by Brown, TW
I was a little surprised. I mean, I get that the doctor is a tough old lady, but Jon is a Marine. They ain’t scared of nothing or nobody. Yet, he was definitely on the defensive. I guess I sort of expected him to just tell her that it was none of her business or something like that.
“You better not,” the doctor said with a scowl, then she pushed her way past and went into the room.
“Sunshine, I told you I wasn’t going to hurt her,” Jon said as he took her hand.
I was not comfortable at all standing here in the middle of this. I searched the room, but where could I run? One way I had the kids, in the back, the women were all crying their eyes out over the losses of their husbands, Jake was nowhere to be seen and Brad was in the crow’s nest on watch.
“You mean you weren’t going to hurt her again?” Sunshine emphasized that last word and planted her hands on her hips. That was my cue to leave.
I headed for the door. It might be freezing outside, and there might be zombies…but that was a much better place to be than where I currently stood.
As I reached the door, I heard Jon call out, “Don’t go far, we still have things to deal with!”
At first I did not think he was talking to me. But as I stepped outside, I realized…there were not that many other choices left. Like it or not, I had just moved up the ladder.
***
I was standing on the porch minding my own business, sipping my morning cup of instant coffee. We did not have much of this stuff left and I wanted to savor each and every cup.
I was trying to clear my head of everything that was busy trying to drive me bonkers at the moment. I could not wrap my mind around how things had gone so bad so quick. Just a couple of months ago, it looked like we had secured ourselves the perfect place. I guess nobody really thought about how tough the winter was going to be without the basics.
Basics…now that is a laugh. It used to mean something a whole lot different about six or seven months ago. Damn, has it been that long?
So it turns out that Shelly Casteel—the lady prisoner—and her group were not doing too well. When they ran into Patton, I guess the group split on how to deal with him. The guy that took charge, Vern Tasker, I guess he decided that they needed to take us out and move in. Anybody that argued with Vern got booted from the group or killed according to Shelly.
When the herd came through, Vern had some of the group help pave the way using some construction equipment that he had found and managed to get running. I guess they scouted us for a week, but could not get any good numbers since we were staying inside so much due to the bad weather. They thought there were only eight or ten at the most.
Jon had all the bodies of the people we killed from her group lined up in the snow. Vern Tasker was not among the dead. So now Jon wants to take me and Jake on our own scouting mission. If their numbers were what she said they were before attacking us, then there are only five of them left.
I asked Jon why me and why not Brad, he says that I show the good makings of a fine soldier. He says that if I were to have joined the Marines, I probably would have done real well for myself. When I said that I still did not understand why he chose me instead of Brad, he got a look in his eye that almost seemed to be anger.
“You follow orders, son,” Jon said. “Brad was one of those liberal types. He thinks he can talk his way through everything. Those days are gone for the foreseeable future. I need somebody who will do what they are told when they are told.”
“Is that why you brought me in when you threatened to toss Shelly on the fire?” I asked.
“You are a smart kid, Billy.” And then Jon turned and walked away. That was a ‘yes’ in my book.
Anyways, in the morning, we head out for the area that Shelly says they last made camp. Jon says that he does not expect them to be there if they have any brains at all. That has me wondering, If that is true, then why are we going out in this awful weather and risking death by zombie or just plain freezing?
***
“See that building with the red sign hanging down in front of it?” Jon whispered in my ear.
“Yeah.”
“That Dumpster beside it should allow you to climb up on top of the building. From there, I want you to move to that far corner and keep down. Jake and I are going to come around from either side of the complex and slip in one of the ground floor units.”
We had already snuck up to the rickety looking apartment building and gotten an idea of the layout. It was a horseshoe-shaped complex. The ground floor units were set up with all sorts of trip lines. Those would obviously cause havoc for a zombie, but they would not do much against a person who knew what they were looking for.
A group of four people were inside from what we had seen after watching the place all day and night. The place they will have me stationed looks right into the guts of that complex. The grounds are also heavily booby-trapped with all sorts of razor wire and cans hanging from strings. In the short time we observed, it looked like they rotate one person outside who walks back and forth on the balcony which runs the length of the center section.
“If I am not back by dark, you head home,” Jon said. And then he was gone.
I made my way over and climbed up to where Jon had directed me to go. Once I got up on the roof, I got a bit of a scare. I was crab-wading to the lip of the building where I would take my position when I heard a strange noise. The problem I had was that, without electricity, buildings are just as cold as anything else. There is no heat generated, so the snow was actually quite deep—almost to my waist (hence the ‘wading’ instead of crab-walking). I looked around but did not see anything.
I took a few steps and heard the noise again. Naturally, I froze. The sound stopped. I used my walking stick to poke around. The last thing I need is to step on a zeemine. (That is what we call the creepers buried in the snow.) After each step, I poked around. About three feet from the edge, my stick caught on something.
I took a few steps back. I sure as hell didn’t want this thing to sweep my feet out from under me if it started flailing around with its arms. Holding my stick out in front of me, I began to swish it back and forth to start clearing out the snow and give myself a easy shot at this thing’s head.
A dead hand came up out of the snow just as I was coming back for the fifth or sixth swish. The fingers were all mangled and crooked, and snow clung to the flesh in frozen clumps. I thought that just maybe this thing would be partially frozen solid. Then the head rose up and I fell back on my ass.
The best I can figure, whoever this person was, they tried to blow their brains out, but only managed to take a huge chunk of the right side (as I looked at him) of the face. I swung hard and connected with the temple area. It was like smacking a ball of ice with a piece of bamboo. My hands buzzed like they’d been stung by a bunch of bees and the stick went spinning off through the air and over the lip of the roof.
Then I found out why this person had not only tried to blow his brains out, but also why he was a creeper. The snow began to roll like waves as a bunch of zombies started standing up. It was like they had been just sitting there when the snow came, and once it covered them up, they saw no reason to move and so they all just sat there…until I stirred up the pot.
“This is gonna suck,” I sighed.
Drawing my machete, I moved away from where I was supposed to be stationing myself. I did not want to attract the attention of the guys in the apartment…if I hadn’t already. The zombies were even more bizarre than normal with all the snow. For just a second, my mind pictured them as they stood and then plastered the image on a Christmas card.
“Hark! The horrid zombies sing…” I croaked softly. I would have never made it on American Idol.
The first one stepped into range and I swung overhanded, the blade biting deep and stopping just past the bridge of the nose.
As I pulled my weapon free, I gave this one a glance. For some reason, I always fixate on the first zombie if I am faced with kill
ing more than just a couple. Honestly, after the third or fourth, they sort of all blend in together and just fade. However, I think I can describe almost every single zombie that I have killed to start off a fight.
This one was a woman. She could have been anybody’s mom back in the old neighborhood. I would guess her to be in her late thirties or early forties, but it is getting harder to tell as time starts to do some damage. That and the facial rearrangement that comes from smashing up against a door, window or wall for a week or longer while trying to chew through the solid surface as every single zombie behind you shoves forward in an attempt to do the same. Toss in the random elbow to the face when these things are in a herd, or that when they fall over, no effort is made to protect themselves from the fall. Some of these things are starting to look less and less related to humans.
This lady looks like she died from a single bite to the arm. Her right arm has a nasty blackened wound that has the dark tendrils radiating from it. She still has her jeans on and a muffin top that looks seriously deflated is hanging in a flesh flap around her waist. Oh yeah…she is not wearing any top and her bra is long gone.
She crumples and disappears into the snow on the roof as more step in to take her place. They are all reaching for me. Once, my machete hangs up just enough so that I have to jerk to the side and snatch the closest zombie by the arm and sling him over the edge. By the time I am able to kill the last one, gunfire erupts from over towards the apartment complex.
I was pretty sure there are no more zombies up here or hidden under the snow, but I still tried to stay in the area of smashed down snow that was created during the skirmish. When I reached the edge of the roof, I stayed hunched over and tried to barely peek over the edge.
Jon and Jake are nowhere to be seen, but I observed one body hanging partway out of a window of the top unit on the far left. Also, smoke is coming from the windows of three ground floor units. I must have missed the part where they said they were going to flush these people out with fire. I imagine there are two ways to die that, if you had to pick, would be at the top of the list on ways NOT to go out. Burning and being eaten alive by zombies have got to be a close first and second on just about everybody’s list.
From my perch, I scan the area with my binoculars. Still no sign of Jake or Jon, but I see one figure moving around in one of the upper units. It is really just a dark shadow that has almost no form, but it is moving around too fast to be a zombie. I keep my eyes locked on it until I notice something else worth diverting my attention.
Moving up a side street just past the apartment complex, using snow-covered vehicles, the buildings, and anything else they can for cover are about two dozen people. Even from here I can see the weapons sticking out from these new arrivals. They are armed to the teeth!
Now what do I do? My brain is rattling with uncertainty. I squint my eyes and search for any signs of Jon or Jake and still come up with nothing. This is going bad fast. Could Shelly have sent us into a trap?
My brain quickly tosses out that possibility. She has been our prisoner for a few weeks. There is no way she could have set this up. That means that this is another of the groups that she was talking about.
We are in so much trouble.
10
Vignettes XXXIV
Caleb stuck his head out the doorway. He looked both ways and saw nothing moving. Turning to Aaheru, he smiled.
“They have gone?” Aaheru asked, doing his best to hide his pain. His arm felt hot to the touch and was swollen so bad that the skin looked like it would split at any moment.
“There is nothing moving, and I have heard no sound for hours,” Caleb reported.
Aaheru nodded and rose to his feet. The room swam just a bit and he almost lost his balance, but he dug down deep to his reserves and mustered the strength that he needed to take first one step, and then another.
Outside, a cool breeze blew, wiping away the heat being generated by the sun and causing his body to start to shiver. Aaheru was no fool. He knew very well that he was in trouble. His arm was a problem and it would kill him before much longer. He would need to do something drastic.
“Come, boy,” he mumbled to Caleb.
Together, the pair walked through the apparently empty remains of a small coastal village. From the few huts that actually remained standing, an occasional stirring could be seen. They stayed in the center of the brick road that ran down its length. Already, the sand from the beach had blown in and covered much of what seemed to be the only actual road. The side streets were all clay or sand strewn with gravel. In less than a year, it was doubtful that much would remain at all to indicate that man ever lived here.
As they walked, Aaheru would point out things for Caleb to collect. Eventually they stumbled upon a small cart and began to stack everything that Aaheru indicated into it. Caleb would drag it along and set it down every so often if sent to fetch one item or another.
Once they reached the outskirts of the village, there was an actual paved road that wound up a hill in a switchback manner. At the top there looked to be an old dilapidated fortress. If they were going to find anybody alive in the area, it would stand to reason that they would be there.
While the road was in fairly good shape considering, Aaheru struggled as they climbed the hill. Several times along the way he signaled the young man to stop so that he could catch his breath. After the third or fourth time—Aaheru did not know which—Caleb asked if he would want to sit in the cart and be pulled along.
Aaheru leveled his gaze as best he could and tried to etch his face with what he hoped was a look of disdain. It looked more like a grimace, but Aaheru swallowed once to ensure that his voice would not crack from his throat being dry as he spoke.
“Do you think me weak? Perhaps you believe that I do not possess the might to continue to call myself your leader…your pharaoh. Well let me set your mind at ease, boy.” He made sure that he emphasized that last word to further make the distinction between them. “I have the blood of the gods flowing though me. They have seen fit to place the rebirth of Egypt in my hands. I will walk up this hill…and then I will show you the strength that I still have in me.”
Caleb nodded and kept quiet. As they continued their journey up the hill, he watched the man slump further and further at his shoulders. He truly believed that this man would crawl on his belly to prove his point. As they reached halfway, the man began to mumble. At first, Caleb believed it to only be the man’s labored breathing, but soon, words formed. He heard names; the most common being “Ahi” and “Ahmes”. These were usually followed by rantings of their failure or even apologies. Caleb remembered the one called Ahi, he had been the advisor to Aaheru. There had been something about the man that seemed peculiar, but Caleb had never been able to place it. There was simply an uncomfortable feeling any time the man was around him.
As for Ahmes, he knew that Aaheru had one particular woman that he claimed as his queen, but the man was also not beyond seemingly attempting to sow his seed with any of the other women that had been brought along.
When Aaheru collapsed face down onto the road, Caleb scooped him up and deposited him in the wooden cart. He made the rest of the trip in silence. As he climbed higher and higher up the hill, he was able to look down. It seemed that the tiny village was really part of a more sprawling little town that wrapped most of the way around the small harbor that they had pulled into. He could see the sunken wreck of their ship jutting out of the water. Here and there he saw singles or small groups of what had to be more of the undead, but none showed up to bother him as he made his way up the road.
When he reached the top, he slowed and waited to see who or what might come out of the ruined old castle. When it was clear that nothing would, he headed through the entry arch cautiously. Across the open courtyard was a ramp that led up to a corner tower. He crossed and observed that all of the walls had areas that were collapsed. That seemed to explain why nobody had come here and used it.
Cal
eb reached the base of the ramp. It was much steeper than the road had been. He did not think that he would be able to haul Aaheru up the incline. He had to work at it to get the man out, and then he was able to get under one arm and half-drag, half-guide the man up to the tower.
Once inside, he discovered another problem, there was no door and the only safe place was a landing about ten feet above them that would require them to climb. There was no way that Aaheru would be able to perform such a task…even with help.
“It has to come off, boy,” Aaheru moaned from where he sat against the wall.
Caleb looked at the man and then around the room to try and discern what he could be talking about. Aaheru mumbled something unintelligible. Caleb leaned in closer.
“…the arm has to come off…it is killing me…the only choice…fire…”
Caleb listened for what seemed like several minutes, but Aaheru said pretty much the same thing over and over. Maybe he changed the order, but that was about all. Slowly it dawned on the young man what was being said.
Running back down to the wagon, he looked at the seemingly random things that Aaheru had told him to gather up as they passed through the village. There were pieces of wood, three belts, a sheet of cloth that looked like it could be used to make a sail, and a couple of sticks about an inch around and a foot long. There were also a handful of dead tree branches, an axe head and an odd looking rock, some fishing line and an assortment of metal scrap.
Caleb dragged the cart up the ramp and then went to work rigging a few lines across the ramp that would provide the only access to the tower. As he worked, he gained an even greater respect for the man who would be Egypt’s new pharaoh. The man certainly could not have known what they would find at the top of the hill, but it seemed that his mind had been sharp enough to know that he must prepare for anything. The fishing line and metal were obviously to be used as alarms. The rest seemed self-explanatory. The materials were there to build a fire; then he would cut off Aaheru’s arm, cauterize the wound, wrap it in cloth…and then hope.
