DEAD: Confrontation

by Brown, TW

  When the dozen or so zombies stumbled through the opening that Jesus had created, most with fresh smears of blood on their hands and faces, the spell was broken. I pushed away from the tree and plunged back out towards where Doug had rescued me a lifetime ago—at least that is how it felt at the moment.

  In my mind, I just told myself, left foot…right foot…left foot…right foot. I was doing okay as long as I stayed in our shoveled out paths or in the tracks made by others—living or dead made no difference as long as I did not have to bound through the snow; almost waist deep at the thinnest, but up to shoulder deep in other spots.

  Then I ran into Nickie.

  I was in one of the trenches that would eventually bring me to Death Alley. From there, I would make for the house and then wait for whoever showed up. At this point, I was pretty sure that Jon was the only one left alive out of those of us who had stayed behind. I kept going through it in my head: Fiona, DeAngelo, Nickie, Doug, Jesus, Jon, and me.

  Yep. If Jon was alive, then it was just the two of us. Even worse, I was responsible for most of them in some way. Fiona had been stuck to a tree by a raider. I wasn’t responsible for that as far as I knew, but who could be sure at this point.

  So there was Nickie on her hands and knees with her face dripping blood as she lifted it from the belly of a person that I did not recognize. That meant it was obviously one of the raiders. Closer inspection revealed that the person had been shot in the legs. That left it open to all sorts of possibilities. It could have been one of us that did the shooting…or perhaps “friendly” fire. I seem to remember a sweatshirt that said something like “I like you, but if the zombies come, I’m tripping you!”

  It seemed a lot funnier at the time.

  Nickie hissed at me and the body twitched. Oh, God, the person is still alive, I thought with just a touch of pity. Sure, he—yep, it was a guy—was going to try and take all of our stuff, but that didn’t mean I was happy to see the person being feasted upon.

  I drew my axe as she tore the hole in the poor man’s belly just a little wider so that she could gain better access to some of the juicier bits. I am so glad that she didn’t look up as I took two unsteady steps to get closer. With as much energy as I could muster, I brought the axe down on the back of her head. It stuck fast in the skull and I simply lacked the strength to retrieve it.

  For what I think was the first time today, luck was with me. Nickie had a really nice curved machete hanging from her belt. I grabbed it and took a few steps before stopping in my tracks and going back. After dispatching Nickie’s meal/victim, I continued. No sense leaving one behind me that might get up and be on my trail in a few minutes. As it was, I had my doubts on my ability to make it up the hill to the cabin.

  Shoveled pathway or not, I was dizzy and in a lot of pain. My left arm hung useless at my side. My leg was starting to add to the choir of discomfort. If I was a dog, you would put me out of my misery…and right about now, I wasn’t so sure that wasn’t such a bad idea.

  I have always known that head injuries are nasty bleeders, but I was almost leaving a steady trail. Every time I reached up and wiped at my eyes, I seemed to make things worse. Also, besides impairing my vision, the mix of blood and sweat was starting to really burn.

  Left foot…right foot…left foot…right foot…

  I reached the uphill slope and made it about ten feet before my legs buckled and I collapsed. I was facedown, but could hear the moans, groans, and cries of the undead. I made it onto my back. At least if they came, I could try and fight them off.

  I was trying to make sense of it all. Who were these people? Why us? And what was the deal with the zombies? They were not very good in the snow. Also, you couldn’t really control them. So how did this happen?

  “Steve?” I heard a familiar voice.

  “Down here, Jon,” I called.

  I heard footsteps crunching in the snow and hoped that they were Jon’s. It would be my luck at this point that a zombie or six just happened to be on the trail between me and Jon. Thankfully that was simply a pessimistic and quickly dispelled thought. Jon came around the corner. But he wasn’t alone.

  “Who’s your new friend?” I asked.

  Jon yanked on the cord he had tethered to and wrapped tightly around the wrists of a young lady. She made a hissing sound between her teeth and staggered forward until she was at his side. I guess I was not too surprised or outraged when he shoved her to the ground hard enough to make her start to cry a little. Don’t get me wrong, it seemed strange, even a little awkward. But I was honestly just relieved to see him.

  “Caught her just as she reached the tree line.” Jon knelt beside me, but kept himself in position to watch his captive.

  “Making a hasty retreat?” I guessed.

  “Nope.”

  I looked at Jon and saw a look that gave me concern. I wasn’t absolutely positive, but I would say that he looked worried.

  “She was on the trail of the ones we sent away.”

  With those words I suddenly had an understanding of his expression. I guess it was easy enough to read on my face.

  “She says she was the only one and that she was actually acting on her own,” Jon added hastily as if to settle my fears. “I am almost confident that she is telling the truth.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because the bastard broke three of my fingers!” the girl spat.

  To emphasize her point, she held up her tethered hands. Sure enough, three of her digits were at angles not originally intended. I shot a look at Jon who just shrugged.

  “I didn’t really have a lot of time to use more esoteric methods,” he said. “And as it is, when we get up to the cabin, I intend to get some more information out of her. You are obviously in no shape to help—”

  “Help?” I blurted. “What would make you think I could be any use in…in…”

  “Torture?” the girl finished my sentence with the word that I couldn’t get myself to say.

  “Shut up,” Jon snapped.

  He began to poke and probe around my head; then he looked at my shoulder. I could see a look of concern on his face, but I was past caring. I felt like crap; it was not like I hadn’t been through the wringer a few times already. This was just the latest in a series.

  “You took a nasty shot there,” he finally said, indicating my shoulder injury. “And another half inch and we wouldn’t be having a conversation.” Now he was back to focusing on my head wound.

  “Yeah…well sometimes you get lucky.” I didn’t really feel all that lucky, but I guess I was since I was still alive.

  “We need to get you to the cabin and patch you up before I do anything else,” Jon said as he helped me to my feet. “Plus, that is where anybody else will return now that it looks like we ran these folks off.”

  “Yeah—” I wanted to tell him that nobody else would be joining us, but at that moment, my weight shifted just enough to put a bit too much pressure on my leg and I ended up yelping like a kicked puppy.

  “Can you make it?” Jon asked.

  I nodded and we started up the path with Jon’s captive in tow. I was starting to have a serious problem with keeping my eyes open.

  “Stay with me, Steve.”

  “Where else would I go?” I quipped, trying to be just a little funny. Unfortunately what came out of my mouth sounded nothing at all like the words in my head. I felt Jon’s arm around my waist tighten and he seemed to be trying to carry me up the hill at this point.

  “You so much as twitch in a way I don’t like and I won’t hesitate to take you down,” Jon growled.

  “Like you aren’t gonna kill me already?” I heard the woman reply.

  Woman, I scoffed. She didn’t look much older than Teresa. Where was she by the way? I couldn’t recall having seen her lately. My brain tried to send an answer, but I did not seem to be able to pick up on it at the moment. Hmm…that sucked because I know it was something important.

  “C’mon, buddy
…almost there,” I heard Jon in my ear. His voice sounded funny. And am I wearing ear plugs? I can barely hear.

  Realization came in a flood. It was a moment of clarity, and I knew that it would be the last.

  “This is it,” I managed to say.

  Jon started babbling, but it wasn’t making any sense. It was just noise at this point.

  I have to admit that I am just a little disappointed. I don’t see any bright light, there are no faces of those I love beckoning me. On the plus side, there is no sinister darkness or roaring flames waiting either.

  I am a little upset that I won’t be able to say anything to Thalia…Melissa…or anybody else. I keep trying to say something to Jon. I want him to lay me down and just let me be. It isn’t supposed to be like this.

  In the books and movies…the guy dying always gets to gasp out something. I can’t make my mouth work. Hell…I can’t even get any air in my lungs.

  Damn, that means I can’t breathe anymore. I wish I had five more minutes…but don’t we all when we reach this point?

  7

  Vignettes XXXIII

  Emily-zombie followed the small group into the woods. The warmth was just ahead, several sources. The sounds of screams and shouts only helped keep her and those around her headed in the right direction.

  Something hit her in the stomach, but she no more felt that than she felt the Bowie knife jutting from her chest. Still, every so often, something in a very small part of her mind would spark. When a burst of gunfire erupted just to her left, Emily-zombie moved deeper into the pack.

  When the first of the heat sources was stumbled upon, Emily-zombie waited for a few of the others to drag it down. Once it was on the ground, she no longer received any sparks that made her cautious. She fed until the warmth was gone and then rose up and continued after the others.

  At one point, she eventually ended up alone. As she continued to push through the wall of white that often reached as high as her shoulders, she would sometimes come to a stop. It was not that she lacked the ability to move, it was simply that she felt no drive to continue moving.

  When a sound came along, she would adjust and move accordingly in that direction. Every so often, that spark would fire and Emily-zombie would move away from the sounds. On more than one occasion, she would discover a source of heat that drew her near. Only twice did she actually take the opportunity to feed. It was a single source, and when she discovered it, it was so faint that she would have missed it if she had not literally stepped on and fell over it.

  Not much larger than her, this source made no sound and no effort to move when Emily-zombie tore into it. She did not notice the figure beside this poor unfortunate that had frozen solid. Nor did she notice that her “victim” was kept in place by the frozen appendages of that figure.

  Once the warmth was gone, Emily-zombie continued on her way. She paid no heed to the figure that eventually fell in step beside her other than to hiss at it once when it tried to move past her as she headed away from a source of warmth that was making a terrible noise. She never noticed the bullet that tore through her temporary companion’s head and sent it toppling over the railing that had steered her back on course more than once as she continued along the lonely mountain road.

  Late one night, a terrible wind came, followed by a blizzard that dumped over four feet of snow in thirty-six hours. That storm proved to be too much and Emily-zombie could no longer move in any direction. There was a silence that came, so she felt no actual need to move and simply stopped.

  It would be weeks before the weather changed enough to allow Emily-zombie to move again.

  ***

  “It is good to see that you are well,” a male voice said.

  Aaheru was not happy that the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was the far-too-close face of Otmar Ali. Not only did his breath leave a lot to be desired, but he was speaking around a mouthful of something green that threatened to fall out and land on his face with a wet plop.

  “Perhaps now we can leave this horrible place,” another voice whispered from the shadows.

  Aaheru lifted his head enough to look around. They were in what looked like a small shack barely large enough for one person, much less the four of them. It stunk of rotten fish and human waste.

  “Where are we?” Aaheru asked. He tried to sit up, but the sudden pain in his arm made him wince and cease any movement. He would not show weakness in front of his people…no matter how few.

  “Not far from the beach, my pharaoh,” Otmar Ali answered. “I carried you as far as I could until those foul beasts came. I wish that I could have provided you with a better location than this.” He waved his arms around to indicate the tiny fish cleaning shack that seemed to be shrinking by the second.

  “And are we all that remain?” Aaheru asked.

  “I heard screams shortly after we made it inside, but I dared not risk opening the door for fear that one of them might get inside and attack you while you were defenseless.”

  “You have done well,” Aaheru said with as much of his authority and might that he could muster. “And who else made it inside with us?”

  “One young man—” Otmar began, but was interrupted by a voice that was comically deep when coming from such a tiny frame.

  “My name is Caleb Massri.” The deep, rich voice almost seemed to cause the walls of the tiny shack to vibrate.

  Aaheru could not suppress his smile when the puny boy with wide-set eyes moved forward and presented himself. He doubted if the boy was old enough to grow hair between his legs, and his limbs were so gangly; they looked as if you could pluck them off with no more effort than that needed to remove the wings from a fly.

  “I live so that I may serve in your glory and honor, Pharaoh,” the boy continued.

  So, Aaheru hid his smile now, I have found Ahi’s replacement. That is most fortuitous.

  “And the woman’s name is Irisi.” Otmar elbowed the boy aside, obviously not wanting to be outdone by one so young.

  Aaheru craned his neck as much as he dared, eager to see what fortune had bestowed him now that his dear Ahmes had been taken from him by the dead. A slight pang of loss closed his throat just a bit as he also considered that the loss of Ahmes also meant the loss of the child she was carrying.

  The woman was pulled forward by Otmar and presented. Aaheru made no attempt to hide his displeasure. Even in the dim light that seeped through the cracks in the door and walls, he could see her face. He’d ridden camels with a sweeter countenance. And the gap between her teeth would almost allow one of those camels passage. Her lips were thick and reminded him of a giant worm coiled around that gaping orifice of a mouth that sat just below a nose that was crooked, wide, and looked to have been smashed once or twice.

  Surely there would be other women. There must, Aaheru thought with more than just a little desperation. He doubted that he would be able to function even if she were facing away from him during the act.

  A loud thump came on one of the walls, causing all of them to jump—even Aaheru, who paid for his reaction with a jolt of pain. The woman even let loose a little shriek which was rewarded with additional thumping on the wall opposite the door.

  Aaheru looked down at his arm and scowled. It was wrapped in filthy rags. To make matters worse, when he moved, he could actually feel the bone shift.

  “Has no one attended to my arm beyond this?” He went to lift the appendage, but the instant pain from even just slight movement kept him still.

  “Most humble apologies, my pharaoh,” Otmar stammered. “None of us possess the skill to do anything more than wrap it tightly and secure it with a sling.”

  Aaheru tried to force down the bile in his throat as the pain threatened to cause him to be sick. He needed to be a leader now more than ever. The first thing they needed to do was get out of this putrid smelling fish shack.

  “You, Caleb, I want you to kill that demon outside before its pounding brings others and we end up making this our
tomb. Otmar, help me to my feet and let us be prepared once the way is clear.”

  “But that is the problem,” Otmar was almost whimpering as he spoke, “they are everywhere out there. This is not the first one that has come slapping against our walls. And if we remain silent, they go away in an hour or so. That is usually when we hear the screams.”

  “Wait!” Aaheru barked just as Caleb was about to open the door and charge out blindly to do his pharaoh’s bidding. “How long have we been in this shack?”

  “Four days,” Otmar replied.

  “And how many times have you heard screams?”

  “Ten…perhaps twelve?” Otmar’s answer was tentative. He could hear anger in Aaheru’s voice, but was uncertain as to the reason.

  “And why did you not think to find help in all this time?”

  “As I said…I did not want to leave you unguarded where one of those things might get in and harm you,” Otmar sounded more unsure of himself with each word.

  “Or perhaps you are a coward,” Aaheru stated with no emotion. “You yourself have said that any time the pounding occurs, all you did was wait it out. Eventually it went away…usually followed by screams.”

  “I offered to seek help twice,” Caleb interjected.

  Aaheru saw the look on Otmar’s face and knew the boy was speaking the truth. It would seem that this young lad was full of more courage than the much larger man who had suddenly lost all favor and usefulness in Aaheru’s eyes.

  “And so this child…this boy…he has more courage than you?”

  “No, my pharaoh,” Otmar insisted.

  “Then you will offer me proof by finding us a way to someplace more fitting.”

  It was not a request. To add emphasis to his words, Aaheru rose to his feet. He could feel the pain screaming in his arm, but he turned his grimace of pain to a look of fierce anger. He towered over the man who had taken an involuntary step back, almost behind the woman.

  “It shall be as you say,” Otmar stammered. He opened the door a crack.