator. It was in the parking lot diagonal from Top’s. “That’s ours,” I said. “That one.”

  We were walking in that direction anyway.

  “It won’t have keys.” It was Dave or Josh. Didn’t matter.

  “It’ll be out of gas if it has been running all this time.” Again, Josh or Dave.

  The Kid sprinted ahead. Well, jogged. Either way, he was going to reach it first. He ran with that banged up arm clutched to his chest. Looked gimpy. I wanted to tell him to quit babying it, to suck it up and man up. Now wasn’t the time. I’d give him a few hours with the splint. But tonight, if he hadn’t changed the behavior, I’d lay into him. Might not be my business. It just annoyed the shit out of me.

  He reached the Lincoln, pulled open the door. He turned to us, gave us a thumbs up. Must mean the keys were inside. Then he stuck his head in, and next his chest.

  When his legs lifted off the ground, and kicked at air, I thought, Ah shit.

  “Zombies,” Josh yelled.

  We ran at the SUV. Our weapons drawn.

  We stopped a few yards awa
y as the Kid’s body fell out of the SUV. Splashed onto wet pavement.

  Throat ripped open. Blood sprayed. Allison screamed. I almost slapped a hand over her mouth. My arms felt frozen where they were. Hands wrapped around the wood handle of my shovel. When she started to sob, and cry, I lunged forward. Long, quick, purposeful strides.

  I knelt.

  “Hey, Kid,” I said. I pushed the door shut. The thing was inside. It planted its face against the window. Bloody palm prints smeared the glass.

  He tried to talk, but only gurgled sounds spilled from him. His eyes were open wide. Teeth covered in blood. Mouth filled with it. I smelled it. Copper. Death.

  “Hey,” I said. No other words came to mind. I hoped it sounded soothing. Not shaky, and scared, like I felt. “It’s going to be okay. We’ve got all those supplies from Tops. Okay? Allison’s going to fix you right up.”

  The Kid’s eyeball’s rolled up. Nothing but whites.

  His body felt limp on my lap. Seen it in movies. Always hated it. Faced with it now, I understood. I laid my hand over his eyes and lowered his eyelids.

  More peaceful, despite the chunk of flesh missing from his neck, the blood soaking into my work pants.

  Gently, I lifted his head off my legs and onto the ground, into the red rainwater, and stood.

  “Chase?”

  “He’s gone,” I said to Allison.

  She grabbed my arm. Her head hit my chest. Her body shook as she cried.

  I should have comforted her. She needed that. Hell, I needed it. Instead, I pulled opened the back seat door and used my shovel like a spear. Didn’t look. Didn’t hesitate. I plunged it into the darkness. The spade sliced through meat. The thing didn’t cry out, didn’t moan, but it gurgled. It gasped.

  I pulled back and drove the shovel into the SUV again and again, stabbing blindly. Each thrust hit home. It was like digging a hole. If the thing had been on the ground, I’d of stepped on the rest on the edge of the shovel and forced it through the beast using all of my weight.

  I slammed the weapon repeatedly into the creature, strike after strike. As long as the spade made contact, I didn’t stop. I didn’t stop until Josh put a hand on my shoulder.

  I turned on him. Rain blurred my vision. Heat filled my cheeks. I knew my skin was red, from being cold, and wet, and angry, and feeling guilty, and responsible, and arrogant. Because I wanted an SUV. Because a car wasn’t good enough. Because the Kid was dead, and it was my fault. All my fault.

  Mine.

  I spun around, reached into the back seat, grabbed onto a leg and yanked. The hacked up zombie toppled out of the vehicle, plopped down beside the Kid. I used my foot to kick the woman’s body over, and away from his. She didn’t deserve to be next to him.

  “Okay,” I said, “everyone into the SUV.”

  No one said a word.

  No one moved.

  “You want us to get into that thing?” Dave pointed at the black Navigator.

  The rain came down even harder. Didn’t think it was possible. Felt like ice pelleting my skin. I looked down at Jason. The Kid. No. His name was Jason. Jason.

  “Jason was killed in there,” Allison said. It was a whisper.

  I shut the back seat door. Opened the driver’s door. Jason’s blood was on the leather. “Get in,” I said, ignoring protest.

  “Chase,” Allison said, “I can’t.”

  I looked her in the eyes. “You can. You will. This kid, he died. He died so we could have this stupid SUV I wanted. We’re taking it. We’ll find gas stations that are running and fill it up. It’s ours now. It’s ours because he . . . because I will not let his death be for nothing. I won’t. He didn’t die for you. It was for me. My fault. Mine. Now, get in.”

  She stood there. I couldn’t tell if she was letting my words sink in, or working up the courage to climb in. Either way, it took her a minute. Almost two.

  Allison understood. I saw it. It was in her eyes, when she couldn’t hold my stare. When they dropped, and she walked around the front of the Navigator and sat shotgun.

  “Dave. Josh. It’s now, or it’s goodbye.”

  I knew what they were thinking.

  The thing had been in the backseat, and I’d hacked the shit out of her back there. “I’m not waiting,” I said.

  Dave said, “Shit.”

  Then he climbed in behind the driver’s seat.

  “We’re getting your kids. And we’re going to Mexico?” Josh said.

  “That’s the plan,” I said.

  “Wake me when we get to North Carolina,” he said. He made a fist, held it out. I bumped mine into his.

  Josh walked around the back of the truck, and climbed in sitting next to his brother.

  I couldn’t help but stand there in the rain. I looked at Jason’s corpse.

  I just didn’t want to leave him there. He deserved better. At the very least, to be buried.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The Navigator wasn’t 4x4, but the tires and wheels were big. The engine was Lincoln-strong.

  I used a hand to swipe away as much of Jason’s blood pooled on the leather before sitting down.

  The engine started on the first try. The radio came on. Static. I took a moment and went through the preset channels. Nothing. Hit scan. Waited. It rolled through more channels without stopping once.

  Allison blasted the heat on. Hot air smashed into my face. Felt good. My hands felt numb. I rubbed them together in front of the heater, and then switched on the wipers. It was time to get moving.

  The Navigator was a smooth and elegant ride. Beat walking, being stuck in the elements. I pulled out of the parking spot, and in the mirror, saw Jason’s body.

  It felt so wrong leaving him there. He deserved better. I stopped.

  “What are you doing?” Allison spoke in a whisper.

  “I can’t,” I said. My head hit the steering wheel. Eyes closed. “I just can’t.”

  Allison’s hand rubbed my back.

  We had garden tools as weapons. What more did we need. How long could it take? How much better would it make me feel?

  “Chase?” she said.

  I backed the SUV up, put it in park and climbed out, back into the cold rain. I heard another door open.

  Josh and I looked down at the body.

  “Bury him?” Josh said.

  I nodded.

  “Good call,” he said, and pulled open the rear door.

  Together we lifted Jason’s body. I took under the arms at the shoulders. Josh had the legs. The kid wasn’t heavy. Light, but lifeless. We set him in back of the SUV. “Thank you,” I said.

  This time, Josh nodded. “Where do you want to bury him?”

  “I know the perfect place, actually.”

  We got back into the SUV. I turned it around, headed in the opposite direction in the parking lot, to the exit on Maiden, and made a left. In silence, we drove past the police station, and made a left onto Pomona Dr., and a quick left into the ball field parking lot.

  Up rights separated the outfield to two different softball diamonds. I checked the rear-view. Josh nodded in agreement.

  Jason was not Hoffa, and this was far from a New York Giant’s end zone, but it seemed fitting. Appropriate.

  The ground was wet. But not soft. The cold temperatures saw to that. Digging the grave was far more labor intensive than I expected. We all took turns. Allison spent the most time digging. Couldn’t get her out of the hole. She wanted to dig. Eventually, we stopped asking if she needed a break and let her work. Tirelessly, she drove the spade into the earth. The rain helped. About the only thing it was good for.

  About three feet deep, she stopped. She leaned on my shovel. She was soaked. Despite the rain, I knew it was tears trekking down her face.

  Dave held out his hand. Allison wiped wet, muddy hands onto her pants, took his and used it to step out of the grave.

  Josh and I lifted Jason. We set him into the hole softly, carefully. I zipped up his hoody, placed his arms over his
chest, the splinted hand close to his heart. That damn splinted wrist.

  I knew someone needed to say something. I didn’t feel qualified, or worthy, even. Anything I thought to say sounded cheesy inside my own head. Sounded forced and unauthentic. “I wish we knew you better,” I said.

  Everyone bowed their heads, hands clasped in front of them.

  “I appreciate you checking out that stupid Navigator, Jason. I just wish it had been me that ran ahead. Not you.

  “I’m sorry if it seemed like I gave you a hard time. Might only have been a short time together, but I can promise you, you will be missed. Remembered. I struggle with the idea of God. Right now, I pray I am wrong. That there is one. That there is a heaven and you are warm, and dry and happy, buddy. That’s what I pray.”

  I waited. Maybe someone else wanted to add something. Seemed like a good five minutes passed, just the four of us standing around this obscurely dug shallow grave. The rain grim, determined to add misery to an already unrelenting few days.

  When I was sure no one had anything else to add, I reached for the shovel from Allison. I stepped it into the pile of dirt we’d accumulated, and tossed it over Jason’s feet.

  That’s when Allison broke down again. She didn’t hide the fact she was crying. Her lips, pulled down in a frown quivered, and her shoulders rose and deflated with each sob.

  Josh put an arm around her, and led her away from the burying, back to the SUV. Dave stayed. His arms at his side. He was silent the whole time I spread the loose earth over Jason’s body.

  Dave and I walked back to join the others.

  I desperately wanted, needed a cigarette. I forget how long it’s been since my last one. I’d been too preoccupied to think about it. The urge intensified though, didn’t subside. I just didn’t have any. No idea when, or where I’d lost whatever had been left of my pack. Seemed trivial, but I had to get my hands on a pack. No question about it.

  It was late.

  As busy a day as it had been, we’d gotten off to a late start, and that hurt us. Everything we did kept me away from my kids. From finding them.

  And, yet, I was determined to find a gas station store for a pack of smokes. It felt selfish.