by James, Jill
“The Bay Area’s Best is back on for another night of rocking and rolling, friends. After a hard day of fighting the undead and fearing the bad and the mad of society let’s unwind and relax with some Blue Oyster Cult.”
A click sounded on the radio and the well-known strains of Don’t Fear the Reaper filled the car and his head. Seth started laughing so hard he had to stop the vehicle in the middle of the freeway and hold his sides.
If the zombie apocalypse had a theme song, that would be it.
Chapter Twenty-One
The road doesn’t get any harder,
but it doesn’t get any easier.
Every stranger is friend or foe,
decided in an instant.
Trust is a commodity
no one can afford.
— Seth Ripley
A squeal of the brakes and the jerk of the car yanked Seth out of a dead sleep in the passenger seat of the car. He peeled his eyes open to bright morning sun and wanted to close them again. K-rails barricaded the freeway in front of them. Turning his head, he glanced for a way around that wasn’t appearing. The concrete rails spanned the whole eight lanes. The hillsides went straight up on either side of the freeway. K-rails blocked the off-ramp as well.
Things went from bad to worse, which is the only way things could go in the zombie apocalypse, he thought yet again. A giant stepped from behind the barrier with a B.F.G. Otherwise known as a big, fucking gun. The man made it look like a toy with his bulging biceps and enormous head sitting on no neck.
A quick glance at Cody and Miranda showed a young man ready to shit his pants and a girl ready to die of shock. He sucked in air and grabbed the AR-15 at his feet. The man stood like a statue, the gun not fired yet, but still pointed at their windshield.
“Enough of this shit,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m tired of zombies. I’m tired of people who don’t think zombies are bad enough. I’m tired of being tired.”
Easing the door open, he pulled himself out of the car. The lone sentinel still stood at attention. Seth moved away from the vehicle hoping the gun would follow him and away from the kids. He gulped with a dry throat as his hopes were fulfilled. The gun looked even larger when he stared down the bore. A dark hole of death looking much bigger than it was.
The man’s black skin shone in the sunshine brightening the sky. His shoulders wouldn’t have looked out of place on an Oakland Raiders linebacker. His dark eyes stared at Seth with a glare that meant business.
Moving his arm slightly, Seth pulled the gun back and pointed it in a hopefully non-threatening direction. He took a deep breath as the large man hefted the weapon to his shoulder.
“We don’t want any trouble. We’re just traveling through,” Seth said.
“You can’t go through without paying the toll,” the man’s voice rumbled like rocks in a cement mixer. “Nobody goes through without paying.”
A glance in the near distance showed blood-splattered vehicles sprawled across the concrete roadway. No zombies shambled across the freeway, so the man appeared to be giving mercy headshots.
The man’s stare turned on Cody and Miranda and hairs rose on Seth’s neck. His hand twitched on the trigger of his gun when the stare centered on Miranda. He raised the gun.
“We don’t have much, but we can spare some food and water.”
“Don’t need food or water, got plenty. Some things I don’t have,” he rumbled, still staring at Miranda.
“Not. Going. To. Happen,” Seth gritted out between clenched teeth.
The man’s head whipped toward Seth and a grin split his face. A bright-white slash against his ebony skin. In an instant, his whole demeanor changed. The ominous man became a gentle giant with the grin of a little boy on his face.
“Oh, no. Don’t mean that little girl,” he said. “Hoping you got some chocolate and soap. Maybe some razor blades, but that is probably hoping too much. Hoping doesn’t get you much anymore, does it?”
“What about them?” Seth jerked his chin toward the shot up cars. “Did they not have any chocolate?”
The man pulled the gun off his shoulder and rested the stock on the ground. He took off his baseball cap and ran a forearm over his bald head. “Don’t know about any chocolate. Ain’t looked yet. I do know that they came with guns blazing, no questions asked. Nobody shoots at Teddy Ridgewood and gets away with it.” He put the cap back on his head and held out his hand to shake.
Seth moved closer and reached out. His hand was enveloped in the large, black one. They shook a few times and Teddy’s smile grew. “Teddy Ridgewood or you can call me the King of Pittsburg. Ruler of a dead town.”
“Seth Ripley. The kids are Cody and Miranda. I kind of inherited them.”
He waved and the young man and woman got out of the car and strolled over. Teddy shook hands and introduced himself. Seth kept watch as the trio talked and laughed when the man again said he was King of Pittsburg.
“Where are the skinbags?”
“The what?” Teddy asked.
“The undead. The zombies.” Seth replied, listening to the silence of the town.
“Aren’t any. All gone. All the people gone, too.”
“How can there be none?” Miranda asked before he could. She had her neck craned back, staring up at the enormous man.
“Well,” Teddy began. “Most of the people died of the flu. Town was down to a couple thousand. Then the dead started not staying dead, and we lost a bunch of people that way. So when the crazy people came through and collected the ones I had, I ended up with just me. I’ve looked all over. I’m the only one left.”
“That was General Peters and his group. The crazy people coming through,” Miranda spit out. “I was with them. They have a way to control the horde. Can make them come and go where they want.”
“You don’t say,” Teddy said. “Well, ain’t that the darnedest thing. Trained zombies.”
It looked as if Miranda wanted to say something more, but before he could get a word out Cody grabbed her hand and the tension left her shoulders and she smiled.
“We’re headed to Brentwood. There was a group there. The general, his people and the zombies were going to attack them.” Seth rubbed the back of his neck. “Been ten days; two weeks maybe.”
“That sounds about right. I think that’s when I heard the people come through here,” Teddy said, hefting his big gun back onto his shoulder. “After that, I put up the barricades. Figured if I’m going to be king, I should get something for people going through my land.”
The big man laughed until tears poured down his face. Then he sobered up. “It’s kind of lonely being king of nothing. You folks can stay if you want.”
Seth looked around. It seemed a nice place but one glance at Ran’s stubborn face said she was having nothing to do with stopping before they got to their destination.
“Ran, you know General Peters might be in charge when we get there. The three of us can’t take him on.”
Her brow furrowed. “I’m not living my life looking over my shoulder all the time. If we get there and he is in charge, we can find more people until we have enough to fight back. Don’t you care what happened to Emily?”
“Of course I care,” he shouted. “But seeing it isn’t going to help. It will make it worse. Like this world can get any worse.”
“It’ll help me,” Emily whispered, her hand clenched into a fist. “That bastard will pay.”
As if he could read the young woman’s mind and see her troubles painted on her face, Teddy reached over and patted her shoulder. “Yes he will.”
Seth threw his hands up in the air. He could tell when he was outnumbered. “I guess we are going to Brentwood.”
“Yes,” Teddy said, bumping fists with Miranda and Cody. “I’ve always wanted to live in the country.”
The man started walking toward the K-rails blocking the off-ramp. He waved them to their car and directed them to back up and head to the ramp. Teddy strode to the top and disappear
ed, to return with a tow truck to move the rails.
Miranda laughed in the back seat of the car. “I thought he would just pick them up and move them.”
Cody and Seth joined in the laughter. “I’m pretty sure even Teddy couldn’t move them without a few more guys.” He put the car into drive and followed the tow truck once the man cleared the way.
“Why are there no cars in the road?” Miranda asked, her head swiveling back and forth. “Everyone is parked and out of the way.”
“If I had to guess, I’d assume Teddy moved them to make it easy to drive up and down the main street here.”
Seth looked all around. “Sure you don’t want to stay? Nice town. No zombies.”
She shook her head. “We are not staying.”
“Dude, the Queen of California has spoken,” Cody said with a bow of his head to Miranda.
They all laughed as they pulled up beside Teddy’s tow truck in a parking lot in front of a marina. The boats bobbed in the gentle waves of the river, their shiny paint gleaming in the sunshine. Seth punched the steering wheel and sighed.
How could the world be so beautiful and so ugly at the same time? Somebody had a fucked sense of humor.
They got out of the car and grabbed weapons and backpacks of food and water. Teddy strolled down the pier, the wooden expanse wobbling back and forth with his weight. They followed as the big guy unlocked a gate and waved them through. He locked it behind them, and they all walked to the last boat.
Seth’s breath caught in his throat and his heart pounded in his chest. The beat thrummed in his ears and his fingers tingled as he tried to keep a grip on his gun.
Teddy stepped aboard the boat with gleaming white paint and its name glittering in metallic blue. Emily. Yes, a fucked sense of humor, indeed.
♦♦♦
Getting woken up to a growling dog with the fur on his back standing up is not a good thing. Hearing the moans of the undead over the growling is even worse. I stood up and stretched. Metal was harder than rooftop to sleep on. On the other hand, I had been able to sleep with my canine companion on watch.
Yawning, I walked to the edge of the tank and stared at a dozen or so of the skinbags. The stench rolled over me and turned my stomach. My hand flew to my mouth and I swallowed the sour taste. Wanting to be pregnant was one thing; enjoying morning sickness was another thing entirely.
Nickie the dog stared over the edge as well, his growls in competition with the zombs. With rapid steps, I walked back to the duffel bag and picked up the digital recorder. A push of the button and the dog stopped growling and he sat up and stared at me. Looking over the edge again I smiled as the undead ran away as fast as their pitiful bodies could go.
I squatted and petted Nickie. “Let’s see if we can find some people. Some good people.” Standing, I scanned in the direction of The Streets and the Target center even further away. A chill swept over me as smoke rose in a gray pillar where the other shopping center should be.
Shaking my head, I gathered my few belongings. I wouldn’t know what had happened unless I went there. The comfortable weight of the crossbow sat on my back as I grabbed the duffel bag and took the stairs in a careful speed. The dog followed at my side. Several times I had to scoot him aside with the edge of my foot. The sound from the recorder might scare zombies, but apparently it made a dog stick to me like glue.
Once Nickie and I came off the hill and back to the road, I flipped off the recorder. Silence filled the early morning. A chill lingered as the sun rose across Brentwood. The brighter the light became, the more ominous the smoke became. Walking down the road, it was easier to see it was probably right where the shopping center I was heading to should be.
I wanted to curse the fates, but the dog rubbed against me and it wasn’t hard to remember all I had to be thankful for—the baby, the escape from the general, and for Nickie. A present I was sure came right from Nick. Still being my partner, still having my back.
Chapter Twenty-Two
How could I hold on to my new-found faith when everything in the world seemed determined to show me how shitty it could be? The Target store and the group attached to it were gone. Squinting into the haze from the smoke, I spotted several people dead on the ground. I moved closer. No bites. Just burned skin and broken bones. They weren’t burnt undead, just burnt dead. Something had killed them.
I brought my forearm up against my nose. The stench of burning oil and plastic roiled out of the shattered storefront to mingle with the sickening odor of burning flesh. A quick scan of the area showed no other damaged buildings. I squatted down and petted Nickie.
“I bet a propane tank or furnace blew. I don’t think the zombie army came through here.”
To my right, the sporting goods store stood unharmed except for scorch marks and other red, wet marks I didn’t want to identify on the wall. A few skinbags meandered in front of it. I turned the recorder back on as I jogged over. They scattered like plastic bags blown across a parking lot.
Plywood filled the doors where the glass had been. Reaching out, I banged on the wood with my fist, waited a second, and then put my ear to the wood. Silence greeted me. I did it again. Still nothing.
I pulled a flashlight out of my duffel bag and went inside. The musty scent filled my nostrils. It felt empty, if a place is capable of feeling empty. I shut the door and turned back to the cavernous place. Like a strobe, I swung the light back and forth to see if anything jumped out at me. Thankfully, still nothing appeared.
I allowed myself a small sigh. Cockiness gets you killed in the ZA. I turned off the recorder. Batteries were the first order of business. Before, batteries filled the checkout lines. After wasn’t much different. Except, the group had them all spread out on a table by the registers. A giggle escaped me. Shoplifting doesn’t count if there was no one left to take your money.
I took all the double A’s for the recorder and the D’s for the flashlight. I left the rest. Someone else might come along and need them. Greed wasn’t good in the ZA either.
Heading to the back where the crossbows and bolts were, I took a deep breath. Just dust. No decay. No rot. Like a girl in a jewelry store, I smiled when I spotted all the stuff left. Plenty of bolts for the crossbow, holsters for the guns, and even some ammo.
I found a backpack that fit well after trying on several and transferred most of the stuff over. Grabbing some protein bars and bottles of water gave me a sense of relief. Starvation and dying of thirst were too easy at the end of the world without the ease we were used to having instant food the minute we were hungry. Drive-thru fast food restaurants and easy microwave meals have spoiled us. The duffel bag got the extra ammo and some guns that I wasn’t sure what they took but would make good trade goods. That would be my drop bag. The one I’d drop if I had to get the hell out of somewhere in a hurry. Food, water, and supplies were staying with me.
Loaded up, Nickie and I headed to the front. The scratching alerted me before we reached the doors. The odor confirmed it. Undead waited for us outside. I reached for the recorder and it wasn’t in my pocket. In a panic, I swung in a circle. It wasn’t on the battery table. It had to be back at the guns. A plywood panel cracked and popped off the door. Nickie yelped and started growling, his fur up on end. Why does everything have to be so damned hard? All I wanted to do was go out the door I came in. Was that too much to ask for?
“Come,” I yelled, running back to the gun section. The recorder sat on top of the glass case where I’d stupidly left it. I scooped it up as I ran. A push of the play button brought nothing. Damn batteries. I stuffed it in my pocket and headed to the rear of the store. Exit doors are usually by the bathrooms. And those are usually in the right or left rear.
The crash of display cases and clothing racks filled the store. I swung the flashlight to the right. No bathrooms. Left it was then. We ran. The thump of my boots and the scratching of the dog’s nails on the linoleum floor filled my ears.
The green light was dead with no power, bu
t the Exit sign hung over the hallway. Slowing down, I took several deep gulps of air and held my breath. Chaos behind me, silence in front of me. The flashlight’s beam picked out the silver bar on the emergency exit. No electricity, so I didn’t need to worry about an alarm. No chains or locks on the door. I let out my held breath.
Moans and shuffling were getting closer. “Okay, Nickie. One. Two. Three.”
We burst through the door and slammed it shut behind us. Looking around, I spotted a board and jammed it under the doorknob. I kicked the bottom as a thud sounded on the door, followed by several more. The handle rattled but the board held.
Pulling the gun from the holster, I turned in a circle. Nothing was there. I said a quick, silent prayer in my head. Ten seconds later I had reason to say a much longer one. In the corner of the enclosed back lot stood a bicycle with an attached baby trailer. I stopped to listen, nothing but the breeze carried to my ears. A price tag fluttered on the handlebar. Taking a moment, I heaved a huge sigh of relief. I wouldn’t need to face a baby zombie or a zombie mommy. The thought would be funny if it wasn’t so depressing or real.
When one door shuts, another one opens. Or in this case, an even better door opened. Someone was watching over me and I knew it. Knew it deep down inside.
In seconds, I had the backpack and duffel bag in the trailer with my crossbow. The gun and holster stayed on me. Now, all I had to do was find the first rendezvous spot. Commander Canida had made us memorize the location and several ways to get there. All I had to do was find Oakley and Neroly Road.
I’d tried to get Nickie into the trailer too but he wasn’t having any of it. A few yelps and scratches on my arms convinced me to let him walk. I loaded the recorder with new batteries and put it in a fanny bag attached to the handlebars. I knew it was working, because my fillings hurt and the dog was right at my side again.
The familiar saying of never forgetting how to ride a bicycle is partially true. I hadn’t been on one since childhood, and the trailer made me wobble a little, but a hundred yards down the empty, cracked asphalt brought it all back. By the time I reached the dead end and turned right on a small road, I was pedaling along.
