Ernest was late calling them. At nine forty-five, Michael, Fred, and Jillybean sat around a CB that Michael had picked up from a local pawn shop. It was dead silent and when 10 o’clock came and went, no one knew what to do. The two adults bickered about whether to use the CB to call Ernest or not; Michael wanted Fred to make the decision because he didn’t trust himself; Fred wanted Michael to make the decision so that he could either steal credit if it worked out or lay blame if it didn’t.
Ipes thought they should wait. If he was eaten by monsters or captured by the River King calling won’t do us any good but give our position away. He could be just running behind, you know.
At half past ten, Ernest finally called. He came across in a tiny voice that was rendered somewhat robotic by all the static in the transmission. To Jillybean’s ears he sounded like he was calling from the moon. He gave directions to a middle school that he said was secure. He was upbeat and eager, saying: “The way is clear; there were hardly any zombies and no sign of any of the River King’s men. It should be smooth sailing. Just don’t get cocky. Take your time and I’ll see you around midnight.”
Word was passed and very quickly the renegades were hurrying out to the line of trucks and SUVs. There were a few zombies to be dealt with in the parking lot and then the group was off. Jillybean rode in the lead vehicle with the Gates family. The Suburban Michael had chosen was a big beast of a car that made short work of any of the monsters that got in their way. Though it was an upsetting sensation feeling them get mashed up under the big tires.
There were three rows of seats in the Suburban; Joe Gates and Jillybean sat in the very back. He spent the ride reading Jillybean’s comic books, using a little flashlight to see by, while she spent the ride worrying, with a feeling of impending doom hanging over her head—and it was all Ipes’ fault.
The stubborn zebra refused to say the slightest thing against Ernest. He’s a prince, he said when Jilly pressed him on the subject. Who else but the sweetest guy would scout ahead in dangerous territory, all alone, for a bunch of strangers being hunted by an evil tyrant?
She only understood sarcasm on a rudimentary level. Yes, only a prince would do all that, so what was the problem? She couldn’t seem to find one. Ernest was like a prayer answered, so why was she feeling such doom and gloom?
If this wasn’t about Ernest then what was it about?
The answer didn’t come to her until later when they were nearing the Ohio River crossing just south of the little town of Cairo, Illinois. There she saw a sign Cape Girardeau 22 miles. It didn’t make much sense to her. They were supposed to be going to a place called Elko, not Cape Girardeau. Feeling dread take a good hold of her stomach, she dug out her map and with her flashlight found Cape Girardeau and Cairo.
Now she understood what was bothering her. “Don’t you think we’re going in a little too obvious?” she asked Joe next to her.
He looked up from the comic book, glanced out at the dark night, and replied, “What do you mean? We’re just driving. It’s how everyone drives.”
“I don’t mean how we’re driving. I’m talking about the way we’re driving.” She held up the map. “Look, Ernest has us running right up this road called 51. It’s pretty much the most obvious way to go there is.”
Marybeth, navigating in the front passenger seat, heard the conversation and squinted at her own map. “It’s really the only way to get to Elco, and besides, who would be watching for us? Ernest said the way was clear.”
Ipes finally spoke up saying in a whisper: Ernest isn’t magical. He could be wrong. He could have missed a lone guy. Remember Gunner? Remember how he was watching all those roads?
“Maybe you should remember him,” Jillybean said. “Gunner wasn’t watching anything at all. They just thought he was. Really, it was…” she left off, glancing at Joe. The truth was that it had been Joe’s mom who had been spying on the group, letting people get captured by slavers in the hope of getting her kidnapped daughter back.
I remember, Ipes said. But the point is the same, someone could be watching. Why take the chance on coming in stupid.
Jillybean’s eyes flared. “Ernest is not stupid.”
I’m not saying he is. I’m just saying that the route isn’t the best. Here, let me take a look at the map. He was usually pretty good with maps and so she set him on her lap and unfolded the map so he could get a good long look. Next to her, Joe rolled his eyes and went back to his comic book. Jillybean saw the look but pretended she didn’t. She figured there was no sense trying to explain Ipes to him once again; Joe didn’t seem to want to know the truth.
Look! Ipes cried smacking the map with the flat of his hoof. Right there at the junction of Route 3, 51, and 57. Anyone could be sitting right there and see three major highways at once. If I was the River King, I would station someone there.
“Then why didn’t Ernest get caught,” Jillybean asked, quietly. “And don’t say, that it’s because he’s working for the River King. You have no proof at all.”
I know, I know, Ipes said. I’m not accusing him. Maybe they didn’t get Ernest because he was just one man all by himself. Who knows? Just ask yourself what would Captain Grey do? I bet he would avoid that intersection like the plague.
Jillybean was sure she didn’t understand what he meant by avoiding the plague. The plague was all about germs and she knew that you couldn’t drive around germs. But she got the gist of Ipes’ idea and it made logical sense, at least to her and if it made sense to her, then it would definitely make sense to Mister Michael. He thought she was the most logical person ever.
“Can we stop for a moment?” she asked. “I need to show you something on the map, Mister Michael.” She had him wrapped around her finger to such an extent that he listened to her more than he did his own wife.
In the soft glow of the dome light Michael read the map just as Jillybean wanted him to. “I see what you’re talking about. Right there.” He jabbed at the map with a fat finger. “But how do we get around?”
There was a way around the dangerous intersection of highways; it was obvious, but she didn’t point it out, instead she let Marybeth do it for her, though it took her a full minute for her to see what Jillybean had thought was clear as day. “Here’s a way,” Marybeth said tracing a line on the map. “The problem is it will take us at least an hour out of the way.”
Michael’s brow came down as if this was terrible news. “That’s not good at all. We can’t waste an hour, can we?”
It wasn’t clear who he was addressing, so Jillybean spoke before anyone else could, “I don’t see why not. We can sleep in tomorrow morning if we want to and really, don’t you think it’s better to be safe than sorry?”
This line of reasoning worked on Michael but not Fred Trigg, who was in the car behind theirs. He came jogging up and as Michael explained Jillybean’s fears, Fred’s face puckered like he had just taken a bite out of a lemon. “We don’t have the fuel to be running around here and there. And besides, there’s no guarantee of safety in any direction. Who knows? We could run smack dab into one of those giant hordes if we go your way. Ernest’s way has us safely between two huge rivers. There’ll be no chance of a horde there!”
Joslyn, who’d been riding with Fred and who was currently leaning in through the passenger side window, also disagreed with the change in course. “This was the way Ernest scouted. Why send the scout and then not listen to him?”
“Exactly!” Fred said. “I think we should put our trust in someone who’s made it on his own. Ernest is pretty… I don’t want to call him wimpy, but there’s not much to him and yet he’s a survivor. He’s made it on his own.”
The fact that Jillybean had made it on her own as well didn’t seem to count in Fred’s mind. Michael looked torn by indecision and Marybeth seemed equally lost by the different facts before her. Surprisingly, it was William who spoke up on Jillybean’s behalf. “I say we listen to Jillybean. She’s never steered us wrong before.”
&n
bsp; Fred rolled his eyes. “For your information, the side of a zombie-infested road in the middle of the night is not a place to call a freaking meeting! Everyone has already agreed to this route and it makes no sense to change it now so if you’re going to go Jillybean’s way, you’re going to go alone.”
Michael clearly didn’t like Fred’s tone and he said, “If that’s your attitude, then we will go alone.”
“Jeez!” Fred said throwing his hands in the air. “You’re being extremely difficult, Michael. This last minute change of heart is…is asinine. But, if you want to waste your time and gas, fine by me, just don’t try to change anyone else’s mind. You’ll just weaken the group.”
Fred and Jocelyn stalked back to their truck and after a few seconds, they drove around the Suburban. The next two vehicles in line passed them without stopping, however the third paused, sidling up next to them. Travis, the ex-prisoner was in the driver’s seat. “What’s up? You guys broke down?”
Marybeth answered, “No, we’re just going to take a different route. This one might not be safe.”
“What did ya hear?”
“Nothing really,” Marybeth admitted. “It’s just, uh, Jillybean has a feeling that it may not be safe.” The little girl wanted to tell them that it was more than just a feeling she was having. It was more like intuition coupled with logic and that was a lot more than just having a “feeling.”
Travis certainly wasn’t impressed by the idea of a seven-year-old dictating their route. “Well, you guys have a fun time.” He raised dust as he raced to catch up with the other vehicles in line. After him, no one else stopped and then the Suburban was on the road alone.
When the last of the tail lights were long gone and they hadn’t budged, Amy Gates, who rarely said anything at all, whispered, “It feels like we’re the last people on earth.”
She wasn’t wrong. The night seemed vast and the world empty, except for the monsters that is. They could hear the moans coming closer and closer. Michael gave a nervous laugh, put the car in gear and drove. A quarter mile down the road he saw the turn off and paused before taking it. The Ohio River was near and was laying down a thick mist that gave the road a haunted look.
“Here goes nothing,” he whispered. The road, at first was paved asphalt and smooth, however it soon devolved into little more than a winding stripe of red dirt whose edges sometimes gave out from lack of care. For that reason, and because the forest pressed in very close on either side, they drove even slower.
After a few miles, Jillybean began to see ghostly white faces among the trees. There were gobs of them, and she suggested to the others, “Maybe we should turn off all the flashlights.” They were clicked off quickly and yet there were more faces and now they were closer. They came to investigate the Suburban as it slowly passed by. They were so close that their hands reached out and greased the sides of the SUV in slimy zombie goo.
Eventually, their path was blocked by scores of the beasts. “Everyone under your blankets,” hissed Marybeth. The blankets had been a “just in case” preventive measure that Ipes had insisted on. Now, even Michael was under one, squinting through the countless holes in a colorfully crocheted quilt. Jillybean sat with hers clasped across her face. She left a crack to see through and the sight was horrifying. The road was blocked both in front and behind, while the trees on either side kept them hemmed in.
Michael had no choice but to slowly plow through the undead, crushing many under his tires. Jillybean plugged her ears to deal with the sounds and retreated fully beneath her blanket, no longer even the slightest bit curious as to their surroundings.
They suffered through twenty minutes of this before the horde broke up and they were able to pick up speed again. “After that, I’m going to need therapy,” Michael joked. From then on, the trip wasn’t so bad and once they crossed over the Ohio River on a decaying bridge that was rusting through in spots, they were back on a two lane black top that curled them back westward and to the little town of Elco. The directions were simple and they found the school Ernest had designated as their meeting place easily enough.
It was dark and coldly uninviting. Michael pulled up in front, parking behind the line of SUVs and trucks that the others had driven. There was no one to greet them. It was more than a little unnerving and Jillybean’s sense of doom that had clung to her all evening was jacked to its highest. William got out. “I’ll check the school,” he said simply. He left with his gun at the ready but came back with it slung on his back. “They’re in the gym,” he reported, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
That broke the spell. Everyone got out eagerly and Jillybean was back to her old self in seconds. “They shouldn’t leave all these cars and such right out front like this. It’ll attract attention. And you know what? They should have a look out stationed on the roof. That’s where I’d have one, plus he should have a radio or an alarm or something.”
“I’ll bring it up to Fred,” Michael said.
Tell him Fred’s not the leader of the group, Ipes said.
“Naw,” Jillybean whispered. “What good would it do? Until Neil gets back he’s going to boss everyone about.”
If he gets back, Ipes said, gloomily.
“He’ll be back,” Jillybean replied, shouldering her Ladybug backpack and holding Ipes in his customary spot in the crook of her left arm. She followed William into the school. It was dark with exaggerated shadows making everything underfoot seem to swim in an inky black soup. The place was an unruly mess; chairs and desks were over turned and Jillybean was constantly treading on pens and chalk and who knew what else.
The gym was better by far. There were high windows that let in enough light to see by and on the floor was nothing but soft mats that were used for tumbling and the like. Fred was waiting for them in the center of the gym and he started in right away. “Just as I figured; your little detour was nothing but a waste of time and gas. You kept us all up, Jillybean worrying that something had happened to you.”
“Well, nothing did,” Michael said, omitting the fact that they had very nearly been swallowed up by a giant horde of zombies.
“That’s not really the issue here,” Fred said in a carrying voice. “The problem is this girl has become paranoid. She sees spooks everywhere and danger where there’s nothing but road. And worse, Michael, is that you place too much emphasis on everything she says. We wasted an entire day just sitting around and then when we do get going she wants to drive willy-nilly across the state simply because roads converge? Here’s what I think, Jillybean, you should give up the stupid zebra and find some normal toys that don’t talk to you, because crazy isn’t a good thing.”
The room was dead quiet until Marybeth said in a whisper, “That’s not really fair.”
“Nothing’s fair anymore,” snapped Fred. “What’s important is that I’m trying to keep us safe and Jillybean, with her insane talk of rescues and her wild goose chases, is going to get us all killed. All of you have got to stop indulging her insanity or it’ll just get worse.”
Jillybean was too stunned for words, but Ipes was alight with indignation: How can he dare say that? After all you’ve done for him and this whole group? He’s the one that’s crazy, not you. You’re just enlightened.
She wanted to tell Ipes to shut up, only she thought with everyone staring at her and thinking she was crazy already it wouldn’t be a good idea. Instead she just stood there trying to fight off the tears that were on the verge of spilling from her eyes.
“Hey, Fred, why don’t you shut your damned mouth?” Ernest asked, his words dripping with venom. He no longer seemed like just a regular guy; his eyes were flinty and black as coal and his right hand rested on the butt of his pistol. It might have been a .22 but from this distance it could kill as readily as any other gun. Fred started to splutter, indignantly and Ernest repeated: “I said, shut your damned mouth.” When Fred shut his lips, Ernest bent down to Jillybean’s level and asked her, “You want to go outside with me? We can ta
lk if you want.”
Jillybean was so mortified and ashamed she could barely speak. “No, thank you.”
He straightened. “I need to get something from my truck if you want to find me. I think the rest of you should get some sleep.” With a last glare Fred’s way he walked out of the gym.
The group was quiet and Jillybean felt the weight of their eyes on her even in the dark. “Excuse me,” she said in a little whisper. She wanted to run out of the room crying, but she held her feet in check trying to retain the last of her dignity. The tears couldn’t be stopped. They came and with them her chest hitched and she let out a little sob. She wished she hadn’t.
Once out the door she ran through the corridors until she found stairs leading up. They were just as dark as could be. Luckily, there was nothing dangerous blocking them. Don’t listen to him, Ipes said. Fred is a jerk. You’re not crazy.
“I am! Look at me, I’m talking to a toy. You are a toy!”
I’m a special toy. I have personality.
She found the door to the second floor stairs and opened it, quietly, her instincts overriding her emotional state. Half in the doorway she paused, listening for monsters. The school was quiet. “You’re still a toy,” she whispered, heading to the western side of the building. “No one else hears you, no one else sees you move.”
It doesn’t mean I’m not…whoa what’s that? A distant light had caught their attention. Due west a great fire was burning in the night sky. It seemed to be floating.
“What is that?” Jillybean asked, walking up to the glass and touching it lightly with her fingertips.
It’s a sign, Ipes said. A beacon! Someone’s trying to warn us.
Her small hand formed into a fist; she pounded the glass, saying, “You’re the crazy one here. That’s just a fire.”
Just a fire? No, it’s not. Look at where it is. What’s the only thing over there? The remains of the bridge. Someone lit a fire on the last remaining suspension tower. Who would do that? I’ll tell you, someone trying to send a message.
The Undead World (Book 5): The Apocalypse Renegades Page 13
