by D. L. Snell
Ears still ringing, she trudged onward, her feet moving forward as fast as she dared. She didn’t have a cane or a stick of any kind, so she had to walk very carefully, keeping her balance on the rear leg until she had firm footing for the leg she was throwing forward. If her forward foot struck an obstruction, it wouldn’t knock her off-balance.
How far from the truck was she? How hurt was Jeb? She expected a bullet to come at any time. She ducked her head and hunched forward to make herself a smaller target. Of course, Jeb might just come after her hoping to grab her gun arm before she could shoot him. Did he dare?
Ann tilted her weight forward to her right foot and kicked her left foot out to take the next step. The top of her shoe struck something. She lifted the gun.
Jeb fired his rifle.
She felt nothing. Had she been hit? Evidently not or she would have felt the impact. She knew you could get shot and not necessarily feel it, but Jeb’s rifle had supposedly pitched a dead man backwards, so she knew it had punch to it.
Reaching forward, she felt nothing. Lifting her hand, she found a wire. Barbed wire. It was a barbed wire fence.
Stooping, Ann felt the weeds. They were almost knee-high.
Jeb fired his gun again. A loud thump as the bullet struck something solid, just to her left. She heard what might be the sound of vibrating wire.
Quickly, Ann moved along the fence, feeling it with her left hand. She came to a fence post. If she could get over the fence, she might be able to make her escape by crawling through the high weeds.
—Provided she cleared the fence before getting shot.
Ann stuck the gun in her front pocket, shoving it so hard she heard seams rip. Putting her left hand on top of the post, she grabbed the top wire with her right hand. She lifted her left foot to the first wire, then onto the second. The only way to climb a barbed wire fence safely was near a fence post since the brackets more steadily held the wires—something Glen had taught her.
In the distance, Jeb screamed. He hurled vile obscenities at her, or his situation, and she prayed he would continue because when he yelled she knew he wasn’t aiming that big gun at her, or if he was, he wasn’t doing it with much accuracy.
Ann threw her left leg over the fence as the wires bobbed and wiggled beneath her. The post was her only solid support.
Then Jeb fired again. Her left arm buckled when it was struck. Ann leaned toward the side of the fence she wanted to be on and then pushed as she fell. She struck the ground on her right side. Luckily, she didn’t break anything in the fall.
Ann instinctively grabbed her left forearm. It was wet with blood. Pain radiated from the spot where she’d been struck. She put her right hand in her left to see if she could still use the left hand. Tightening her grip was painful and she could only flex her middle finger, index finger, and thumb. At least the radius or ulna didn’t seem to be broken.
Withdrawing the gun from her pocket, Ann lashed out with her left foot, swinging it left and right until it struck the fence post. Reoriented, she began crawling deeper into the field.
“You ain’t gettin’ away!” Jeb yelled. “You hear me?”
He was coming. She could barely hear him on the gravel, hobbling as if he had a bad leg. As bad as his aim had been, her first instinct was that she’d shot him in the arm. Maybe she’d hit a thigh.
The ringing in her ears had died some, enough to hear him behind her, climbing the fence.
Panicked, Ann stood straight and ran. It was dangerous—she cursed herself for attempting something so reckless—but with each footfall that she didn’t collide with something or lose her balance, Ann was farther from Jeb.
Her left foot landed sooner than she expected, and her balance was hopelessly lost.
A gunshot echoed through the field as she fell to the rough weeds, scratching her face.
“Ha, ha! Got you, you bitch!”
Ann stayed still. Her breathing was labored. For obvious reasons, she didn’t do much running, so she was winded easily.
Had she been hit? She didn’t feel anything.
Her instinct was to get up and run, or at the very least, crawl, but she held back. Jeb thought she was down, maybe she should stay that way. If he thought he could take her back alive, he’d do so; otherwise, he’d have a lot of reefer to answer for. That meant he’d come to get her, provided he wasn’t wounded too badly.
Pressing into her thigh was the gun. She slid her hand over and retrieved it, keeping a tight grip on the handle and placing her finger on the trigger.
“I hope yer still alive!” Jeb yelled. “Ow, dammit!”
She heard him fall in the weeds behind her. But he was close. Really close.
When he reached her, he poked her in the ass with what was probably the barrel of his rifle.
“Hey!”
He poked the barrel into the wound on her left arm, but she’d figured the move was coming, and she’d braced herself for the explosion of pain that nearly made her flinch.
“What the hell you starin’ at, you dead fucker?” Jeb exclaimed. “Come and get it, then!” Jeb tossed his rifle to the side. Ann heard it hit ground to her left, at least a few feet away.
Then he knelt beside her and rolled her over. She raised the gun and fired twice. The third time she pulled the trigger, nothing happened.
His weight fell onto her lower legs, but it wasn’t enough to pin her to the spot. She frantically crawled in the direction of his rifle. Her left arm was useless for supporting her weight; she used it to feel the ground in front of her.
Behind her, Jeb screamed bloody murder. She knew from the squeal that she’d gotten him good this time.
Her left hand found the rifle’s stock. She shoved the empty revolver into her pants’ pocket.
“Oh Gawd,” Jeb screamed. “Finish me! For Christ’s sake, finish me!”
Ann stood, bringing up the rifle with her right hand. The rifle was heavy, and her left arm was too weak to help support the weapon.
“Please, dear God, please! You gut shot me!”
The way Jeb was carrying on, Ann assumed it was plenty painful for him. Good.
“How many shells are left in this?” she asked.
“Two . . . three . . .” He blurted, making a sound akin to gagging.
“Where’s the dead guy?”
“He’s coming!” Jeb screamed. “Kill me, pleeeeease!”
“Which direction?”
“Yer blind! Stupid bitch, how ya gonna hit ’im?” He punctuated the statement with a long moan.
Ann thought better of letting Jeb know how stupid he was for letting a “blind, stupid bitch” give him a fatal gut shot: gloating wouldn’t secure his cooperation.
“Which direction is he?”
“Shoot me and I’ll tell you,” Jeb said, obviously not thinking clearly.
Ann tried to think. Her left arm was throbbing, she’d lost track of her bearings, and Jeb was moaning and complaining and cursing so loud and so often that she couldn’t hear the approach of the dead man. It would be easier to shoot Jeb and shut him up, but then Ann would have five minutes of ringing ears as the dead man hobbled closer.
“Guide me to the truck. Why should we both die?”
“Just kill me. Please!”
“How close is he?”
“Kill meeeeeeeeeee!”
Ann gritted her teeth. The rifle would do her no good if the dead guy reached her. It wasn’t a close-quarters weapon. She had to make it to the truck in time to reload the revolver.
“How close is he?” Ann asked.
“I ain’t tellin’ you! Fuck you! Let ’im eat you if he’s gonna eat me!”
Ann started stepping forward. Slowly. “Am I heading toward the truck?” she asked.
“No!” Jeb yelled. He laughed, but cried out in pain and then moaned for a good long time.
He was probably lying to her. Maybe she was headed in the right direction and he wanted to confuse her.
“I’m alive! You’d rather see
me get killed than help me? You’d rather help the dead?”
“Yer a nigger! The less of you there are when society gets restarted, the better!”
Which way to go, which way to go?
“Please help me!” Ann exclaimed. “Please!”
This wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair! Why’d she have to be blind and black? Why not one or the other? She’d never asked for any of this!
No, no, no, that was silly thinking. Neither was her fault. Her blackness wasn’t what was preventing Jeb from helping her—that was his choice and his choice alone.
“Go straight!” Jeb yelled. “The direction yer facin’! He’s almost to ya!”
“Straight? Walk this way? And I’ll get to the fence?”
“Y-yeah!”
Ann thought about it.
Briefly.
She turned and walked the opposite direction, sweeping the rifle’s barrel back and forth in front of her.
“No! The other way! Stupid bitch, yer goin’ right toward ’im!”
Ann kept moving, undeterred in her conviction that Jeb would rather see her die than live. He’d probably intended to walk her into the path of the dead man so as to have the satisfaction of watching her die first.
“Ha, ha, that’s what I hate about you people! Yer so fuckin’ dumb!” Jeb screamed. “I told you that knowin’ you’d go the opposite direction!” He laughed. The laughing turned to a gag and a moan.
Ann swept the rifle in a wide arc. She tucked her left arm against her abdomen and held it there, hoping it had stopped bleeding.
“I hate you!” Jeb yelled. “I hate you! I hope you rot in hell! Yer blind! How long can you last out here? Huh? It should be you here, not meeeee!”
The barrel of the rifle struck something. She stopped and raised the weapon.
Jeb screamed. His cries were strained, as if he were struggling against something. He continued to sob, pleading for God to take him.
“How . . . loooong . . . can . . . you . . . laaaaaaaaaasssssssgkkllch.”
Ann lurched forward and grabbed the fencepost. She threw the rifle to the other side. Then she climbed, mostly with her good arm. The left was just about useless.
Jeb’s cries ended as he was consumed. Depending on how much of him was left, soon he’d be rising into his second life.
Ann pushed away from the fence and landed on the rifle. She fell to her buttocks, but grabbed the rifle and then stood. Keeping her left arm against her, she put her back to the fence and then started forward, hoping to reach the road. From there, the truck should be to her right, depending on whether or not she’d reached the fence near the point where she’d first climbed over.
In the back of her mind, she wondered what she’d do once she reached the truck. Jeb’s fellow clansmen would come looking for him sooner or later. There were dead people in the field, so she was pretty much in deep shit no matter what.
The revolver was in her back pocket. Another was in the truck. A small gun would keep her fate in her own hands. There were fates worse than death and she’d be damned if she’d allow herself to be a fuck toy for a bunch of bigots before taking her own life.
Picking up a handful of gravel, Ann squared herself and heaved the rocks to her left. She heard them scatter on pavement and land in weeds. Another handful the other direction clattered on metal.
She grabbed the rifle from the ground and started in the direction of the truck.
The sound of the engine of another vehicle slowly grew more audible. Some kind of motorbike. She turned her head to the left and right, but couldn’t tell from which direction it was coming.
Ann hurried along the roadside, not wanting to be defenseless when the person arrived. At this point, she had to assume it would be foe, not friend.
Sweeping the rifle outward, Ann was in the act of swinging it back toward the left when she struck the rear of the truck with her left knee. She fell to the ground, wincing in pain.
The motorbike was coming from the west. The very direction Jeb had been traveling.
Ann rushed alongside the truck and slammed into the partially open door. She stepped backward, dropping the rifle. Throwing the door wide, Ann grabbed for the dashboard. Her right hand fumbled along its front until she found the twist knob.
The motorbike stopped near the truck as the glove box door fell open. Ann found the gun, another revolver, and withdrew it from the box.
“Jeb?” a young kid called.
The driver’s side door opened.
Ann aimed the gun.
“Don’t kill me!” the boy exclaimed.
Ann couldn’t pull the trigger.
“How old are you?” she asked.
“Thirteen, ma’am.”
“What’s your name?”
“Joe.”
He was one of them. Jeb had mentioned him. Little Joe. And Joe had called for Jeb, proving the connection to Jeb and his clan.
Ann fell against the seat, exhausted.
“Where’s Jeb?” Joe asked.
“Out in the field. Getting chewed on.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t sound too upset about that, Joe.”
“Jeb teased and hit me a lot. Never liked him much.”
“What about the others? How do they treat you?”
“They’ll treat me a lot better if I bring you back.”
“You’re not going to take me back. How many women do they keep locked up?”
“They got about five, but ain’t none of ’em pretty as you.”
“But I’m black, doesn’t that bother them?”
“That was Jeb’s thing. Him and Ed used to be in the Klan.”
So it wasn’t really about race after all, it was about having concubines. Ann had heard a lot of that was going around. Amazing how far removed from normalcy things had become, as if there’d been a thin line between civilization and savagery before the dead had returned.
“Hey, you’re blind aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Ann said. “Can you drive this truck, Joe?”
“Sure can.”
“Can you drive me away from your friends? If they get a hold of me, they’ll do bad things to me. That isn’t right, you know that, don’t you?”
“I know.”
“Why don’t you drive me to Memphis?”
“Ed and Steve would kill me if I did that.”
“They’re not your friends if they hurt you and teach you women are nothing but toys.”
“They’re all I’ve got now that my parents are gone. Besides, they don’t treat all women bad. They’re good to Jessie. Maybe they’ll be nice to you.”
Ann sighed. “Can you at least not mention me when you go back?”
“I can’t leave you out here, lady. There’s eight dead people in that field headed this way. You’ll get eaten for sure.”
“There’s a fence.”
“Not fifteen feet away from the front of this truck is a huge hole in the fence. They’ll get out. Besides, I’ve seen ’em climb fences before. They use to not be able to climb and stuff, but they can do that now.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
Ann stood. She swept out her foot until she found the rifle.
“I’ll take you to Memphis,” Joe said.
“Really? I’ll kill you if you’re lying to me, Joe.”
“I’m not lying. Really. I promise, I’ll take you to Memphis.”
“Let’s go then. I’m trusting you.”
“Let me park my bike first. It’s too heavy to put in the back of the truck.”
Ann put the rifle in the seat, barrel to the floorboard. Then she climbed inside. She wasn’t sure if she could trust the kid, but what choice did she have?
“How close are they?” Ann called.
“Halfway through the field. Couple of ’em are headed Jeb’s way, but the rest are coming this way. And one of them is fast.”
Joe parked his bike then he hopped into the truck and started it.
“I’ll ju
st turn around and head the other direction,” he told her. “You know, toward Memphis.”
“Please, Joe,” Ann said. “I’m trusting you. Your friends will rape me and probably end up killing me. I can’t let that happen, do you understand? I’ve come too far to give up now and I’ll kill you if I have to. Don’t misjudge me because I’m blind. Look at Jeb.”
“I understand. That’s why I’m taking you to Memphis.”
The truck started forward. Joe swung it left, and the tires crunched gravel when the truck reached the other side of the road. He kept the truck in a tight circle and Ann felt the vehicle begin the second half of the route that would have them facing west again.
Joe let the truck sit idling for a moment as he said, “All set to go to Memphis.”
“So we’re not going back to your friends?” Ann asked, feeling the sun on her face again.
“No, ma’am,” he answered, and Ann was able to get a fix on his head. This time the gun’s first chamber was loaded. A loud crack filled the cab and Joe’s body came falling onto Ann, blood gushing from the wound. The truck rolled forward.
Lurching toward the steering column, Ann felt for the gearshift selector. She found it and jerked it all the way up. The truck came to a hard stop.
Gunpowder and the coppery scent of blood filled the cab. Ringing filled her ears as she reloaded the empty chamber.
She opened the door and slipped out.
Leaving the heavy rifle, Ann headed down the road toward the east. Her left foot crunched gravel, and her right foot touched solid pavement as she used foot placement to keep herself heading more or less along the road.
As the ringing in her ears subsided, she could hear them behind her. One had taken to the pavement with his bad leg, dragging it behind him as he hobbled. The fast one was in the gravel. Others were alongside the road, the sound of their feet making a light hissing sound as they passed through the tall weeds.
She didn’t know if she’d have the energy to outpace them. She was already pretty damned tired.
A cool breeze blew against her sweaty face. The sun’s rays weren’t as strong on her back any longer. It was almost nightfall.
Ann kept a good, tight grip on the revolver. She’d probably need it real soon since she’d always been told the dead came out in full force at night. However, it was still the scum that came out during the day that she feared most.
