Jillybean, on the other hand, was appalled and horrified. “Don’t look. It’s gross.” She tried to turn her head but couldn’t move it more than a few inches. However, she could turn “her” one eye away, and when she did, she saw only the forest and the river. Ipes was gone. He was gone completely. He wasn’t even in her mind anymore. The rushing water had taken him and washed him from her subconscious as if he had never been. He’d been so real, so alive, and now he was nothing but a memory. There was a hole in her soul bigger than any bullet could create. It was tremendous and aching, and the only thing to fill it was this miserly, shriveled thing that was the new girl.
A tear leaked out of Jillybean’s left eye.
“Don’t be such a baby,” the new girl said. “He wasn’t even real. He was a manifestation, only. Kinda like a ghost. Now give me back my eye, there are people coming.” She blinked into focus and saw two men were hurrying up from the line of 5-tons and pontoons. They were just visible through a break in the trees; they were both armed with scary looking weapons.
Jillybean left Ernest and ran to the woods next to the little river where, due to her mud camouflage and shredded clothes she practically disappeared. The men certainly didn’t see her as they came up on the scene. They advanced slowly now, their black assault rifles held up and at the ready. One of them swept the forest with his eyes but Jillybean and the new girl stood like a statue and his eyes swept right on by.
Then the two men turned their attention on dead Ernest. “What the fuck?” one of them asked.
“I don’t know,” the other said. “But be careful.”
The new girl was like a panther as she came stalking out of the woods with the black pistol raised. She was going to shoot them in the back. To her they were strangers and their deaths would have value to her. They represented an obstacle and a possible danger, thus they had to die, no questions asked.
Jillybean wanted to stop her, but death was the new girl’s bailiwick, her jurisdiction, and within it, she could not be denied. She commanded the water to cover the sound of her feet, and the air to carry away her scent. She forced out all of Jillybean’s foolish notions of right and wrong, of fair play. She stuffed Jilly’s fear back down her throat and she pulled the trigger with all the compassion she would reserve for killing a mosquito.
She shot the man on the right, but he didn’t die right away. The bullet lodged in his spine and, although he was paralyzed, he was awake and alert when the zombies came and ate him later that afternoon. His friend was luckier; the new girl put a slug in his head as he turned, crying out in fear.
“Excellent,” she said, when the last echo of the gun blasts had faded into the backdrop of nature. She nudged the first man with her foot, liking the way his head moved but nothing else. She guessed at the paralysis and gave him a light kick to the temple to see if he could bring his head back to square; he couldn’t. He was forced to stare out at the river; only his eyes moved. They went in circles.
“Cool,” she said.
“It’s not cool,” Jillybean wept. “It’s horrible and you’re horrible.”
“I saved us. Where’s the thanks?”
“You murdered them.”
“Yes, and you’re welcome.”
Jillybean couldn’t believe the cold tone. It infuriated her and stopped her tears. “Get out of me!” Jilly hissed, grimacing and scratching at her right arm.
“You get out of me, bitch!” the new girl snarled. She stopped Jillybean’s frantic scrambling with a thought. “You don’t get it. I was here first. I was the one who found the nipple. I was the one they loved. I was the one they called Precious. You didn’t come along until later. You stole them from me with your stupid brains and your big useless thoughts.”
“Stole who? Mom and dad?”
“My mom and my dad!” the new girl raged. “They were mine and you stole them and you know what’s worse? You hid me. You acted like you were ashamed of me, like you were better than me.”
“I don’t even know who you are!” Jillybean cried. She stopped fighting. She was too bewildered to fight. Everything was happening so fast. Ipes was gone and there was so much blood all over the ground and the guns were still going at it in the distance. It was all too much. She was tired and wanted to sit, but the new girl pulled her up.
“Come on. We have to save Captain Grey.”
This did nothing to help her puzzled mind. “You want to save them?”
“They’re my friends, too. Come on.”
Jillybean allowed herself to be dragged back to Ernest’s truck. The new girl rummaged in his pack and pulled out the bible. She ripped off the rubber bands and Jillybean had that sense of déjà vu again. It was overwhelming…everything was overwhelming. She felt like she was being swallowed up by something ugly and primal. And when was she going to be allowed to grieve for Ipes?
“Never,” the girl spat. She took the radio out of the bible and looked it; Jillybean could feel her confusion as she stared at the knobs. She turned it over in her hands as if it was some sort of advanced alien technology that she couldn’t fathom out.
“Here, let me,” Jillybean said, taking over—figuring things out was her strength and it gave her control. She turned the volume dial to the right, clicking on the power.
“Gimme!” the new girl said, taking the body as her own again. “Hello! River King, hello. Where are you?”
“Who is this?” the River King asked, seconds later. Jillybean could tell by the slow, cautious way he asked that he guessed who it was and he had a bad feeling about it.
The question: Who is this? was a stumper for the new girl. Jillybean could feel the confusion inside. She couldn’t very well say: “Jillybean” because she wasn’t Jillybean. She was something else.
The new girl tried to search her memory for an answer, but she didn’t have memories beyond the earliest. Jillybean saw herself as a baby and saw her parents with over-large faces and muffled voices. These were the new girl’s memories and they were so elemental that they couldn’t be put into words.
There were, however, other memories the new girl could access: Jillybean’s. A baby’s name came immediately to mind.
“I am Eve!” she cried into the radio. It was a joyous cry, one that spoke of happiness at life in the simplest way. That joy opened her up to inspection.
How strange, Jillybean marveled, as understanding struck her.
The new girl was figuratively, the eldest of all. She was base and primitive. In a way, she was what came first. She could trace her ancestry back to the first humans who had lived on the brink of extinction for tens of thousands of years. She had stolen bread in order to live, she had killed out of desperation, she had lied and backstabbed her way through a thousand generations; she had done whatever she had to in order to survive. She offered no apology, but instead, looked for praise for her actions because if she hadn’t been the callous, evil, bitch that she was, humanity would have failed.
She saw herself as the beginning, but an angry, cheated beginning, who had never been allowed to flourish. But now she was the tip of the spear, she was the blade of the knife. She was everything while others were only there to meet her needs.
Needless to say she was all ego. She was in fact Jillybean’s ego unchecked and she was very dangerous.
“You’re Eve?” the River King asked in a quiet voice. “Ok, Eve, what do you want?” When he spoke the sound of the shooting was closer as if he were standing in the very midst of the battle.
“I want my friends back you piece of shit.” Jillybean’s eyes went wide hearing such cursing coming from her little girl mouth.
“Is Ernest there?” the River King asked, nervously.
Eve glanced over at the bodies. The evil smile on her face was stiff only because Jillybean couldn’t believe it was there at all and was trying to reshape it into a frown, which was more appropriate according to her concept of decorum. “Yeah, he’s here but he’s got holes in him that don’t belong. Kinda makes it
hard for him to talk.”
“I see,” the River King said. “So let’s cut to the chase. You want your friends back. Big deal. Why should I give them up? What do I get in return?”
“Hold on,” Eve said. She went to the back of the truck and heaved with all her scrawny might on the extra jerry cans of fuel. It took her a minute to drag them to the side of the bridge. She then dug through the Ladybug backpack until she found a lighter.
“Wait!” Jillybean cried. “You’ll blow us both up.” Her words came out somewhat mumbly; it was strange having to borrow her own lips in order to speak.
“Then you do it,” Eve said.
Jillybean was glad to. Every second she was in command of her own body was a blessing. She ran a trail of gas from the four Jerry cans to a point on the other side of the truck. She then flicked the lighter and watched as the fire ate up the fuel racing towards the gas cans. She closed her eyes and stuck her fingers in her ears a second before there came a whomping explosion and a blast of super-hot air struck her.
The heat was so intense she had to scramble low along the bridge until she was screened by the forest. In her hand the radio was squawking, “What was that? What was that?”
“It wasn’t your bridge,” Jillybean answered. Eve was looking in delight at the fire spooling into the air and for a spell the little girl was back in charge. “But it could be. I could blow them up or melt them. Those are your choices if you don’t leave my friends alone right this moment.”
The River King was silent for a few seconds and then asked, “Where are Tony and Rico?”
“Dead,” Jillybean replied quickly, not wanting to dwell on them for fear of bringing Eve around again.
The River King was cursing into the radio and it was a few minutes before he was coherent. “Listen Jillybean, I am going to fucking slice you open. I want my bridge, now! If you don’t…”
Eve heard the cursing and came rushing into Jillybean’s body. Her personality flared up hotter than the fire. “Are you threatening us? Are you? Go ahead and say one more word and I’ll blow up these bridges right now and you know I will. And you know I will like it, too.” She would like it. Jillybean could feel the urge in her to do it regardless of what happened.
“Don’t, please,” the River King said.
“Then stop the attack right now.”
“I need to hear your terms first.”
“What? What do you mean? My terms are you leave and don’t come back.” Eve was in a wrath but Jillybean knew her terms wouldn’t be accepted as stated.
With a mighty effort, Jillybean forced her lips closed. Eve was action and anger and selfish greed, she wasn’t one for negotiations. “Let me,” Jillybean whispered. Her lips were suddenly supple and her face slack. “Mister River King sir? I want you to pull your men back. That’s first. Then I want our people back. All of them, including Eve.”
“What?” the new Eve said, breaking in. “We don’t need them, especially not a baby. She’s useless. Just get Captain Grey.” Jillybean could hear the reasoning behind this request echoing in her head: Grey was the toughest and everyone else was useless fodder.
“No,” Jillybean said.
“Yes!” Eve demanded, growing stronger.
Jillybean felt the power and the source within her. It was brutish. It couldn’t reason very well but it could be reasoned with. “You’ll be a hero,” she said. “They’ll be like, real nice to you. You want that, right?”
“A hero?” Eve asked. With Jillybean’s help she was picturing a parade with cheering people. “Yeah, I can do that, I guess.”
“Good,” Jillybean said quickly. “Let me do all the talking.” She thumbed the radio’s talk button. “We want all of our people or I burn the pontoon. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” the River King said. “I guess.” He came across as a mopey child, sounding even younger than Jillybean.
“Ok. Call a cease-fire and take your men back to Cape Girardeau. We will contact you tonight about where we’ll make the exchange.”
“Fine. We’ll do it, but I can’t guarantee the safety of Neil and the others. They’re surrounded by a whole shit-load of stiffs. If they die, you can’t hold me responsible.”
But you are responsible, she wanted to say, however that would only prolong things and if her family was in danger she needed to get there as soon as possible.
“Fine,” she replied. “Just go!” There came a brief moment when they could hear the River King shouting for a cease fire and then the radio went silent.
Jillybean started running around the forest.
“What are you doing?” Eve asked. “This isn’t being a hero.”
“I need a stick! Two would be better but there may not be time.” The gunfire west of them slacked off considerably, meaning the River King was pulling back, leaving Jillybean’s family alone to deal with a horde on their own. There was no time for Jilly to tie sticks to her legs; she would have to use a single long one and take her chances.
When she found a length of an old, grey limb, she raced back to the bridge and dug in Ernest’s pocket for the keys to the truck. As she did, the paralyzed guard watched her.
“D-don’t leave m-me,” he said, shooting spittle.
The proper thing to do was to put him out of his misery, but she knew Eve wouldn’t allow it. “Sorry,” she said, jumping up to run for the truck. She took one step and then stopped. The river was right below her. What if Ipes had made it to the bank? What if he was caught up on a low hanging branch? What if…
“What if a whale ate him?” Eve asked and then laughed.
Jillybean scanned as far down stream as she could see; he was gone. The little girl began to cry and Eve was forced to pull her to the truck. “Come on! You have to make me a hero.”
She was still sniffling when Eve started the truck, then came an awkward moment when she looked in the mirror. Jillybean only saw herself: teary blue eyes, pale skin showing from beneath the mud camo, mussed brown hair with leaves sticking out of it.
Eve squinted the blue eyes at herself. “I’m so small!”
“Yes, that’s why we have the stick. Now, stop fighting me. I know how to drive and you don’t.” What would Ipes have said about that? He would’ve made some sort of funny joke, Jillybean was certain.
All Eve said was, “I’m the hero, you know.”
“You sure are,” Jillybean said absently. She had turned the engine over and was trying to poke at the gas pedal with the long stick. The process of driving in this manner was extremely taxing and more frightening than she could’ve imagined. Braking was barely possible. It took upwards of ten seconds to relocate the tip of the stick to get it on the brake and then it took all of her might to slow the truck.
Jillybean was stuck with three options: go, go faster, and run into things. It did make the trip through town quick. She followed the sound of the gunfire which led to a small airport. The runway was long enough that she was able to get the stick on the brake in time. She threw her entire weight on it, gradually slowing the vehicle about fifty yards beyond the third hangar.
It was surrounded by a thousand monsters. Some were tearing down the walls, while others were climbing all over themselves trying to get at the desperately battling humans. Zombie bodies were heaped in mounds that had grown to the height of the 5-ton trucks.
There were blood-curdling screams coming from inside the hangar.
“Maybe I don’t want to be a hero all that badly,” Eve said. “I’m not going in there.”
“You sound like Ipes,” Jillybean mumbled. Half her mind had been stolen from her, but the other half was on the problem in front of her. There were too many to kill, and going into that mess as a kid-zombie to rescue her friends wouldn’t work. If she were taller or a better driver she could distract them by driving the truck up close, but that would only work for some of them.
What she needed was a big distraction. “Too bad I burned up all my extra gas, I coulda…” Her eye caught sight of som
ething about the three hangars that she hadn’t noticed before. “One of these things is not like the others,” she sang softly. “I need a bomb.”
“Ok,” Eve said. “A bomb sounds like a good idea.”
Chapter 32
Neil Martin
It was a strange battle all round. One second they were winning and in the next, they were losing. Then the zombies came and they were hard pressed to save themselves being caught between two forces. For nearly five minutes, Neil was pinned down by a sharp-shooter and was forced to shoot his pistol between his legs at each zombie that somehow managed to climb up the back of the bed.
Grey had taken care of the marksman. He also kept the River King’s men from manning the fifty caliber machine guns for more than a few seconds at a time. He was hell with his M4.
The horde of zombies swelled to fearsome numbers a few minutes later, which turned the tide back in their favor. They went after the River King’s men who were forced to ward them off with a wall of lead. This gave the trapped renegades precious seconds to find each other and to reload.
Deanna suddenly appeared on the truck next to theirs. She had a pistol stuffed down the front of her pants and in her hands she held what looked to Neil like a fancied-up M16. She sprayed hot lead into the zombies between the trucks sending zombie bits flying everywhere.
“Cover me!” she yelled, leaping down to the hangar floor. Grey fired at the River King’s men, while Neil fired down at the zombies swarming at her—almost killing her in the process. His left-handed aim was atrocious.
“You almost took my ear off,” Deanna said, when she had climbed to safety. “I felt something hit my hair.”
“There was a zombie,” Neil had said, not mentioning that it had been three feet to her right and that he had jerked the trigger, instead of squeezing it fluidly the way Grey was always going on about. Either way, he was glad he hadn’t killed her.
With her help, they turned the 5-ton into a bulwark against the zombies. They were relatively safe until the River King himself showed up with an extra fifteen men.
The Undead World (Book 5): The Apocalypse Renegades Page 35
