The Zombies: Volumes One to Six Box Set

by Macaulay C. Hunter

  An arrow for his girl. He never allowed himself to think about her. One arrow would be in his girl’s name. Arrows for his friends, for the scared children who were too young to understand why they were here, and so many arrows for himself. For the diploma he wouldn’t hold; the good job he’d never have; the sex to ever elude him. If he couldn’t have those things, the Shepherds couldn’t have them either. Arrows for what he had seen on the hill, the innocence he had lost.

  The character had wrapped her bow in oiled rags. He didn’t remember why, and didn’t have oiled rags anyway. Gathering the sticks sent him back to the gulch in search. Mr. Davis was no longer there. When Corbin returned to the top of the hill, he had an armload. He plopped down in the grass and worked with single-minded purpose. One stick was discarded for being too gray and fragile. That he would throw in the fireplace at night for kindling. Picking out the best ones that had no knots and little curve, he stripped the bark.

  He had planned to make a huge pile of arrows, but his fingers hurt by the fifth one. Was that an early warning sign of Sombra C paralysis? Or just from clutching sticks for so long? After rubbing his fingers and stretching them, he huddled over his denuded sticks and focused on making points and notches.

  They would be shocked in their last seconds of life. Each one would stare at the arrow embedded in his or her chest and think what the hell? Where had that come from? Some looked down to the hill, tried to squeeze off a shot in revenge, but Corbin was standing out of sight.

  No, he couldn’t be. This was a very crude bow and arrow, and no way would it shoot all the way across the river to a watchtower. He had to be on the path, or the strip of grass between the water and the fence. That might mean he only took down one guard before getting shot.

  Then he’d take down one. If that was his limit, so be it. He shouldn’t sit here wishing for what he didn’t have, a sleek, glorious fiberglass bow, and arrows sporting plastic feather fletching. Austin came over just as Corbin was picking out his best arrow for a practice shot. “Dude, you made that?” Austin asked.

  “Yeah,” Corbin said. The arrow points hadn’t been hardened, and the rock had given them a splintering edge. He pulled back the arrow tentatively, unsure if he was supposed to stand perpendicular to where he was shooting.

  It was important not to tug on the bowstring without an arrow. Exactly why the movie hadn’t explained. Turning sideways with his eye to a tree thirty feet away, he attempted to pull back the arrow to his cheek. The twine was extremely tight, and he hoped that that wouldn’t snap the bow.

  He would not go quietly from this world.

  Releasing the arrow, he watched it fly. In his head, it buried itself deeply into the trunk of the tree. He’d practice more on his aim and start visiting watchtowers. Thunk. Die. Thunk. Die. Thunk. Die.

  In reality, the arrow flew three meters and fell into the grass. He stared at it in betrayal and disappointment. Then he said spitefully, “Your pretend girlfriend is playing executioner again after dinner.”

  “I know,” Austin said. “Corbin, why did you make that?”

  “So I can shoot the guards!” Corbin swiped the arrow from the grass and looked it over to see what he had done wrong. “It has to go farther than that.”

  “I don’t know that homemade bows can shoot much farther,” Austin said. “It’s cool though.”

  “I don’t care about cool!” This wasn’t meant to be a toy, or a model like the guys used to make in Welcome Mat. He wanted this . . . he needed this to be a real weapon.

  Kicking the bow away, he started to cry. He’d be dead before long. Piggie and Bitch 3 and all the rest of them would just keep standing guard over this confinement point. Corbin Li would be one more rotting body under the trees, another casualty of the Shepherds and his Sombra C.

  Austin inspected the bow, the clumsy, stupid thing that Corbin had worked so feverishly over all day long. What a dumb, childish idea it had been. Rubbing his wet cheeks, Corbin said, “Just break it. Toss it into the fire for kindling.”

  “No,” Austin said. “It’s a rough draft, don’t you think? The next one is always better.”

  “I don’t have time,” Corbin said in desperation. “I can’t make these for months until I figure out what works. I only have now. So just get rid of it! I don’t want to look at it any longer.” Austin gathered up the bow and arrows and walked in the direction of the lodge. Corbin screamed at the sky in rage.

  After that, he sat in the grass and did nothing. The bow and arrows were in the hands of the children, Austin guiding their shots. He went into the shade and an arrow flew out, everyone cheering and clapping for Clarissa. All of that toil and Corbin had just made something to amuse the kids.

  He wanted a gun. One with a silencer, so he could walk all the way around the hill with the guards having no idea what was coming. He could storm the South Bridge when new arrivals came, take out those guards and pick up their guns. One he kept for himself, the rest he gave to his friends, and they charged out shooting anyone who tried to stop them.

  When it was time for dinner, he got up. He had promised himself to wait until the girls were gone before he went to the fence, and he held to that promise. But God, he didn’t want to. Escorting Elania down the steps to the path, she nodded that she was okay and fell back a few places in line to speak to someone who needed to talk. Micah was sitting on a railing at the foot of the bridge, keeping an eye on the line to make sure it stayed orderly. It had been orderly for weeks now. Corbin didn’t say anything to her. In half an hour, she’d be sinking her switchblade into the chest of a child. He didn’t want to be in her shoes.

  Whatever it was for dinner, it was going to taste bitter. He was bitter, and his throat was raw from screaming. Up in the watchtower closest to the bridge was a new guy. Piggie had had a heart attack, or Albino was diagnosed with skin cancer. The new guy was another heavy one, so he was Oink.

  Slowly, the line moved up. People took their microwave meals and moved over to the grass to eat. It was black plastic dishes of ravioli, eaten by hand and people sucking on their fingers since the sauce was hot. Oink watched the line and checked over the hill with his gun in his hands. Big man, Corbin thought sarcastically. Who’s a big man up there?

  His appetite was gone. He should get out of line and go back up to the lodge, tell Austin to come down with Mrs. Nakamura while Corbin made sure no one tried to hijack the great room. But it was easier just to stand here and shuffle along with everyone else. They pressed to one side so those who didn’t want to wade back through the water could pass over the bridge. There hadn’t been any new arrivals today.

  The sun was bright, and shining hard on the window to the kitchen. Corbin lowered his eyes. How did he know when it was Sombra C making him sensitive to light and when it was just a normal reaction? He flexed his fingers. The stiffness was gone.

  At last it was his turn. He heard the food and water bottle thump into the bucket on the other side, and then it was pushed over to his. Reaching in, his heart stopped beating. There was the ravioli and the water bottle as expected, and beside them was a tiny plastic package filled with Zyllevir pills.

  He looked up sharply to the Shepherd, and it was Zaley.

  Her hair was brown and blue and she had on a Shepherd’s vest. There was no sling around her neck. A forbidding expression was on her face, warning him not to react to her presence. Her eyes traveled down to the bucket. Scooping out his food and water, he palmed the drugs.

  Zaley. She was right there on the other side of the glass! She lifted her fist casually to her chest and stretched out four fingers with a lift of her brows. Were the four of them still alive?

  He nodded minutely. Her lip twitched and she jerked her head to make him move on. Pressing the bucket back to her side, he ducked under the railing and weaved around people through the grass. Once beyond the last group, he fell to his knees and carefully opened the package. Removing a pill, he shoved it into his mouth. It caught in his throat. He gathered up s
aliva and forced it down to carry the pill to his stomach.

  Zaley. She was alive.

  And she had found the confinement point, pretended to be a Shepherd and brought medication for them! It was so incredible that he just sat there in disbelief as the ravioli cooled. If Sombra C were cured tomorrow and he got out of here, he’d get down on one knee and ask her to marry him. He didn’t care what anyone said about how young they were, and he never should have let her break up with him in the first place. When the world just kept failing him, Zaley kept coming through. He didn’t know if he believed in God after the hill, but he believed in her. There wasn’t ever going to be another girl in his life with half the guts that she had. So he was going to marry her. He’d find the most supportive sling for when her arm ached, or the best surgeons to repair the damage if it could be done. Corbin would save every penny to pay for that and then she wouldn’t hurt.

  There were seven pills in the package now. They didn’t have the bottle any longer. After they’d taken their final round of pills, they had buried it and said thank you to Brennan Ortega, since they had originally been his. They could dig it up, but it was much less obvious having pills in this package. The bottle should stay where it was, and no one would notice a tiny bulge in his pocket.

  Corbin shouldn’t be sitting here when he had to get these pills to the others. But Micah was on the bridge surrounded by people, and Austin was at the lodge. Elania stepped up to the bucket and took her food without glancing in. A lot of people did that. Who cared what the Shepherd dispensing it looked like? It was just another stranger’s face. She came down to the grass and Corbin called to her.

  “Just a minute,” Elania said, a child reaching up to touch her leg.

  “Please,” Corbin begged. “It’s really important I talk to you. Privately. It won’t take long.”

  She excused herself and came over. Pulling her head close to his, he whispered in her ear, “Promise me that you will not react.”

  “I promise,” Elania said. When he pressed one of the pills into her hand, her mouth fell open and she snapped it shut. Then her mouth fell open a second time and she shoved the pill inside. Once it was down the hatch, she said, “Where-”

  “Zaley is on the other side of that glass,” Corbin whispered. Despite her promise not to react, Elania whirled around. They were too far away and at a bad angle to see Zaley.

  They ate their dinners rapidly and spoke in whispers. It was taking serious effort for Corbin not to run over to Micah and then up to Austin. Every minute those two weren’t taking their pills, the virus was gaining a stronger hold. And every minute these pills digested in Corbin and Elania’s systems . . . their virus was freezing once more.

  The damage might not be too great. He shoveled the last of the ravioli into his mouth and sucked off his fingers. “We have to count the days. So we know when to take the next dose.”

  “Take a pebble into the lodge every day,” Elania said. “Or we can put one pebble in our pocket every afternoon. That’ll help us keep track. I have to go now, Corbin. Clarissa needs me.”

  They decided that Elania would slip Micah a pill, and he would deliver one to Austin. Going back over the bridge, he threw a casual glance over his shoulder to the window. Zaley was invisible behind the glare. But she was there.

  He’d marry her even with his Sombra C, if she would have him. They’d just be very, very careful with kissing and sex, keep their toothbrushes separate. Since he didn’t have the funds for a ring, he’d make her a wedding bracelet to wear until he did. She had loved the one he made before. Corbin leaped up the steps to the top of the hill and met Austin carrying Mrs. Nakamura out of the lodge. The fragile old woman was still in Austin’s arms. He was crying.

  “Is she-” Corbin asked. There was blood on her wrist, and her shirt was saturated with it.

  “Dead,” Austin said. “I tried to wake her up for dinner. She broke a metal piece off the sofa and slit her wrist. She . . . she did it hours ago. Because she’s not so warm any more.” He put her frail form down in the grass and kissed her forehead. Then he got up and said, “I don’t want dinner tonight.”

  “Zaley’s alive,” Corbin blurted.

  Austin just stared at him. “What?”

  Corbin gave him one of the pills, and then Austin just stared at that. Like Elania, the motion to push it into his mouth was sudden. Choking it down, he repeated, “What?”

  “She’s pretending to be a Shepherd and sneaked us this.” Corbin took out the package and showed it off. “She’s the one passing out food below.”

  “Oh my God!” Austin shouted, and dashed away to the stairs. “Oh my God!” Corbin winced, hoping Austin had the sense not to charge up to the window and shout her name in joy. That would be really bad.

  “He’s excited,” a man commented, coming up the last step.

  “He really likes ravioli,” Corbin lied. It frightened him that this was a dream. He was asleep in the lodge and having a beautiful dream, but the package felt so real in his pocket when he dipped his fingers in to check. Zaley.

  She had bought them time. Time for the Army to break up the confinement point. Time for him to make a better weapon. The Shepherds had trapped him here to die, but he’d still gotten his medication and from a person they stupidly assumed was one of their own. She wasn’t. She was Corbin’s for now and forever.

  The virus was freezing within him. It wanted nothing more than to reproduce, and it had just been handed a prophylactic. Micah came up the stairs much later and Corbin wanted to scream did you see her? Did you see Zaley? He didn’t say anything. There was fresh blood on her shirt. Micah had just killed Clarissa.

  They took place at the doors in the foyer and began the sorting. Micah’s voice was crisp and her eyes cool. The only time she wavered was when Emmeline said, “People call you crazy but my dad says you’re brave.” For a split second, Micah looked like she was going to cry. Corbin thought Micah was both, totally crazy to storm up those steps and take on the kings, totally brave at the same time. No, people weren’t going to be raped here, you sick fucks. He had kicked and slugged the kings wildly to get rid of the phantom hands on his jeans, and he’d felt a savage, animal glee when that R got carved into the forehead of the other guy.

  Elania prayed with those who were going to the outside restroom. She and Casper listened to their stumbling, stuttering confessions. I stole. I wasn’t nice to my mom. I flunked out of school and spent the scholarship money on drugs. I’m sorry. I wasted my whole life on shit that didn’t mean anything.

  Zaley was alive.

  It was a miracle. The sorting finished and Corbin settled down by the fire to marvel, but he didn’t stay there long. The lodge was being assailed. Some of the ferals always targeted it, their brains stuck on the fact that they couldn’t come in and too damaged to grasp why. The light through the upper windows agitated them, too. Some stayed away from that; others were enraged and wanted to attack it. Even when the overhead lights were turned off, they could see the firelight flickering on the ceiling. When the fire burned out one night, they still came. It was just the viral craziness.

  When the doors shuddered in the frame, he dashed over among others to brace them. It was three or four ferals, all of them beating on the doors to the great room and another on the door to the restroom outside. Then they attacked each other, which reduced the pounding by a few fists. Corbin, Elania, and Austin sat against the doors as Micah skirted around the room to check on the noise level outside the windows.

  The glass.

  Corbin was so stupid! He had pestered Micah for the switchblade and done all the work with a rock when there were shards of glass everywhere from the windows! He didn’t need the blade and he had something better than a rock scattered over the ground the whole time. Tomorrow he would get a shard of that glass and build his second draft. “Austin, what happened to the bow? Is it still outside? Did you burn it?”

  “No, I hid it in here under my sofa,” Austin said. “Don’t
be mad, but I’m not trashing that. It’s amazing. I wouldn’t have known how to build one.”

  “Flamingo,” Elania whispered. They were calling Zaley by her old Shepherd name. “I can’t believe it. I wonder if she’ll be there tomorrow. I really want to see her.”

  “I asked where she got the pills,” Austin said. “Well, I mouthed the words real fast.” He pinched his fingers together to show how he’d indicated the pills to her. “It was your mom and dad, Elania.”

  Elania cried and laughed at the same time. “Go, Mom and Dad.”

  “Then she jerked her head three times to make me move,” Austin said. “I just wanted to look at her. Blue and brown are not her colors.”

  “Her parents must be looking for her, so she dyed it,” Corbin said. A feral roared behind his head. From farther away were hoots and squeals. This wasn’t going to be him. He had Zyllevir rushing through his bloodstream to quell it. He flexed his weaker left hand. Not once had his PT exercises crossed his mind. Zaley had undoubtedly been doing hers all along, just plugging on the way she did.

  How much could his infection have grown in three days? He canvassed his mind for likely scenarios. If it wore off in a snap in seven days, the scientists who studied it would have recommended that it be taken every six days, or even every four or five, so if someone missed a dose, there was a grace period before the danger really began. Maybe the effects went on for ten days, and they picked seven. It was easy to remember the same day every week to take it, rather than every eight or nine. He could still be at less than 1%. Exactly where he was, or just a tiny bit higher than that.

  The pounding trailed off in hoots and grunts, and footsteps charged away. The three of them stayed at the doors, wanting to feel more secure that the ferals were truly gone. Micah joined them on the floor. Austin covered her hand in his own and said, “It’s okay. The pill arrests everything.”

  “If you take it,” Micah said.

  Her face was blank. Gently, Elania said, “Micah, did you take yours?”