“Damnit,” Jess whispered under her breath.
She glanced at what she’d kicked.
Southern Comfort. How I could definitely go for some of that right about now.
The bottle quickly forgotten, she pressed forward, her big toe tingling from the impact against the thick bottom of the whiskey bottle.
The roaring sound grew louder as they made their way along the path and toward the field. Jessica didn’t doubt that they were hearing the thunder of heavy construction equipment. Her concern wasn’t what it was, but rather who. And why.
“Jessica. Jessica! Slow down, girl.”
Jessica tossed a glance behind her. She’d outpaced Bryan and Taneesha, anxiously pushing forward. The boy’s shorter legs were having a heck of a time keeping up. Halting, she waited.
The other two caught up in a matter of seconds.
Then, Taneesha looked over her shoulder. “You hear that?”
“Hear what?”
Good God, now what?
Taneesha stood unmoving for a moment, listening, the din of engines drowning out almost all other sounds. “Never mind, I guess.”
“No, what is it?”
“Sounded like… someone…”
“Behind us?”
Taneesha nodded sharply.
Jess craned her neck, peering into the gloom they’d just come through, seeing nothing and no one. She shrugged. Still, she held her compact pistol tightly at her side.
After another glimpse behind her, Taneesha shook her head. “Guess I’m hearing things.”
Satisfied with this admission, Jess pivoted on her heel, and started forward again. They were close to the edge of the woods. Maybe another minute.
It didn’t take long. Finally, the trio came upon the prickly barrier that boasted a bad reputation for ruining clothes and biting skin.
“Holy… shit,” was all Jessica could manage to say. She didn’t even bother trying to keep it ‘G’ rated for the boy.
“Damn,” Taneesha added, drawing out the word so it went on for several seconds.
Bryan squeezed between the women, trying to see what would make them both say such bad words.
Beyond the barbed wire and across the field, the Dodge dually and steam roller were on the move, black smoke billowing from both. The large yellow machine hugged the Alamo’s fence, the six-wheeled pickup just beyond. But it wasn’t the vehicles that pricked Jessica’s skin.
Inside her. She sensed it, churning. Burning. She swallowed, hoping she had enough saliva to douse the magma flow forcing itself up into her throat. The sight before her was sickening. It wasn’t just the grotesque gathering of ghouls, though unsightly in its own right. It was what was happening to them that stirred her stomach.
Hand covering her mouth, she swore she could feel the lava flow of bile radiating through her parted lips.
The horrific pictures tattooing themselves onto Jessica’s memory and psyche would be there for the rest of her life. A permanent, unwelcome reminder. Haunting her. There was no way she could ever erase those visions, those sounds—those feelings—not without pharmaceutical help. And maybe not even then.
It was as though the machine was actually eating the bodies, the knobs on the drum its teeth, biting and chomping and chewing. Masticating the dead.
Her eyes flicked to Bryan, the boy staring in awe. He’d seen it, already taking it in. No point in covering his eyes. Too late for parental censorship.
Taneesha said, “Your cousin’s driving that thing.”
It was true. David was piloting the beast of a machine. Even from this distance, she could tell. She knew before Taneesha had confirmed what her own eyes had just reported. The bandages wrapping his head, that’s what clued her in first. And he seemed to be enjoying himself.
“It’s what they’d planned to do the other day, before Luz herded them up like a bunch of cows.”
“I wonder how they all got out? David turn ‘em loose?”
“Maybe so. I thought they were being guarded, though.” She pulled her gaze from the unfolding carnage, focused on Taneesha for a moment, giving her eyes a break from the grisly scene. “When I came out here, I thought I saw three people by the door. I hope David didn’t hurt anyone.”
Obviously, Luz hadn’t locked up David tight enough, if she’d even done so at all.
The sounds of mangled steel and exploding brick yanked their gazes back to the scary spectacle. David demolished part of the iron fence surrounding the Alamo.
“That ain’t good,” Taneesha commented flatly.
They continued watching, riveted. Now it looked like he was mowing a stretch of wildly overgrown grass on the south side, corpses disappearing swiftly and easily beneath the rotating drum. It looked fake from a distance and they couldn’t quite hear the dead dying, their throes lost in the cacophony.
“There’s Lenny and Randy,” Jessica said, a sudden sliver of brightness flickering in her. She glimpsed Taneesha, who sported the ghost of a smile.
“They’s okay. Thank the lord above,” Taneesha said, hand over her heart. Her eyes flicked skyward, her lips reiterating the sentiment silently.
“Luz and several of her Infirmary buddies are with them, too. They’re all outside to see the show.”
David was turning another corner, only this time he didn’t bother trying to clear it. He bulldozed the metallic monster right through more brick and iron, taking more of the dead with it.
At a reasonably safe distance, the living group just outside the building shuffled right alongside David, circumventing the pool so they could keep their front row seats. In another few seconds, they’d disappear around to the front of the Alamo.
Taneesha pried at the barbed wire.
“What are you doing?” Jessica asked.
“Lenny’s out there. I’d say with what’s going down, we don’t have to hide out here no more.”
“But it’s still dangerous.”
“I’d say it’s just as dangerous out here. You see the way he’s running ‘em down with that thing? I say we take our chances up there.”
Jess considered this for a moment, still processing the controlled carnage underway, just across the field. What about the gunshots? Would the group jump David the minute he dismounted the machine? Hell, would he even stop when he’d crushed every last shuffler? She decided Taneesha was right. They needed to be there, to have David’s back. She didn’t like the idea of Bryan being in the mix, but it simply couldn’t be helped.
“Wait,” Jess said, tucking her gun back into her belt. “Here.” She stepped on the middle strand of wire while pulling up on the top one. “After you,” she said.
“How ‘bout you go first, ‘lil guy,” Taneesha said to Bryan.
He rocked his head back, looking up at her, Charlie still wriggling wildly in his arms.
“It’s okay,” Jess prompted.
“Should we cover his eyes or something?” Taneesha said, her voice low. “It’s gonna be gnarly when we get up there.”
Jess gazed at the group as it disappeared around the Alamo, and out of sight. She was already wondering herself how she was going to keep what little she had in her stomach down, let alone how it would affect Bryan.
“What do you think?”
“The way I sees it,” Taneesha said, “ya can’t keep it from him. Ain’t no hiding it, not with the world the way it is now. Ain’t got that luxury no more. He’s gonna have to grow up fast if he’s gonna make it. We talked about setting him straight. Ain’t no time like the present.”
Jessica nodded. Taneesha made some good points. Damn good points. Life was confusing enough when it just involved living and dying. Throw in another level, especially such an unnatural one, and even the most brilliant minds would spin.
Bryan’s current line of thinking—that people got better with a blade puncturing their skulls—would only lead to a short, confused existence. They’d explain the new world to him, and with Taneesha and Lenny and the Janitor there to help, Jessica
felt Bryan would get to grow up. And actually live.
“Go ahead, sweetie. We’re coming, too.”
Bryan glanced up at Jessica once more. After hesitating a moment, he bent his small frame and straddled the wire, carefully avoiding the sharp barbs, keeping Charlie clutched tightly against his chest. But Charlie had other plans.
The puppy finally freed himself, thumping to the ground on the other side of the fence. With the boy hunched over, the animal didn’t fall far, and quickly righted itself. In an instant, Charlie was up on all fours, sprinting toward the Alamo, tongue lolling. A month ago, it would have been a heart-touching moment. Today, a terror-filled one.
“Charlie!” Bryan called.
The boy slipped through the wire and chased after the dog.
“No, Bryan! Wait!” Jess yelled, still spreading the strands wide.
“I got ‘em.” Taneesha said, deftly maneuvering through the prickly maw, even with the wire wobbling. She popped out on the other side, eyes locked and focused on the fleeing duo. “They won’t get far,” and she took off like a track runner out of the blocks.
“I’m right behind you,” Jessica said.
“And I’m right behind you.”
Jessica honestly thought she was hearing things, the fracas in the field meddling with her ears, until warm steel nuzzled the base of her skull. Her neck and shoulders clenched, like someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of her shirt. She sucked in a tiny squeal, and it caught in her throat. She started to twist.
“Ah-ah. You scream,”—she felt the snappy click of a revolver cocking—“and Bertha screams.”
She froze. That voice. That drawl.
“Do we have an understanding, dahlin’?”
Dahlin’. Oh god. It’s him.
Just as she entertained the thought of reaching for her own pistol, she felt it being lifted from her waistband.
“Allow me to relieve you of this. Can’t have you armed and dangerous now, can we? Could be hazardous to my health.”
She could only stand there, still prying the wire, watching Taneesha dash after Bryan and Charlie.
Her eyes flicked to her hip, where his hand tugged the knife from the sheath, then let it drop, the blade spearing the earth.
Fingers hooked her collar, dragging her backward. She struggled to keep her balance. She wanted badly to scream, but she couldn’t manage one, the fabric tight against her throat like a garrote. A terror unlike any she’d ever felt racked her body and mind, shaking and ripping at her like a dog on a chew toy.
This cannot be happening. I’m dreaming. I’ve got to be.
The Alamo disappeared from view. So did Taneesha. And Bryan. The field, then finally the fence. She felt like she’d fallen into a murky lake, slipping underwater, a heavy weight around her neck, dragging her deeper and deeper. Unable to breathe, to scream for help. Death waiting for her at the bottom.
Chapter 22
It was something in David’s peripheral vision. Arms waving wildly. A man’s arms. Lenny’s arms.
The herculean mountain of a man lunged awkwardly toward the front gate, as if he intended to fling it open and dive into the fray of meat and bone and blood.
David’s foot pumped at a brake that wasn’t there, realizing and remembering he needed to throw a lever, not stomp a pedal. The grinding machine lurched to an abrupt stop, the knobby drum catching the ground like a football player’s cleats. He slid slightly forward in his seat.
All around him, shufflers continued their incessant ambling, some even bumping into the machine that meant to grind them into mincemeat. David eyed Lenny with petulance, eager to get back to his mission before he lost his stomach and nerve. He was so close to finishing the gruesome task. So very close.
The soil compactor’s powerful engine continued to rumble away, deafening David to Lenny’s yells, as though to say, pay attention to me, not them. David thought Lenny was hollering something about a box. Or was he saying back up? Look out? A cursory glance from his perch revealed no immediate threats, nor anyone alive in his kill zone.
He sat atop the yellow beast, hesitant to kill the engine, fearing it would stay that way. And besides, he needed to finish this. Be done with it. Once he stopped, momentum would be lost, power currently wielded shifting suddenly and speedily to the nefarious and ignorant. He’d not let that happen. Not again.
Still, Lenny urgently and repeatedly stabbed a thick finger toward what remained of the writhing mob. And now Randy had joined him, also wagging a finger, mouthing something. Their eyes pleaded and begged.
Shit, shit, shit.
Whatever troubled them, it was enough to get them both wound up and moving.
He considered ignoring them. He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t seen them, though. But he couldn’t figure out what was so goddamned important. Important enough to interrupt such a climactic moment. David didn’t want to inadvertently harm anyone, of course. But he saw no obvious reason to stop, either.
He stood, and his head pivoted like a lighthouse beacon, scanning, searching. He saw only shufflers outside the fence, swarming the compactor. Across the way, still near the north fence line, the Dodge idled, Gabe behind the wheel, two men in the bed, another two gawking through cab windows. No one alive was on the ground or in the way.
No, this distraction would not keep him from completing this critical undertaking. He had to continue, to finish what he’d started.
Back to the grind.
Sitting, he slapped the lever, and the engine roared and shuddered, the vertical exhaust pipe puffing grimy black smoke. The carnage commenced.
David shot another quick glance at Lenny and Randy as he passed by them. They now stood defeated, not nearly as animated. Their faces hung as limply as their arms. Whatever had drawn such enthusiastic attention no longer seemed worthy of mention.
The moments that followed were a blur of bodies folding and collapsing. David worked the wheel like a pro, as if he’d been born to pilot the big drum. At the end of the drive, he swung wide, opting to hit the stragglers head on rather than risk clogging the rear tires and motor by attacking in reverse. It was almost over, the finish line in sight.
Two more passes. That’s all it took to finish the job. There were still five or six shufflers that had managed to avoid the massive roller. They were spread out, keeping their distance as if an inkling of self-preservation pervaded the rot that had conquered their brains. David had no intentions of allowing them to escape his wrath, but he wasn’t going to chase them all night with the machine, either. No point in using a shotgun when a flyswatter sufficed.
He’d made a promise to himself earlier that day—finish what you start. His new mantra going forward. He wasn’t about to renege on that commitment now.
David twisted the key, and the massive engine shuddered to a stop. His ears still beat with the sound, a constant ocean wave of ringing, sparing him from the curses of those still clumped together in horror behind the wounded fence.
Dismounting the machine was much easier now that the dead were disposed of. Feet firmly on the ground, he could still sense the vibrations radiating throughout his body. He felt electric, and very much alive. Quickly, he surveyed the gruesome scene, taking note of the undead threats still lumbering about.
He counted seven. Only seven left of the two-hundred plus that had escaped the confines of the tennis courts. There were still those holed up in the pool to contend with, but he’d tend to them shortly. First, these seven. And damn anyone who tried to stop him.
David tugged his Walther P38 from his hip, racked the slide, walked up to the closest roamer. The mashed-up mess beneath his heels teased his balance as he skated across bits of bone and muscle and blood, sickening stowaways hitching a ride on his boots.
He raised El Jefe, his hand sure and steady, and squeezed the trigger. The shuffler’s head rocked back, and it crumpled into the minced-up goo. David turned to the next closest one, squeezed off another round. The 9mm projectile punched the being’s cra
nium, and the beast dropped in a heap.
Yelling. From behind the fence. David turned to face the frantic voice.
“Stop it! Dear God, stop it already!”
Luz. Her voice buzzed like a mosquito in his ears. She was pressed up against the gate, bloody bars be damned, her white lab coat a crimson-striped mess.
Lenny managed to get the gate swung open at the same time the Janitor rumbled up in the Dodge dually.
David ignored all of them, focused on his single-minded task of eliminating each and every last shuffler. He dared anyone to try and stop him, tossing sidelong glances at those behind the fence. Sauntering up to another ambling corpse, he raised his gun, the pop ringing loud and long in his ears. He could barely hear the thump of the body as it met the gut-churned earth.
“David,” Lenny called, carefully stepping through the carnage, trying hard not to slip and impale himself on a protruding bone. “Bro.”
“In a second,” David said, turning on his heel and walking up to another groaning shuffler. No one else—and nothing else—mattered at that moment. He was making a statement. A damn memorable one. A statement that all present were certainly never, ever going to forget as long as they remained alive. David knew he’d never forget it.
He popped off another round, falling another of the supposed ‘sick.’
“Please, bro, listen.”
“Not now, Leonard.”
“It’s important.”
“So’s this.” David started toward another shuffler farther away.
Lenny sidled up to David, towering over him. Their boots squished on the gore-choked ground.
Lowering his voice, Leonard said, “That Doc fellow?”
Immediately, David halted his march, tilted his head back so he could look the big man in the eyes. “What did you say?”
Lenny’s eyes darted around, as if he’d just been reprimanded for some serious violation. “Doc.”
“Doc Holliday?”
“I think so.”
“You think so?”
Dead South Rising (Book 2): Death Row Page 19
